i^l^

THE

POETS'

BEASTS

PHIL. KOBINSOfH

clbe 3. d. Saul Collection

or

minctecntb Century

jenollsh Xlteraturc

Ipurcbasc^ tn part

tbrouob a contribution to tbe

Xibrarp jfunbs maOc bv? tbe

IDcpartment of ]Enolii?b in

"dnircrsit^? Collcoc.

^

I. TYI»»F1 I ft fA.

THE POETS' BEASTS.

Uniform with this volume, crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6tl.

THE POETS' BIRDS.

By PHIL ROBINSON. Author of "Noah's Ark," &c.

" Mr. Phil Robinson's neiff volume — .1 book which may be described as one half classi-
fied extracts from the poets, the other half a humorous defence of birds whom they
have neglected or maligned — is a very pleasant one. The one half of Mr. Robinson's
book may be set against the other ; and an anthology which contains poems like
Shelley's ' Skylark,' and a hundred touches, at once truthful and imaginative, from
Keats and Byron and Burns, and many a lesser poet of the country like Grahame or
l.eyden, more than compensates for a certain want of variety in the allusions to green-
finches and crakes, and a too great tendency to describe all the less important song-
birds as 'twittering.' But either half is very pleasant reading, and more especially to
those who combine with a love of poetry some knowledge of the woods and fields." — St.
James's Oazett«.

" Mr. Phil Robinson has hit upon a happy idea. . . . Throughout the book one is
struck both by the authors exceptional knowledge of bird-nature and by his not less
exceptional industry in the accxunuiation of material. . . . We can hardly be too hearty
in our praise. The work is not only of great interest but of solid usefulness." — Derby
MerctUT.

" Both informative and entertaining." — Scotsman.

" A simply delightful book."— niustrated London News.

" Mr. Phil Robinson writes so charmingly and so originally that he cannot be quite
let oir for having given us so much of the jioets and so little of himself in this fat and
well-filled volume. His book consists mainly of extracts from English verse, strung to-
gether by certain short essays or remarks in the peculiar Robinsonian style of humour.
What little of his own Mr. Robinson does vouchsafe us is as usual pretty and graceful
cnoui^h— one half close observation in natural history, the other half delicate fancy and
playful solenmity of his wonted mock-serious sort. There Is a vast deal of genuinely
valuable criticism underlying most of our author's seemingly playful and extravagant
strictures, and rising writers of the new school, who attend so closely to all the delicate
refinements of form in poetry, might do worse than take a leaf as to their treatment of
matter out of his amusing book. It is needless to .add that .Mr. Robinsons fowls are
studied from tlie very life, that out of the fulness of knowledge and observation his
tongue has spoken words of wisdom on all the fe.ithered things ft-om China to Peru, and
(rom lingland to the Cape of (Jood Hope. Nobody is bettor fitted by nature and
opportunity to nroduce just such a work, with just such a mixture of strong literary
ILivour, wide information, and minute zoological accuracy." — Pall Mall Gazette.

" The book is decidedly entertaining, and contains much information of a useful kind,"
—Literary World.

•' A very charniinjj book, its only fault being that it is a little too encyclop.xdic in
character, ami that its author, in his laudable desire to be absoliiicly exh.iustive, has not
given us as much .as we should have liked of his own orii;iii.al .and unique humour. There
is no other work like this in the liiiglish lannu.age ; anu dip into it where we will, we are
iurc to find really delightful reailing." — World.

"The book is remarkable both in its conception and execution, and does preat
Iion<iur U) the diligence and jialient toil of one whose knowledge of linglish i)oetry in
il^ lull extent can hardly be surpassed." — Tablet.

CIIATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly, W.

^ r^d^^^wri.

THE POETS' BEASTS

A SEQUEL TO "THE POETS' BIRDS"

BY

\ f / /,

PHIL ROBINSON

AUTHOR OF
"in MV INDIAN GARDEN," " NO."vH"S ARK," " UNDER THE PI'NKAH,

"sinners and saints," "the poets' birds," etc.

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY

1885

[ TXtf ri^Ai of translation is reserved\

/

ISALT-ANTYNE, JIANSON AND CO.
KUINUUKUH ANU LONDOr*

Zbis IDolume

IS MOST GRATEFULLY DEDICATED TO
TWO POETS,

\ yEAN INGELOW and EDWIN ARNOLD,

IN RESPECTFUL ADMIRATION

OF

THEIR RARE SYMPATHY WITH NATURE,

AND THEIR TENDER INTERPRETATIONS OF

"THE SPEECHLESS WORLD."

EXCULPATORY NOTE.

By way of partial explanation of the errata and
repetitions which the Reader will find flourishing in
the later and unrevised pages of this volume, I would
venture to draw his generous attention to my present
address. Lea\'ing England for the front at very short
notice, I had not the necessary' time for finishing my
proof-correcting ; and though this fact is no sort of
justification for the original mistakes, it appears to me
to be somewhere on the road to an excuse for their
being left unmolested.

PHIL ROBINSON.

Headquarters Camp,
SuAKiM Field Force, April 1885.

CONTENTS.

CHAP.

I. THE KING OF THE BEASTS
II. THE HEPTARCHY OF THE CATS

III. BEARS AND WOLVES

IV. SOME BEASTS OF REPROACH
V. ASSES AND APES

VI. SOME HARMLESS BEASTS
Vn. BRITISH WILD BEASTS
Vin. BEASTS OF CHASE .
IX. THE POETS' FLOCKS .
X. "THE BEARD-BLOWN GOAT"
XI. THE POETS' HERDS .
XII. SOME POETS' HORSES

XIII, SOME POETS' DOGS .

XIV. SOME POETS' CATS .

29

56

85

119

140

205

270
295

337

THE POETS' BEASTS.

THE KING OF THE BEASTS.

There are many who deprecate the lion's coronation as the
King of Beasts. But, after all, it should not be forgotten
by this noble animal's critics that it is only contended on its
behalf that it is the King of Beasts; and, remembering this,
it is very difficult, I think, to dispute its claim to monarchy.
It may have vassals actually as strong as itself, powerful
Warwicks or Burgundies, but it is still, I think, their liege
lord. Its gait, eye, voice, and uplift of head all make it
royal in presence — and as for its character, taking one
thing with another, it is as good as that of any other
beast. Its personal advantages, therefore, are all so much
" to the good," as it were, while in its natural life, and in
its traditional glories, the lion is indisputably majestic.

There are two lions, the real and the imaginary. The
former exists in nature only ; the latter in heraldry, myths,
and poetry. But both are royal ; the former from attri-
butes of person, the latter from attributes of mind.

A writer,^ for whom I have a great respect, calls the
King of Beasts " a great carnivorous impostor," challenges

^ Frances Power Cobbe.

2 The Poets Beasts.

its claim to majesty, and asks proof of its " supposed mag-
nanimity and generosity beyond the blandness of its Harold
Skimpole countenance, and the disdainful manner in which
it throws back its mane as if it were quite incapable of the
pettiness (of which it is, nevertheless, frequently guilty) of
picking up and eating a humble black-beetle." But though
it is quite true that it is sometimes excelled in size and
generally in ferocity by the tiger, in elegance of form by
the leopard and jaguar, and in beauty of colouring by most
of the great cats, "yet it would" (as Professor Kitchen
Parker says) " be useless, even if it were advisable, to try
to depose the lion from the throne it has, by the universal
consent of mankind, so long occupied." It would be use-
less, because the magnificent presence and kingly voice of
the lion would always suffice to rethrone it as often as it
was deposed. And it wou'd be unadvisable, as no other
beast could be crowned in its stead. The ermine would
hardly become the unwieldy elephant with its petty anti-
pathies to pigs and porcupines and mosquitoes, its secluded
herbivorous habits ; and there is too much blood on the
tiger's claws for a sceptre. The violent rhinoceros, with its
vicious little eyes, might fprce its way to temporary dictator-
ship during a popular revolution, or the tusky wild boar
by pertinacity of courage enforce a general respect. But
neither of them could be presented with sufficient dignity
to the people as the Anointed and Elect. So, failing a suc-
cessor worthy to fill its place, the lion must remain king.

Its glorious head and full intelligent eye, the terrible
comi)osure of its bearing, the impressive ease of its step,
the awe-compelling voice — " the rocks tremble while he
seeks his prey " — are all kingly. But in many of its habits
it declines from this high standard. It is not really coura-
geous. Thus, the ancients gave their statues of Fear the
heads of lions. It avoids conllict with formidable antago-
nists, and dreads man and all his works. It haunts well-

The King of the Beasts. 3

wooded and, if possible, rocky places, where it can lie
hidden and pounce upon passing prey. If it misses its
aim it sulks, but does not pursue.

Of 'course, the imaginary lion, the lion of the poets, is
a very different animal. It is a king of " sandy deserts,"
reigning in a majestic solitude. It courts danger by pro-
voking men to combat, and never knows when it is beaten.^
It scorns a weak foe, and generously overlooks everything
not its equal — for which perhaps the poets might quote that
episode near Bethel when the lion killed the prophet, but
refused to harm his ass. There is only one rebel against its
authority, Spenser's "prowd, rebellious unicorn."

But much of the poets' mistaken eulogy is condoned by
their fidelity to tradition, and the result is that, while the
lion is credited with noble qualities that he does not possess,
he is also debited with many very culpable human weak-
nesses. So, though the poets must be held largely respon-
sible for the perpetuation of the ideas of the royalty,
magnanimity, and general infallibility of the lion, there can
be no doubt that, taken as a whole, their presentation of
the " King of the Beasts " is a tolerably fair one. It is
not, perhaps, quite so impartial as the American poets'
exposition of their country's " Eagle " — but then that, as I
have said elsewhere, is what might be called in vulgar
English " altogether phenomenal " — but it will stand, never-
theless, like Landseer's bronzes, as being a thoroughly
gratifying and sufficiently accurate statement of the lion's
pretensions. For the poets assume the attitude of his-
torians rather than of courtiers towards " the forest king,"
and — 'following the old fabulists faithfully — compound a
sovereign that has both the virtues of royalty and the weak-
nesses. Thus, though the lion is regal, it is at times tyran-

^ Solomon himself says that it is "the strongest among beasts,
and turneth not away from any." But Solomon probably did not
know of the tiger.

4 The Poets Beasts.

nical, and, though usually magnanimous, it is also on
occasion " inhuman." It is " the awful lion's royal shape "
in one place'; in another we meet- only " the shaggy terror
of the wood." While Cowper portrays the beast sparing
a victim " on the terms of royal mercy, and through generous
scorn to rend a victim trembling at his foot," Armstrong
writes of "the ruthless king of beasts, that on blood and
slaughter only lives."

In spite too of its prodigious strength, it is well W'Orth
noting that no incident of man's triumph over the lion is
neglected, and — as Pausanias tells us that Polydamas, the
athlete, killed a lion, "although he was unarmed" — it is
particularly recorded (whenever such was the case) that the
man was without weapons during the encounter. In the
same spirit the Assyrian king has left the proud chronicle
on stone how " I, Assar-Banipul, king of multitudes, by my
might, on my two legs, a fierce lion, which I seized behind
the ears, in the service of Istar, goddess of war, with my
two hands killed." ^ In the same spirit of pride at such
a conquest, the son of Jesse makes his boast before the
king, and afterwards, being himself king, he places among
his " mighty men," and before " the Thirty," that man of
calm courage Benaiah, who " went down and slew a lion
in the midst of a pit in time of snow," and who also
slew, terrible as himself, two "lion-like" men of Moab.
Our own Richard — "he who robbed the lion of his heart"
— after three days' fasting, so the legend goes, in the
dungeons of "Almaync," was especially glorified by the
ballad-singers of his day, because he had torn a lion to
pieces, and this, too, "without his weapons in his hands."
So, too, " irresistible Samson," who " tore the lion as the
lion tears the kid " (" and he had nothing in his hand ").

' " Who drew the linn vanquished? 'iwas a man." — Pope, "Avcc
plus dc raison nous aurions Ic dcssus si mes confreres savaieiit peindre,"
says the lion in La Fontaine.

The King of the Beasts. 5

" Withouten wepen save his handes twey
He slew and all to-rente the leon
Toward his wedding walking by the way."

And David (in Cowley) —

" Saw a lion and leapt down to it ;
As eas'ly there the royal beast he tore.
As that itself did kids or lambs before."

And Hercules (in Darwin) —

" Drives the lion to his dusky cave.

Seized by the throat the growling fiend disarms,
And tears his gaping jaws with sinewy arms."

So in Glover's "Leonidas," "This unconquered hand
bath from the lion rent his shaggy mane." So Drayton
in the " Polyolbion " has a hero smashing two lions' heads
together "against the hardened earth" till "their jaws and
shoulders burst," reminding us of St. George's feats with a
diversity of dragonish things ; and Montgomery peoples the
world before the Flood with beings who pulled lions about
as if they had been rabbits, and who were themselves ruled
over by giant kings whose robes were " spoils of lions."

" Throned on a rock the Giant-King appears
In the full manhood of five hundred years ;
His robe the spoil of lions, by his might
Dragged from their dens and slain in fight"

Cervantes speaks of Don Quixote's adventure with the
lions as " the last and highest point at which the unheard-
of courage of the Knight ever did, or could, arrive," and
Don Quixote was himself so much of the same opinion,
that he gave the world to know that thenceforward he
called himself the Knight of the Lions.

"Are the lions large?" asked Don Quixote. "Very
large," replied the man in the fore-part of the waggon \
"bigger never came from Africa." But the Knight insists
upon them being led forth. They will not come. One of

6 The Poets Beasts.

them, "of a monstrous size and frightful aspect," approaches
the open door, stretches itself, gapes, yawns, " then thrusts
out half a yard of tongue, with which it licks the dust off
its face," puts its head out of the cage, and after looking
about it *' awhile," turned its back upon the Don, without
paying any attention whatever to his "vapourings and
bravado," and "very contentedly lay down again in its
apartment." So perhaps "the lion is not so fierce as
painted," as Fuller — plagiarising from Herbert's "Jacula
prudentum," itself a plagiarism — allows.

In most cases the poets represent the lions calling, like
the Earl of Chatham, or Mr. Winkle, for their antagonists
to " come on ; " but occasionally, as in straight-thrusting
Quarles —

" They faint, and show
Tlieir fearful heels if Chaunticleer do crow ; "

and I find in Sir Thomas Browne the following note : " In
our time in the court of the Prince of Bavaria one of the
lions leaped down into a neighbour's yard, where, nothing
regarding the crowing or noise of the cocks, he did eat them
up, with many hens." Our own lions of the Tower used,
I find, to be regaled occasionally on "cocks and hens."

Though usually so chivalrous as to refuse to take advan-
tage of " equal foes," Byron tells us how —

" 'Mid the sad flock at dead of niy;ht he ]:)rowls
With murder glutted, and in carnage rolls ;
Insatiate still through teeming herds he roams,
In seas of gore the lordly tyrant foams." ^

' Phineas Fletcher has the following, identical in spirit : —
'* As when a greedy lion, long unfed,

Breaks in at length into the harmlessc fold —
So hungry rage commands — with fearful dread
lie drags the silly beasts ; nothing controUs
'I'lic victor proud ; he spoils, devours, and tears.
In vain the shepherd calls his peers."

The King of the Beasts. 7

As a rule "courteous" to their subjects, we read in
Butler that

" Lions are kings of beasts, and yet their power
Is not to rule and govern but devour.
Such savage kings all tyrants are. "

Again, though the sovereignty is one that " makes all
nature glad," and the beasts unanimous in loyal submis-
sion (the fox says " Thee all the animals with fear adore "),
yet we find the lion's subjects abused for submitting to his
supremacy. " No better than mere beasts that do obey,"
says Butler, and Pope —

*' If a king's a lion, at the least
The people are a many-headed beast."

So that, even from this scanty sample of quotations, it is
evident that the poets had not arrived at any such unani-
mous opinion as to the lion idea as they have about many
other animals. As the King of Beasts it is merely the corre-
late of the eagle. But as the fabulists' lion, done into verse,
it remains the same mock-heroic animal that the folk-lore
of the world has bequeathed to us.

Above all, of course, the lion is royal ; not so super-
lative, perhaps, in sovereignty as the eagle, but still very
emphatically the King of Beasts. " The sovereign lion " —
"the forest king" — "the lion king" — "dread king" — "im-
perious lion " (Cowper), and so forth, are to be collected for
the gathering by bushels. Morris' " yellow lords of fear "
is exceptionally fine. Nor, seeing how unanimously the
past has conspired to crown the lion, is it easy to quarrel
with the poets for perpetuating the monarchical idea. But
it is essentially a poetical form of procedure to accept a
fiction on the statement of professed fables and myths, and
then to build upon it according to individual imagination.
Thus, nothing is so popular with poets as the image of a

8 The Poets Beasts.

lion, like some chivalrous knight of the Crusades, challeng-
ing attack from overwhelming numbers, and defying superior
strength.

No lion in the flesh behaves as Dryden's *' kingly beast "
that guides his pursuers to where he stands, " with roar of
seas directs his chasers' way," that " provokes the hunters
from afar, and dares them to the fray," and that " roars out
with loud disdain, and slowly moves, unknowing to give
place ; " or, as Thomson's —

" Despising flight,
The rouscd-up lion, resolute and slow
Advancing full on the protended spear,"

or as many other lions of poetry do, that scorn to turn from
a foe.

As a matter of fact, the lion, of all beasts of prey, is one
of the readiest to avoid a scrimmage. King James used to
try to divert his friends with lion-fights in the Tower, but,
according to Howes' Chronicle, his Majesty always failed,
owing to the captives' objections to fighting. " Then were
divers other lions put into that place one after another, but
they showed no more sport nor valour than the first ; and
every one of them, so soon as they espied the trap-doors
open, ran hastily into their dens. Lastly, there were put
forth together the two young lusty lions which were bred in
that yard, and were now grown great. These at first began
to march proudly towards the bear, which the bear perceiv-
ing came hastily out of a corner to meet them, but both lion
and lioness skipped up and down and fearfully fled from
the bear ; and so these, like the former lions, not willing to
endure any fight, sought the next way into their den." But
])crhaps this forbearance is like that of the late Mr. T,
.Sayers, who, it is said, " never liked to hit a man who didn't
know who he was." He was afraid of killing him in all
his ignorance, fco before he hit him he always told the

The King of the Beasts. 9

victim that he was Sayers. In the same way the poets' lion
always " roars " before attacking.

" Something almost like a lion " came " a great padding
pace " after the Pilgrim. It had " a hollow voice of roar-
ing."

This passage reminds me somehow of the poetical Beast
of Beasts. It is almost like a lion, and has a hollow voice.

Snug. Have you the lion's part written ? Pray you, if it be, give it

me, for I am slow of study.
Qjtince. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

Now, to complete the poetical lion it is necessary that in
all its moods it should be classic ; not only in those that
are heroic but those that are pathetic also. For are not
strong passions merely strong feelings ? So the lion in grief
is the most grievous beast imaginable. No parents created
(except eagles) feel the loss of their young so keenly as lions
and lionesses ; none are so quickly apprehensive of danger
to their hearths and cradles ; none are so frantic in revenge.
Therefore, from Spenser, with his "felle" lion that "grudg-
ing in his great disdaine, mournes inwardly, and makes to
himselfe mone," to Burns, who, anxious to give expression
to an overwhelming melancholy, cries out for the voice of
a lioness " that mourns her darling cubs' undoing," we find
the poets punctually magnifying the tenderness of the
species. It was necessary, of course, that this should be
done — ^just as one hears it said, describing some utter
ruffian, that, "after all, his heart is in the right place."
Thus, some of Ouida's tawny heroes are very leonine.
They crunch up bronze candlesticks between their fingers
in agonies of suppressed passion. But their violet eyes
overflow with liquidity at the first appeal of pathos.

The "stately lion," that "stalks with fiery glare" and
"dauntless strides along," offers in its majestic gait an
obvious simile that is abundantly and handsomely availed

lo The Poets Beasts.

of. Omitting the interminable series of individuals that
have been leonine in deportment, the surpassing dignity
and sense of power that ennobles the lion's pace have been
admirably transferred to, among other objects, an army (Mrs.
Hemans) :

" With a silent step went the cuirassed bands,
Like a lion's tread on the burning sands" —

lines which might be happily applied to the march of the
brigade of Guards across the sands to Tel-el- Kebir. Words-
worth employs the simile for primeval man —

" His native dignity no forms debase,
The eye sublime, and surly lion-grace :
The slave of none, of beasts alone the lord."

When tranquil in mind, there is a simplicity and ease in
the lion's movements, though full of a tremendous conscious-
ness of strength, that is enninently beautiful. When slightly
out of temper this stateliness increases by the addition of a
splendid sullenness — "with sullen majesty he stalks away"
(Broome) — but the simplicity is lost. When it flies into a
passion both stateliness and simplicity are gone, for the lion
reverts at once to a furious rough-and-tumble wild beast.

But the poets measure its kingliness by its fury, and the
more " woode " it becomes the more royal. This is an
error, not only of fact, but of grace. When Jove gets angry
he grows undignified. Gods and kings should always keej)
their tempers, for sceptres do not become furious hands.
Mortals begin to question divinity when they see such
passions cxlestihus aniinis.

Sometimes, but very seldom, he is merely "the shaggy
lion" (Prior), "the forest prowler " (I>yron), "bristly savage"
(Young), " terror of the wood " (Broome), that "grins dread-
fully"— the lion of nature i)ure and simple, "lapping at
the palm-cdged pool " (Jean Ingclow) ; the husband of the

The King of the Beasts. 1 1

" tawny " lioness that, robbed of whelps, " forgets to fear ; "
the father of the brindled cubs "blood-nurtured in their
grisly den." And it is worth noting that, just as the cock
comes off, both in poetry and proverb, with such honours,
while the hen is left behind to cackle and be generally
ridiculous, so the lioness fails to receive from her spouse
any adequate reflection of his dignities. She is desperately
cruel, and, in defence of her young, exceptionally fierce.
Because one, being robbed of her whelps, is said to have
killed the Ambracian king, they all seem athirst for homi-
cide. But the poets know little else of her. Pope calls
her "stubborn," Spenser, King, and several others "fell,"
Montgomery, in the sense of mad with rage, "wild," and
all the rest speak of her as the incarnation of maternal
fury. But the poets should not call the lioness or her
cubs "brindled," nor speak of "lionets," or as heraldry
calls little lions, "lioncels,"^ as "shrieking." For lion-
kittens are spotted, and mew — "slumbering in milk and
sighing " like any other cat's kittens.

But their home, "Gurden the Hen's palace," the grisly
den, all strewn with victim-remnants, cannot be too dread-
fully rendered, and the poets' grimness - rises to the subject.

' The air as in a lion's den
Is close and hot."

" Terrific as the lair
WTiere the young lions couch."

" Giant rocks at distance p'led
Cast their deep shadows o'er the wild.
Darkly they rise.
Away ! within those awful cells
The savage lion of Afric dwells."

^ " The Lyoncel from sweltrie countries braughte.
He looketh with an eie of flames of fyre."

— Chalterton s " Tonmameitt"
' litter alios Wordsworth, Thomson, Hemans, ^lontgomer)-, Your.g.

12 The Poets Beasts,

" In weary length
The enormous lion rests his strength.
For blood in dreams of hunting burns ;
Or, chased himself, to fight returns.
Growls in his sleep, a dreary sound,
Grinds his wedged teeth and spurns the ground."

" There, bent on death, lie hid his tawny brood,
And couched in dreadful ambush, pant for blood ;
Or stretched on broken limbs, consume the day
In darkness wrapt, and slumber o'er their prey."

That lion-cubs eat tiger-cubs (Southey), but avoid bears
and bulls till they are grown up (Cowley), are two details of
poetical natural history which seem to rest on an insuf-
ficient foundation of fact. The following also seems to be
a sketch from Southey's imagination : —

" A lion vainly struggled in the toils.
Whilst by his side the cub, in furious rage.
His young mane floating to the desert air.
Rends the fallen huntsman."

Of the beast in nature poetry is full, from the half-created
lion of the morning of the sixth day "pawing to get free
his hinder parts" (Melton) —

" Tlie roaring lion shakes his tawny mane,
His struggling limbs still rooted in tlie plain " {Daizvin) —

to the final lion of the Apocalypse that shall have six wings,,
and eyes before and behind ; from the cub, whelped upon
a litter of mumbled bones, to the old toothless brute blunder-
ing into the Kafir's pitfall, and —

" liy the wily African belrnycd,
Heedless of fate, wiiliin its gaping jaws
Expiring indignant."

Tut, as a rule, the lion is not merely the natural beast,
it is the "dread king," autocrat of the forest and desert,

The King of the Beasts. 13

the " blood-nurtured monarch of the wood " (Souihey), with
terrific attributes of eye and voice and stride —

'* The lordly lion stalks
Grimly majestic in his lonely walks.
WTien round he glares, all living creatures fly ;
He clears the desert with his rolling eye."

Each special feature in turn engages the poets' deference,
and each in turn is cited — like the birth-marks on the
Christian Champions, on the Fatal Children, or Eastern
Messiahs of all kinds and heroes generally — as an indisput-
able proof of natural dominion and a birthright of sove-
reignty. Thus of the lion's eye —

" A lion o'er his wild domains
Rules with the terror of his eye." — Monigomer}'.

And the undoubted majesty of the lion's gaze when startled
into apprehension or anger is a frequent metaphor —

" Like a lion turns the warrior,
Back he sends an angry glare." — Percys Reliques.

" As a leon he his loking caste." — Chancer.

" A lion's noble rage sits in their face.
Terribly comely ! arm'd with dreadful grace." — CoTv/ey.

Its voice, " the prowling lion's Here I am " (Words-
worth) ; that " doubles the horrors of the midnight hours "
(Broome); "how fearful to the desert wide!" — is one of
the poets' finest resources whenever terror is needed in a
stanza or panic-striking catastrophe requires a simile from
Nature.

" Not with more dismay
When o'er Caffraria's wooded hills
Echoes the lion's roar, the timid herd
Fly the death-boding sound " {Sou^/iey),

than puny enemies before the battle-cry of heroes of the
lion ramp, conspirators before the discovering lantern-flash,

14 The Poets Beasts.

or evil-doers at the voice of God ; and, in short, everything
in Nature that at one time or another may be suddenly
startlecf into the propriety of precipitate self-preservation.

As a rule it is heard roaring at night — " midnight listens
to the lion's roar " (Byron) ; but sometimes in broad day-
light "the lion's sullen roar at noon resounds along the
lonely banks of ancient Tigris " (Akenside). As a rule,
too, the lion roars only when alone ; when, that is, it is call-
ing to its mate or seeking one — " the solitary lion's roar "
(Montgomery) ; but occasionally travellers have heard them
roaring in company, and justifying therefore Montgomery's
fine simile of —

" Mad as a Lybian wilderness by night
With all its lions up."

So that the poets have no room for error. But it is not a
fact, as Prior supposes,^ that lions go about roaring seeking
for hunters to rend.

Yet, reverent as the majority are, there are poets who
(in spite of Eliza Cook's warning 2) have been found auda-
cious enough to " talk as familiarly of roaring lions as maids
of thirteen do of puppy-dogs," and even to make fun of tlie
tremendous voice.

" Boinhastes : So have I heard on Afric's burning shore
A hungry lion give a grievous roar ;
The grievous roar echoed along the shore.

1 " So the fell lion in the lonely glade,

His side still sm.nrting with the hunter's spear,

Tho' deeply wounded, no way yet disniay'd,

Roars terrible, and meditates new war.

In sullen fury traverses the plain

To find the vent'rous foe, and bailie him again."

— Ode to the Queen.

' " Let the lion be stirred by too daring a word,
And beware of liis echoing growl."

The Kiftg of the Beasts. 15

Artax. : So have I heard on Afric's burning shoie
Another lion give a grievous roar,
And the first lion thought the last a bore.

Or, as in Swift's delightful " Hyperbole on a Lion : "

" lie roar'd so loud and looked so wondrous grim,
His very shadow durst not follow him."

The prodigious fervour of the lion's attack — or rather the
exaggerated ideas once entertained of the general fierceness
of the animal — has stereotyped Chaucer's comparison " as
feres as a lion" — "as lions fierce."

" Ne in Belmarie there n'is so fell leon
That hunted is, or for his hunger woi>d.
Ne of his prey desireth so the blood
As Palamon."

And again —

" This Palamon
In his fighting were as a wood icon."

So Thomson and Parnell —

" On just reason, once his fury routed,
No lion springs more eager to his prey.
Blood is a pastime."

" So proud, inhuman, numberless and strong.
Like desert lions on their prey they go.''

Hence numerous metaphors taken from the same aspect of
the animal have become almost proverbs with poets of the
Eliza Cook calibre — " She'll take a blow and face a foe,
like a lion turned to bay " — " Go face the hungry lion in his
path," &c. But the ferocity idea is certainly elongated to
absurdity when we read that —

" The lion may yield, let him sink, let him bleed,
But seek not to tame him, to bind and to lead ; "

for as a matter of fact the lion has been very frequently

i6 The Poets Beasts.

tamed. Among the ancients it was considered a regular
appendage of the hunting cortege, being trained for the
chase, in Abyssinia notably, just as the lynx and cheetah are
trained still in the East. Nor were the Assyrians singular
in keeping this beast as a pet, for several heroes and kings
both to east and west of Nineveh are reported to have kept
tame lions ; while in art the docile species is by no means
infrequent —

" About that king ran many a tame leon and leopart."

And so we find, among others, St. Mark, St. John, and St.
Jerome, Sir Gwain de Galles, De Latour, Saladin, Hilde-
brand, Una, and the Fairie Queene, all maintaining lions as
pets or servants, while in the various classics, Cybele —

" Four maned lions hale
The sluggish wheels ; solemn their toothed maws,
Their surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy paws
Uplifted drowsily, and nervy tails
Cowering their tawny brushes —

and Bacchus, and Love, Indras, Prakrit, and Bala share
with other divinities and personages the dignity of a lion-
steed.

Again, in popular works of fiction, from the "Arabian
Nights " to the " Pilgrim's Progress," the lion appears as a
janitor or guardian, faithfully ferocious to the suspicious-
looking stranger and the evil-doer, but as tame to its own
household and friends as Una's companion or Androcles'
acquaintance.

Nor in this "ferocious" connection is it impertinent to
note how carefully the poets credited the fiction of the lion
finding it necessary to exasperate itself up to the necessary
point of fury by lashing its own body with its taiV just as

' This fiction, it is just possible, arose from the curious claw like
prickle or "thorn" found sometimes at the tip of the animal's tail, and
for which naturalists are still puzzled to provide an explanation.

The King of the Beasts. 1 7

Picrochole had to goad himself into courage against Grand-
gousier by self-reproaches. " Roused by the lash of his
own stubborn tail," says Dryden, happily hitting off the
British characteristic of abusing ourselves into action ; while
Waller is more precise —

•^ "A lion so with self-provoking smart

(His rebel tail scourging his noble part)
Calls up his courage ; then b^ns to roar
And charge his foes."

That the lion wags its tail when angry has passed into
a proverb, and those who have hunted the splendid animal,
either in Asia or Africa, always record the preliminary
" lashing of the tail " of a lion that has made up its mind
to charge. So Darwin's " indignant lions rear their bristling
mail, and lash their sides with undulating taiL" Cowley's
"bold lion, that, ere he seeks his prey, lashes his sides
and roars and then away," and others are not only within
" the literal verity," but the extension of so common a
feline gesture into a leonine singularity — above all, for so
absurd a purpose as stinging itself into courage — is a
prolongation of the idea that is decidedly poetical, but
certainly little else.

Indeed, the poets seem to recognise the dilemma in
which undue insistence on the unmitigated ferocity of the

lion would place them —

" Fie
Upon a lord that wol have no mercie,
But be a leon both in word and deed ! "'

ejaculates Chaucer, after having exhausted the lion-idea
to magnify the heroic fury of Palamon. For if the lion is
not magnanimous it is evidently unworthy of the royal title.
So the poets " hedge," so to speak, on all their ferocity by
explaining that under certain particular circumstances t'ne
lion is quite lamb-like, and with very special classes of
persons, " roars you as gently as any sucking dove."

B

1 8 Ihe Poets Beasts.

You are never, of course, to be in any doubt as to the
capacity of the lion for being terrible on occasion — " Mind
you, Todgers's can do it when it likes." But, on the other
hand, Hercules can calm down to the distaff, and Mars
play with pet sparrows. Did not Coeur-de-Lion himself
withdraw his hand on one or two occasions from commit-
ting unnecessary murders ? So just as the partial historian
tempers the crimson story of the first Richard with dabs
and specks of white clemency, so the poet, afraid of finding
his monarch-beast a complete Nero, qualifies its blood-
thirstiness with legendary and mythical suggestions of an
occasional magnanimity. Thus Moore diverges from his
usual importraiture to call it, in one of his Fables, "gene-
rous lion," and Dryden (using generous in the best sense,
as Prior has " the hungry lion's gen'rous rage ") goes on to
say —

" So when the gen'rous lion has in sight
His equal match, he rouses for the fight.
But when his foe lies prostrate on the plain
He sheatlis his paws, uncurls his angry mane,
And, pleas'd with the bloodless honours of the day,
Walks over, and disdains tli' inglorious prey : "

which is industriously untrue to fact — while sheathing his
paivs is an extraordinary performance even for a poet's lion.
The bear really does act in the whimsically magnanimous
way described in the above lines. But not the lion.

"The royal disposition of that beast to prey on nothing
that doth seem as dead " is a fiction,

" And I no less her anger dread
Than the poor wretch that feigns him dead
While some fierce lion doth embrace
His lifeless corpse and licks his face. •
Wrapt up in silent fear he lies,
Torn ail to pieces if he cries."

This reads well enough in Waller's song, but it is deplorably

The King of the Beasts. 19

beyond doubt that the lion will even prey on things that are
obviously and outrageously defunct. Its opportunity really
comes when "the foe lies prostrate on the plain." Above
all, it prefers to surprise its "equal match" when he is
asleep by the camp fire. The same agreeable fiction b
very frequently repeated. In one of the oldest of our
ballads we find —

" As the lyonne which is of bestes kynge.
Unto thy subjects be kurteis and benyngne ; "

whereas in nature the lion will even condescend to pick up
off its royal path such inconsiderable "subjects "as mice,
lizards, fi'ogs, and even cockroaches. The larger ones keep
out of sight, knowing his majestj^'s omnivorous propensities,
and disregard Wyatt's assurance that " the lion in his raging
hour forbears that sueth," or Broome's, that "the fierce
lion will hurt no yielden things." Dr. Livin^tone once
saw a very fine lion in Afirica that had just captiured a fawn
only a few hours old. Yet Quarles tells the fawns that
" hungry lions, woo'd with tears, will spare," and Spenser
the lady —

*' The lyon lord of everie beast in field
His princely puissance will abate.
And mightie proud to humble weak does yield,
Forgetful of the hunger which of late
Him prickt, in pi ttie of such sad estate."

Thus, in St. George's adventures, two lions, after killing the
eunuch, lay their heads in Sabra's lap. But the Knight
comes up and slays them, for which I can never sufficiently
forgive him. He goes on, however, to say : " Now, Sabra, I
have by this proved thy fidelity : for it is the nature of the
lion, be he never so furious, not to harm but humbly lay
his bristled head upon a maiden's lap. Therefore, divine
paragon, thou art the world's chief wonder for love and
chastity." Later on, in the adventures, I think, of St. David,

20 The Poets Beasts.

where the King of Babylon's daughter is in great trouble,
her father wishing to kill her, Fidelia hangs about the king's
neck "like a lioness," and says : "Thou monstrous murderer,
more cruel than the mad dogs of Egypt, why dost thou
determine to slaughter the most chaste and loyal lady in
the world, even she within whose lap untamed lions will
come and sleep ? "

But women were the special objects of leonine forbear-
ance, particularly if they were chaste —

" 'Tis said that a lion will turn and flee
From a maid in the pride of her purity ; "

and again —

" Harpers have sung and poets told
That he, in fury uncontrolled,
The shaggy monarch of the wood,
Before a virgin, fair and good,
Hath pacified liis savage mood ; "

SO that if Byron, Scott, and the rest be correct, "a lion
among ladies " need not after all be so " dreadful " a thing as
Snug supposed. Nor if they are of royal blood will the royal
beast do them hurt, as in Beaumont and Fletcher's play —

" Fetch the Numidian lion I brought over.
If she be sprung from royal blood, the lion
Will do her reverence ; else, he'll tear her."

Una, it will be remembered, was at first attacked by the
beast, but, recognising her virtue, it fawned upon her, kissed
her feet, licked her hands, and followed her to the death.

As a matter of (poetical) fact, lions will not hurt princes
under any consideration. Nor are many individual instances
of leonine generosity wanting. To say nothing of the fre-
quent allusions to Androclcs his lion, Shakespeare, Waller,
Blake, Fairfax, Cowper, and others cite examples of the lion's
unexpected clemency to such as were in misfortune, or those
who had befriended it.

The King of the Beasts. 21

Thoroughly consonant with this theory of the occasional
gentleness of *' the terror of the wood," is the poet's cheer-
fulness in endorsing its amiable familiarity with the lamb.
Ever}'body, probably, remembers the astonishment of the
Seven Champions of Christendom, even though they were
accustomed to " untamed lions " laying their heads in the
laps of Angelicas, when they saw lions and lambs together.
But the poets are not to be surprised by such trifles. The
Orpheus and Amphion myths redound to the credit of the
muse,^ and it is not therefore altogether unnatural that lions
"by tuneful magic tamed," "by verses charmed," and "led
by the ear," should now and then be found "dandling the
kid," or "gambolling with the bounding roe." They write,
however, on a point of a high prescription. We read in
Howe's " Chronicles " how King James had a lamb lowered
into the Tower lions' den, the company expecting to behold
a thrilling murder. On the contrary, " Being come to the
ground, the lamb lay upon his knees, and both the lions stood
in their former places and only beheld the lamb. Presently
the lamb rose up and went unto the lions, who very gently
looked upon and smelled on him, without any hurt Then
the lamb was softly drawa up again, in as good plight as
he was let down." In the earliest past, as we know from
Holy Writ, " the lion gambolled with the kid " in Spenser's
Paradise —

" The lyon there did with the lambe consort,
And eke the dove sate by the faulcon's side ;
Ne each of other feared fraud or tort,
But did in safe securitie abide,
Wiihouten perill of the stronger pride."

We can also surmise, from sacred promises of a future of
universal peace and idyllic amiabihty, what Shelley, dream-
ing of the hereafter, foresees —

^ Poets claim both as of their craft : also Arion.

2 2 The Poets Beasts.

" The lion now forgets to thirst for blood :
There might you see him sporting in the sun
Beside the dreadless kid ; his claws are sheatlied,
His teeth are harmless ; custom's force has made
His nature as the nature of a lamb ; "

and that then, blessed as in Montgomery's " Pelican Island," ^
where " nor lion nor tiger shed innocent blood,"

" Tlie steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the Pilgrim's feet."

The weary Progress will then be over : the chained lions
and the loose ones will have no further terrors for Faithful,
and the beasts that came along after the pilgrims " at a great
padding pace " will have been forgotten by Christian.

In heraldry it is a more conspicuous beast than even the
ordinary familiarity with the armorial lion would lead the
uninitiated to suppose, for (as Planche tells us ^) it was
once upon a time the only beast thought worthy to be worn
on shields and helmets. Thus, kings of England, Scotland,
Norway, and Denmark, Princes of Wales and Dukes of
Normandy, Counts of Flanders, Earls of Arundel, Lincoln,
Eeicester, Shrewsbury, Pembroke, Salisbury, and Hereford,
all bore lions — indeed, up to the twelfth century, heraldic
zoology begins and ends with the King of Beasts. Later on,
the leopard came upon the heraldic field, not only to divide
honours with the lion, but to usurp its place. For leopard
and lion — notably in the arms of England — are the one and
same animal, the difference of attitude alone deciding the
nominal species. In other words, "leopard" is used in
heraldry, not to represent a specific beast, but only a parti-
cular attitude of the lion. Thus lion-leopard means a lion
l^assing and seen in profile, while a leoparded-lion means
a lion full-faced. For the lion, pure and simple, heraldry

' " Lion nor tiger here shed innocent blood." — Pelican Island.
' Planch^, " The Pursuivant of Arms : " Chatto & Windus.

The King of the Beasts. 23

insists that it shall be "rampant" That attitude belongs
to it, as a matter of course. According to further details
of position, couching, standing, stalking, &c., the lion
symbolises sovereignty, circumspection, sagacity, magna-
nimity, valour, counsel. But heraldry has played strange
pranks with the animal, for it has degenerated into many
unworthy varieties, double-headed and double-tailed, fork-
tonged and winged, blue and red, silver and gold, black
and white — and even spotted.

As our national emblem the Uon cannot fail of course
to meet with abundant and flattering recognition. But
there has been, on the whole, a generous forbearance from
the topic that deserves our gratitude. Nevertheless, when-
ever treaties are signed, "the British lion kisses the feet
of peace," and whenever they are broken " our lion roars."
In subsequent battle "the lion-glance appals the foe," and
after the victory it " learns to spare the fallen foe." But
many other countries claim the lion for their cognisance,
or have at one time or other earned the leonine epithet,
for, besides " the Anglian Hon, the terror of France," ^ there
is "the ruddy lion that ramped in gold" in "proud Scot-
land's royal shield ; " " the winged lion of St. Mark," - wliere
" Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles," but
now

" St. Mark sees his lion where he s'ood.

Stand, but in mockery of his wither'd power."

There is " Belgia," with her lions " roaring by her side," —
"the Belgic Uon in full fury roars" (Phillips), and "the
Assyrian lyonesse," and " the lion of Neustria," and (what-
ever that was) the Tartar lion, and "victorious Salenvs

^ That " oft prowling, ensanguined the Tweed's silver flood, but,
taught by the bright Caledonian lance, learned to fear in his own native
wood." — Bums.

* " Sullen old lion of grand St. Mark

Lordelh and lifteth his front from the dark." — Joachim AlilUr.

24 The Poets Beasts,

lion-banner," "Judah's lion," and others of more or less
celebrity.

Yet, with all their homage, the poets can hardly exceed
the measure of this animal's dignity in prose. Even to
dream of lions was a splendid prognostication. It is the
ensign of Hercules, Hector, and Achilles; the Egyptian
hieroglyph of divine strength ; the " vehicle " of many gods
both of the East and West, and of the heroic all the world
over, from Scandinavian RoUo to Ethiopian Candace. The
Persian Xerxes also is a lion, though it was those beasts
that, by attacking his camel-train, put his campaign in peril.
The gods of Greece borrowed its form, and the chiefest of
Olympus and of the earth accepted its spoils as the insignia
of imperial strength. To describe or paint Jove himself,
men have had to take the lion as their model, and in the
imaginative Orient the figure is repeated in the forces of
Nature and the pageantry of the Pantheon. Its effigies sup-
ported the throne of Solomon and dignified the decorations
of the Temple. It stands, the mere name alone — " Sinha,"
lion — as the honourable affix of every member of one of the
noblest nations of Hindostan, whose king all the world
knew as Runjeet Singh, " the lion of the Punjab." But
what a roll of heroes that title summons up to the fancy —
" the lion of Persia," ^ Ali, " the lion of God," " the lions of
Judah," " the lion-kings of Assyria," "the lion of the north,"
"the lion of the Prophet," "the lion of Bavaria" — and so
forth in endless list, till we have enough Coeur-de-Lions
and Leos to re-establish a Lemberg or a Leontopolis, and
to justify the redemption of " that sweet land of Lyonnesse "
now lying forty fathom under Cornish water. To take its
name was the crowning affectation of tiie chivalrous, just as
to have killed a lion was so often — from Hercules to Don
Quixote — considered the climax of their courage.

* Tliat splendid prince who met his de;flli, unhappily, while chasing
an ass.

The King of t/ie Beasts. 25

" A man huge of limb,
Grey-eyed, with crisp-curled hair 'twixt black and brown.
Who had a lion's skin cast over him.
So wrought with gold that the fell showed but dim
Betwixt the shreds, and in his hand he bore
A mi^ty dub."

It adds a dignity to the light offence of the fleet maiden
and her lover that for their disregard of her groves they
joined Cybele's chariot-team ; and even the firmament
borrows a splendour from its terrific lion-constellation.
Homer himself is the grander for his lions, and what
notable blanks there would have been on the gates and
waUs of fortress and palace and city had there been no lion
for the sculptor, and what beauties been missing on canvas
and in literature.

Egjpt was so indiscriminate in her zoological reverences
that it adds little to the dignity of the lion, that the
Pharaoh who bowed before beetles should have paid it
sacred honours, though there is something originally fine in
the fact that the priests of the " Lion-town " chanted during
its meal-times to the beasts as they crunched their bones.
Our chiurch-gargoyles are said to be a relic of this worship
by the Nile, a vestige of the old-world homage paid to Leo,
in the ascendant at the rising of the Great River; and
whether this be true or not — and we owe a great deal more
to the pagans than unfortunately, "Pagafi being dead this
many a day," we can ever repay them — the Florentines
supply a half-way Unk in the coronation of the lions on St.
John's Day, the SoUeone, when the sun enters that sign.

Individuals dignified with lion compliments are "too
numerous for specification." But they include British
sailors ("the lion-spirits that tread the deck") and British
soldiers (" the lion-heart of Bricish fortitude ") ; most British
kings, from Richard I., "monarch of the lion-heart," to
George I XL, and a very large number of heroes from St

26 The Poets Beasts.

George to Nelson, as also most European celebrities — •
Henri IV., Napoleon, Tell, Charles XII., Luther, and
others ; " classical " notables, varying in degrees of merit,
from Ulysses to Tarquin, and all the heroes of poets' fancy,
the Douglases, Alberts, and Tracy de Veres, besides a pro-
digious series of miscellaneous personages of very diversified
character, ranging from Cain to Jonathan, and from the
Messiah to Satan.

The singular elasticity of the lion idea is thus abundantly
illustrated. But when we remember that in Holy Writ the
animal stands as the symbol of such very different things as
dignity and falsehood, courage and craft, the enemies of
truth and of wickedness : that in one part of Holy Writ it
typifies the devil, in another is a type of the Saviour ; also,
that in all fables the lion is presented to us in every possible
variety of character, from supreme grandeur to ridiculous
meanness, we perceive that the poets have been faithful to
their sources of information.

But it is in the metaphors and morals which the King of
Beasts affords that his many-sided nature is perhaps best
illustrated. Independence is (in Smollett) "Lord of the
lion-heart;" Ambition is (in Cowley) "the lion-star;"
Truth, "lion-bold;" Danger (in Akenside) has a "lion-
walk ; " Wrath (in Spenser) —

" And him besiile rides fierce avenging Wralh
Upon a lion, loth for to be led."

Passion and War (in Churchill), " fierce as the lion roaring
for his prey, or lioness of royal whelps foredone," are on
one side, while Peace, Cruelty, and Self-interest (in Young)
may be cited on the other. Tennyson has a noble simile —

" Slowly comes a hungry peo]ile as a lion creeping nigher,
Glares at one who nods and winks behind a slowly dying fue."

an assrhe sea is often a lion, and sometimes with admirable

The King of the Beasts. 27

force. Thus, in Hood, " Three monstrous seas came roar-
ing on like lions leagued together \ " or, in Hemans, " Like
angry lions wasting all their might." So Montgomer)',
" the ocean roaring in his wrath, mad as a Lybian wilder-
ness by night, with all its lions up, in chase or fight." In
Jean Ingelow, Time, "A. grim old lion gnawing lay, and
mumbled with his teeth a regal tomb." Into innumerable
other facets is the lion-stone cut. It does homage (in
Grahame) to the announcing angels of Bethlehem —

" The prowling lion stops.
Awe-struck, with mane upreared, and flattened head,
And, without turning, backward on his steps
Recoils, aghast, into the desert gloom ; "

it spares the prophet, thus characteristically " Emblem "-ed
by Quarles, —

" Fierce Lyons roaring for their prey ! and then
Daniel throwne in ! and Daniel yet remaine
Alive ! There was a Lion in the Den
Was Daniel's friend, or Daniel had been slaine.

Among ten thousand Lions, I'd not feare
Had I but only Daniel's Lion there ; "

it is soothed, in Darwin for instance, by music — -

" So playful Love on Ida's flowery sides
With ribbon rein the indignant lion guides ;
Pleased on his brindled back the lyre he rings
And shakes delirious rapture from the strings.
Slow as the pausing monarch stalks along
Sheaths his retractile claws and drinks the song ; "

and is a pattern of connubial constancy —

"The lion's constant to his only miss
And never leaves his faithful lioness.
And she's as chaste and true to him again." — Butler.

This may be true of the lion — for Nature has enforced
monogamy upon nearly all dangerous or noxious (male)

28

The Poets' Beasts.

beasts — but it is far from the truth with regard to the
lioness. She is a very Messalina, at once faithless and
cruel.

" In consequence of the great mortality of female cubs
during the process of dentition, she possesses over European
ladies the advantage of not being 'redundant,' as Mr. Greg
calls it — nay, of being, on the contrary, at a high premium.
Every third lion prowls about the desert sands, roaring
vainly for a mate ; and the consequence is, of course, an
immense exaltation of value, and perhaps, also, some addi-
tional cruelty on the side of the lioness." Miss Cobbe
then goes on to give a terrible illustration of this cruelty —
but the facts are, perhaps, too familiar to need repetition.
Sufifice it to say that the lioness manages by her coquetry to
bring rival suitors into each other's presence, and, having
excited them to combat, leaves them to bleed to death for
her sake while she strolls away in search of fresh conquests.

" The lion," says Professor Kitchen Parker, " enjoys the
honourable distinction of being strictly faithful to his
spouse, although report says she is by no means so virtuous,
but only cleaves to her mate until a stronger and handsomer
one turns up."

II.

THE HEPTARCHY OF THE CATS.

Nothing can be more unsatisfying than the poets' treat-
ment of the splendid family of the Cats. Excepting the
lion, to which, as I have shown, they do conspicuous justice,
the poets have apparently no appreciation whatever of the
grand Parable of the Carnivora. They say the tiger is very
fierce, and the leopard and the panther very beautiful ; but
there they end. Their powerful compeers, the jaguar, puma,
ounce, and cheetah, which complete the Heptarchy — the
Lion-state enjoying the " hegemony " of the confederacy —
aie not utilised, so that virtually the noble Beasts of Prey
afford the poets no more than two similes — one of exces-
sive cruelty, and one of personal elegance. Here and there,
of course, tradition, heraldic association, or Biblical mis-
translation, betrays the poet into some oblique injustice to
the proud vassals of the beast paramount — " the lonely lords
of empty wilds and woods " — but these aberrations do not
materially affect their treatment. They do not recognise
apparently the nobility of this family of courageous and
beautiful beasts in Nature's wild-life scheme, nor appreciate
the purpose they serve as her chief ministers of state.

Individually the tiger, leopard, and panther are each of
them largely utilised, but, as will be seen, with very meagre

30 The Poets Beasts.

aims and results, considering the possibilities of such
subjects.

With regard, however, to this class of beautiful and
dangerous beasts, it is due to the poets to point out that
antiquity used " pard " for the cheetah ; that tradition made
the "leopard" a hybrid between pards and lions; that the
" mythical panthera," of European fancy, was first imagined
somewhere about the Reynard-the-Fox Age, and has sur-
vived as the panther of modern times ; that when heraldry
commenced in earnest, the leopard was merely the lion in
certain attitudes ; that early writers mixed up tigers with
leopards and panthers as part of the emblematic retinue
of the Greek gods ; that modern zoologists are still divided
as to the identity or variety of the leopard and panther ;
that America calls the puma both "panther" and "moun-
tain lion ; " that in Ceylon the panther is called the " tiger ; "
that in the South African Colonies the leopard is called
" tiger " also ; and that all over India the same native names
are hopelessly bewildered among not only panthers, leopards,
and cheetahs, but also extended to hyaenas.

TIGER.

The Tiger — " the deep-mouthed tiger, dread of the brown
man," as Morris calls it — is a very frequent image with the
poets, whether "holding its solitude in desert dark and
rude," — "crouching to await its helpless prey," — "darting
fierce, impetuous, on the prey his glance has doomed," —
or "returning to its den before the sun may see it." But
it has nevertheless only one aspect, namely, of ruthless
voracity. To this every other feature is made to contribute.
The "tiger's plunge," from its impetuosity, is used as if
denoting a malignity of purpose greater than when the
royal lion does the same thing ; and when it lies in
ambush — a particularly leonine trick — the stratagem is con-

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 31

demned as savouring of treachery, though lions may do it
by right divine.

The tiger — " cruel and unkind, that with greediness thirsts
after blood," — '* formed to cruel meals," stands, in fact, in
the poets for the symbol of pure bloodthirstiness — " with fell
clawes full of fierce gourmandise, and greedy mouth wide-
gaping like hell-gate " —

" As when some tiger, to his haunt from day
Returns, bloodfoaming, with his slaughtered prey,
Grim-pleased that there with undisturbed roar
He'll glut and revel o'er the reeking gore ;
Glares in wild fury o'er the gloomy waste.
And growls terrific o'er the mangled beast ;
Now drags relentless down the rugged vale.
And stains the forest with a bloody traii."

This episode from Wilson is characteristic of a hundred
other passages equally untrue to nature, for the tiger is not
by many fathoms such a fool as to drag his prey to his
haunt, "and stain the forest with a bloody trail" which
would inevitably lead to his destruction. Nor does he roar
at his meals. Another popular poets' error is preserved in
Montgomery, where, in an otherwise excellent passage, he
speaks of the tiger dragging the buffalo to his lair and
" crashing through the ribs at once unto the heart," for this
animal never commences its meal either at the heart, or, as
other poets say, at the throat, but at the buttocks of the prey.
"The tigress in her whelpless ire," "the cubless tigress
in her jungle raving" (Byron), "the tiger-dam with red
fangs " (Cook) — is a very favourite simile for supreme fero-
city, carried in Mar\'ell even to the point of suicide —

•' So from Euphrates' bank, a tigress fell
After her robbers for her whelps doth yell.
But sees enraged the river flow between.
Frustrate revenge, and love by loss more keen,
At her own breast her useless claws does arm —
She tears herself."

32 The Poets Beasts.

Arcite in the " Knight's Tale " is a " felle tigre."

" There was no tigre in the Vale of Galaphey
When that hire vvhelpe is stole
So cruel."

But, after all, where shall we give the palm of maternal
fondness ? As Byron says —

" The love of offspring's nature's general law,
From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings ;
There's nothing whets the beak, or arms the claw,
Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings.
And all who have seen a human nursery, saw
How mothers love their children's squalls and chucklings.'

Connubial affection is not the tigress's forte, for, with all
wild animals of her sex, she shares the deplorable tendency
to transfer her charms from her spouse to any other male that
overcomes him in battle, and is indeed much maligned if it
be not true that she actually incites her lord and master to
fight, as if not altogether indifferent to a change of hus-
bands. The lines " Oh, e'en the tiger slain hath one who
ne'er doth flee, who soothes his dying pain," are not there-
fore in invariable or even frequent harmony with the facts
of the tiger's wedded life. For the tigress Hcks the wounds
of the conqueror, irrespective of previous domestic rela-
tions.

Nor, as a matter of fact, is the tiger a specially ferocious
criminal. As the greatest authority on Indian natural
history says, it is "a harmless, timid animal." It feeds on
animals that are prodigiously injurious to crops, and there
are on record in India the complaints of villagers about the
increase of deer and wild pigs in consequence of the de-
struction of the tigers in their neighbourhood. When it
gets too feeble to catch wild animals it begins to eat tame
ones, or easier victims still, the men or women who are in

The Hepta7'chy of the Cats. 33

charge of the cattle. It then becomes, as a " man-eater," a
criminal against humanity — and death cannot overtake it
too soon.

But it is only those who know the Hindoos thoroughly
who can credit their amazing apathy, even when in immi-
nent danger. So long as it is not actually visible they
refuse to take precaution against peril, and I remember
during the Afghan War ha\ing to thrash some lazy camp-
followers in order to arouse them to a proper sense of the
necessity of saving their own lives. They had squatted down
to smoke by the roadside in the Khyber Pass, though they
knew the enemy was lurking both in the rocks above them,
and in the grass-jungle behind them, and though they had
with their own eyes seen the corpses of camp-followers lying
where they had been murdered — when, like themselves, they
had sate down contrary to orders to smoke. In the very
same way, the herdsman comes loafing home in the twilight,
shouting out a song at the top of his voice as he goes (to
let the beast know that he is coming probably), and sud-
denly the tiger flashes out of the sugar-canes, and there is
an end of that herdsman. But the next man will probably
do the very same thing. He will take another road of
course on his way home, but he will lag behind his cattle
and sing to himself in the same ridiculous way, and out from
under the bair-tree springs the same old tiger.

Indeed, it is one of the problems of Indian administra-
tion how to keep the natives from suicide. They prefer to
have half the village down with small-pox and then to carry
a dead chicken round the stricken hamlet on the end of a
pole, than to be vaccinated. They prefer to lose a pro-
digious number of their acquaintances by drowning rather
than protect their open wells. They prefer to have tens of
thousands of men and women bitten by snakes in the toes
and thumbs, and die therefrom, than to let enough light into
a hut to see the difference between a f::iggot and cobra.

c

34 The Poets Beasts.

Not that I wish to extenuate the immorality of the tiger
in eating human beings, even when it finds them lying
about, so to speak, as if they were worth nothing. It is a
practice that should be discouraged even more forcibly than
it is, and be made an imperial matter. But, on the other
hand, it is unfair, even to tigers, to speak of them as if they
were for ever going about mangling. They are ferocious
enough — indeed, they set the lion a very splendid example
— when they are attacked and have to fight. But such
ferocity is not to be spoken ill of. It is heroism. The
historian can give our handful of soldiers in the Indian
Mutiny no further praise when he has once said that " they
fought like tigers." The poet, therefore, who calls Bertram
a tiger, because he has not enough courage to show fight
against odds, does the noble beast a gratuitous injustice,
Scott, moreover, stretches his metaphor beyond its capacity
when he makes Bertram, couching in the brake and fern,
hide his face " lest foemen spy the sparkle of his swarthy
eye ! "

Nor, in the poets, does any majesty appertain to the
tiger, "that doth live by slaughter." It is "tameless" —
which of course tigers are not, seeing that they have very
frequently been tamed — and affords frequent similes for
irresistible ferocity. But there is no dignity attaching to
the beast apart from his pre-eminence in criminal fury. It
is, in fact, described as rather a mean animal, toying, as in
Hurdis, with the kids when caught, " whetting his appetite
by long restraint," and, in Spenser —

" When he by cliance cloth find
A feeble beast, doth felly him oppress."

It worries sheepfolds, stalks "gentle fawns at play " —

" As a tiger, who by chance hath spy'd
In some purlieu two gentle fawns at play,
Straight couches close, tlien rising changes oft

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 35

His coucbant watch, as one who chose his ground
Whence rushing he might surest seize them both
Gripped in each paw " {Dryden),

kills for killing's sake, " roams all abroad and grimly slays,"
and continues to slaughter even when dying itself.

" As a grim tiger whom the torrent's might
Surprises in some parched ravine at night
Turns, even in drowning, on the wretched flocks
Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks,
And to the last, devouring on his way,
Bloodies the stream he has no power to stay."

Moore's zoology, however, is, as a rule, of the wildest
kind ; but it is strange that the notorious fact — notorious
at any rate from the days of the Ramayana and before
Homer — that in presence of a common danger tigers and
sheep lay aside their mutual antipathies, should not have
made his metaphor move more cautiously. I have myself
known of a tiger and a herd of cattle on the same half-
acre of ground during a flood, and the tiger seemed the
most ill at ease of all the company. Thus accurate Tenny-
son, " Gareth and Lynette," has, the " lion and stoat isled
together in time of flood ; " and Leyden, in the " Scenes of
Infancy " —

" When the storm through Indian forests runs,

Floats far and loud the hoarse, discordant yell
Of ravening pards, which harmless crowd the dell.

The barbarous tiger whets his fang no more
To lap, with torturing pause, his victim's gore.
Curb'd of their rage, hysenas gaunt are tame,
And shrink, begirt with all-devouring flame."

Its appearance, the poets say, commands no such re-
spect from other beasts as the lion's is said to do — though
Livingstone says those who meet a lion will be much dis-

36 TJie Poets Beasts.

appointed if they expect to see anything but a very large
dog-like animal. Its eyes are "glowing flames" (Chatterton),
and " fire-ball " eyes " that make horrid twilight in the sun-
less jungle"^ (Montgomery); they "flash" and "glare."
But there is nothing of awe in the aspect of the tiger,
according to the poets, except to such poor things as lambs
and kids and fawns. Blake is a notable exception, in the
poem commencing —

" Tiger ! tiger ! burning bright
In the forests of the niglit :
What immortal hand or eye
Could form thy fearful symmetry ? "

Its voice is "dreadful," it "growls terrific," but it has
no effect upon the surrounding forests and its inhabitants,
such as the roar of lions is supposed to have when they
burst

" From dreams of blood, awaked by maddening thirst,
"When the lone caves, in which they shrunk from light,
Ring with wild echoes through the hideous night.
When darkness seems alive, and all the air
Is one tremendous uproar of despair." — Montgomery.

The "thirsting tiger's yell," "hideous howl," "voice more
horrid than the roar of famished tiger leaping on his prey,"
and other expressions of objection to the sound are very fre-
quent, but none of them give any notion at all of the supreme
awfulness of the real voice in nature, that literally hushes
the jungle and fills the twilight with horror. Not that tigers
roar much. When, as in Darwin, "with kindling flame, he
hears the love-lorn night-call of his brinded dame," the
tiger has a very solemn and dreadful utterance, but Mont-

.So Jean Ingclow :-

In tangles of the jungle reed
Wiiose heats are lit witli tiger eyes."

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 2>7

gomery comes nearer to the actual sound when he calls it a
"groan." As a matter of fact, it is something between a
cough and a groan.

Is the lion or the tiger the superior in courage and
strength ? There is little evidence on record to help us to
a decision, but all that there is is completely in favour of
the tiger. The two animals have often been put together
to fight, but the lion has invariably declined the combat.
They have accidentally got into each other's cages, and
the tiger has killed the lion. Feats of strength are authen-
ticated of the tiger to which the lion can, on evidence, lay
no claim ; and as regards their comparative courage in the
presence of man, the evidence goes to prove the superiority
of the tiger. Says Livingstone, for instance, " Lions would
seem to be inferior in power to the Indian tiger." For
myself, then, I give the preference without hesitation to
the tiger.

Yet in the poets the tiger forms, of course, part of tlie
courtier-retinue of the Hon — "Gaunt wolves and sullen
tigers in his train " (Collins) — for the lion, as Spenser, Allan
Ramsay, and others state, defeated the tiger in single com-
bat, when the prize was the sovereignty of the animal world.
Cowley speaks of the lion as thirsting for tigers' blood, and
again of the " dreadful " (that is, full of dread) tiger trembling
at even the slumbering lion —

" When ht lies down the woods a dreadful silence keep,
And dreadful tigers tremble at his sleep."

Southey, imitating this fancy, does the same, and speaks of
tigers " trembling " while the lion sleeps ; while several others
describe the two as meeting, and the tiger giving way.
Thus "Wilson —

" The shaggy lion rushes to the place,
With roar tremendous seizes on his prey.
Exasp'rate see ! the tiger springs away, " .

38 The Poets Beasts.

Stops short, and maddens at the monarch's growl ;
And through his eyes darts all his furious soul.
Half willed, yet half afraid to dare a bound,
He eyes his loss, and roars, and tears the ground,"

Yet in spite of the poets I am of opinion that a very
considerable dignity attaches to the Raja of the Jungles.
Sportsmen know well what a solitude the tiger creates for
itself by its simple presence, and what an overwhelming
awe possesses all wild life when its voice is heard. The
wild boar, it is true, will turn upon it, but then the wild
boar is the type among the beasts of a chivalry that is
Quixotic in its rashness ; and the tiger by this presump-
tuous conduct often arrives at pork that he could not other-
wise have captured. Sometimes, however, he is killed by the
boar. But what supremacy in the world is not challenged at
some time or another by foolhardy subjects or overweening
rivals ? Does the lion " walk his kingly path " unchallenged ?
On the contrary, he has to yield the path very often.

In the tiger's manner of life, lording it over the unrivalled
jungles of India, there is an undoubted majesty, while its
amazing physical powers bespeak the monarch of a king-
dom where might is right, and befit it as the steed of Hari
and the emblem of Shiva.

In metaphor, therefore, though frequently recurring, the
tiger has but a very narrow range. Spenser's Spumnador
rides on one —

" Upon a tygre swift and fierce he rode,
That as the winde ran underneatii his load,
While his long legs nigli raught unto the ground."

All very bloodthirsty personages, like royal enemies of
Great Britain, "daring the lion," or their soldiers — "Gallia's
tigers," for instance, who " fight with tiger zeal ; " or disre-
putable heroes of the Byronic Corsair or Moore's Ghebir
type ; or wicked sycophants of the powerful, or oppressors

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 39

of the weak, are all "tigers." So Wrong itself and Evil
Passions are symbolised by the tiger, Wrath is "tiger-
passioned " (Keats), and — the climax of insidious and abomi-
nable cruelty — the gout is " half tiger, half a snake " (Arm-
strong). Once only is the beast amiable, and that is in a
general revolution of animal character which Darwin delight-
fully imagines in his " Loves of the Plants : " —

" Charmed on the brink, relenting tigers gaze,
And pausing buffaloes forget to graze ; *

Admiring elephants forsake their wood,
Stretch their wide ears, and wade into the flood.
In silent herds the wondering sea-calves lave,
Or nod their slimy foreheads o'er the wave ;
Poised on still wing attentive vultures sweep,
And, winking crocodiles are lulled to sleep ; "

and once again, when Chatterton sees them " wanton with
their shadows in their stream."

But in Chatterton all things were permissible \ ^ and
Moore, perhaps, need create no surprise when he assures
us that even the hungriest tiger will not eat a " Ghebir "
man, knowing him to be "a thing untamed and fearless as
themselves." But why does Shelley make tigers fight with
sea-snakes out in mid-ocean? or Campbell sing of tigers
stealing along the bank of a North American river? or
Somerville describe them in Mexico ? or why do Cowley
and Byron speak of spotted tigers ?

" The tiger's litter ; but whoe'er
Would seek to save the spotted sire or dam
Unless to perish by their fangs ? "

^ For instance, this impossible convention of animals —

" The rampynge lyon, felle tygere,

The bocke that skyppes from place to place,
The olyphaunte and rhynocere

Before me throughe the greene-woode I did chase."

— Parlyamente of Sprytes.

40 The Poets Beasts.

" He swells with angry pride,
And calls forth all his spots on every side."

For once the poets have nearly managed to make a wild
beast a real wild beast, and these variations from nature are
as deplorable as they were unnecessary.

As I have said before, " there is no nonsense about the
tiger, as there is about the lion." He does not go about
imposing on people. Wolves may, if they like, pretend that
♦they are only dogs gone wrong from want of a better bring-
ing-up, and the lion swagger as if he were something more
than a very large cat ; but the tiger never descends to such
prevarication, setting himself up for better than he is, or
claiming respect for qualities which he knows he does not
possess. There is no ambiguity about anything he does.
All his character is on the surface. " I am," he says, " a
thoroughgoing downright wild beast, and if you don't like
me you must lump me ; but in the meanwhile you had
better get out of my way." There is no pompous affecta-
tion of superior "intelligence" about tigers. If they are
met with in jungles, they do not make-believe for the
purpose of impressing the traveller with their uncommon
magnanimity, or waste time like the lion in superfluous roar-
ings, shaking of heads, or "looking kingly." On the con-
trary, they behave honestly and candidly, like the wild
beasts they are. They either retire precipitately with every
confession of alarm, or in their own fine outspoken way
"go for the stranger." Nor when they make off do they
do it as if they liked it or had any half mind about it — as
the lion, that Livingstone tells us trots away slowly till it
thinks itself out of sight and then bounds off like a grey-
hound— wasting time in pretentious attitudes or in trying
to save appearances. They have no idea of showing off.
If they mean to go, they go like lightning, and don't for
a moment think of the figure they may be cutting. But
if, on the other hand, they mean fighting, they give the

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 4 1

stranger very little leisure for misunderstanding their in-
tentions.

The tiger, therefore, deserves to be held in respect, as a
model wild beast, for he knows his station, and keeps it,
doing the work that Nature has given him to do with all
his might Life has only one end for him, the enjoyment
of it, and to this he gives the whole of his magnificent
energies. Endowed with superb capabilities for taking
lives and preserving his own, he exercises them to the
utmost in this one direction, without ever forgetting for an
instant that he is only a huge cat, or flying in the face of
Providence by wishing to be thought anything else. One
result of this is that the tiger finds no place in folk-lore
outside of India and (in a demoniacal form) Cathay. There
was, it is true, a stream somewhere in Fairyland that turned
donkeys into " tigers," but the name is used here only as
the extreme antithesis of the inoffensive ass.

LEOPARD.

Owing to the mystery in heraldry about the identity of
the Leopard, and the confusion in myths and folk-lore, not
only between this animal and the panther — which is allow-
able, seeing that science is still unable to decide the question
of their variety — but even between the leopard, lion,^ and
tiger, the poets have found in it (whether we call it libbard,
pard, pardel) a thoroughly suitable subject for poetical
treatment. Having no definite indi\-iduality, it can be
treated very liberally as to manners, appearance, and attri-
butes, and there is little margin for criticism of the liberties
which poets may take.

They have, therefore, this justification for their " leopards,"
that the sources from which they usually draw their zoolo-

' Thus Broome makes Achilles terrific in "a leopard's spotted
spoils."

42 The Poets' Beasts.

gical information are exceptionally muddy on the question
oi felts pardus.

Thomson calls " the lively shining leopard, speckled o'er

with many a spot," " the beauty of the waste ; " Wordsworth

has " the lively beauty of the leopard ; " Dryden, " the lady

of the spotted muff;" Morris has "spotted leopards fair,

that through the cane-brakes move, unseen as air ; " Moore,

" such beauties might the lion warm ; " Jean Ingelow has

" the fair leopard, with her sleek paws laid across her little

drowsy cubs," and so on : while the other touches of Nature

— " elegant," " light," '' of easy grace " — all connote a thing

f of beauty. " Freckled like a pard," says Keats, wishing to

I enhance the loveliness of the Lamia snake ; and Tennyson

• has, " eyed like the evening star."

In Darwin it is the lover —

" And now a spotted Pard the lover stalks,
Plays round her steps and guards her favoured walks.
As with white teeth he prints her hand, caressed,
And lays his velvet paws upon her breast,
O'er his round face her snowy fingers strain
The silken knots."

In Leyden, the " brinded panther fierce " does not matter,
but why should Heber, with his Indian experience, say " the
brindled pard?" Truly may Herbert, though in another
significance, say, " in a leopard the spots are not observed."
Campbell, with his characteristic independence in matters of
fact, places " panthers " in New South Wales.
' Otherwise they have no place in poets' Nature. Keats
has "pard with prying head," a delightful phrase; Hood
speaks very happily indeed of a sound "distantly heard, as
of some grumbling pard," and Morris, always in sympathy
with Nature, has "the stealthy leopard whining" as it creeps
from out the thicket. ]5ut except Moore's absurd conceit
of leopards mistaking loosened stones for prey, and

V

\
\

\

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 43

" Long heard from steep to steep.
Chasing them down their thundering way,"

and one or two incidental " pards " that happen to fit into
rhymes, the animal does not appear.

Yet when we remember the importance of the leopard in
heraldry, and its frequent appearance both in art and the
fancies of antiquity, it seems somewhat curious that it should
have found such scanty favour. As part of "panthered
Bacchus' jolly retinue " we meet with it in Keats and one or
two other poets, while in Shakespeare, Scott, and elsewhere,
allusion is made to our national "leopard." As referred to
in Holy Writ in connection with the indelible Ethiopian,
it receives due notice from the worthy Hurdis and from
Cowper as being a beast of prey, and therefore, in the
coming days of a universal peace, predestined to lie down
with the lamb.

Sacred to Pan, Chief President of the Hills, and the
favourite of Dionysus, its skin was once the honourable
badge of priesthood; the Greek gods and Greek heroes
wore it on state occasions, and it is still one of the supreme
insignia of royalty in Africa.

PANTHER-

When the Panther — " the viceroy panther '' of Dryden's
parable — is mentioned by name, it generally adds something
of solitude to the leopard idea. The poets' leopard is a
graceful, pretty beast, fit to be a lady's pet. The panther
is of a somewhat gloomier sort. It " ravens " occasionally,
and is often found in the dreadful company of tigers,
hyaenas, and other beasts of reproach. A savour of covert
malignity attaches to the animal.

But it is still beautiful. Says Dryden, " fairest creature
of the spotted kind ; " Shelley, " a pard-hke spirit, beautiful

44 The Poets Beasts.

and swift," and again, "sleeping in beauty on the mangled
prey, as panthers sleep ; " Wordsworth —

" He was a lovely youth ! I guess
The panther in the wilderness
Was not so fair as he,"

and so with others. In the East a " panther waist," " panther
elegance," is a stereotyped phrase in the description of
Oriental beauty. But even in these (Dryden's having a
covert significance), the touch of the beast of prey is not
wanting — it is fleet of foot, a thing of the wilderness, sleeping
on its mangled prey — while in the majority of references it
is a downright wild beast — " skulking," the guilty accomplice
of wolves, " the bloody panther " by which A. Wilson must
mean the cougar or puma, or else mean nothing, for there
is no large spotted carnivore in North America, "ruthless
panther," "furious pard," and so forth. At sunset it rushes
out after prey " from the roots of Lebanon," ravages the red
man's " fold " (in E. Cook — whom the Saints preserve !) ;
"in his desperate fierceness, defying and bold;" is found
(in Glover) on Hydaspes' side or Eastern Indus cooling his
"reeking jaws" after "feasting on the blood of some torn
deer,"

" Which nigh his cruel grasp
Had roamed unheeding in the secret shade ; "

and very often besides is spoken of as a fierce carnivorous
brute — which, in spite of its beauty and fragrance, the
])anther or leopard undoubtedly is. To kill this animal,
therefore, was, the poets tell us, " the highest glory and
the greatest joy " of North American foresters, and its spoils
" the prime trophy " of Ethiopian spears. Somerville,
therefore, includes the panther in the beasts of chase, and
gives the following singular receipt for the successful hunt-
ing of the beast, though it might be objected that the carry-

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 45

ing about of large mirrors, when out after panthers, in such
scenes as they inhabit would be a cumbrous matter —

" Fierce from his lair springs forth the speckled pard,
Thirsting for blood and eager to destroy ;
The huntsman flies, but to his flight alone
Confides not : at convenient distance fix'd,
A polish'd mirror stops in full career
The furious brute ; he there his image views :
Spots against spots with rage improving glow.
Another pard his bristly whiskers curls,
Grins as he grins, fierce menacing, and wide
Distends his op'ning jaws ; himself against
Himself oppos'd, and with dread vengeance arm'd.
The huntsman, now secure, with fatal aim
Directs his pointed spear, by which transfix'd
He dies, and with him dies the rival shade."

The poets, in fact, divide their leopard into two (as many
sportsmen do for the sake of augmenting their trophies) so
as to seem to be talking of more than one animal, reserving
the leopard to convey ideas of grace without undue ferocity,
and the panther for ferocity that even personal beauty does
not condone. It is a " bearded " beast of " panther-peopled
solitudes " (Shelley), that " howls " in the wilderness (Camp-
bell), and dies of the sirocco in African deserts (Darwin).
And, indeed, in Nature, it is by no means a mere plaything.
For the " panther " — by which name Oriental sportsmen call
the larger specimens or, as some zoologists affirm, the larger
species of leopard — is very often a man-eater. And this not
from the necessities of decrepitude, as with the tiger, but
from choice. For the panther frequently enters huts to
carry off an inmate, though the village cattle, past which
it had come, offered a less perilous capture. Its strength
is surprising, for it can break the neck of full-grown cattle,
and carry sheep over a wall seven feet in height. When
attacked, it is, in the opinion of many sportsmen, quite as
formidable as the royal wearer of the stripes. It feeds only

46 The Poets Beasts.

on the largest game, the sambhur stag, nilghai, cattle, horses,
and man — one panther in the Gwalior state having been
known to kill fifty human beings in one district. If wounded
from a tree it will climb up to its assailant and attack him
there, and will charge an elephant as cheerfully as the
tiger does.

The leopard (I am here accepting the theory that there
really are two species of the animal), though not so formid-
able, is still a dangerous antagonist, but, as a rule, it does
not aspire to larger victims than sheep and goats, the smaller
varieties of deer and antelope, calves, and, above all, dogs.
Now the poets, as Broome and Somerville, seem to think
the leopard looks upon the dog as its natural master and
conqueror, whereas the fact is that the leopard looks upon
the dog as its natural food. The leopard's taste for dogs is
certainly one of the most extraordinary phenomena in natural
history. We say that cats like fish and that monkeys are
fond of nuts, but these are mere passing whims, caprices of
the moment, compared to the constant passion of leopards
for dogs. It is a very Chinaman for its delight in puppy, for
it will follow a man for miles like his shadow if a dog be at
his heels, — and it will be a very extraordinary dog indeed if
it does not at last give the leopard its chance. The best of
them sometimes commits the indiscretion of loitering behind
its master or running out of sight round a corner in front of
him, and if it does this with a leopard on the track nothing
more is ever seen of the dog, and nothing more heard of it
but a last squeal as it is swiftly snatched up off the path and
carried, with a sudden rustle of foliage, down the hill-side.
At night, leopards will prowl round the tent, snifting under
the canvas for the dog that they can smell within, or in the
hill stations will boldly come down among the houses and
carry off the pet of the establishment, though servants may
be moving about. It is on record that in the station of
Gumsoor not a single dog escaped, and nearly every

The Heptai'chy of the Cats. 47

resident of India who has ever camped out in the jungle
where leopards are, or has lived in " the hills," has had some
tragic experience of this mania of the leopard for dogs.

In about the same degree, but obviously for very different
reasons, the monkey takes the most profound interest in
the leopard, and when one is afoot the four-handed folk
follow him as closely as they dare, shaking the branches in
their absurd rage, chattering furiously at their enemy, and
making faces at him. Sometimes, however, the leopard
stops abruptly and glares at them, and the wretched
monkeys, gathering overhead, get so excited in their demon-
strations that one of their number is pretty sure to lose its
balance and tumble into the leopard's mouth.

A tradition was once widely current that the panther was
sweetly-scented — says Dryden, "the panther's breath was
ever famed for sweet " — and that this fragrance was so fas-
cinating to some small animals that it enticed them to their
death in the jaws of the aromatic beast.^ It is a fact, how-
ever, that the panther itself is peculiarly sensible to perfumes,
and among other instances is one of undeniable authen-
ticity of a panther being tamed with lavender water.

A part of this tradition is no doubt the existence of a
mythic animal called the " panthera," of which the bones
were of great lustre and exquisite odour. One of the
three "rarities" which Reynard the Fox pretended he
had got for the Queen was a comb. " This comb was
made of the bone of a noble beast called Panthera, which
lives between the greater India and earthly Paradise. He
is so beautiful that he partakes of all the loveliest hues

1 Spenser thus alludes to another tradition — the power of the panther
to fascinate, lilce the snake, by sight —

" The panther, knowing that his spotted hyde

Doth please all beasts, but that his looks them fray,
Within a bush his dreadful head doth hide,

To let them gaze whylst he on them may prey."

48 The Poets Beasts.

under heaven ; and the smell of him is so sweet and whole-
some that the very savour cures all infirmities. He is
the physician of all animals that follow him, and has one
fair bone, broad and thin, in which, when slain, are contained
the whole virtues of the animal. It can never be broken
nor consumed by any of the elements : yet it is so light
that a feather will poise it, and it can receive a fine
polish."

In metaphor these twin animals are very unfruitful in the
poets' hands. As being beautiful but of faulty character,
they supply the fabulist with a satire — in Dryden on the
English Church, in Gay on a vain beauty, in Spenser a
cruel one, in Moore a dissolute one. And as being fierce,
a simile for impetuous soldiery, as "the sword of the
Moslem," and the British attack.

JAGUAR, PUMA, CHEETAH, OUNCE.

Tw'O or three poets mention the " Jaguar " and the " fell
Puma that feeds on the colt and the steer," and once by
inference (in Somerville) the cheetah is indicated. Nor
in the case of the last-named is obscurity altogether unjusti-
fiable, for, except as part of the hunting equipage of princes,
Asiatic and African, or — in the case, for instance, of Semend-
manik, the favourite of Akhbar — as royal pets, the cheetah
is an inconspicuous animal in its own countries.

At the same time it should not be forgotten that the
cheetah is the real " pard " of the ancients, and therefore
the animal that the poets really mean, though they do not
know it, when they refer to " leopards " of antiquity.

But, in the case of the other two furred princes, the truly
royal jaguar, and the very picturesque and sometimes very
ferocious puma — or cougar,^ mountain lion, or panther of
Western America — such neglect is perhaps more noteworthy.

' " Cougar's deadly spring." — Mrs ILmans.

The Hef^fxhy of the Cals. 49

Thelhres cf tbese areatores are in thems^res pooms^ idten
we dunk of the teiiitoffies d>^ rale oner, and the romances
of the coantij — Mexican, Red Indian, Perarian — in whidi
thejkxdil^ sunong the rains ctf a desobfed oriiisation in
die midst fA dwindled nations. Aniond diese animalls
nmneioas l^iends haxe of comse gadianed. Thns, the
jagoarand boa aie sn^pofied to ha¥<e an hereditaij falood-
faad — a fact l^idlej voold have delisted to know — and
die jaignar, again, viD not haim cjiildien, while die pretty
stoiy of Maldonata and her poma icfives with gitacefal
additions dae old AndnxJes traditknL

Shdkj and Keats bodt mention die Oonce fay name^ the
fismer in cikh' fioar the cheetah, in die line —

** As hooied ramces diog to t&e dmai deer,"'

the latter to get a rhjme for '^poonce'' — "paid or oonceL'^
This animaL however, is simplf die kc^xaord adaqpted by /
nature for existence in a lutteify cold riimate, and is pio-
bably the most beantiliil wild-beast <m oar eardi — and one
erf" die most powediiL It is the *" anow^eopaid " of Easttem
sportsmen, and its fleecy skin, ^Tery white or primrose
ydlow, with falac^ lin^ and rosettes and rasher larger dian
an average leofiardrs, is one cS. the chcNcest troj^iies ti the
Himalayan sMkartj. The Zoc^ogical Gardons have never
possessed a specimen! of this rare and lov^ carnhnore.

To ctmdode this cliapter widi a qnotaticMi fi«»n my Esmy
in Uwtaimral HMerj^ —

''The lesser carnivcNra,'' as diey are caEed, ^ay a very
bnportant part in the polkical system of the beasts. They
are die great fendatoiy pdnces or vicoojs <^ die wild woirld.
natmim^ kinship with royally, they possess within their
lespective earldoms all the privE^ss k& imd^sendent

1 " Noali's Aifc, zo Essaj io UmaatBiral Hisfeorjr."" SanrpsiiM^ ]L©w,

I>

50 The Poets Beasts.

sovereigns, and the powers of life and death. At the head
of fierce dans, they often defy the central authority, and,
retiring within their own demesnes, maintain there almost
royal state. Such are the puma, jaguar, leopard, and
panther. The two latter are to the East what the others
are to the West, and their lives, whether we consider the
kindliness of Nature to them in their beauty and strength,
or their strange immunity from harm, are equally to be
admired and envied. They live, it is true, within the empire
of the lion, but only as, in the days of the Heptarchy, the
Mercian or the Northumbrian prince would have called
himself "within the realm" of the Bretwalda; as in the
early days of France the Dukes of Soissons or Burgundy
acknowledged their vassalage to Paris ; or, earlier still, only
as Acarnacia or Locris confessed the supremacy of Sparta.
There is respect on both sides, and therefore a large
measure of peace within the satrapies of the Cats."

Though it cannot claim an equal dignity with any of the
seven animals I have grouped under the Heptarchy, the
Lynx is distinctly of the aristocracy. Moreover, it is a
delightful wild beast, savage, carnivorous, and something of
an assassin, as wild beasts should be — and all the more
delightful for being European. We have so few picturesque
ferine touches in the domesticated Nature of our civilised
Continent that the lynx could hardly be spared. There is
the wolf, of course — but the wolf is, perhaps, too serious an
animal. Failing sheep, it will content itself with children.
There is the bear too, but the bear is seldom in the way.
Its habits are retiring ; its diet, by preference, innocent.
So that it cannot be considered a disagreeable addition to
European Fauna. The lynx comes midway between the

TJie Heptarchy of the Cats. 5 1

two. It has a taste for mutton, but would prefer the lambs
coming into its private retreats to having to go and fetch
them out of the public meadow. Now, when we speak of
the ravages that wild animals commit, we forget that they
are usually of our own prompting or creating. We set to
work and cultivate a district, and populate it, driving out
or exterminating the natural food of the beasts, and then
fill large spaces with our own helpless " domestic " animals.
After this, if the wild beasts eat these we exclaim against
them, quite overlooking the fact that in most cases we have
made such consumption a necessity of ferine existence, and
in all have put temptation in the wild beasts' way in a most
immoral manner.

And lynxes do not hesitate to avail themselves of their
opportunities, and this with such wastefulness that they will
kill far more sheep than they eat. But then beasts do not
know any better. When they get amongst lambs they are
like children among daisies, who murder the poor innocent
flowers by thousands, leave them lying in heaps close by
where they picked them, and go dripping daisies along the
road all the way home.

For some reason or another these animals have acquired
the reputation of an extraordinarily piercing eyesight, and
from thee arliest times have been credited with the power of
seeing through opaque bodies. This fiction would appear
to constitute its chief claim to poetical regard. " Watchful,"
Crabbe, Byron, Drayton, and others call it.

" Thus parents also are at times short-sighted,
Though watchful as the lynx."

Nor is the epithet misapplied, for, like every other species
of cat, it is very watchful, and indeed in the patience of
its ambuscades exhibits a somewhat special vigilance. So
•' calculation " is, poetically, Ijoix-eyed. It is the antithesis
of the mole and bat. The prophet borrows its vision —

52 The Poets Beasts.

" Now with a lynx-eye
I see, looking into future time,"

says Cowper's Adam. From this reputed keenness of sight,
"lynx" comes to signify a cruel eagerness in detection, as
of officers of the Inquisition ; and Keats, by a curious form
of what may be called metastasis, make the eyes which
can see far be themselves seen from a distance —

" As deep into the wood as we
Might mark a lynx's eye."

He does not, of course, mean a long distance, but the
transference is worth nothing.

Mrs. Hemans, referring to the Piedmontese variety, has
the armed Jager pursuing it

" Above the clouds of morn ; "

and there is probably no length to which the hunter, if he
saw any chance of bagging it, would not follow such a
quarry, for the lynx wears a very valuable and beautiful fur
— said to be worth three times as much as the sable's — and
is moreover a beast well worth the hunting if only for its
endurance and courage. It is still to be found in Scandi-
navia, the greater part of Central Europe, and, of course, in
Russia, and as one of the three beasts of prey worth calling
such — the other two being the bear and the wolf — deserves
to be considered really notable.

But it is not, as is supposed, " untamable." The Gaek-
war of Baroda has a regular pack of trained lynxes, for
stalking and hunting pea-fowl and other kinds of birds. I
have myself seen a tame lynx that had been taught to catch
crows — no simple feat — and its strategy was as diverting as
its agility amazing. It would lie down with the end of a
string in its mouth, the other end being fast to a stake, and
pretend to be asleep, dead asleep, drunk, chloroformed,

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 53

anything you like that means profound and gross slumber.
A foot or so off it would be lying a piece of meat or a
bone. The crows would very soon discover the bone, and
collecting round in a circle, would discuss the probabilities
of the lynx only shamming, and the chances of stealing his
dinner. The animal would take no notice whatever, but lie
there looking so limp and dead that at last one crow would
make so bold as to come forward. The others let it do so
alone, knowing that afterwards there would be a free fight
for the plunder, and the thief probably not enjoy it after all.
So the delegate would advance with all the caution of a crow
— and nothing exceeds it — until within seizing distance.
Then it would stop, flirt its wings nervously, stoop, take a last
long look at the lynx to make sure that it really was asleep,
and then dart like lightning at the bone. But if the crow
was as quick as lightning, the lynx was as swift as thought,
and lo ! the next instant there was the beast sitting up
with the bird in its mouth !

Now its procedure was very singular. It knew that it
was no use jumping straight at the crow ; it would be
sure to miss it, and go under it. So at the moment
that the bird darted at the bone, the lynx flashed up
into the air, and caught the crow at the instant it had left
the ground.

Next time it had to practise a completely different
manoeuvre. The same crows are not to be " humbugged "
a second time by a repetition of the being-dead trick. So
the lynx, when a sufficient number of the birds had
assembled, would take the string in its mouth and run
round and round the stake at the extreme limit of its tether
as if it were tied. The crows, after their impudent fashion,
would close in. They thought they knew the exact circum-
ference of the animal's circle, and getting as close to the
dangerous hne as possible without actually transgressing it,
would mock at and abuse the supposed-to-be-tethered brute.

54 The Poets Beasts.

But all of a sudden the circling lynx would fly out at a
tangent right into the thick of its black tormentors, and, as
a rule, bag a brace, right and left.

Cowley has a very singular passage in one of his Juvenile
Pieces, which is this —

" Let Cygnus pluck from the Arabian waves
The ruby of the rock, the pearl that paves
Great Neptune's court ; let every sparrow bear
From the three sisters' weeping bark a tear ;
Let spotted lynxes their sharp talons fill
With crystal, fetch'd from the Promethean hill ;
Let Cytherea's birds fresh wreaths compose,
Knitting the pale-fac'd lily with the rose."

The reference here — the lynx bringing crystals — is to the
old-world fable of the "lyncurium," a misnomer of the
lapidaries of the time for "the Ligurian stone" (a repetition
of the "g" in the Greek making the error of sound a very
easy one) or "jacinth." This gem was supposed to be pro-
duced naturally by the lynx, that of the male being held in
higher estimation than that of the female, as of purer colour
and finer lustre. The jacinth is a lovely crystal, "much
more agreeable and superior in tint to the best Brazilian
topaz " (King's A^at. Hist, of Gems), but modern jewellers
would appear to have confounded it with one of the garnets
or cinnamon stones. The ancients, however, prized the
" lynx-stone " highly, and attributed to it strange potencies
against jaundice and other ailments.

In European fables the lynx is rarely mentioned, its place
being filled for minor affairs by the cat, for greater by the
leopard. But it has its traditions. Its eyesight was con-
sidered so piercing that it could see through solid matter
and long paces of time, so that Lynceus, who could see
three weeks ahead, and Apollonius' lynx, that looked through
the earth and observed the proceedings of the devils in
hell, are quite within its legendary potentialities. Another

The Heptarchy of the Cats. 55

Lynceus was one of the Argonauts, and discovered obstacles
long before they were in sight, to the great advantage of the
Heroes — as every schoolboy knows. The Lynx Academy
of Rome took the name as significant of the depth and
keenness of the insight into Nature to which, in their
studies, they hoped to attain.

III.

BEARS AND WOLVES.

" Slender. Why do your dogs bark so? be there bears i' the town ?

"Anne. I think there are, sir ; I heard them talked of.

" Slender. I love the sport well ; but I shall as soon quarrel at it, as
any man in England. — You are afraid, if you see the bear loose, are
you not ?

''^ Anne. Ay, indeed, sir.

" Slender. That's meat and drink to me now : I have seen Sackerson
loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain : but, I warrant you,
the women have so cried and shrieked at it, that it passed : but women,
indeed, cannot abide 'em ; they are very ill-favoured rough things."

In Nature, bears and wolves have very little indeed in
common. They are opposed in appearance, habits of life,
and character ; yet it would be difficult in all Poetry to
find two wild animals more intimately associated. The
shambling, fruit-eating, retiring, straightforward, and mild-
mannered bear ^ differs most conspicuously from the agile,
flesh-preferring, aggressive, crafty, and ferocious wolf. Never-
%°less in poetry they are as punctually bracketed together

I" "'<; and linnets,
being fiU

leopard, x b^ars.

sidered so pit .....

r.,1 ir»n(T i-in^f^c^^st, has lost castc m public estmiation, first

three weeks ahead,^"0"^'"'°"^ familiarity which its dancing
the earth and obsei'^cak of the grizzly bear, and I do not therefore
hell, are quite within i.

Bears and Wolves. 57

and being baited have induced : and, secondly, from its
apparently awkward personal appearance.

Yet in freedom it is by no means a clumsy or ridiculous
animal A\Tien it sets itself going after any one it wishes to
catch, the bear displays an agility and address which those who
have been hunted by it declare to be amazing. And when it
wants to extract beetle-grubs from the ground, or ants out of
their nest, honey from a bee-tree, fruit off a slender bough, or
birds' eggs out of a nest, it shows itself to be as ingenious
and skilful as any other animal that has to live by its wits.
To get, for instance, at the beetle-grubs, it scratches off the
upper earth and then sucks them up out of the ground — an
appUcation of a scientific process which no animal without
a prodigious reser\e of air-force could hope to accom-
pUsh. When it wishes to empty an ant-hive, it knocks
the top off with its paws, and then, applying its mouth to
the central gallery of the nest, inhales its breath forcibly,
thereby setting up such a current of air that all the ants and
their eggs come whirling up into his mouth like packets
through a pneumatic tube. AMien robbing a hive it keeps
one paw over its nose, its only vulnerable point, and when
in quest of wild apricots or acorns it not only balances
itself with all the judgment of a rope-walker, but uses its
weight very cleverly so as to bring other boughs within
reach of its curved claws. Xor, while doing this, does it
guiltily conceal what it is about. On the contrary, when
sucking at an ant-heap or grub-hole it makes such a noise
that on a still evening it can be heard a quarter of a mile
off, and when up a tree, and not alarmed, it goes smashing
about among the boughs as if bears were not only the rightful
J lords of the manor, but as if there were no such things as
enemies in the world.

This secluded, simple-minded, unsuspecting animal con-
trasts very strikingly with the guilty-seeming, stealthy, blood-
preferring wolf. The poets, however, bring the two beasts

58 The Poets Beasts.

into company as if they were constant associates in real
life and habitual accomplices in crime.

In poetry there are two kinds of bears — the " wild-wood
bear " and the bear at the end of a chain. The former is
divided into the polar animal and the bear general — which
also, it should be noted, is something polarish also ; Southey
speaking of the common bear as seeking its food " o'er track-
less snows," Thomson of it as icicled and so forth. The
latter, that is to say, the captive bear, is also subdivided into
the purely saltatory and the baited bear.

Neither of them is popular with the bards. For the
former, " the wild-wood bears," an unjust suspicion that it
eats human beings, — a suspicion as old as our ballads —

" With bears he lives, with bears he feeds,
And drinks the blood of men " —

appears to prejudice the minds of some of our poets. Many
others look upon them as animals that resemble tigers in
their habits and tastes. As Butler,

" Bears naturally are beasts of prey
That live by rapine."

. They are " cruelly fanged," as in Keats ; and gloat over
victims before devouring them, as in Spenser. "The
bloody bear, an independent beast," says Dryden, In this
aspect they are "rugged," "shapeless," and "shagged,"
"felon bears," and (in Heber) "heathen bears." They
" howl " and " snort " in concert with wolves.

Much more true to Nature is Hiawatha's apostrophe —
remembering only that "coward" is the regular phrase of
Red Indian challenge —

" Hark you, Bear, you are a coward,
And no brave as you pretended ;
Else you would nut cry and whimper
Like a miserable w omau !

Bears and Wolves. 59

Bear ! you know our tribes are hostile.
Long have been at war together.
Now you find that we are strongest.
You go sneaking in the forest.
You go hiding in the mountains !
Had you conquered me in battle
Not a groan would I hare uttered :
But you, Bear ! sit here and whimper.
And disgrace your tribe by crying.
Like a wretched Shangodaya,
Like a cowardly old woman."

Bret Harte's address to the " Grizzly " is perfection.

But it is to the maternal triumph of licking her cubs into
shape that the poetical attention is chiefly drawn ; ^ the
poet's supercilious satisfaction being very much increased
by the discovery that after all her labours the mother pro-
duces nothing better than a bear. Thus Shenstone —

" \NTiat village but has sometimes seen
The clumsy shape, the frightful mien.
Tremendous claws and shagged hair,
Of that grim brute yclep'd a bear.
He from his dam, the leam'd agree,
ReceiT'd the curious form you see,
Who with her plastic tongue alone
Produced a visage — like her own."

And Pitt—

" Thus when old Bruin teems, her children fail
Of limbs, form, figure, features, head or tail ;
Nay, though she licks her cubs, her tender cares
At best can bring the Bruins but to bears."

* It is too late in years to refute this fiction seriously. But Sir
Thomas Browne's argument against its verity (after having otherwise
shown its complete fallacy) is worth quoting. "Besides," says he
" (what few take notice of), men hereby do in a high measure vilify the
works of God, imputing that unto the tongue of a beast which is the
strangest artifice in all the acts of Nature."

6o The Poets Beasts.

And Pope —

" So watchful Bruin forms with plastic care
Each growing lump, and brings it to — a bear ! "

Not, for myself, that I see anything derogatory to a she-
bear in being the mother of bear-cubs, and nothing more.

Nevertheless, the bear-cub she has not licked affords a
delightful point. Thus Churchill, '' a bear whom, from the
moment he was born, his dam despised and left unlicked
in scorn ; " and Byron, " the she-bear licks her cub into a
sort of shape ; my dam beheld my shape was hopeless."

It is evident, though, that the poets are conscious of their
want of farniliarity with the wild animal. For, whether we
meet it in a hot country as "the shaggy monster of the
wooded wild," or see, with Darwin,

" Slow o'er the printed snows with silent walk
Huge shaggy forms across the twilight stalk ; "

or with Savage, " the crackling vales, embrown'd with melt-
ing snows, where bears stalk, tenants of the barren space,"
it is an undefined, mysterious, and,- so to speak, still un-
licked monster. Not, however, without a weird majesty ;
in strict sympathy with the natural facts in Jean Ingelow —

" The white bears all in a dim blue world,
Mumbling their meals by twilight."

Spenser's " white bears " are creatures of fancy —

" I saw two Bears, as white as any milk,
Lying together in a miglity cave,
Of mild aspect, and hair as soft as silk,
That savage nature seemed not to liave,
Nor after greedy spoil of blood to crave ;
Two fairer beasts miglit not elsewhere be found,
Although the comj^assed world were sought around.
But what can long abide above this ground
In slate of bliss, and stcdfast happiness ?

Bears and Wolves. 6i

The cave, in which these Bears lay sleeping sound,
Was but of earth, and with her weightiness
Upon them fell, and did unawares oppress.
That, for great sorrow of their sudden fate,
Henceforth all worlds felicity I hate."

As a performer on the village green, or as a retainer of
the household, " creeping close amongst the hives, to rend
an honeycombe," it has a distinct in4ividuality, but as a
wild beast none. Perpetually in use as an adjunct of savage
scenes, it never seems to be described from the life. It
always looms out from a distance, or from gloom, and
seldom comes close enough to us to be tangible or seen in
detail. It is a convenient beast, but a shado^\'y one, and
Butler (in his portrait of Potemkin) seems to me to sum up
with tolerable fairness the whole of the poets' bear-lore —

" The gallant Bruin march'd next him,
With visage formidably grim,
And rugged as a Saracen,
Or Turk of Mahomet's own kin,
Clad in a mantle delle guerre
Of rough impenetrable fur ;
And in his nose, like Indian king,
He wore, for ornament, a ring ;
About his neck a threefold gorget,
As rough as trebled leathern target ;
Armed, as heralds cant, and langued,
Or, as the vulgar say, sharp-fanged ;
For as the teeth in beasts of prey
Are swords, with which they fight in fray.
So swords, in men of war, are teeth
Which they do eat their vittles with.
He was by birth, some authors write,
A Russian, some a Muscovite,
And 'mong the Cossacks had been bred,
Of whom we in Diurnals read.
That serve to fill up pages here,
As with their bodies ditches there.
Scrimansky was his cousin-german.
With whom he serv'd and fed on vermine ;

62 The Poets Beasts.

And when these fail'd he'd suck his claws,
And quarter himself uponr his paws."

Unlike the Puritans, who hated bear-baiting — not because
it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the
spectators — the poets condemn the pastime as being cruel
to Bruin.

" How barbarously man abuses power !
Talk of the baiting, it will be replied
Thy welfare is thy owner's interest,
But wert thou baited it would injure thee,
Therefore thou art not baited. For seven years —
Hear it, O heaven ! and give ear, O earth ! —
For seven long years this precious syllogism
Hath baffled justice and humanity." — Southey.

Their sympathy is always with the bear that has "off-shakt"
the "curres," and when the "cruell dogs" get the better
of him the poets punctually note that the bear was chained
or muzzled. They use the simile of " ragged roaring bears
rearing up against the baiters " ^ for nobles attacked by
those of lower degree, or for men of might beset by
numbers. They knew well the spectacle —

" When through the town, with
Slow and solemn air, led by the nostril,
Walked the muzzled bear."

The Bankside bear-garden and Hockley Hole were familiar
names, and the dancing Bruin has given at least three poets
the subject for a poem, Leyden drawing the ** moral " from
the exhibition that men learnt to dance from the bear, and
might still improve their own saltations by imitating it —

" From bears the dancer's art at first began.
To monkey next it past and then to man ;

^ Hood borrows tiie expression for the waves during a storm. " Black,
jagged billows rearing up in war, like ragged roaring bears against the
baiter."

Bears and Wolves. 63

And still from bears, by Fate's unerring law,

Their dance, their manners, men and monkeys draw " —

and Southey, with excellent humour, using the old slave-
trade arguments to persuade the bear that dancing is good
for it—

" We are told all things were made for man.
And I'll be sworn there's not a fellow here
Who would not swear 'twere hanging blasphemy
To doubt that truth. Therefore as thou wert bom.
Bruin, for man, and man makes nothing of thee
In any other way, most logically
It follows, that thou must be bora to dance.
That that great snout of thine was formed on purpose
To hold a ring, and that thy fat was given tiiee
Only to make pomatum.

To demur
Were heresy. And politicians say
(Wise men who in the scale of reason give
No foolish feelings weight) that thou art here
Far happier than thy 'orother bears who roam
O'er trackless snows for food ; that being bom
Inferior to thy leader, unto him
Rightly belongs dominion ; that the compact
Was made between ye when the clumsy feet
First fell into the snare, and he gave up
His right to kill, conditioning thy life
Should thenceforth be his property. Besides,
'Tis wholesome for thy morals to be brought
From savage climes into a ciWIised state,
Into the decencies of Christendom."

Nor were they ignorant of that other elegant Elizabethan
pastime of "whipping blind bears."

But of the "awkward," "uncouth," "shuffling" beas
which they are so ready to put into their verse —

" Rough tenant of the shades, the shapeless bear.
With dangling ice all horrid " —

they had only the most delightful ignorance.

64 The Poets Beasts.

Yet what a large place the bear has filled in the past.
And how multitudinous and honourable are its associations.
As the God of Thunder, the Bear-king of Storms, Bruin is
perfectly majestic in cloud-myths. The tempest demons,
black-bearded, are his children, and the thunder-clouds, ■
ragged and gloomy, go rolling and roaring and foaming
overboard, bears every one of them, and close on the heels
of their prey. Turn it round to the sun-myth, and lo ! " the
shining ones," the luminous sky, the bear — "Woful Calisto,
when that Dian grieved was." In the one aspect horrific, as
the bear-fiends of Dardistan or the shaggy terrors, every hair
of iron, that awe the Russian peasant ; in the other, benign,
'* the honey-finder," or in Lapland, " the dog of God," or in
Russia, " the old man with the fur cloak." On the one
hand, the cruel instrument of the prophet at Bethel, a
synonym for lurking mischief in the classics and in Holy
Writ ; on the other, the nurse of Paris and of Atalanta —

" Folk say that her, so delicate and white
As now she is, a rough root-grubbing bear
Amidst her shapeless cubs at first did rear.
In course of time the woodfollc slew her nurse,
And to their rude abode the youngling brought,
And reared her up to be a kingdom's curse " {Morris) —

the docile disciple of Saints, the gentle animal that played
at soldiers with the children and so prettily befriended
Snow-White and Rose-Red.

Poetry, however, so diligent sometimes in availing itself
of legend, takes no cognisance of the unusual prominence
of the bear in history, heraldry, art, and folk-lore. The story
of Valentine and Orson affords the subject of a ballad.

" ' But wlio's this hairy youth ? ' she said,
' lie much resembles thee.'
' The bear devoured my younger son,
Or sure that son were he.'

Bears and Wolves. 65

• Madam, t^is youth with bears was bred,
And reared «-ithm their den.
But recollect ye any mark
To know your son again ? ' "

And the Russian and " the Persian beares," the badges of
Warwick and Leicester, are referred to. But not a word
for the legends of St. Ursus and St. Ursula, St. Maximin,
St. Anthony, and St Medard ; for Oursine or the Orsinis ;
for the Cities of the Bears or the Bear Hills; for the
virgins of Artemis or the unhappy rival of Juno, mother of
constellations, the terror of the Tjrrrhenian mariners, who
had unawares given Bacchus a free passage ; nor the bears
of story, Gundramnus the church-builder, Restaurco the
musician, and Tony Lampkins' bear that only danced to
" the genteelest of tunes ; " Sackerson and Martin, Rollo and
Marco, " the good bear of Lorraine," the ursine monsters of
the Ramayana — the bear-kings, friends-in-arms of the Solar
Hero — or all the hundred bear-myths of the world- How is
it that not a hint of these distinctions in literature, and of
ten times as many more that I have omitted, do not find
even a passing reference in the poets ? Is it possible that,
having formulated a bear of their own, which is " obscene "
in Nature and ridiculous in captivity, they purposely avoided
all appearance of countenancing the condoning dignities of
Bruin's past ?

Once more, then, whence arose this strange antipathy to
the bear? It could not have come from previous informal
tion, for all precedent honoured the animal. Nor was it
from any knowledge of the bear in Nature. For the bear
in Nature — I am speaking of the species which the poets
supposed themselves to be speaking of — is really almost a
lovable animal. It is a vegetable and fruit feeder, when it
can get such food, and, failing its favoiurite viands, eats by
preference insects. It is a delightful touch where Wilson
makes the bear gaze ferociously en — beech-nuts. But, above

£

66 The Poets Beasts.

everything, it doats on honey. Dx) you remember the
shabby trick of Sir Reynard when he takes poor Bruin from
Malepardus to the carpenter's house on the pretence of
giving him honeycombs? The bear arrives at the castle
of the defaulting fox, and finds Reynard pretending to be
sick. He had eaten, he said, something that had disagreed
with him. "What was it?" asks the bear with a friendly
solicitude.

" ' Uncle,' replied the other, ' what will it avail you to know? The
food was simple and mean ; we poor gentry are no lords, you know,
but are glad to eat from necessity what others taste for mere wanton-
ness. Yet not to delay you, that which I ate was honeycombs, large,
full, and very pleasant. But, impelled by hunger, I ate so very im-
moderately that I was afterwards infinitely distempered.' * Ay ! '
quoth Bruin, 'honeycombs, do you say? Hold you them in such
slight respect, nephew? Why, sir, it is food for the greatest emperors
in the world : help me, fair nephew, to some of these honeycombs, and
command me while I live ; for only a small share I will be your servant
everlastingly,' 'You are jesting with me, surely, uncle,' replied the
fox. 'Jest with you !' cried Bruin, 'beshrevv my heart, then; for I
am in such serious good earnest, that for a single lick of the same you
shall count me among the most faithful of your kindred.' 'Nay, if
you be,' returned Reynard, ' I will bring you where ten of you would
not be able to eat the whole at a meal. This I do out of friendship,
for I wish to have yours in return, which above all things I desire.'
' Not ten of us ! ' cried the bear, ' not ten of us ! it is impossible ; for
had I all the honey between Hybia and Portugal, I could eat the whole
of it very shortly myself.' "

So Bruin goes, gets his head caught in a cleft log, and
is very nearly killed.

Its life is particularly innocent, and its manners, as a rule,
are the reverse of ferocious. Having satisfied itself with
berries and buds, the bear returns to its cave, and there, put-
ting its paws into its mouth, lies humming to itself like some
great baby, sucking its thumbs and crooning. It takes few
precautions against surprise, will stay out eating wild straw-
berries or acorns till the sun is fairly up, and will then
go into a cleft in the rock or hollow tree, and murmur

Bears and Wolves. 67

contentedly to itself, and so loudly that sportsmen are
frequently guided from a distance to the purring spinning-
wheel sound ^ which betrays it

There is something very touching, so I think, in the story
of the men who, following up a wounded bear, found the
beast behind an ice-boulder trying to staunch the flowing
blood with snow. I like too to think of the other which dis-
covered an empty whaUng boat and got in, and — the moor-
ings giving way under its somewhat violent boarding — went
off on a cruise on its own account, and was seen by the
unfortunate owners of the boat sitting up in the stem with
every appearance of the most complete satisfaction.

Folk-lore, as a rule, is just, and folk-lore is always kind
to the bear. There are no fairy-tales or legends in which
the bear is a villain. He is a blundering fool in several
fables, but he is never unamiable.

Writing many years ago on the " Fairies of Dardistan,"
I put into a hunter's mouth the following fragment of local
folk-lore : —

" I mj^K have never seen either Fairies or Demons, but I am a
familiar of the Bears. It is not generally known, perhaps, bat bears
are the ofispring of a man who, unable to pay his debts, went off to the
woods and never came back again, for he married some wild forest
thing and lived amongst the fir-trees to the end of his days. And his
descendants undeistand our language, fall in love with human beings,

^ Cuvier's bear " was particularly fond of sacking iis paws, during
which operation it always sent forth a uniform and constant murmur,
something like the sound of a spinning- wheeL"

" The sucking of the paw, accompanied by a drumming noise when
at rest, and especially after meals, is common to all bears, and during
the heat of the day they may often be heard puffing and humming far
down in caverns and fissures of rocks." The cause of this has often
been speculated on, but Tickell imagines that it is merely a habit
peculiar to it, and he states "that they are just as fond of sucking
their neighbours' paws or the hands of any person as their own
paws" (Jerdon).

68 The Poets Beasts,

and marry their children to each other much as we do. I have seen a
bear's wedding. It was just after the Feast of Firs, and I was coming
back tired along the Ghilgit road from Astor across the hills when I
suddenly chanced upon a great convention of bears. There were a
hundred at least — brown and black, big and little — and they were all
dancing round the wood-fires which they had lighted. Some of them
had wreathed their heads with wisps of straw and flowers, and were
dancing solemnly, each by himself. Others had in their arms tussocks
of long grass and faggots of fir- wood which they used as partners, while
others danced two and three together, holding hands and going slowly
round and round. At each corner sate a bear crooning harmoniously
for the others to dance in time to. And while I was watching them
an old fellow, the largest bear of the com])any, got up from where he
had been eating honey, with a long fir-branch in his hand, and made all
the others fall into two long lines, and then the bride and the bride-
groom (who had been up a tree all the time) were called down and
placed at the end of the row. And they took each other's hands and
danced, turning slowly round and round, down between the long rows
of bears, and when they reached the other end all the company gave a
howl together, and scattering themselves among the woods began col-
lecting viands for the feast. As some of them came in my direction I
ran off as fast as I could, and saw no more."

Sir Bruin of the Reineke Fuchs is of the common type.
He has great physical strength and fidelity of character, but
he is so simple that adversaries always outwit him. He is.
no match for foxes, any more than the bear-heroes Sir
Bors, or Jubal or Earl Arthgal of the Table Round, or any
of those heavy slumberous giants, upon whose persons small,
agile, and invincibly-armed heroes performed such prodigies
of valour.

The bear is the sleepy summer thunder of Scandinavian
myth. It is of a mumbling grumbling kind, happy enough
in an old-country-gentleman sort of way when unmolested,
but testy in the matter of strange neighbours and trespassers.
It is a stubborn Conservative, a Legitimist, a protest of
Routine against Reform. Daniel makes it a symbol of
faithlessness ; but he evidently did not know as much about
bears as he did, or ought to have known, about lions, or he

Bears a?id Wolves. 69

would have been aware that bears are very generous, never
returning to harm a helpless or fallen adversary. "Women,"
says Slender, " cannot abide them, they are very ill-favoured
rough things;" but there is an abundant dignity about
them nevertheless. They are among the seniors of the
quadrupeds in Nature, and in Art they brought no declen-
sion from eminence to such as bore them on their shields
— the greatest of monarchs, of earls, and of painters.

WOLVES.

" ' Well is knowne that,' sith the Saxon king,
' Never was wolf seene, many nor some,
Nor in all Kent, nor in Christendom.'"

But there was a time, as Keats says, " while yet our Eng-
land was a wolfish den," when our ancestors called January
" the wolf month," and prayed in their litanies for defence
against them when estates were held on wolf-head tenure ;
and many poets, Dryden, Somerville, Drayton, Addison
amongst them, gratefully allude to the purging of our isles
of these destructive pests.

*' Cambria's proud kings (tho' with reluctance) paid
Their tributary wolves, head after head,
The full account, till the wood yields no more,
And all the rav'nous race extinct is lost"

To the poets, therefore, with their allowable extensions
of horizon and chronology, the wolf is a British animal :
not in the way that the lion has become one, but on the
more practical basis of previous existence in the countr\'.

" Full many a year his hateful head had been
In tribute paid, nor since in Cambria seen."

So it comes, perhaps, more familiarly off their pens than
other animals. Its name, moreover, has become, almost

70 The Poets Beasts.

universally, a synonym for twilight ferocity, so that the poets
are to some extent justified in their attitude of detestation.
In the cloud myth, the rough dark wolf is of course the
night, and the white morning sheep-clouds escape from
its clutches. But more especially it is the twilight, " the
grey one " — in Holy Writ it is always " the evening wolf,"
or the "wolf of the evenings," — that wolf-gloom wherein
malign influences are abroad, entre chien et loup.

Sir Isegrim in Reynard the Fox is the type of the rapacious
baron. The king, more distant from the people, may pass
for a lion, but the baron in his castle on the rock yonder,
domineering over the servile plain, is the wolf, a present
power for evil. So folk-lore and fables represent under this
symbol the sentiments of European serfs or " villeins " to-
wards their feudal oppressors. The hectoring style of
argument with lambs ; the use of forced labour from
asses ; evasion of contracts with cranes ; double-dealing
affabilities to old she-goats with kids ; insidious counselling
of dogs for disastrous combinations against their shep-
herds ; treachery towards neighbouring wolves — in these and
a score of other features the resemblance between wolf
and baron is traced in popular literature.

Worked in with these symbolical sketches are touches
straight from the real wolf-life. Its surpassing cunning, its
more than ferine intelligence, " effrayant de sagacity et de
calcul," distinguish it as the Bandit of the Beasts, and like
all other communities of outlaws and criminals, the wolves
are singularly superstitious. Elsewhere I note how easily
they may be frightened, but I cannot help thinking that
there is in this trait a striking analogy to the suspicious,
superstitious timidity which characterises every gang of
human wolves ; and which, sooner or later, brings them to
the gallows or their deserts. But it is very interesting to
remark the poetical method of bringing the wolf within the
sweep of poetical opprobrium.

Bears and Wolves. 71

By daylight they make it the accomplice of vultures, and
by night of owls, so that there is nothing too bad to say of
the wolf. The fact is true enough of the animal in Nature, for
it really is the Thug among the beasts. In other languages
besides our own Saxon, the criminal outlaw, the bandit, was
said in legal phrase to be "wolf-headed" — there was a price on
his life, and his destruction as a beast of prey was authorised
and rewarded. But the synthetical process by which the poets
arrive at the full compass of the wolfs iniquity is very pleas-
ing. Tyranny and darkness are their special aversions, so
the poets construct a wretch that preys by preference on the
very weak, the most innocent, and the youngest, and then
make it commit its violences by night. By this means the
wolf not only alienates all the sympathies of the chivalrous
and generous, but is branded as the nocturnal companion
of such obscene, night-prowling things as owls and bats,
night-ravens and hyenas. A dash of man-eating is then
thrown in to exasperate the general sentiment of the sanctity
of human life ; and, finally, to enlist against it human reve-
rence for the dead and the beautiful maternal instinct, the
beast is touched up with such details as the desecration of
graves, corpse-eating, and baby-snatching.

It is the " night-prowling," " savage," " fierce-descend-
ing," "insatiate," "surly," "stem," "grim," "gaunt,"
"guilty," "wild," "shaggy," "black-jawed," "robber"
wolf. Its voice is a "long" and "deep" howl, or "shrill"
or "a low whine," "lugubrious dreary yell," and "death-
boding."

A dreadful adjunct of all scenes of dismal horror — " Near
him the she-wolf stirred in the brake, and the copper-snake
breathed in his ear" (Moore). Whenever a tragedy is on
hand, the neighbouring thicket holds a wolf, or the rocky
pine-glen yonder knows their lurking tread. There are few
circumstances of more than ordinary wretchedness that are
not accompanied by one of these animals, or a pack of

72 The Poets Beasts.

them, and at night the wolf's "howls" rise almost as
punctually as the moon. It may be in Wilson's wild
country —

" Shrill, wildly issuing from a neighbouring height,
The wolf's deep howlings pierce the ear of night ;
From the dark swamp he calls his skulking crew,
Their nightly scenes of slaughter to renew ;
Their mingling yells sad savage woes express,
And echo dreary through the dark recess."

Or in (Faber's) civihsation —

" From time to time a restless watch-dog bayed,
And a cock crew, or from the echoing hill
The wolf's low whine, prolonged and multiplied,
Possessed the ear of night and over-ruled
All other sounds."

Being thus a thing of night, it becomes in poets' phrase
" obscene," as in Leyden —

" Beasts obscene frequent the lonely halls,
Howling through windows waste the wolf appear'd. "

Or in egregious Thomson —

"Wolves and bears and monstrous things obscene,
That vex the swain and waste the country round ; "

and it is punctually associated with that delightful fiction
of the poets, the poetical owl. They are as thick as thieves,
these two creatures, and always " on the patter " together.
If you see Charley Bates coming up the street you may
be sure the Dodger is in the immediate neighbourhood.
The rascals converse in highwayman's slang. ** The owlet
whoops to the wolf below." The chances are they are
decoys for each other, and divide the spoils of the victims
whom they assassinate in company. Was there ever such an
abominably comic partnership in crime — owls and wolves !

Bears and Wolves. 73

And just as owls, after taking all the lower degrees of
criminality, become in poetry "shrikkes" (which are of a
specially venomous sort), so wolves graduate into "were-
wolves" or " war- wolves " — that fearful fancy of the loup-garou
that has kept its hold upon popular terror in every country
ever since the day when " wild Lycaon, changed by angry
gods, and frighted at himself, ran howling through the
woods." Their hairs are then used like owls' feathers by
witches to mix with "madd dogges foames and adders
eares." They haunt Coleridge's woods with " vampyres "
and other monstrosities, and their voices are alike " death-
boding."

This were-wolf superstition is a more ancient and persis-
tent one. The horrid " HjTcanians " were said to " become
wolves " in the heat of battle, a more allowable metaphor,
since historians talk commonly of British soldiers being
" lions " and " tigers." So also the Newri and Hirpini : and
much later the same simile was frequently used in the Sages
for the Berserkers ; and later still, in our own time, for the
men of Norway and of Iceland, who " become wolves " in
conflict In Ireland I suspect tiie phrase would be found
still extant, for the Irish, according to their own legends,
are specially liable to being " people not of one skin," which
is a euphemism for lycanthropes. Many individual instances
are on record, notably that of the family whom St Nathalie
turned into were-wolves for seven years. But these could
retaliate on occasion, as, for example, when St Patrick
turned Vereticos, king of Wales, into a wolf. Ireland,
indeed, would in this matter appear to be our Arcadia —
the land of superstition ; for that province was conspicuous
for its wolf traditions. Lycaon himself was a king of
Arcadia, and the loup-garou was a household word in that
"emerald-state." The hyaena and the vampyre are in some
countries curiously mixed up with the wolf-myth, but by
itself it possesses a very dreadful individuality.

74 The Poets Beasts.

" Therewith stalked forth into the way
From out the thicket a huge wolf and gray,
And stood with yellow eyes that glared on me.

My folly made me see

No wolf, but some dread divinity in him."

{Hopponons loq.)

To this day the supernatural wolf is an article of popular
belief in Europe, and, if I am not mistaken, the men-wolves
are far more dreaded than the beast- wolves in, say, Lithe-
rania. At the feast of the Nativity they used to assemble
in the churchyards, so it was said, and proceed at midnight
to search for the dead or the belated living. They were, in
fact, ghouls. Indeed the literature of this amazing supersti-
tion passes belief. What are we to say of a whole multitude
turning were-wolves in the canton in Jura, hunting for
human flesh in pack, and being executed six hundred at
one time !

Beware of men with meeting eyebrows ; it is from these
that legend says the were-wolves recruit their packs.

That wolves — "assiduous in the shepherds' harms" (King)
— prey on flocks, is in itself quite sufificient to set poets
against them. Does not the vulture suffer miserably in
poetry from being accused of "pouncing" doves? And
are not doves and lambs equally engaging; and is not,
therefore, the wolf as detestable as the vulture, with which,
indeed (when it is seen abroad in daylight), it is nearly
always to be found in partnership. So the poets have little
sympathy for " the grim wolf that with privy paw daily
devours apace," even when it is most hungry. Hunger,
indeed, would hardly seem to be allowable at all in wolves :
" wolf s-nagen " is a term of reproach. It is an aggravation
of the offence instead of a palliation. If they would con-
sent to eat strawberries they might fare no worse than the
bears, but, as it is, that they should deliberately go forth
and satisfy their detestable cravings with mutton — and now

Bears and Wolves. 75

and then with the mutton-herd himself— enrages the ordinary
poet. Nor, when this infamous appetite for butchers' meat
is indulged by a meal of lamb, are even the better poets able
to control their generous indignation —

' ' The gaunt wolf crouches to spring out on the lamb,
And if hunger be on him, he spares not the dam,"

Worse than this is Colin's complaint —

" They often devoured their owne sheepe.

And often the shepheards that did hem keepe ;
This was the first source of shepheard' s sorrow.'"

The last line is a delightful one.

Savage, Akenside, Rogers, and others extend their tender-
ness from the lamb to its cousin the kid, but there is always,
curiously enough, a reservation of sympathy from the fact
that the kid was "straying." The lamb, on the other hand,
is generally where it should be, "bleating near its fleecy
dam ; " and the unprincipled conduct of the wolf takes
therefore a deeper dye from the outrage on the ewe's feel-
ings which accompanies that on the lamb's, while if the
victim be carried out of a sheepfold there is the crime
of housebreaking superadded. Supreme, however, in this
particular class of offence was that wolf who married a lamb,
and then ate her up after they had been only wedded
a week.

But sometimes it arrives that the shepherds get the better
of the wolf, as in Chatterton's " Battle of Hastings " —

" As when the shipster in his shadie bower
Hears doublying echoe wind the wolfin's rore,
That neare hys flocke is watchynge for a praie,
With trustie talbots to the battel flies,
And yell of men and dogs and wolfins tear the skies."

Or in " The Wanderer "—

76 The Poets' Beasts.

" When lo ! an ambusli'd wolf, with hunger bold,
Springs at the prey and fierce invades the fold,
But by the pastor not in vain defy'd,
Like our arch-foe by some celestial guide."

Or in Cowley —

" Such rage inflames the wolf's wild heart and eyes
(Robbed, as he thinks, unjustly of his prize).
Whom unawares the shepherd spies, and draws
The bleating lamb from out his ravenous jaws."

In metaphor this salvation of the lamb (and its attendant
parents) is a very frequent figure, showing very pleasantly
the general tendency of the poets to rejoice with the vir-
tuous and innocent over their escape from consumption,
and with the loyal custodian of another's property over his
triumph against the wicked-minded vagabond.

Yet it is wonderful to note how often the legendary wolf
appears in a benign aspect. For instance, we are told by
Baronius that a number of wolves attacked a monastery
and slew all the monks therein who held heretical opinions.
Another pack tore to pieces the sacrilegious soldiers of the
Duke of Urbino who had plundered the Loretto shrine.
It was a wolf that guarded the head of St. Edmund the
Martyr from the other beasts, and a wolf that stepped in
to defend St. Oddo, when on pilgrimage, from the attacks
of wild boars. Just as it showed the Abbot of Cluny his
way home, so the legend says it guided Adam, and the
priests of Ceres, and Deucalion. It dragged the cart of St.
Eustorgius, and tended the sheep of Norbert. In Italy and
Sicily its hide and head arc supposed to endow the wearer
with courage : they are charms against many perils, and a
more than Stygian panacea for pain of all kinds. As a foster-
nurse the she-wolf is perpetually recurrent in an amiable
light, and legends in which the animals are benign are very
numerous indeed. In Red Indian stories the amiable
and pathetic sides of the wolf-idea are well brought out.

Bears and Wolves. yy

Thus Manobozho the mischief-maker meets a magician and
his family, who are wolf-wizards, and is changed into the
same form. They are very good to him, and keep him alive
during a very severe winter. At times they play practical
jokes upon him, but each has its moral for his advantage,
and eventually Manobozho leaves them with much regret
In another story also the magician takes the wolf-shape in
order to befriend the hero. In the legend of " Sheem the
Forsaken " the benevolent trait is even more conspicuously
illustrated. The child has been deserted by his elder
brother and sister — the family being orphans — and is on the
point of starvation, but seeing some wolves at their meal
he goes up to them and, waiting till they have finished,
picks up the morsels they have left. This he continues to
do, until at last the animals take notice of their small
dependent, and hearing his story are lost in amazement at
the cruel heartlessness of human beings, and adopt Sheem
on the spot Now it happens that one day Owasso, the
elder brother, comes in his canoe to the place, and hearing
a sorrowful voice of wailing on the bank, thinks he re-
cognises the deserted child, and landing goes to seek him.
All of a sudden there leaps out from the bushes a creature
half-wolfi half-boy, which flies from him along the shore.
Owasso calls out to him, "Stay, brother!" But the wolf-
boy goes leaping on his way, and crying as he goes, " Neesia,
Neesia — a-wee ! You left me, going away in a canoe, and I
am half-changed into a wolf — E-wee. Half-changed into a
wolf — E-wee ! " and he howled between his words. And
Owasso, stricken with brotherly love, cried after him, "Sheem !
Sheem ! Sheem ! " But the child fled on, alternately com-
plaining and howling, and all the whUe kept changing more
and more into a wolf. Then all of a sudden he reached a
bank, and leaping on to it turned, and, looking back at his
brother, cried in tones of most pathetic reproach, " I am a
wolf" — and vanished. On the other hand, it is beyond

yS The Poets Beasts.

doubt that the image was one used, as a rule, to represent
a fraudulent, double-dealing, heartless, and pitiless monster.
Night, and Winter, and Cold put on the wolf's skin. It is
then gloomy, sinister, malignant, diabolical. How terrible,
for example, are those wolves of Odin, " Gari and Freki,"
who hunt down his enemies — the " Odin's hounds " of more
modern folk-lore — the truly awful Feuris-wolf whom the
gods tried to bind with chains but could not, but at last
was fettered by most delicate links to the rock Amsvartner
to await Ragnarok — those dread Finland jinns who Hve in
the Wolf-Valley by the Lake of the Wolves — the red wolf
that waylays the souls of bad men going to the nether
world.

But the wolf's name would not have been terrible in legends
had it merely plundered the sheepfold. It is its crimes
against mankind that have made it so gruesome a beast in
folk-lore and so perilous in Nature ; and the poets do not fail
to take note of the solitary pilgrims, mountaineers, goat-
herds, and travellers that the wolves make their prey, nor of
the horrid duties they share with birds of carrion on deserted
fields of battle ; nor yet of greater crimes than all these
— the murder of infants in their mothers' arms, and their
violation of graves. In the following truly Thomsonian
nonsense the poet catalogues the animal's iniquities : —

" Cruel as death, and liungry as the grave!
Burning for blood ! bony, and gaunt, and grim,
Assembling wolves in raging troops descend ;
And, pouring o'er the country, bear along,
Keen as the north wind sweeps the glossy snow.
All is their prize. They fasten on the steed,
Press him to the earth, and pierce liis mighty heart.
Nor can the bull his awful front defend,
Or shake the murdering savages away.
Rapacious at the mother's throat they fly,
And tear the screaming infant from her breast.
The godlike face of man avails him nought.
Even beauty, force divine ! at whose bright glance

Bears and Wolves. 79

The generous lion stands in softened gaze,

Here bleeds, a hapless undistinguish'd prey.

But if, appris'd of the severe attack.

The country be shut up, lured by the scent.

On churchyards drear (inhuman to relate ! )

The disappointed prowlers fall, and dig

The shrouded body from the grave ; o'er which,

Mix'd with foul shades and frightened ghosts, they howl."

Each enormity in Thomson's catalogue finds abundant
individual condemnation in the poets. Thus Leyden —

" The prowling wolves that round the hamlet swarm
Tear the young babe from the frail mother's arm ;
Full gorged, the monster, in the desert bred,
Howls, long and dreary, o'er the unburied dead."

Chaucer's wolf; " with eyen red and of a man he ete ; "
Dodd's gaunt wolf, that, " blood-happy, growling feeds on
the quivering heart" of the belated Switzer;^ Mackay's
score of wolves " rushing like ghouls on a corse new-
dead ;" Montgomery's " gorged wolves, howling in con-
vulsive slumber o'er their corses ; " and Webster's

" But keep the wolf far hence, that's foe to men,
For with his nails he'll dig them up again. "

How this ghoul attribute of the wolf gained currency it
is not easy to guess, for no work of natural history charges
the wolf with doing that for which it is by nature unfitted
to accomplish. A wolf might of course scratch up a corpse
that was only lightly covered with soil, but it has not got the
claws necessary for rifling any decent grave.

The climax of horror is of course reached when, like
Wordsworth's, the wolf is a baby-eater —

" Vexed by the darkness, from the piny gulf,
Ascending nearer, howls the famished wolf,

^ The mountaineer, naturally, is more often the prey of poets' wolves
than other classes of solitary-lived men, shepherds alone excepted.

8o • The Poets' Beasts.

While through the stillness scatters wild dismay,
Her babe's small cry that leacls him to his prey."

But surely Thomson unjustly aggravates the wolf's obli-
quities when he makes it loitering on sea-shores "there
awaiting wrecks ; " ^ as Shelley when he says —

• " They knew his cause their own, and swore
Like wolves and serpents to their mutual wars
Strange truce, with many a rite which earth and heaven abhors."

But inasmuch as the poets sometimes need to use the
wolf, their symbol of ruthless cruelty, as comparing favour-
ably with men whom they consider worse than wolves, they
have to absolve the animal from its supreme crime of
cannibalism in order to have this one extra point in infamy
to reproach human beings with. So men are wolves and
"cannibals" in addition, though it is a fact that of all
animals in the world the wolf is itself the most egregious
cannibal. Most wild beasts will eat their own species on
occasion, but the wolf habitually does so. No other
explanation of this, of course, is needed than the hunger
of the hour aggravating a natural bloodthirstiness ; but if
it were, it would doubtless be found in the instinct that
tells these brutes that they, of all wild beasts, cannot afford
to have lagging comrades, and that it is better therefore
for the commonwealth to eat them up as soon as they are
crippled. In the same way savages on the war-path mas-
sacre their sick (and sometimes eat them), for they cannot
afford to drag about with them in time of war a burden of
invalids.

While, on the one hand, therefore, the wolf escapes a
reproach that he is fairly liable to, man, on the other, is
libelled by the unjust comparison —

* Phillips has "the starving wolves along the main sea prowl."
Neither poet is referring to the Arctic wolf.

Bears and Wolves. 8i

" WTioever saw the wolves that he can say,
Like more inhuman us, so bent on prey,
To rob their fellow wolves upon the way.

The fiercest creatures we in nature find

Respect their figure still in the same kind ;

To others rough, to these they gentle be,

And live from noise, from feuds, from factions free."

And again —

" But man, the wildest beast of prey.
Wears friendship's semblance to betray ;
His strength against the weak employs,
And where he should protect, destroys."

Not that I would be thought to defend our kind from these
charges, for they may be well founded. I only complain
of the wolf not being fished with the same net

But the chief feature of the wolf-symbol appears to me
neglected — namely, the altogether disproportionate acces-
sion of horror that surrounds wolves when in a pack, as
compared with the solitary animal Individually the animal
is almost despicable, collectively it is terrific. Alone, the
wolf is a highwayman, an individual bandit : in company
they are furies. A small dog, a little child, a burning stick,
Campbell's " wolf-scaring faggot," a fluttering rag, a " bog}--
trap" of any kind, will suffice to keep off a single wolf;
but a squadron of cavalry will hardly stop the rush of a
pack The hunter hears a solitary howl and looks to his
rifle ; but the wind brings down to him a chorus of voices,
and he thinks only of escape. Men ride down single wolves
in the snow and kill them with whips; but the hunters
become the hunted when a dozen wolves sweep down from
the rocks —

" The death-doomed man

Felt such a chill run through his shivering frame,

As the night-traveller on the Pyrenees,

Lone and bewildered on his wintry way,

F

5 2 The Poets Beasts.

When from the mountains round reverberates
The hungry wolves' deep yell ; on every side
Their fierce eyes gleaming as with meteor fires,
The famished troops come round." — Southey.

To its craftiness — the stealthy "evening wolf" of the
Bible — the poets bear ready witness, but not probably
since Hobbinole discoursed with Diggon Davie on the
Kentish Downs has wolfish cunning received more amazing
and delicious testimony, Diggon tells his companion how
" a wicked wolfe, that with many a lambe had gutted his
gulfe," taught itself how to bark (" learned a curre's call "),
and then, dressing up in the fleece of one of its victims
(" his counterfeit cote "), allowed itself to be penned up with
the flock in the fold at night ; and how at midnight it would
begin to howl, at which Roflin the shepherd would send out
his big dog Lowder to scour the country, and how, while
Lowder was away scouring the country, the wolf would
" catchen his prey, a lambe, or a kid, or a weanall wast,^
and with that to the wood would speede him fast." But
this was not the worst —

" For it was a perilous beast above all,
And eke had he cond the shepheard's call,
And oft in the night came to the sheep-cote
And called Lowder, with a hollow throte.
As it the olde man selfe had beene ;
The dogge his maister's voice did it weene,
Yet half in doubt he opened the dore
And ranne out as he was wont of yore.
No sooner was out, but swifter than thought,
Fast by the hyde the wolfe Lowder caught,
And had not Roffy renne to the Steven,^
Lowder had been slaine thilke same even."

In metaphor the wolf does not fail to meet with its deserts,
or what are supposed to be such. Rapine, Lust, Cruelty,
Treachery are all wolves. Spenser sees Envy " riding on a

' Youn^linj. * Noise.

Bears and Wolves. ^2,^

ravenous wolf." Crime (in Mackay) has a " wolfish grin ; "
Plague (in Shelley) is "a winged wolf;" Pride and Avarice
(in Cowper) "make man a wolf to man;" Bigotry (in
Watts) is " half a murdering wolf ; " and again, in Shelley —

" Wolfish Change, like winter, howls to strip
The foliage in which Fame, the eagle, built
Her aerie, while Dominion whelped below."

Dryden calls the Presbyterians, and Milton the Papists,
"hireling wolves," and mischievous teachers "grievous
wolves " —

" Help us to save free conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw."

Pomfret bewolfs the soldiers of Kirke, Southey those who
fought against Joan of Arc, Byron the enemies of Greece
and Scotch Reviewers, and Gay the Irish- Holy Writ,
no doubt, gives the poets their inspiration for many of
their expressions — " ravening," " in sheep's clothing," and so
forth ; and the animal is used throughout the Scriptures as
the symbol of a cunning blood-thirstiness, from princes
of Moab to a false prophet. As an emblem of ferocity
it was given to Benjamin, whose standard bore the wolf
couched in a field of green com.

Poetical proverbs about the wolf are numberless : as a
specimen the following — "The wolf knows what the ill
beast thinks " — " As wolves love a flock, these love the weak "
— " A bad dog never sees the wolf" — " The death of a young
wolf doth never come too soon " — " The wolf must die in his
own skin " — " ^^'ho hates a wolf for his master needs a dog
for his man " — " Wolves give a good account of sheep, left
to their vigilance to keep " — " The wolf unseen and trem-
bling lies, when the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near " —
" Hungry wolves, though greedy of their prey, stop when
they find a lion in their way."

The Assyrian was not more fierce in his attack upon

84

The Poets Beasts.

doomed Jerusalem; Orcas "his wolfish mountains rounding"
not more fearful; Satan "lighting on his feet" in Eden
not more bold-stealthy, than the wolf that "leaps with ease
into the fold." Even Rome's founder — so bitter is the poets'
hostility to " the howling nurse of plundering Romulus " —
is followed into after-life by reflections upon his wet-nurse.

Byron, how^ever, makes, in a single stanza, a large measure
of amends —

"And thou, the thunder-stricken nurse of Rome !
She-wolf ! whose brazen-imaged dugs impart
The milk of conquest yet within the dome
Where, as a monument of antique art,
Thou standest : — Mother of the mighty heart,
Which the great founder suck'd from thy wild teat,
Scorch'd by the Roman Jove's ethereal dart,
And thy limbs black'd with lightning — dost thou yet
Guard thine immortal cubs, nor thy fond charge forget ? ''

IV.

SOME BEASTS OF REPROACH.

Poets use wild beasts chiefly as tenns of reproach. They
seem to see no moral beauty, and recognise little good, in
them. Being Wild beasts, they are bestial, and being bestial,
they are types of corresponding deformines in human nature.
For poets do not, as a class, seem to have the generosity
that belongs to the true lover of Nature, to admire the wild-
beastiness of wild beasts, and to contemplate them in the
orderly scheme of creation, outside the hackneyed phases
of popular ignorance, or beyond the sphere of man's own
common needs.

Servile animals they overload with flattery. The inde-
pendent wild beast they traduce. Sheep are virtuous
Christians : tigers are the infamous heathen.

A certain number of animals contemplated by the poets
as being harmless — the camel, giraffe, elephant, hippopo-
tamus, kangaroo, opossum, beaver, and bison — are used, of
course, as similes of patience, stateliness, sagacity, bulk,
agility, timidity, vigilance, and strength respectively — and
among the British fauna the deer, hare, rabbit, squirrel, and
dormouse are symbols of admirable docility, amiable weak-
ness, cheerfulness, and dozy contentment. Yet even each
of these receives, in turn, more or less cynical treatment at
times, while all of them are mentioned so casually, or con-
templated from a standpoint of such lofty condescension,

S6 The Poets Beasts.

that the poets' sentiment towards them is hardly more than
one of acidulated toleration.

Sheep, cattle, deer, and dogs, the domesticated animals
in fact, are favourites of the poets. For very few poets view
Nature except in its relations with man. It is the chief
charge against the wolf that it eats the mutton intended for
human beings; and if an owl frightens Chaw-bacon, it is,
therefore, an obscene and death-boding fowl. But sheep
and cows, horses and dogs and deer, being servile animals,
are flattered with the same exaggerated attentions as "the
meek birds of the dove-cot " that fill pigeon-pies, and the
bees that " yield their honey'd stores " for the poet's break-
fast. Yet even with these, their inordinate favourites, the
poets sometimes fall out. They are never tired of remind-
ing sheep that they are silly, abusing the bull for using his
horns against men, libelling dogs when of low degree, and
horses that are "jades." So that neither the "harmless"
animals nor the " domesticated " meet with complete
urbanity.

But outside these two classes stand nearly all the Wild-
Beast world, and to them, the bravest and most beautiful
of Nature's ministers, the poets are all uncharitableness.
The lion is the one exception, but then the lion of poetry
is a magnificent creation of the poets, and not the creature
of Nature at all. For the rest, the lords of the forest and
plain, the peerage of jungle-duchies and desert-earldoms,
the marquisates of river-side and cafion — the tiger and
leopard, panther, puma and jaguar, ounce, ocelot and lynx,
cheetah, bear, wolf, rhinoceros — there is nothing but re-
proach. And for what reason? Only the most egotistical
and whimsical. Those that are not afraid of man are, on
that account, monsters of ferocity, and when they despoil
man's property, they are called utterly abominable ; while
the rhinoceros, grand old recluse of reedy hermitages, is
abused for having a horn on the tip of his nose, ^ust as the

Some Beasts of Reproach. 8 7

hedgehog and porcupine are calumniated for having quills
on their backs.

The monkeys, again, another large and admirable feature
of wild nature, are pelted with unmitigated scorn because
they seem to resemble man, and can be taught to burlesque
him, as if the poets really believed that all the monkeys of
the world live in cages .or on barrel-organs. Or take
another class, the foxes and jackals, delightful parables
both of them, or the hysena, one of the gloomiest touches
in Nature, and we find it is the same, and that the poets
are similarly deficient in sympathy and tenderness. Now,
for myself, keeping no poultry-yard, I like young foxes just
as much as I do chickens or ducklings ; and having no
friends buried in Syria or Abyssinia, I can view the hysena
apart from corpses. For the poets, of course, it will be
argued that they project themselves into the affections of
others, and feel for the chickens of neighbours and the
graves of Ethiopians as keenly as if they were their own.

T had once in India a favourite dog carried off by a
leopard ; yet I do not hate leopards on that account. I
also kept a pet leopard once, and I liked it just as much as
I did the terrier which its relatives previously consumed.
The leopard did* quite right to eat my dog, even though it
might have known it would provoke me to ill-nature by
doing so ; and though I should have been glad at the time
to see that particular one murdered, I certainly bore no
grudge against all the leopards of the world, much less
against all their glorious congeners as well. So that the
poets, even after they have presumably projected their sym-
pathies into everybody's hen-roost and thus absorbed the
concentrated sentiments of all the poultry-fanciers of the
world, are still, I take it, not justified in abusive generalities
about foxes. That these pretty beasts eat chickens is solely
our own fault, for we have deprived them of every other
source of food. But the great majority of foxes in the world

SS The Poets Beasts.

never even saw a chicken or heard of one, while every fox,
chick enivorous or not, is a beautiful and useful animal.

It is ferocious. But of this the poets take no heed.
For the ferocity of the fox is not directed against the person
of man, just as the weasel, quite as ferocious as the tiger,
escapes reproach on this score, because it never turns man-
eater.

The poets, then, judge the great beast-world from a some-
what narrow and selfish point of view, and seem to award
their praise or blame in proportion to the direct utility to
man of the animal under notice. To make a wild-world,
therefore, that should be to the poets' taste, every beast in
it ought to contribute either wool or butchers' meat to the
needs of human beings, and there ought not to be a four-
legged thing afoot with more ferocity in it than a bolster.
They would like tigers to wear boxing-gloves, and rhino-
ceroses, before going abroad, to unscrew their horns.
Wolves should be fleecy and say " baa," and everything be
toothless.

Among the special Beasts of Reproach may be enume-
rated swine, bats, hyaenas, foxes, the jackal, and rat. Others,
of course, are largely used for the same purpose. Thus, the
ape is the symbol of brainless mimicry, o? loveless passion,
of silly conceited buffoons, of despicable men generally —

" She to the window runs where she had spied
Her much-esteemed dear friend, tlie monkey, ty'd,
With forty smiles as many antic bows
As if 't had been the lady of the house :
The dirty chattering monster she embraced,
And made it this fine tender speech at last :
Kiss me, thou curious miniature of man,
How odd thou art, how pretty, how Japan !
Oh ! I could live and die with thee." ^

And the ass, "whose very name all satire does comprise,"
* Rochester. «

Some Beasts of Reproach. 89

is the emblem of all that is solemnly stupid, perverse,
ignobly meek —

" Half witty and half mad, and scarce lialf brave.
Half honest (which is very much a knave) ;
Made up of all these halves, thou canst not pass
For anjrthing whatever but an ass. "

The heavy mule — " a thing of jadish tricks " — " who, if
they've not their will to keep their own pace, stand stock-
still " — provides the poets with as easy a nickname as its
relative the ass —

" Some neither can for wits nor critics pass.
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass " {Pof^ ;

and the worst kind of all is " that reasoning mule " — a man.
But I have myself only a very qualified sympathy with the
mule, which is, after all, not a natural animal, but an
artificial. Man made mules, and may abuse his own pro-
ductions if he chooses. I have the utmost admiration for
the mule's intelligence —

" Shunning the loose stone on the precipice,
Snorting suspicious — while with sight, smell, touch.
Trying, detecting, where the surface smiled ;
And with deliberate courage, sliding down.
Where, in his sledge, the Laplander had turned
"With looks aghast ' —

and for the intrepid self-reliance (to which I have myself
been indebted for personal safety) which Rogers celebrates
in verse; and consider its capacity for finding water one
of the most conspicuous marvels of all marvellous Nature.
But I do not, all the same, count the mule as a regular
animal.

Bears are types of either monstrous imbecility or rugged
brutality. In freedom, they are the terror of the wood ; in
captivity, the jest of every clown ; in death, pomatum. Un-

90 The Poets Beasts.

couth men with unkempt manners are, therefore, bears.
Misshapen and abortive plans are Bruin's cubs.

The cruel fair are panthers. Tigers are standards of
cruelty by which to measure the greater enormities of man.
As in Pomfret —

" A tiger ! worse, for 'tis be)'ond dispute,
No fiends so cruel as a reasoning brute."

" What tygre or what other salvage wight
Is so exceeding furious and fell,
As wrong when it hath armed itselfe with might?
Nor fit 'mongst men that doe with reason mell." — Spettser.

And so, too, the wolf. " Rapacious, rough, and bold " is
Moore's description, and all the poets use it as the beast-
symbol of pitiless ferocity among men, distributing the
epithet impartially among all classes — " For man to man is
fiercer than the wolf, more cruel than the tiger " — Churches
of different creeds, politicians of different parties, cruel
wickedness of all kinds.

The hysena "that feeds on women's flesh" is a pet
abhorrence —

"Eftsoones out of her hidden cave she cald
An hideous beast of horrible aspect,
That could the stoutest corage have appald :
Monstrous, mishapt, and all his backe was spect
With thousand spots of colours queint elect ;
Thereto so swifte that it all beasts did pas ;
Like never yet did living eie detect ;
But likest it to an hyaena was
That feeds on women's flesh, as others feede on gras."

Among this animal's epithets are — "dire," " fell," " fellest
of the fell " (Thomson), and they are not from a poetical
standpoint altogether misapplied, for the hyaena may veri-
tably be called the ghoul among the beasts. Its alternating
cowardice and fierceness, its shadowy mist-of-evcning colour,
its laughter, broken by sobs and groans, are all horribly

Some Beasts of Reproach. 91

ghostly. And as if to keep up this imposture of being
phantom-beasts, they move more stealthily and silently
than even the wolf itself, and are, in fact, perpetually mis-
taken by those who see them (especially on nights when
clouds are driving across the moon) for shadows on the
ground. They can be heard breathing before they can be
seen, and have been observed sniffing at a sleeping watch-
dog.

It is not, therefore, surprising that the poets should con-
sider hyaenas fair subjects for imaginative writing. So we
find it meeting " the vulture and the snake, in horrid truce
to eat the dead " — revelling in scenes of carnage from which
"the very vultures turn away," — "smiling" over a "rank
corse" (Le)Hien) — "over his loathed meal, laughing in
agony, raving " (Shelley) — " shedding tears and biting the
while she's howling " (Barry Cornwall) — " tearing and
grinning, howling, screeching, swearing, and with hyaena-
laughter died despairing " (Byron). But, inasmuch as it is
essential for complete horror that the hyaena shall be the
direct foe of man, it is described as " bursting " upon man,
and man as " flying the hyaena's famished howl."

" And oh ! to see the unburied heaps
On which the lonely moonlight sleeps ; *

The very vultures turn away,
And sicken at so foul a prey !
Only the fiercer hyaena stalks
Throughout the city's desolate walks
At midnight, and his carnage plies.
"NVoe to the half-dead wretch who meets
The glaring of those large blue eyes
Amid the darkness of the streets." — Moore.

In metaphor the hyaena is unexpectedly infrequent.
But women in general are called hyaenas. In Otway —

" 'Tis thus the false hyaena makes her moan
To draw the pitying traveller to her den.
Your sex are so ! "

92 The Poets Beasts.

So, in particular, are the Delilas. Samson cries —

"Out, out, hysena ; these are thy wonted arts,
And arts of every woman false like thee,"

Cruel foemen, the priests of the Inquisition, and unnatural
mothers are hyaenas, and so are bigotry, tyranny, and lust —

" And tyranny, hyaena big with young,
Dreading the sound, shall farrow in affright.
And drop, still-born, her sanguinary cubs." — Mackay.

That the jackal is "the lion's provider" is one of those
antique articles of belief which, in the light of modern
observation and knowledge, it is very difficult to discredit —

" Be you the lion to devour the prey ;
I am your jackal to provide for you :
There will be a bone for me to pick." — Dry den.

That the jackal for some mysterious reason very frequently
accompanies the tiger is beyond all doubt ; and the lion is
(in India) a neighbour of the tiger. Is there any reason,
then, for supposing that the jackal will not do as much for
the one as for the other ? The poets certainly do not think
so ; among others, Byron —

" Ye jackals ! gnaw the bones the lion leaves,
But not even tliese till he permits."

And again —

" So lions o'er the jackal sway,
The jackal points, he fells the prey.
Then on the vulgar yelling press
To gorge the relics of success."

Shelley has —

" The jackal of Ambition's lion-rage."

And Dryden —

" Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear,
And raking chase-guns thro' our sterns they send ;
Close by, their fire-ships like jackals appear,
Who on their lions for the prey attend."

So^ne Beasts of Reproach. 93

Ag befits such a mean sycophant as they suppose it to
be, "the thin jackal's" turn comes last at the feast In
Byron —

" So when the lion qnits his fell repast.
Next prowls the wolf, the filthy jackal last :
Flesh, limbs, and blood, the former make their own.
The last, poor brute, securely gnaws the bone."

Its voice chiefly attracts the poets. Crime has a " jackal-
cry." Leyden calls it a " dismal shriek ; " but Heber
(writing in Bengal) says —

" The jackal's cry
Resounds like sylran revelry ;"

and of the two Heber is certainly more correct. Faber's
" like plaining infants wearied the still air " is pure fancy ;
while B)Ton again (writing from Greece, a jackal country)
describes it as

" A mixed and mournful socnd.
Like crying babe and beaten hound ; "

A Stubborn, ugly, dirty, gluttonous, discontented, quarrel-
some swine is the poet's pig. Says Bums —

" In seventeen hundred forty-nine,
Satan took stuff to make a swine

And cuist it in a comer ;
But wilily he changed his plan,
And shaped it something like a man.

And ca'd it Andrew Turner."

So we may guess what Andrew Turner was like. And
all men that are either stubborn, ugly, dirty, gluttonous,
discontented, or quarrelsome, are called swine. It is the
" filthy," "guzzling," "whining," "wallowing," "grumbling"
hog: it lives in an "impure" and "stinking" "st\';" it
eats " greasy draff." Thomson gives an unlovely sketch
of the porker on its way to market —

" Even so through Brentford town, a town of mud,
An herd of bristly swine is urick'd along ;

94 The Poets Beasts.

The filthy beasts, that never chew the cud,

Still grunt, and squeak, and sing their troublous song.
And oft they plunge themselves the mire among ;

But aye the ruthless driver goads them on,
And aye of barking dogs the bitter throng

Makes them renew their unmelodious moan ;

Nor ever find they rest from their unresting fone."

Their voice, appearance, gait, food, habit of wallowing,
and sleeping, all suggest comparisons with other " vile
noises," other " hog-snouted features," or " pigs' small
eyes;" other "bestial indolences," other "miry ways."

Fat men are compared with " the fattest hogs in Epicurus'
sty," and crowds with "rampant raging herds of swine;"
gormandisers are fit only to " grunt with glutton swine," and
indolent folk, as in Parnell —

" Very silent and sedate.
Ever long and ever late,
Full of meats and full of wine,
Take their temper from the swine."

Yet as a feature of rural woodland life, where it is a
cleanly, cheerful, active animal (as it always is in a natural
state), the porker could not be overlooked. So we meet in
Clare with —

" The grunting noise of rambling hogs
Where pattering acorns oddly drop,
And noisy bark of shepherd dogs
The restless routs of sheep to stop."

In Gay we see them revelling " 'mid a feast of acorns ;" in
Montgomery grubbing " for dainty earth-nuts and nutritious
roots;" in Johnson "returning home fat with mast."

A common object of the country is Joanna Baillie's
"grumbling sow that in the furrow feeds," nor far off her
is Drayton's hog —

"And in the furrow bye where Ceres is much spilled,
- Th' unwieldy larding hog his maw there having filled,
Lies wallowing in the mire, thence able scarce to rise." •

Some Beasts of Reproach. 95

Nor unfamiliar is the mud-mashed comer, b7 the farm-
yard gate, where Gay's " batt'ning hogs roll in the sinking
mire," — for your " pig is a philosopher, who knows no pre-
judice."

But Blomfield is emphatically the poet of the pig, and
some of his vignettes are delightful Thus the indolent pig
being tickled by geese —

" As when by turns the strolling swine engage
The utmost efforts of the gander's rage.
Whose nibbling warfare on the grunter's side
Is welcome pleasure to his bristly hide ;
Gently he sleeps, or stretched at ease along.
Enjoys the insults of the gabbling throng
That march exulting round his fallen head."

Or this other of the frequently occurring panic among
piglings—

*' No more the swains with scatter'd grain supply
The restless wandering inmates of the sty ;
From oak to oak they run with eager haste ;
And wrangling share the first delicious taste
Of fallen acorns ;

The trudging sow leads forth her numerous youngs
Playful, white and clean, the briars among ;
Till briars and thorns increasing fence them around.

With bristles raised the sudden noise they hear.
And ludicrously wild, and wing'd with fear,
The herd decamp with more than swinish speed.
And snorting dash thro' sedge, and rush, and reed ;
Through tangling thickets headlong on they go,
Then stop and listen for the fancied foe.
The hindmost still the grunting panic spreads."

Clare, too, was a pig-observer, and here is an excellent
touch of the evening farmyard —

*' Hogs with grumbling deafening noise
Bother round the server boys,
And far and near the motley group
Anxious claim them suppering up :

g6 The Poets Beasts.

From the rest, a blest release,
Gabbling home, the quarrelling geese
Seek their warm straw-littered shed,
And waddling, prate themselves to bed."

This frequent connection of pigs and geese is characteristic
of the best observers of country Hfe. I have noticed it
already in Drayton, Leyden, and Blomfield, and Clare
again has —

" In autumn time he often stood to mark
What tumults 'tween the hogs and geese arose,
Down the corn-littered street."

So that Miss Frances Power Cobbe's exquisite story of the
geese that used to make the pigs run the gauntlet of the
flock every evening, and grab their fat skins and tweak
them as they passed, is a real incident of this funny feud.

But I have read Charles Lamb too well to be unamiable
to the pig, for whom a far better defence can be made
than Southey's humorous odes. For in its natural state it
is cleanly both in food and person, of remarkable intelli-
gence, activity, and courage. They are perpetually bathing,
they eat only fresh vegetable food, are as difficult of
approach as wild geese, and as nimble in escape as goats ;
while for downright pluck, there is not a single animal in
all the round world — the wolverine, perhaps, excepted — that
can compare with it. At any rate, it is the only living
beast that will wilfully challenge the tiger to combat. Nor
is the tiger always the victor.

In a domesticated state, except on the best managed
farms, appearances are very much against hogs. But the
young pig, the porkerling, is a very queer and engaging
little person. Its inquisitiveness, resulting, as a rule, in
tumultuous panic, its utterances, so full of interrogations
and astonishments, its manner of sidelong frisking and
unexpected cavorts, are all immensely diverting. Nor are
adult swine without their humour and sentiments. Farm

Some Beasts of Reproach. 97

hands sometimes grow curiously attached to their grunting
charges —

" But now, alas ! these ears shall hear no more
The whining swine surround the dairy door ;
No more her care shall fill the hollow tray,
To fat the guzzling hogs with floods of whey.
Lament, ye swine ! in grumbling spend your grief,
For you, like me, have lost your sole relief." — Gay.

And need I refer to the national affection that exists
between the Irish peasantry and their pigs? Among the
poets who refer to this Hiberian taste is Wilson —

" Here streams of smoke the entering stranger greet;
Here man and beast with equal honours meet ;
The cow loud bawling fills the spattered door,
The sow and pigs grunt social round the floor ;
Dogs, cats, and ducks, in mingling groups appear,
And all that filth can boast of, riots here."

In the matter of those bedevilled hogs of Gadara, and
the prodigal son, with other references to them in Holy
Writ, the pig arrives at some adventitious consequence.
Further dignity, too, attaches to him from the ceremonious
consumption at Yule-tide of his head, " crested with bays
and rosemary," and of the " brawne of the tusked swine "
that Chaucer respected so sincerely. Indeed, its complete
edibility (for which it has been called " a perfect gentle-
man, eatable from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail ")
set Islam a problem which, to this day, the Moulvies have
not solved. But it must be confessed that the poets are
very chary of compliments to swine, the sagacious truffle-
hunting animals "that grubbed the turf and taught man
where to look for dainty earth-nuts and nutritious roots,"
and that, next to their " dirtiness," they seem to recognise
most keenly their absurdity. That they are credited with
seeing the wind gives them a joke against the pig, and the
ring in its nose, the curl in its tail, and the absence of wool

G

98 The Poets Beasts.

on its back, are all considered as fair subjects for ridicule
as the soaped pig hunted at the fair —

" Painful regale
To hunt the pig with slippery tail,"

says Green ; and Clare —

" And monstrous fun it makes to hunt the pig,
As soaped and larded through the crowd he flies ;
Thus turn'd adrift he plays them many a rig,
A pig for catching is a wondrous prize,
And every lout to do his utmost tries ;
Some snap the ear, and some the curly tail,
But still his slippery hide all hold denies."

Now the hog, if regarded aright, is by no means a con-
temptible creature. It is a purely modern fancy (and one
that the poets are, to a very great extent, responsible for)
that swine are things to laugh ill-naturedly at. For, as a
matter of fact, the vast majority of contemporary mankind,
and all antiquity, invest the hog with a very strongly marked
intelligence and strength of character. Whatever else it
may be, they never call it ridiculous.

In one aspect, the pig is positively terrific. The Vedic
pig is a thunderbolt, red,^ bristling, terrible. In the solar
myth the deities and powers of the elements frequently
assume the swine form when in troublous, threatening
moods, and the sun himself when malignant is a hog. It
is then, in fact, a demoniacal symbol. At other times it is
simply potent without malignity, as when Freya's chariot,
in Scandinavian myth, is drawn by a hog with a luminous
head, or when the Hindoo Indra appears to the earth in
his boar avatar, or Vishnu is " the tusked one."

^ Chaucer's pigs, by the way, are red, " rede as the bristles of a sowe's
eres ; " and again, " his beard as any sowes or fox was rede." So too
in all ballads the " rede " swine.

Some Beasts of Reproach. 99

At other times, again, it is the placid emblem of fatness,
an honourable obesity. For it is only in modern civilisa-
tion that fatness has been laughed at. In more than half
the world it commands respect, for beyond the energetic
limits of Europe, physical exercise after manhood is con-
sidered one of the disagreeable accidents of poverty, the
fate of the necessitous, just as leanness of limb is the livery
of the underfed. And the Oriental, therefore, receiving as
he does the deference of his neighbours on account of the
portliness of his person, prefers to move about in the
adipose discomfort of a well-to-do appearance rather than
to be seen in the pauper's uniform of bones.

I do not go so far as to say that I would join the super-
stitious in their vigils in pig-styes on Christmas eve — at
least not with becoming alacrity — or would join in the train
of suitors for the wealthy pig-faced lady, or " hog-faced
gentlewoman," as the chap-book of the period styles her.
But, on the other hand, I have no propensity to faint, as that
stout marshal of France used to do at the sight of one,
nor to object to being taxed, as the country folk thereabouts
do, w^ith being born at Hogg's Norton. I do not share
Isaiah's prodigious objections to pork.

Indeed, between an excessive enthusiasm and a bigoted
detestation there is the more becoming medium of sobriety,
and I am content, therefore, to commit myself no further
than to say I had rather hear the cheery horn of the swine-
herd calling his charges to their banquet under the Cam-
panian oaks, than the last squeals of the hog on the altars
of Bacchus.

The poets, therefore, are not romping on such safe
grounds as they think when they frolic over the fatness of
swine. Nor should they have forgotten to allow pig-legends
to temper their severity. It is only by giving all evidence
its due weight that judges arrive at the cold neutrality of
impartiality. Now, was not the hog sacred to Thor, and is

lOO The Poets Beasts.

it not under the very special protection of St. Anthony,^
the friend of all animals and protector of weddings ? Did
they never hear that pork gives the eater acuteness of ear
and intelligence ? That a pig's bristles have strange occult
influences when the proper arrangements are made for
working a charm ? That Rome, " the nameless city," once
had the hog, " the nameless beast," for its badge and cog-
nisance ? That " please the pigs," now a contemptuous
phrase, really means " please the Holy Virgin," or may
mean " please the girls " ? ^ To laugh at " a hog in
armour " is a poor jest enough even for those who think
" hog " means a pig, and wherein lay the joke of a China-
man's queue — a lank dependent plait of hair four feet in
length — being called a " pig-tail " I never could understand.
The pig's tail, by the way, provides the poets with as much fun
as it does, when soaped, the clowns who try to catch hold of
it, and there is a proverb to the effect that it is beyond the
capacity of human ingenuity to convert the caudal appen-
dage of a swine into an instrument of sibilation. But this
is not the case, as in the city of Chicago I myself saw a
whistle made out of a pig's tail, and an excellent one, not
one that would merely on occasion emit an exiguous squeak,
but a rousing whistle that would fetch every hansom, within
a radius of half a mile, to your door.

That the tail should curl amuses the poets ; but I am
not sure that such flippancy is not blameworthy. They do
not even care whether it curls to the right or the left. Yet
it depended once upon the direction of the twist whether
the hog was acceptable in sacrifice or not. AH deities of
taste abhorred the twist-sinister.

In short, I cannot help thinking that there has been

* " St, Anthony is universally known for the patron of hogs, having
a pig for his page in all pictures." — Fuller's Worthies.

"^ Pigeon maiden (Danish), hog youth of both sexes (Gaelic). Sic aiunt
cognoscente's.

Some Beasts of Reproach. loi

much mutual misunderstanding between the poets and their
pigs. Indeed, if only on the ground of the pig's eatable-
ness throughout, I should have expected some occasional
scintillations of gratitude from men and women with such
far-reaching and subtle sympathies as poets claim.

For there is no finicking reservation of himself about the
pig ; he keeps back, nothing, excepts no part of his person
from the general consumption. He puts himself up to be
eaten " without reserve," generously closing the door against
possibilities of subsequent misunderstanding. He goes the
whole hog with himself. The inventory of his effects is
complete, and without any fraudulent withholding of items ;
he puts himself into your hands bag and baggage, ^\'hen
you have finished eating him, there is no gleaning after you —

" It would be well, my friend, if you and I
Had, like that pig, attained the perfectness
Made reachable by nature." — Sottthey.

The hog, then, is unanimous, and from this fact have
risen two singular phenomena so opposed in character that
it is a wonder they should have sprung from the same
source. The first is the Moslems' consumption of the entire
animal ; the second, the Jews' entire abstinence from it.

Mahomet, as is well known, enjoined upon all the Faithful
that they should not eat pork ; for, said he —

" There is a part in every swine.
No friend or follower of mine
May taste, whate'er his inclination.
On pain of excommunication." — Cozt'per.

But the prophet did not actually specify the sinful part,
but left the point at large, to the great perplexity of Islam,
and no httle discontent, inasmuch as

" For one piece they thought it hard
From the whole hog to be debarred."

I02 The Poets Beasts.

The Moulvies, therefore, met in consultation to settle
what joint Mahomet had in mind. And Cowper goes on —

" Much controversy straight arose :
These chose the back, the belly those,
By some 'tis confidently said
He meant not to forbid the head ;
While others at that doctrine rail,
And piously prefer the tail.
Thus, conscience freed from every clog,
Mahomedans eat up the hog."

There was no intermediate position tenable, for so
numerous and bigoted were the admirers of the several
good points of a cooked animal that it was impossible to find
any one bit of the animal that somebody did not swear was
the very best morsel in him. Yet see to what contrary ends
the same symmetry of perfection worked with regard to the
Jews. Not only did they not eat swine, but, recognising
the solidarity and homogeneity of the animal, the very
strictest Jews refused even to admit that such an animal
existed !

They would not rest even at the half-way toleration of
Accadian nomenclature, and fetch a compass about it by
calling it " the one that wears a ring in his nose," or " it
with a tail like a ringlet," or " the bristly thing that grunts."
They decreed at once its complete banishment into the
limbo of nameless nothings.

So they spoke of it as *' the other thing," the " you know
what I mean," the " what do you call 'ems," the " abomina-
tion." They were afraid even to utter the insidious word
"pork." To talk of "crackling" was, they knew well, the
first step to eating it. So they cut the name out of their
language. But what a pitiful illustration of moral weakness !
Not to be able to look a pig in the face without incon-
tinently debauching on brawn !

But this weakness is in my opinion aggravated by the

Some Beasts of Rept'oach. \o%

suspicion that these same strict Jews, who would not for the
world think of mentioning the name of the pig, used, as a
matter of fact, to have it served surreptitiously. Or how is
it that we find pigs so numerous in the Judaea of Holy
Writ ? Were they all Gentiles' pigs ?

Not that my suspicion is altogether pure assumption. For
— apart from the fact that we never find preachers denounc-
ing practices that do not exist — history tells us that the
Egyptians tried very hard indeed to keep from pork, but
could not do it. They formally anathematised it as " im-
pure ; " but formally also they ate it, affecting, by the vast
ceremony with which they consumed their bacon, that they
were performing a religious rite. They were never tired of
saying that it was abominable and vowing it to Tycho, the
spirit of evil, but with all this fuss of terrible abnegation,
they solemnly gave themselves up twice a year with a pro-
fusion of ceremonial and dumb-crambo to eating pigs. And
mark the sagacity of the ancient Eg)-ptians, those "serpents
of old Nile." On the two authorised pork-days they "sacri-
ficed " (so they pleasantly termed it) immense numbers of
hogs to their equivalent for Bacchus. But did they destroy
them by fire before his shrine ? waste the precious carcase
by useless incineration ? Not a bit of it. They gave the
bodies to the swineherds. And why ? Why ? To be made
into bacon, of course.

The swineherds lived on the preserved flesh of their
charges, and understood these little matters of smoking and
curing. Nor is it without significance that the Egyptians
were very careful as to the age and condition of the pigs
they thus " sacrificed," and that they killed their pigs just
as farmers do nowadays, twice in the year. If any one,
therefore, would try to convince me that the jolly old
Egyptians did not have bacon and ham, brawn, tripe and
sausages, chine and pettitoes all the year round, I should be
as deaf as a wilderness of adders. Nor do I believe that

I04 The Poets Beasts.

the Jews were ever any stricter than they are now ; and I
think he would be a foolhardy man who should walk
past a Hebrew pickpocket with a rasher of bacon sticking
obviously out of his coat-tails.

It is not likely that any one, with eyes to see and ears
to hear, could write a paragraph descriptive of a summer
evening without mentioning the bat. So the regular occur-
rence of the bat-feature in Clare, Hurdis, Blomfield,
Wilson, Garth, Grahame, Wordsworth, Collins, Gay, Shelley,
and all the others who have sung of twilight, was only to be
expected. But it is curious that none should have made
remark of the flitter-mouse's amazing eyesight, admired its
unrivalled dexterity on the wing, or wondered at its voice
— those needle-points of sound, which are too keen and
quick for many ears to catch.

Recent investigations by railway companies have shown
what a dangerous proportion of humanity is wholly or
partially colour-blind, and similar inquiries would prove
that a very large number of persons are unconscious of
their being partially deaf A test case is the bat's acute
voice. So Tennyson, requiring a simile, says " our voices
were thinner and fainter than any flitter-mouse shriek." I
have myself known four persons out of a company of six
unable to catch the sounds uttered by bats when hawking
overhead. Coleridge, for instance, says " the bat wheels
silent by," as if it was the regular thing for bats to be silent,
whereas the fact is, that it is very unusual for bats to be
silent when wheeling after insects. So the chances are
that Coleridge was bat-deaf. Yet he hears (in the same
stanza) " the solitary humble-bee singing in the bean-flower"
— one bee in a bean-ficld and not a score of bats overhead !
But perhgj^s his humble-bee was really a cockchafer, or ten
thousand of them, busy among the beans. Crabbe could
hear the bats " feebly shriek," and speaks of the sound as

Sonu Beasts of Reproach. 105

the note of " their melancholy love." Clare also calls the
bat " shrieking." But except for these and perhaps half-a-
dozen more, I do not know that any of the many poets
who have introduced the bat into their evening sketches
remark its extraordinary voice.

The flutter of its wings attracts their notice frequently.
Thus Collins has —

" The weak-eyed bat,
With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing." ^

Grahame —

" Round the strawy roof ,'

Is heard the bat's wing in the deep-hushed air."

And again —

"The whirring wing of the dark bat"
Now here again comes in the fact that the bat's flight is
singularly noiseless. When it turns a sudden somersault,
there is a supple flutter heard, and when it drops down out
of the air close to the watcher's face in pursuit of a dodg-
ing moth, the soft crumpling of its wings is audible. But
it does not " whir," nor, as Byron says, " flap " —

" The long dim shadows of surrounding trees,
The flapping bat, the night-song of the breeze."

But B}Ton perhaps, writing from Greece, heard the large
frugivorous bat.

As regards the flight itself, the descriptive touches are
commonplace enough. Clare's " scouting bats begin their
giddy round " is good, and so is Grahame's —

" And even the reremouse when the twilight sleeps
Unbreathing, spreads her torpid wings and round
From stack to house or barn and round again,
With many a sudden turn, flits and eludes
The eye : "

^ How many poets use the " leathern wing ? " Crabbe has "webby,"
and Garth "sooty," but the rest when they specify the wing say
"leathern."

io6 The Poets Beasts.

for each specifies a fact of observation — the " scouting " of
the bat, which, like a pigeon thrown up into the air, first
casts about in the sky for a while till it gets its bearings,
and then settles down to its work, and the sudden evanish-
ments of bats on the wing, eluding the eye by marvellous
nimbleness. Shelley has "quick bats in their twilight
dance," and Hurdis, with his usual clumsy fidelity —

"What time the bat
Hurries precipitous on leathern wing,
Brisk evolution in the dusky air
With sudden wheels performing."

But all the rest of the "fluttering," "wavering," "flitting,"
" mazy " bats are studiously commonplace, and thrown in
as it were by way of a touch of local colour, just as bees
are sprinkled about in a flowery verse by poets who need
a little insect life.

But why should the bat be taunted as being "torpid,"
"drowsy," "lazy-lurking?" It is no lazier than the sky-
lark. The only difference is that it usually (not as a rule)
sleeps all day, instead of sleeping all night. Are the
printers of the London morning papers " torpid," " drowsy,"
and " lazy-lurking ? " Yet they have to do the same. One
poet only, A. Wilson, does the little mouse-on-wings justice :

" The bat, the busiest of the midnight train,
That wing the air or sulky tread the plain,
Sees morning open on each field and flower,
And ends her mazes in yon ruined tower."

So much for the poets' best side of the bat, the bat
natural ; but even to it, imperfect as it is, has to be added
the normal error of the poets of thinking that the bat was
a bird, "an ominous fowl" —

" Oui, je te reconnais, je t'ai vu dans mes songes,
Triste oiseau ! soeur du hibou fun^bre. "

So says Victor Hugo, and the error of the bird-bat is

Some Beasts of Reproach. 107

probably, therefore, a widely spread one. ^sop gave
countenance to it in his bat " half bird, half beast ; " and
many poets give themselves the advantage of the doubt.
Spenser commences his list of " fatal birds " with ** the
leather-winged bat." Southey makes fun of the mistake in

" The midnighte howre when all the fowles
Are housed and hushte save battes and owles,
Yatte screche they're bodynges shrille ; "

and Dryden makes a happy hit in the couplet —

" Nor birds nor beasts, but just a kind of bat,
A twilight animal, true to neither cause."

But why should Montgomery have included the bat among
his '■'^ Birds" or Scott perpetuated the fiction?

On the other, its fanciful side, the bat is a thing of
reproach, pure and simple. Because it flies by night, it is
" obscene," and everj'thing, therefore, that goes on by night
is bat-like. For it is no innocent thing this poets' bat It
is " ghastly " and " blood-loving," the vampyre —

" In the air a ghastly bat bereft

Of sense has flitted with a mad surprise."

In this aspect, however, it does not belong to my present
subject, but to the Fauna of Fancy. But there is a modi-
fication of it that properly belongs to the Beasts of Reproach
— the *' ill-omened bat " — and this is by far the most frequent
view which the poets take of the grotesque but harmless
creature. For then, the bat adds a desolation to desolate
places and a horror to the horrible. Shattered thrones,
empty harem-bowers, crumbling beds of state (Crabbe), and
rifted minster-spires, are the perches of bats ; ruins are their
pleasure-haunts, deadly nightshade their bower, and wolves
their boon companions —

" Come list and hark, the bell doth toll
For some but now departing soul,

io8 The Poets Beasts.

And was not that some ominous fowl —
The bat, the night-crow, or screech-owl ? "

Rogers' bandit greets as old companions, in his hiding-
place, "the bat, the toad, the blind-worm, and the newt,"
and Darwin's naturalist hears

" Shrill scream, the famished bats and shivering owls,
And loud and long the dog of midnight howls."

"Through darksome gulfs the bats for ever skim, the
haunts of howling wolves and panthers grim " (Wilson) ;
"nocturnal bats and birds obscene" (Pope) ; "the bat flies
transient o'er the dusky green, and night's foul birds along
the sullen twilight sail " (Beattie) ; " the bat takes airy
round on leathern wings, and the hoarse owl his woeful
dirges sings" (Gay).

It is easy, therefore, to anticipate the place that bats fill
in poetical metaphor. As " vampyres " they symbolise the
foulest crimes and the worst enemies of humanity. As the
bat ominous, they are all sorts and conditions of men that
are abroad at night with evil intentions, and are emblematic
of hovering disaster. As the bat natural, they represent
drowsy, day-shunning indolence, purblind ignorance, and
from the weirdness of their form and feature suggest things
from another world —

" Then did wliisper low
Some of the little spirits that bat-like clung,
And clustered round the opening."— yifaw Jngcloiv.

This is permissible. It is quite fair to the bat to say
that its gnome-like countenance and self-absorbed, self-
enwrapped attitudes should be used as similes for that
which is impish and uncanny, just as Swift aptly gives riches
the wings of bats, and rarncU calls them the "dire imps of
darkness." But it is a crime against poetry to make the
bat itself obscene and abominable, a thing of reproach. If

Some Beasts of Reproach. 109

the poets wished to find hard things to say of the crea-
ture, why did they not say that its caves stink like a wilder-
ness of polecats, or .that its fur is incredibly swarming with
vermin ?

To those who have seen the " flying foxes " of tropical
countries — stretching nearly five feet across the wings —
flapping their solemn way across the evening sky, or have
seen them with softly fanning wings wheeling round the wild
fruit trees; the " vampyre " and generally weird idea of the
bat is easily explicable. But that the busy, merry, little
harlequin of our English twilight should have earned for
itself the ill name it possesses, shows a fertility of supersti-
tion which is very interesting.

" Bloody, bloody bat,
Come into my hat ! "

cries the country urchin, holding his cap over the bridge as
the tiny flickering things tumble about in the air in pursuit
of moths and beetles. He expects this prodigious spell to
fascinate "the night-flier" into the cap which he holds out
for its reception. Nor are his elders more Vnsible. In
Scotland they call them "bawkie birds," thinp lof ill-'- ~~"
and over a large part of rural England they ar. '■"^ ^^'^ ^^^
be blood-suckers, and in league with the p' "^n^ely? its
"the other world." But public opinion hasf^^''^ ^'^"'^^ ^^
them from the first. \ ^^ the hour

At the Creation, so they say, the bat affect ">'^^'^^^ "n-
ostrich) to be neither beast nor bird, in the \
ing the task which Allah was apportioning i ^^^' ^"d for
punished in the end by being told that all th ^ox-hunting
the night were already distributed, and that i °^ course,
shift for itself as it could with those hours which
the one nor the other. The Mosaic law pronoi
— " the fowl that creeps, going on all fours " —
tion, and the Rabbis carried on the national pre

H

I lo The Poets' Beasts.

Egypt, meanwhile, it had attracted attention, been adopted
into the menagerie of worship, and solemnly dedicated to
Darkness. Rome and Greece took their bat from Egypt,
and we find the bat drawing the car of Nox through the
sky, and transformation into the bat one of the gloomiest
penalties within the imagination of the myth-maker.

Here and there, however, it is redeemed from oppro-
brium, as by the Moslem legend of Isa making a bat,
" Khopash," out of clay and endowing it with life, so that
it might come and tell him in his seclusion among the
mountains when the sunset-hour for the suspension of the
Ramazan fast approached.

So to-day we find this useful little" animal, a mouse on
wings, regarded by a majority of mankind with apprehen-
sion and dislike. Its appearance when seated is certainly
against it ; but on the wing it is the very incarnation of
buoyant happiness. Under the inquiries of science its
amazing sensitiveness to touch, amounting indeed almost
to the possession of a new sense, has been the admiration
of naturalists, while its extraordinary suspension of life for
part of the ^^2X (differing altogether in character and degree
(frows^'^^^^'^-sr^^^tion of dormice and bears) ranks certainly
from the weinJ^ders of Nature. But apart from science, is
from another a gratitude due to a creature that has ventured
iginality in the matter of nose ? It is horn-
■sed, sometimes it wears a crest on the top of
"'^' a fleur-de-lys, sometimes a mimic horse-shoe ;
ys fantastic and unexpected. It is the very
This is permits.

that its gnor:he fox" for my subject, I should be over-
enwrapped a it, for Reynard covers a whole volume of
which is impi.olk-lore. But, fortunately, it is only the poets'
the wings of terns me, and this is a very meagre and single-
darkness." . Not that it does not abound in verse — it
bat itself obf.ut, then, it is always the same old fox. It has

Some Beasts of Reproach. 1 1 1

its den in solitudes, and issues stealthily forth to rob the
neighbouring poultry-yard, and by-and-by the huntsmen
meet and the " ruthless," " bloody-minded " fox is done to
death. It is, therefore, a suitable simile for all crafty and
guileful persons, especially those who meet with just punish-
ment for their crimes.

But this is not the animal that was made for the earth,
and of the two foxes I prefer the natural one. I should
like to have found here and there in the poets a reference
to the beautiful ruddy fox that by its simple presence, pass-
ing across a scrap of woodland scener)', startles the land-
scape into unwonted picturesqueness, and marshals all the
surrounding foliage into a back-ground for the little living
spark of colour moving in front ; or a word for the small
foxes, the prettiest wild-thing cubs in the world, with the
innocentest faces and most winning ways ; or a word of
sympathy for the vixen, that will run before the hounds
with a cub in her mouth for miles and miles, and after
hiding it, will double and turn upon her course, careless
for the time of her own life, in the hope of i,:ad)ng away
the hounds from her treasure — a word, in or the

pretty little beast of prey that is still a nativf
and, but for encroaching farmsteads and ga? ^

would be abundantly content to live entire?' "^"^^y> "s
birds and animals. But of this creature, ^^{'^ ^ ^'^ ^*
and brave little English fox, the poets kn* ^^ *.^^ ^^^'^
Even its cheery voice is called "an on'"^'^^'^^^ ""'
(Grahame), and said to "make approaching
dismal fall." "^^e, and for

It is "ruthless," "gaunt," "noxious," "wicl foxhunting
"greedy," "stinking," "obscene," "vagrant;" "t °^ course,
fox ; " " felon " and " villain ; " " the nightl.
the fold;" "abhorred alive, more loathsome
dead."

And why all this pother ? Simply because

112 The Poets Beasts.

the property of man. It runs off with a cock, and lo ! the
chorus of the poets ! —

" They crieden out, harow and wala wa !
A ha the fox ! and after him they ran
And eke with staves many another man
Ran Colle our dogge, and Talbot and Gerlond,
And Malkin with hire distaf in hire hond,
Ran cow and calf, and eke the veray hogges
So fered were for berking of the dogges,
And shouting of the men and women eke,
They ronnen so, hem thought hir hertes breke.
They yelleden as fendes don in helle ;
The dokes crieden as men wold hem quelle,
The gees for fere flewen over the trees.
Out of the hive came the swarme of bees.
So hideous was the noise, a benedicite !
Certes be Jakke Straw, and his meinie,
Ne maden never shoutes half so shrille,
Whan that they wolden any Fleming kille,
As thilke day was made upon the fox.
Of bras they broughten beemes and of box,
Of horn and bone, in which they blew and pouped,
And therwithal they shriked and they houped :
^U seem'd as that the heven shulde fall ! "

V It u^ |^;i : "green ruins" and "gaping tombs," "looks

,"'•'. , windows of the desolate dweUing of Moira,"
from the wemJ .u • Ui. • u i u *. tu

jr the night in caves where none else but the
from another - r?, • • ,v /• ^. ■,

ouses. This gives the fox the necessary degree

ty." But as the " subtle pilfering fox," " the

Son,tal foe," it has often to be found less remote

"^"'^ bitations of men and chickens. It is most

r,,,- • •. therefore, as a farmyard prowler, as a hen-

1 his is permi . . ,. •„■•.. u

^, , ■ metimes, as in Somerville, it seizes " the poor

that its gnoL ' ' y ■ x.

J lamb, whose sweet warm blood supplies a rich

, . , . . -y- in Pope, Dry den, Dyer, Grahame, prowls round

, ■ c ^sking in the sun, the frisking lambs on the bank,

the wind's ol c .

, , °„ "to seize a straggling prey." And Piers tells

1 't If 1 u^^"^^'^^"^ story of the false fox that comes in

Some Beasts of Reproach. 1 1 3

pedlar's guise and tempts little " Kiddie " to its doom, in
spite of his mother's warning words before she "yode forth
abroad unto the greene wood" Quoth she —

" Many wilde beastes liggen in waite,'
For to entrap in thy tender state,
But most the foxe. maister of collusion,
For he has vowed thy last confusion.
Forthy, my Kiddie ; be rulde by me
And never give trust to his trecheree ;
And if he chaunce come when I am abroade,
Sperre the yate fast, for fear of fraude ;
Ne for all his worst, nor for his best
Open the dore at his request."

But of course Kiddie does, and of course the false fox
" ranne away with him in all hast"

But, as a rule, it is the rape of the hen that inflames
the poets to most indignant declamation, like Clare's —

" Housewives discoursing 'bout their hens and cocks.
Spinning long stories, wearing half the day.
Sad deeds bewailing of the prowling fox.
How in the roost the thief had knaved his way,
And made their market profits all a prey."

Yet it is not often that the poets attribute to the fox that
which in all other fabulists is its chief failing, namely, its
going about its larcenies by twilight. The Entre chien et
loup is " the great epical hour of the fox." It is the hour
of betrayals and perfidies, of doubts and mythical un-
certainties.

Some score of poets sing the glorious chase, and for
downright brutality commend me to your fox-hunting
poet, Bioomfield emphatically excepted — and, of course,
Cowper.

" The reeking roaring hero of the chase
I give him over as a desperate case ;
Physicians write in hopes to work a cure
Never, if honest ones, when death is sure ;

H

1 1 4 The Poets Beasts.

And though the fox he follows may be tanned,

A mere fox-follower never is reclaimed : ^

Some farrier should prescribe his proper course

Whose only fit companion is his horse :

Or if deserving of a better doom

The nobler beast judge otherwise, his groom."

The squire, when he goes to the cover-side, never affects
a sympathy with chickens, or maudles about " the turkey's
callow care." Most of the hunt are there because they
enjoy the excitement of the hard ride, a few because they
take an extra pleasure in seeing hounds working well, but
all of them hunt the fox because it is brave. Probably, also,
not a man in the field, except the huntsman, cares whether
the fox is killed or not. They want to overtake it, to break
down the pluck of the "game " little beast by a combination
of their hounds' sagacity, their horses' power, and their own
straight riding. The huntsman likes to see the fox killed
simply from a professional point of view. It encourages
the pack, and the brush is "good for a sovereign." But the
fox-hunting poet musters his hounds and huntsmen out of
sheer revenge, and murderously pursues the fox because it
has killed a chicken,' and exults over the actual mangling
of the little body.

" Here, huntsman, from this height
Observe yon birds of prey ; if I can judge
'Tis there the villain lurks, they hover round,
And claim him as their own. Was I not right ?
See ! there he creeps along, his brush he drags,
And sweeps the mire impure : from his wide jaws
His tongue unmoisten'd hangs, symptoms too sure
Of sudden death.

Ha ! yet he flies, nor yields
To black despair. But one loose more, and all

* " The fox's brusli still emulous to wear,
He scours tiic county in his elbow-chair."

— Rogers : Pleasures of Memory.

Some Beasts of Reproach. 115

His wiles are rain. Haik ! tkro' jon village now
The rattling damonr rings. The bams, the cots.
And leafless elms, return the joyons sounds.
Thro' eT'ry homestall, and thro' er'ry yard
His midnight walks, panting, forlorn, he flies.

Thro' eT*ry hole he sneaks, thro' every jakes
Plunging he wades besmear'd, and fondly hc^>es
la a superior stench to lose his own :
Bat faithful to the track th' unerring hounds
With peals of echoing vengeance close pursue.
And now distress'd, no sheii'ring covert near.
Into the hen-roost he creeps, whose walls with gore
Distain'd, attest his guilt.

There, villain ! there
Expect thy £ite deserv'd. And soon from thence
The pack, inquisitive, with clamour loud.
Drag out their trembling prize, and on his blood
With greedy transport feast. In bolder notes.
Each sounding horn proclaims the felon dead.
And all th' assembled village ^outs for joy.

The fanner, who beholds his mortal foe
Stretch'd at his feet, applauds the glorious deed.
And grateful calls us to a short repast :
In the full glass the liquid amber smiles.
Our native product ; and his good old mate
With choicest viands heaps the lib'rai board,
To crown our triumphs and reward our toils."

Now fox-hunting, I take it, requires no condoning from
anybody. But to go about to condone it, by pretending
that the fox is " the terror of the hamlet," " the fanner's
mortal foe," a " bloody-minded villain," and must be killed
itself in retribution for ducklings eaten, is to condemn the
sport as inhuman, and fox-hunters as monsters of cruelty.

" Give ye Britons ! then
Your sportive fury, pitiless, to pour,
Lo<»e on the mighty robber of the fold !
Him from his craggy winding haunts unearthed.

1 1 6 The Poets Beasts.

Let all the thunders of the chase pursue,
Happy he . . ,

Who sees the villain seized and dying hard,
Without complaint, though by an hundred mouths
Relentless torn ! "

Cowper is bad enough, but read Leyden. The fox is
supposed to have gone to earth, but a terrier turns him
out —

" His guilt glares hideous when, in open day,
The villain stands revealed, with dumb dismay,
When guileful rapine's hoarded spoils are viewed,
And guilty caverns stained with guiltless blood.
None grieve when low the trembling felon lies,
Who unlamenting,^ unlamented dies ;
His limbs the hungry brood of ravens feed,
Abhorred alive, more loathsome still when dead."

And all this about a fox ! The innocence of the poet as to
the procedure and incidents of "the thunders of the chase"
are as delightful as his animus is discreditable above all to
a poet. But Somerville is, perhaps, the most brutal of the
versifying fox-hunters, for he rejoices alike over the "greedy
transport " of a score of big hounds swallowing one small
fox, and over the killing of foxes in traps ! So that he not
only brutalises the sport which he professes to enjoy, but
sins against it in the worst manner a fox-hunter can.

" Nor hounds alone the noxious brood destroy.
The plundered warrener full many a wile
Devises to entrap his greedy foe.
Fat with nocturnal spoils. At close of day
With silence drags his trail, then from the ground
Pares thin the close-grazed turf, and with nice hand

^ On this point of the silence with which the fox handsomely meets
death, compare Scott's "he look a hundred mortal wounds as mute
as fox 'mongst mangling hounds," and Thomson's " dying hard, with-
out complaint, thougli by an hundred mouths relentless torn,"

Sovte Beasts of Reproach, 117

Covers the latent death, with curious springs
Prepared to fly at once, whene'er the tread
Of man or beast unwarily shall press
The yielding surface. By th' indented steel
With gripe tenacious held, the felon grins
And struggles, but in vain ; yet oft 'tis known
When every art has failed, the captive fox
Has shared the wounded joint, and with a limb
Compounded for his life. But if, perchance.
In the deep pitfall plunged, there's no escape,
But unreprieved he dies, and bleached in air.
The jest of clowns, his reeking carcase hangs."

" We 1 can but raise our feeble voice in mild protest
against the cruel misrepresentations to which the fox ia
exposed in Reineke Fuchs, wherein he is credited with ever)
vice under the sun, and wins his final victory over his
enemy Sir Isegrim by the basest perfidy on record. The
fox of natural history, we venture to plead, is not so bad
as all this. He is simply a robber — at once a highwayman,
burglar, and garotter — but he is not a hypocrite (at least,
more than his profession requires) ; and as to his private
morals, he is an excellent husband and/^r<f defamille, tak-
ing unusual pleasure in the sweets of domestic life and the
gambols of his infant offspring. . . • The stories about the
race are mostly base fabrications. Reineke Fuchs is, as we
have already said, one long unpardonable libel."

Now "Reynard the Fox" is exactly the fox of poetr}-,
and, indeed, it is very possible, considering the extraordi
nary popularity of that " pleasant history," that the poets
really borrowed their Reynard from that ancient work.

But in the Middle Ages the fox had a literature to itself,
and has been ever since one of the most conspicuous
features of folk-lore — but always in the same aspect of a
practical joker of a sinister kind. To my mind he resembles
the Manobohzo of Red-Indian legends, " the mischief-

^ Francis Power Cobbe, "False Beasts and True."

li8

The Poets' Beasts.

maker," and the Loki of Scandinavia. Earliest, perhaps,
of all myths is the so-called " solar," and in it the fox per-
petually figures as the grim humorist that is perpetually
keeping chanticleer in alarm. Each is perpetually out-
witting the other, and will continue to do so till the sun
ceases to rise and set.

The fox-twilight just comes on the scene as the cock-
daylight is disappearing from sight, and gets weary again of
waiting for the cock's return just as his patience was on the
point of being rewarded by the breaking of dawn. Towards
sunset the fox comes stealing into sight, but the cock is
at that moment making off. Next morning the cock, see-
ing his adversary (" the fox-shadows ") slinking away, pops
out his head and crows. And so the old contest goes on.

Following this ancient precedent, therefore, folk-lore
makes the fox get into trouble himself as often as into
mischief — for though Reynard is one of the most cunning
of beasts, his cunning, like that of the wolf, is constantly
overreaching itself.

V.
ASSES AND APES.

*' Your asses and your apes.
And other brutes in human shapes." — BeeUtie,

ASSES.

" The as-s that heavy, stupid, lumpish beast " ( Oldham) ; " slonth-
full " {Spenser) ; " whom Nature reason hath denied " (Groome) ;
"heavy-headed thing" {Wordsworth); "slow beast" (Smtthey) ;
"obstinate, dull," &c. {Surift, Gay, &^:) ; "serious" {King^ ; "solemn,
puir lang-legs" (Allan Rantsay).

Glory has been pernicious to the ass. So saith an ancient
of wisdom ; and it may be that the donkey, satisfied with
past honours, and conscious of the worth that was once set
upon him, has become indifferent to the opinion of a de-
generate race of men who knew him not in his prime — his
golden prime, in the good old time of Haroun Al-Raschid.
So he retires from public favour, like some great actor or
author who has pleased the taste of his day, but finds a
generation overtaking him that has no congenial sym-
pathies; and so, loftily withdrawing with his obsolete
laurels, he walks the world wrapped as in a cloak with self-
conscious merit and voluntarily undistinguished-

For myself, when I watch a donkey at his work, be his
master a good or a bad one, there grows upon me somehow
a suspicion that the animal " whose talent for burdens is
wondrous " is deliberately concealing other talents, and that

I20 The Poets Beasts.

its meekness arises from condescension rather than submis-
sion ; that it prefers to subject itself to perennial crucifixion
rather than tediously prove its patents to nobility. Legend
says it bears the cross upon its back to keep men in recol-
lection of the exaltation of the humble to offices of honour,
and that its meekness is to remind us that even under such
honours we should still remain humble.^ But legend is
often audaciously wrong. For when our Saviour went into
Jerusalem on an ass, He selected the beast upon which it
was then considered most honourable to ride. The donkey
was — as it still is — the steed of the rich, the high in place,
and the luxurious. There was no humility intended or ex-
pressed in that notable procession ; on the contrary, it was
our Saviour's one and only assertion of personal conse-
quence. His solitary condescension to the earthly ambitions
of the disciples. Moreover, viewed naturally instead of
traditionally, the cross-stripe on the donkey's back gives
the "heavy-headed thing" a very interesting significance,
for it may be the last lingering vestige of a zebrine ancestry.
All the other stripes have been thrashed off its hide. Be-
wildered by ill-usage, they have run together and blended
into a colour that, like the character of the wearer, is mono-
tonous, dull, serious, solemn. I prefer then the natural and
matter-of-fact explanation of the emblem on the donkey's
back to the legendary one, for it directly associates the poor
animal with its proud wild-life past, and by a single line of
colour suffices to restore " the heavy, stupid, lumpish thing "
of the poets to its original Asiatic and African honours and
freedom.

*' Didst thou from service the wild ass discharge,
And break his bonds, and bid him live at large ;
Through the wide waste, his ample mansion, roam,
And lose himself in his unbounded home ?

^ In Scotland, they say the stripe is the bruise of Balaam's staff.

Asses and Apes. 121

By Nature's hand magnificently fed,
His meal is on the range of mountains spread ;
■ As in pure air aloft he bounds along,
He sees in distant smoke the city throng ;
Conscious of freedom, scorns the smothered train,
The threat'ning driver, and the servile rein." ^

The poets, more poet ico, accept the dull significance of the
monkish fancy in preference to the more eloquent parable
of the scientific fact, and refer the cross to Calvary rather
than Central Africa. So Rogers, seeing " the panniered
ass browsing the hedge by fits," did not probably recognise
therein the old instinct of asinine vigilance when the wild
ass — "the ass of savage kind," as Watts calls it — grazed
only two steps at a time, and kept stopping between
mouthfuls to raise its head, in order to scan the horizon
and sniff the breeze. Nor perhaps did Wordsworth, who
saw the ass,

" With motion dull

Upon the pivot of his skull

Turn round his long left ear,"

associate the gesture with days of suspicious freedom, when
the long left ear of the sentinel ass caught the first whisper
of approaching danger and gave timely warning to the herd
of otherwise fatal surprise.

For once upon a time the wild asses, the onagers, were
the only representatives of the family, and they were so
swift of foot and so courageous that the east and the south
wore their hides as robes of honour, and kings and chiefs
took the wild ass for their cognisance and badge. It was
hunting an ass, then a royal sport, that Bairam, Prince of
Persia, lost his Hfe, plumping into the pool in the Vale of
Hf|u:is and being never seen again. Oriental children wore
shrlds of ass-skin round their necks that they might grow
up generous and brave. Did Ali, " the Lion of the Lord,"

^ Young's paraphrase of Job.

I 2 2 TJie Poets Beasts.

intend any disparagement of the Prophet's favourite horse
when he named his own donkey Duldul after it? Thus
prized, the wild ass soon came under domestication, and
the under-sized drudge of the London streets is the latest
and most degraded variation of the species. But inter-
mediate between the proud vagabond of the desert and the
coslermonger's "moke" come many animals more worthy,
physically, of their lineage. In Egypt, the white ass still
claims something of the respect, and fetches the high price,
of olden days ; and during the Egyptian war I remember
seeing more than one of these animals figuring conspicuously
in the British camp. A distinguished general, a baronet,
and two M.P.'s, rode to the front, as used to ride the fifty
sons of Jair. All over Asia Minor the donkey of superior
caste is the recognised "hack" of the well-to-do, and I have
seen them not only in the Levant, but in Southern Europe
and in Eastern Africa, sumptuously caparisoned as steeds,
and of a size and form that dignified their ofifice far better
than some of the ponies of the Cossacks of the Don, the
tattoos of India, the bronchos of Western America, or the
rat-like chargers of Beluchi warriors.

And I have overwhelming authority from the Past for
my respect for donkeys. The purely stupid ass was un-
known to antiquity. Take Hindoo mythology alone. There
we find the donkey in divine, demoniacal, or Ghandarvic
aspects — that is, benign, malign, or merely vagabond and
loose-moralled — but never ignominious or ridiculous. The
ass of Indra is a potent personage, and, as the warrior that
conquers at Yama, rises to the dignity of the Solar Hero,
the Sun itself. Or, if you will, take the more familiar
Greek and Latin. What was the ass Lucius but the Sun ?
Sacred to Bacchus, it paced along triumphant in Dionysic
feasts ; it was honoured, as it well deserved, in the worship
of Vesta, and sacrificed as a worthy offering to the God of
War.

Asses and Apes. 123

A god, it is true, gave Midas donkey's ears, but it was
just like the intolerance of a divinity to do so. The
perpetrator of the insult was Apollo (who ought to have
known better), whose music the Phrygian king had pro-
nounced inferior to that of Pan, and so — in order to gag
honest criticism — the god, forsooth, gave Midas donkey's
ears ! For myself, admiring fearlessness in critics, and
admiring also the music of Nature above that of art, I shall
always believe that Midas was right and that Apollo was
fairly beaten, just as I shall continue to believe that George
the Fourth was really fat even though Leigh Hunt had to
go to prison for saying so. And mark the mean ingenuity
of Apollo's retaliation. Pan, whom Midas preferred, some-
times wore asses' ears himself. They were his emblem of
acute hearing, of a perception open to the subtlest harmonies
of the woods and fields, and therefore in .lengthening the
Phr\'gian's ears the sulky divinity thought to put an affront
upon Midas' patron too. It is for posterity to avenge the
critic on his petty-minded tormentor.
Again — ■

" Silenus on his ass.

Pelted with flowers as he on did pass

Tipsily quaffing,"

is not, either in Keats or the classics, made ridiculous by
his vehicle; for it should not be forgotten that the jolly
old man being placed on an ass points to the importance
of the animal in Bacchic worship, and is not intended to
derogate from the dignity of the boon companion of the
gods. Says a learned commentator upon the pageant,
" The ass was in fact the symbol of Silenus' wisdom and
his prophetical powers."

But I regret that the esteem in which it was held should
so often have marked out the donkey as a proper object
for sacrifice. But so it was. The Scythians slew it in
honour of the god of battles, and the Egyptians in honour

124 ^^^ Poets' Beasts.

of the god of learning. When it was a red one, the Copts
thrust it with much pious ceremonial over the top of a
precipice, as a " scape-ass " for the people. Hence, by an
oblique prolongation of the vicarious-sinner idea, " wicked
as a red ass " became a Coptic proverb. In the same vein,
the Nagas to this day select red cocks for augury and
sacrifice. Not that red was always an honoured tint. Cain's
hair, they say, was red, and Nebuchadnezzar's, for his sins,
was turned to the same colour.

As for its voice, " the loud clarion of the braying ass,"
as Pope calls it, the donkey fares badly at poets' hands.
And, indeed, I defy any one to hear a donkey fairly out and
not to laugh at the cavernous melancholy of the animal's
concluding notes. It commences with an ardour that has
something of military enthusiasm in it, but suddenly, as if
the memory of secret griefs had supervened, the voice drops
from the full-breathed outcry that rings across the Bikaneer
wastes, to a dolorous pumping up of hollow groans and
husky sobs that had justified the venerable Philemon in his
mirthful death far better than the sight of a donkey eating
figs. But Philemon, poor dry old soul, was in his ninety-
seventh year, and needed no great excuse for dying. Yet
if I had to find some excuse myself for dying of laughter,
when I was only three years oft' the century, I think I
should have myself transported to some spot on the banks
of holy Ganges where Hindoo washermen congregate, and
there pleasantly demise while laughing at their donkeys
braying.

" To all the echoes south and north,

And east and west, the ass sent forth

A loud and piteous bray."

And again —

" Once more the ass did lengthen out
More ruefully an endless shout,
The long, dry, see-saw of his horrid bray."

Asses aiid Apes. 125

Wordsworth, like the other poets, here recognises the
melancholy of the donkey's voice, but (like the others),
afraid of making the animal natural, takes no notice of the
unrivalled ludicrousness of the sounds it produces. When
it frightened John Gilpin's horse, the ass " did sing most
loud and clear," but this is the nearest approach to appre-
ciation of this great jest of Nature that I know of in verse

Not that even its voice is altogether ridiculous. " The
braying of Silenus his ass " {ititempestivos edidit ore sonos)
" conduced much to the profligation of the giants."

*' So, when at Bathos earth's big offspring strove
To scale the skies, and wage a war wiih Jove,
Soon as the ass of old Silenus brayed.
The trembling rebels in confusion fled." ^

And though the *^ audor damoris" may be subsequently
sacrificed, it is not from any depreciation of his resonant
services, but rather in recognition of them. It finds honour-
able mention in Holy Writ, and in the Ass-mass of the
monks, commemorative of the flight into Egj'pt —

" Asinus egregius,
Asinus dominorum.

Super dromedarios
Velox Madianeos,"

there was a hee-haw refrain, the choir on one side taking
the hee, and on the other the haw. Moreover, in the myths
of many countries, and the fairy tales of nearly all, the
donkey's voice plays sometimes a serious and important
part

•' Ah I those dreadful yells, what soul can hear
That owTis a carcase and not quake for fear ?
Demons produce them doubtless, brazen-clawed
And fanged with brass, the demons are abroad." -

^ Garth, "The Dispensary." - Cow{.er, "Xeedless Alarms."

126 The Poets Beasts.

Its character in fable and folk-lore is not always that
which the poets attribute to it. It has other traits than
stupidity and credulity. For though it is outwitted and
betrayed by the fox, it outwits the wolf, and kicks all its
teeth down its throat. Though it absurdly proposes to
chirp like a grasshopper, and undertakes the role of lap-dog,
it philosophises very sagaciously on the fortunes of the
war-horse.

'• The ass, whom Nature reason has denied,
Content with instinct for his surer guide.
Still follows that and wiselier does proceed ;
He ne'er aspii-es with his harsh braying note
The songsters of the wood to challenge out ;
Nor, like this awkward smatterer in arts,
Sets up himself for a vain ass of parts." ^

The frogs, it is true, make fun of it, but the ass in turn
flouts the mule. Under a mistaken sense of its own powers,
it amiably proposes to serenade the beasts — Swift calls it
" the nightingale of brutes " — and, with a self-respect that
is not unbecoming, falls into the error of supposing that
the homage paid to the image which it carries is intended
for itself But, on the other hand, it is always found sen-
sibly selecting creature-comforts over mere vain-glory, and
possessed of a considerable sense of humour. Till its glee
overcame its discretion, the donkey in the lion's skin had
a " high old time of it," as the Americans say, and kept all
the beasts of the forest in a ridiculous stampede by its well-
acted part ; and I can quite understand the long-eared one
laughing prodigiously over the consternation and hubbub
he was causing. Indeed, I am half inclined to think, with
Bloomfield, that when the donkey played the part of the
" Fakenham Ghost " he did so with full sense of the prac-
tical joke.

* Oldham, "Satires of Buileau Imitated."

Asses and Apes. 127

Nor while mirthful itself has it failed to conduce to mirth
in others, for, besides Philemon's disastrous cachination,
we know that Chrisippus also fatally over-laughed himself
on seeing an ass eat apples off a silver dish, and that
Agelastus (Crassus of that ilk) only laughed once in all his
life, and that was on seeing an ass eat thistles.

Butler, I may note, confounds these two catastrophes for
the sake of his rhyme —

" Or he that laughed until he choked his whistle
To rally on an ass that ate a thistle."

The poets, however, have recognised only one aspect
of the animal, namely, the familiar " cuddy," and, of its
classical and historical honours, only two or three. " The
blameless animal " of Balaam finds due reference ; but, so
it seems to me, in order to point a personality or a jest.
Thus Crashawe —

" The ass of old had power to chide its wilful lord,
And hast not thou the power to speak one word?
Not less a marvel, sure, this silence is in thee.
Than that the ass of old to speak had liberty." *

^ Crashawe has the same idea again ; applied, however, to the ass
that carried the infant Saviour into Egypt. He says to it —

" Hath only anger an omnipotence

In eloquence ?
Within the lips of love and joy doth dwell

No miracle ?
Why else had Balaam's ass a tongue to chide

His master's pride.
And thou (Heaven-burthened beast) hast ne'er a word

To praise thy Lord ?
That he should find a tongue in vocal thunder

Was a great wonder ; ;,

But oh ! methinks 'tis a far greater one

That thou find'st none."

128 The Poets Beasts.

Marvel has —

" We ought to be wary and bridle our tongue,
Bold speaking hath done both man and beast wrong.
When the ass so boldly rebuked the prophet,
Thou know'st what danger had like to come of it.
Though the beast gave his master ne'er an ill word,
Instead of cudgel Balaam wished for a sword."

As an occupant of the stable on the first Christmas Day,
it commands deference. Faber curiously and pleasantly
explains its patience thus —

" For long the ass with silent shadowy head
Gazed on the infant Saviour.

And for the ass
To gaze on Him who saves both man and beast,
Lifted his patient nature to a calm
Transcending far the purposes of sleep."

Allan Ramsay has a donkey that is a very particular fool
— " egregiously an ass," as Othello says; but Peter Bell's,
on the other hand, is an unnatural monster of drivelling
intelligence. Crabbe, however, strikes the just middle in
his " Resentment " —

*' Close at the door where he was wont to dwell,
There his sole friend, the ass, was standing by.
Half dead himself to see his master die."

But there were many asses (besides those I have already
referred to) of which the world has wide cognisance. The
"Bricklebrit" donkey that wept sequins; Ali Baba's drove;
the ass with the silver nose that hunted hares, and the
little ass which the Queen bore and that itself married a
queen ; the donkey-cabbages and the musician of Bremen
— yet nowhere in folk-lore is it odious or even unlovable.
]>ut the poets have need of an animal that shall illustrate,
as they think, an easy sneer, so when they do not use the
owl they use the donkey.

Asses and Apes, 129

Metaphors and images are therefore abundantly drawn
from this animal Every one, from Moore's Sovereign —

" A royal ass, by grace divine
And right of ears, most asinine,"

to Crabbe's Schoolboy, is pelted with the epithet.

" The man's a donkey — let him bray," suffices in Mackay
to stand by itself as all-suflScient and not requiring explana-
tion. Mankind in general belong to the species : says
Cowper —

" Man is the genuine ofispring of revolt.
Stubborn and sturdy, a wild ass's colt."

So do nations collectively and separately ; as in Byron —

" The world is a bundle of hay,

Mankind are the asses who pull ;
Each lugs it a different way.
And the greatest of all is John Bull."

Or as Oldham in his Satires, placing a donkey in London,

asks —

" What would he think on a Lord Mayor's Day
Should he the pomp and pageantry survey.
Or view the judges and their solemn train
March with grave decency to kiil a man ?

What would he say, were he condemned to stand
For one long hour in Fleet Street or the Strand ;
To cast his eyes upon the motley throng.
The iwo-legged herd, that daily pass along ?

If, after prospect of all thi>, the a-s

Siiould find the voice he had in ^sop's days.

Then, doctor, then, casting his eyes around

On human fools, which everywhere abound.

Content with thistles, from all envy free,

And shaking his grave head, no doubt he'd cry,

Good faiih ! man is a beast as much as we I "

I

I30 The Poets Beasts.

Individual classes of persons are specifically asses. Thus,
in Falconer, kings —

" While fools adore and vassal lords obey,
Let the great monarch ass thro' Gotham bray ; "

and, in Barry Cornwall (I cross myself saying it), aldermen —

" Oh ! the tradesman he is rich, sirs,
The farmer well to pass.
The soldier he's a lion,
The alderman's an ass ! "

Lovers — "the grave lover ever was an ass" (Johnson);
sailors — " though he plays the ass on shore, he is lion of
the sea" (Cook); and courtiers (Moore) —

" Lord Harrowby, hoping that no one imputes
To the Court any fancy to persecute brutes,
Protests, on the word of himself and his cronies.
That had these said creatures been asses and ponies.
The Court would have started no sort of objection,
As Asses were there always sure of protection."

And, need I say it, critics ; as in King —

" The twilight owl and serious ass
Would needs for modern critics pass."

Individual personages addressed by this title are " too
numerous to mention," and, from Swift's Duke of Marl-
borough to Byron's Wordsworth, they are most of them
not only ass, but partly also ape.

Summing up, then, the poets' donkeys, I find them a
dull pack, for the poets as a rule seem to use the animal
merely as the schoolboy does — as affording a ready epithet of
abuse that comes within the comprehension of the meanest
capacity — and to agree with Burns that the donkey's thick
hide ^ was given it by a compassionate Providence as a pro-

1 " Thou gavest the ass liis hide, the snail his shell." — To R, Graham,

Asses and Apes, 131

vision against pre-ordained cudgelling. But if any other
view of the Ass be worth taking, I venture to think the
poets should have been the first to find it out and to
utilise it.

APES.

"Freakish monkey" {Oldham) ; "abhorred baboons" {Montgomery) ;
" apes with hateful stare " {Hood).

The poets' apes — under which name I include (with due
apologies to naturalists) the baboons and monkeys — are a
deplorable creation. They are not " hateful " in the natural
sense that the octopus or man-eating tigers or rattlesnakes
might be, but they are unnaturally deformed into a despi-
cable travesty of man at his worst and meanest "A
chattering, idle, airy kind," as Paniell calls them, is just
criticism, and so is Shelley's "restless apes;" and so, too,
Morris' " quick-chattering apes that yet in mockery of
anxious men wrinkle their brows," for these are epithets
from Nature ; but it is scarcely generous, I think, first of all
to fancy a questionable resemblance between ourselves and
monkeys, and then to abuse the monkey for all the vices and
meannesses of the worst among us. The ape, they say, is
the worst kind of a libel on a man — and an ape besides.
Having reduced the human to its lowest, they call the
monkey human and add " brute " besides ! The truth is,
as the wise of all times have pointed out, man has a grudge
against the Simian folk for being so like himself in body.
Other animals, less amiable in themselves, are accepted
with resignation, condoned with apologies, or treated with
deference. But, as Congreve says —

" Baboons and apes ridiculous we find.
For what ? for ill-resembling human kind ; "

132 The Poets Beasts.

and poets find them worse than ridiculous : they find them
every whit as bad as men. Says Goldsmith —

" Of beasts it is confessed the ape
Comes nearest us in human shape ;
Like man, he imitates each fashion,
And malice is his ruling passion."

And yet, when the monkey itself suggests that it is a man,
parrots and foxes are deputed to laugh down its pretensions.
Says one of the species, in Barry Cornwall —

" For a monkey is much on a par with man.

Tliere's a difference

Pai-rot. Ho, ho ! I shall crack my sides.
Monkey. Though few see't till we sit side by side.
On the one hand a man has a longer nose,
And struts in clean linen wherever he goes ;

But what has he like to the monkey's tail ?

Parrot. Ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! "

And again in Spenser's delightful " Mother Hubberd's
Tale," when the fox and ape rob the sleeping lion of his
sceptre, crown, and robe, and then fall to disputing as to
who should wear the regalia, the ape claims the preference
over its companion on the ground of its resemblance to
man.

" Then too I am in person, in stature.
Most like a man, the lord of every creature."

But the fox flouts it —

" Where you claim yourself for outward shape
Most like a man, man is not like an ape
In his chief parts, that is, in wit and spirit."

So in y^sop, when the ape, passing through a graveyard,
falls to deplorable weeping, its comrade, the donkey, asks
the reason for such immoderate melancholy, and at the
ape's reply that it always weeps thus when in the presence

Asses and Apes. 133

of its "poor dead ancestors," the long-eared one laughs
hugely.

This resemblance, however, being postulated, the poets
run easily on to debit the ape and its cousins with every
human weakness that is especially contemptible. They are
"pert" and "vain" and "dapper" in a score of poets;
" coxcombs," " beaux," " lady-killers," in others. Now,
every one of these epithets connotes a purely artificial
character, and are all of them therefore inapplicable to the
animal world.

It is the " monkey-beau," " the buffoon-ape " —

" Long did the beau claim kindred with the ape,
And shone a monkey of sublimer shape ;
Skilful to flirt the hat, the cane, the glove,
And wear the pert grimace of monkey-love ;
Of words unmeaning poured a ceaseless flood,
While ladies looked as if they understood ;
So chats one monkey to his brother,
Chatters as if he understood the other. " — Leyden.

"The mimic apes" "that love to practise what they
see."

Yet, except in these very restricted phases, the poets have
seldom sought for metaphor or moral from these singularly
suggestive animals. Young finds an analogy between the
monkey grasping at the reflection in the glass and man
striving to find happiness in riches —

** As monkeys at a mirror stand amazed —
They fail to find what they so plainly see ;
Thus men in shining riches see the face
Of happiness, nor know it is a shade.
But gaze, and touch, and peep and peep again,
And wish, and wonder it is absent still,"

The ape epithet is applied as liberally and promiscuously
as the asinine, and falls therefore on many of the same
classes and individuals. Mankind generally are apes as

134 The Poets Beasts.

well as asses, and so are certain nations, notably Frenchmen
— " monkeys in action, parroquets in talk " — and so again
also certain classes of men and women, such as courtiers,
lovers, and {horresco referens) critics —

" The critics hence may think themselves decreed
To jerk their wits and rail at all they read,
Foes to the tribe from which they trace their clan,
As monkeys draw their pedigree from man."

— Fenton's Epistle.

Nor does the alderman escape this time either, for,
though he is freely written down an ass, Somerville says —

" A genius can't be forced, nor can
You make an ape an alderman,"

Asses and apes in fact go together with much of the same
arbitrary association as the bat and the owl among the poets*
"birds." Anything or anybody that the poet takes a fancy
to dislike for the moment is either ape or ass, or both. To
such curious extremes is this sometimes carried that Ambi-
tion is both monkey and donkey. Says Herbert, " the
higher the ape goes the more he shows his tail ; " ^ and
again Young —

*' What Nature has denied fools will pursue,
As apes are ever walking upon two."

^ Herbert forgets apes have no tails at all. This loss of the caudal
ornament is accounted for by Spenser as follows : The ape and fox
having stolen the sleeping lion's crown and usurped his palace, mis-
govern so infamously that higli Jove is incensed, wakes up the slum-
bering monarch, and tells him what has happened. The lion returns
roaring to his palace, bursts in and captures tlie usurpers : —

" The ape's long taile (which then he had) he quight
Cut off, and both eares pared of their height ;
Since which all apes but half their eares have left,
And of their lailes are utterly bereft."

Asses and Apes. 135

While in Shenstone, ambition " pricks up asses' ears ! '
Again Rochester, in his attack upon Sir Car Scrope, makes
the knight both ape and ass —

" When in thy person we more dearly see
That satire's of divine anthority.
For God made one on man when he made thee.
To show there were some men, as there are apes.
Framed for mere sport, who di&r bot in shapes :
In thee are all these contradictions joined.
That make an ass prodigious and refined."

Yet the monkey is not a fool — certainly not " a fool of
the greatest size," as Christiana would say. In fables it is
often the butt of other creatures, but it is its inqtiisitiveness
as a rule that gets it into trouble, not its folly. The poets
describe it as half an idiot, and with very bad intentions —
" just skilled to know the right and choose the wrong " —
but I have so often myself taken advantage in their wild
forest state of their generous credulity and otherwise laud-
able thirst for knowledge, that I speak as an expert when
I say that though I have harmlessly astonished them with
trains of gunpowder and frightened a whole community
out of all gravity by striping one of their number an agree-
able vermilion, I never saw anything in their behaviour,
sober or drunk, composed or alarmed, that led me to think
them particularly foolish, as comjjared with men. Indeed,
when undisturbed in mind the monkey has a philosophical
gravity which attracts my admiration, although I confess
the alternating fits of monkey frivolity and indecorum
exasperate me.

" Since Father Noah squeezed the grape
And took to such beharing
As would have shamed our giandsire ape
Before the days of shaving." ^

^ Wendell Holmes.

136 The Poets Beasts.

If they would only sit still a little longer and look me
fairly in the eyes, I should like to ask the monkey, baboon,
or ape some questions of which the solutions interest me
greatly. Why are they always so sad-faced, when evidently
the most content ? And where is "the missing link?" Is
it true that they speak among themselves in a lingua franca
of their own, and that under the impulse of hidden panic
they can articulate ?

I remember once, in India, hearing at the Allahabad
Club of a monkey which in a frenzy of terror had called
out to its native attendant by 7iame. It had seen a cobra
coming towards it, and distinctly articulated its master's
servant's name — so, at any rate, more than one person
vouched for. Is then the tradition correct that monkeys
refuse to talk lest they should be made to work?

*' Play at dummy like the monkeys

For fear mankind should make them flunkeys."

I should like, too, to ask them about the ape-faced men
of Tartary and the Soko and the Pongo, Susumete and
Engeena, and to get at the truth about Du Chaillu's gorillas.
But as they are, the monkeys are impossible in conversation.
They are too sudden, too unforeseen in their transformations
from sense to ribaldry to be rational, too furtive in expression
to be straightforward in reply, too fond of scratching neigh-
bours to keep to the point. What a curious community of
fur this is, by the way ! I know nothing like it, except the
unanimous scratching of Hindoo fakirs.

They seem to me sometimes to be the " fatal children "
of the animal world, predestined to go wrong. They do
not, it is true, rise to the achievements of King Arthur, Sir
Tristram of Bevis, or Olga the Dane, Telephos, Perseus or
CEdipus, or any other of the famous " sons of sorrow," but
they often arrive innocently like them at great catastrophes,
their Kismet apparently leading them by the nose right up

Asses and Apes. 137

to, and over the precipice. At other times they seem
deliberately affecting humanity, just as Bunyan had a craze
to be thought a Jew; at others they convene in solemn
assembly on purpose, so it seems, to burlesque us, for the
whole Sanhedrim when assembled will gravely fall to, and
search the fur of the smallest of the congregation ; very
much as Domitian would ceremoniously convene the Senate,
and then ask them the best stuffing for a mullet.

As they exist in Nature — the sunny, merry, monkey-world
of tree tops — the four-handed folk meet with hardly a refer-
ence. In his *' Reign of Summer," Montgomery brings them
into the dread presence of the jaguar —

•' The monkeys in grotesque amaze
Down from their bending perches gaze ;
But when he lifts his eye of fire,
Quick to the topmost boughs retire."

And again in the "Pelican Island" we have a glimpse of
wild life —

" A monkey pilfering a parrot's nest,
But ere he bore the precious spoil away
Surprised behind by beaks and wings and claws
That made him scamper gibbering."

And once more —

" The small monkeys capering on the boughs
And rioting on nectar and ambrosia,
The produce of that paradise run wild ;
No — these were merry if they were not wise."

But even Montgomery, with an unusual deviation from his
characteristic sympathy with the animal world, breaks off
suddenly into abuse of the monkey cousins, the baboons —

" Man's untutored hordes were sour and sullen

Like those abhorred baboons, whose gluttonous taste
They followed safely in their choice of food,
And whose brute semblance of humanity

138 The Poets Beasts.

Made them more hideous than their prototypes
That bore the genuine image and inscription,
Defaced, indeed, but yet indelible."

This poetical reversion of the more orthodox theory of
evolution is curious.

Rogers gives a passing line to "the marmoset," that

" Dreams on his bough and plays the mimic still."

And Gay out of his fancy draws an excellent picture of the
" bhunder-logue " on the Ganges —

" Ah ! sir, you never saw the Ganges —
There dwell the nations called Quidnunkies
(So Monomotapa calls monkeys) ;
On either bank, from bough to bough
They meet and chat (as we may now) ;
Whispers go round, they grin, they shrug,
They bow, they snarl, they scratch, they hug.
And just as chance or whim provokes them,
They either bite their friends or stroke them."

But, as usual, this is only the introduction of spiteful
analogy —

'* Thus have I seen some active prig

To show his parts, bestride a twig ;

L — d ! how the chattering tribe admire !

Not that he's wiser, but he's higher ;
. All long to try the vent'rous thing

(For pow'r is but to have one's swing) ;

From side to side he springs, he spurns,
And bangs his foes and friends by turns."

The tremendous honours of the tribe in the Egypt of the
past, the India of to-day, receive no fuller recognition than
in such lines as Oldham's —

" In Egypt oft has seen the sot bow down
And reverence some deified baboon."

Asses and Apes, 139

Nothing more than this ! — for these decayed divinities of
an old-world worship, for the green monkey of Ethiopia that
had a shrine in every temple in Memphis ; for Thoth, the
god of letters ; the moon, the Bacchus of the Nile ; for
Pthah, the all-wise pigmy baboon that Hermopolis revered ;
for " the wise ones," the sacred monkeys and baboons of
Hindostan ; the ourangs, " the wise old men " of IVIalaya ;
for the creatures that the Sanskrit renders as the sun, the
insignia of Arjuna, the dread son of Indra; for Sugrivas,
prince of the baboons and Balin the snow-white ape ; for the
great "pluvial monkey" — delicious beast — that Gubernatis is
so wise about ; for the " Lords " of the Benares temples ; for
the lineal posterity of Hanuman himself ! Was ever a more
tremendous monkey, ape, or man, than the long-tailed friend
of Rama ? How magnificent his flight across Asia ! The
rivers in their courses turned, the trees on the hills tore
themselves up by their roots, the mountains themselves
swayed over, to follow in the fierce rush of the current
made by his passage ! And then, was ever tail greased,
before or since, to such momentous purpose as when
Hanuman let the Philistines of Ceylon grease his, thinking,
poor dupes, that the strength would go out of him thereby :
and then, rising Samson-like, he sets his own tail ablaze,
and, rushing through the royal city of Lanka, fires it in
every quarter, and from a neighbouring peak surveys, in
the tranquil complacency of accomplished revenge, the pro-
disrious conflagration !

VI.

SOME HARMLESS BEASTS.

In proportion as beasts are harmless, and less useful there-
fore for comparison with the wickednesses and failings of
men, the poets appear to find them uninteresting. Amia-
bility among wild animals, unaccompanied by utility to man,
would seem to be considered a deviation from poetical
requirements which ought not to be encouraged. At any
rate, to the lover of wild nature, the poets' treatment of the
beasts appears to be a perpetual cynicism. But, inasmuch
as many of the "harmless" animals — the elephant, beaver,
deer, camel, bison, and so forth — contribute to the welfare
of human beings, the poets' survey of them, though of a
distant, half-hearted kind, is not unfriendly.

Thus, they compliment the elephant, " the huge earth-
shaking beast " that hath " a serpent twixt his eyes," on its
unusual sagacity and on employing it in the service of man,
remember the beaver's fur in its favour, credit the camel with
conveying merchandise across deserts with great patience,
and do not overlook the claims of the bison upon the hunter
who eats him. Others, again, like the rhinoceros and hippo-
potamus, do not, so far as the poets know, contribute directly
to the comfort of humanity, nor do they attack man. They
are addressed therefore not only without acrimony, but with-
out sentiment of any kind. Each is a name for a very large

Some Harmless Btosis. 141

beast which man by his superior intelligence and strength
can always overcome when he chooses.

" His ann can plack the lion from his prey.
And hold the homed rhinoceios at bay."

A conspicuous exception to all the rest, however, is the
poets' treatment of the deer. It is the dove among the
beasts. And the hind and the fawn are the turtle-doves.

But it is evident to me, studying the poets among their
animals, that very few indeed cared for any one of the
beasts any further than it assisted them to a simile for
something human. That this can be justified I easily
allow ; but at the same time it is a matter for fair surprise
that poets, when the name of a wild beast suggested to them
a mental picture of the actual thing in Nature, did not
enrich their bald references with one or other of the many
beautiful and picturesque images which are at once con-
jured up.

Had I been bom a poet, I should never have tired, for
instance, so it seems to me, of the elephant symbol —

" The huge elephant, wisest of brutes !
O truly wise, with gentle might endowed,
Though powerful not destructive."

It is so comprehensive, so intelligent, so versatile. Elephants
do most things that men do, and a great many besides that
men cannot Every one of them is a whole Cleopatra's-
needle-fuU of hieroglyphics and significances. They knock
down the walls of houses with their foreheads and pick
up pins with their trunks. One elephant bumping against
another knocks it over, yet elephants have been taught to
dance on the tight-rope. It seems to have most of the
virtues in ordinary times of an honest man ; at others it
develops a depth of cunning malignity that all the Newgate
calendar cannot match. However, this is not the poets'
elephant

142 The Poets Beasts.

" Behold the castle-bearing elephant
That wants no bulk, nor doth his greatness want
An equal strength. Behold his massy bones
Like bars of iron ; like congealed stones
His knotty sinews are ; him have I made,
And given him natural weapons for his aid.
High mountains bear his food, the shady boughs
His cover are, great rivers are his troughs,
Whose deep carouses would to standers-by
Seem at a watering to drain Jordan dry.
What skilful huntsman can with strength outdare him ?
Or with what engines can a man ensnare him ? "

So speaks Job Militant; and after Quarles many poets
refer to the " elephant endorsed with towers," the ** castled
elephant," the " towered elephant," and so forth, omitting
to remember how those same swine which they so much
reproach and ridicule once wrought havoc in the " embattled
front of elephants proud-turreted." The story is a simple
one, and better perhaps in the original English. Alexander,
invading India, was told that elephants were terrified at
pigs, and finding opposed to him a formidable array of
" olyphauntes berynge castelles of trees on theyr bakkes
and knyghtes in ye castelles for ye batayle," the great
Emathian ordered up a drove of swine to the front of his
army, and the " jarrynge of ye pygges " upset the olyphauntes
altogether, for we read that they began "to fie eche one
and keste down ye castelles and slewe ye knyghtes. By this
meane Alysaundre had ye vyctorie."

It is a creature of colossal bulk, yet it is the most gently
docile of man's servants ; indeed, almost of creatures.

" Calm amidst scenes of havoc, in his own
Huge strength impregnable, the elephant
Offended none ; but led his quiet life
Among liis old contemporary trees,"

Though of vast strength, it is curiously sensitive to small
annoyances. It detests the squeaking of mice. Mosquitoes

Some Harmless Beasts. 143

infuriate it. In the fable, the frog and the ant compel it
to commit suicide out of sheer misery. Spenser's elephant,
assailed by an ant, is one of the poet's types of the
"World's Vanity"—

" Soone after this I saw an elephant,
Adorned with bells and bosses gorgeouslie,
That on his backe did beare (as batteilant)
A gilden towre, which shone exceedinglie ;
That he himselfe, through foolish vanitie,
Both for his rich attire, and goodly forme,
Was puffed up with passing surquedrie,
And shortly gan all other beasts to scome.
Till that a little ant, a silly worme,
Into his nostrils creeping, so him pained.
That, casting down his towres, he did deforme
Both borrowed pride, and native beautie stained.
Let, therefore, nought that great is therein glory,
Sith so small a thing his happines may varie."

But infinitely more admirable than its mammoth bulk
(in itself no credit to it), or its strength, so often perverted
to bad ends, is the character of the elephant's intelligence.
It is almost human, not because it imitates, but because it
draws rational deductions and acts upon them.

To give one illustration only, an original one. An
elephant, when driven every day from the stables at Agra,
found his passage inconvenienced by a post standing up in
the path. To this post a monkey was chained, and the
elephant and the monkey were good friends. But one
day, on coming out as usual, Behemoth found Pug gone,
and, concluding that the tiresome post was of no further
use, wrenched it up and passed on comfortably. Now, so
long as the monkey was chained to the post the elephant
recognised its utility, and accepted without complaint the
inconvenience it caused him. But as soon as the reason
for the post ceased to be obvious he removed the obstruc-
tion.

144 ^/^^ Poets Beasts.

This intelligence makes the' giant a very valuable ally of
man ; for once it recognises that its driver is a careful and
trustworthy person, it abandons its natural timidity and
develops an extraordinary sense of discipline. But if the
driver is changed, the next man has to satisfy the elephant
as to his moral character and personal reliability ab initio.
Elephants take nothing on trust — except the pitfalls with
which Thomson's Asiatics and Somerville's Africans " mine
with cruel avarice his steps."

" And now the treach'rous turf
Trembling gives way, and tlie unwieldy beast,
Self-sinking, drops into the gulf profound."

This splendid beast is one of the few indisputable relics
of the epoch of giants, the last survivor of the mastodons
and mammoths that the sons of Noah hunted. In Jean
Ingelow's poem, the wife of " the world's great shipwright "
has allowed the lads, our progenitors, to go out mammoth-
hunting, and is anxious about them —

*' For they are young. Their slaves are few,
The giant elephants be cunning folk ;
They lie in ambush, and will draw men on
To follow — then will turn and tread them down."

And I think, too, there is something very striking in the
fact of the elephant being gregarious in death. They lay
their bones in the vaults of their ancestors, and socially
defer to the solemnity of the rites of sepulture.

In eastern warfare it is still to this day as conspicuous
as when (in Somcrville) —

" High upon his throne,
Borne on the back of his proud elephant,
Sate the great cliief of Timur's glorious race ;
Sublime he sate amid the radiant blaze
Of gems and gold ;"

for the elephant can carry loads over places impracticable

Some Harinless Beasts. 145

for wheels, but it is no longer the " castelle " whence war-
riors fight, though it carries the standards of princes in
front of their hosts, and is the rallying-point and centre for
the fiercest conflicts.

•' From the dread front of ancient war
Less terror frowned ; her scythed car,
Her castled elephant and bati'ring beam, !

Stoop to those engines which deny
Superior terrors to the sky,
And boast their clouds, their thunder, and their flame."

But of itself it takes no part in war, no longer

" rages 'mid the mortal fray.
Astonished at the madness of mankind."

In man's warfare against wild beasts it still, however,
retains all the importance of the olden time when the
Moguls went out against the striped terror of the jungles,
and

" high upon his throne, '
Borne on the back of his proud elephant,
Sale the great chief of Timur's glorious race."

Of all animals it is the most majestic figure in Oriental
mythology. The gods loved the colossal brute, but bv-
and-by, when Vishnu had warred with Indra, it became
an object of fear to the Celestials. Then came forth the
vulture-god to fight with the elephant. It is the Atlas of
Hindostan, an elephant standing at each corner of the earth
— what a noble image ! As the symbol of strength it was
among the honorific titles of the greatest emperors, and the
supreme significance in their architecture. As the emblem
of intelligence the gods of India wear its head. The state-
liness of its walk gives the invariable simile of grace with
dignity to the poets of the East. In its gloomy bulk
mythology sees the steed of the pluvial god, the Rain-cloud.
So Keats nobly beheld it —

K

146 The Poets Beasts.

' " Up-piled

I The cloudy rack slow journeying in tlie west

I Like herded elephants."

/ The white elephant — curiously enough a " demoniacal "
form of the animal in Vedic myth — meets with only humo-
rous reference as a monstrous monstrosity, though the im-
mense dignities of this beast from time immemorial should
perhaps have invested it with a somewhat mysterious dignity.
Morris, however, has " huge elephants, snow-white, with
gilded tusks." " The elephant," or " the lord of elephants,"
is a distinction proudly assumed by many rajahs ; but " the
white elephant," or " the lord of the white elephant," only
by the premier prince of Hindostan or a sovereign. Then,
too, that white elephant of Vedic myth who malignantly
hunts the hermits up and down the hills of India, allowing
them no leisure for meditation on their travels, who is the
mortal enemy of Jatayus the bird-god, the adversary in
eternal conflict of the tortoise and afterwards of Garuda,
the eagle-deity, but whose ultimate ruin, as already foretold
in legend, will be wrought by a sparrow — what a delightful
personage he is !

Elephant sagacity is of course notorious —

" The huge elephant, wisest of brutes !
O truly wise, with gentle might endowed
Though powerful."

"Take from the elephant instruction wise," says Cun-
ningham ; " the wise and fearless elephant " (Shelley), and
so on with many others. Its great age is hardly less widely
accepted —

" As though he drank from Indian floods
Life in a renovating stream ;
Ages o'er him have come and fled,
'Midst generations of the dead
liis bulk survives."

Some Harmless Beasts. 147

Thomson, Montgomer)', and Drayton, all, curiously enough,
like to think of it as coeval with the trees among which it
lives — " its old contemporary trees." Equally familiar is
the fiction of the elephant sleeping standing, in consequence
of its having no joints in its legs — as thus, in Swift and
Herbert —

" For elephants ne'er bend the knee."
" Most things sleep lying ; the elephant leans or stands."

Montgomery also has —

" The palm which he was wont to make
His prop in slumber."

Another agreeable fiction is the hereditary feud which
the elephant maintains against its neighbour the rhinoceros.
Says Adam (in Cowper) —

" Behold that dusky beast

That with white tusks of an enormous size extends its weighty jaw ;

That now forgetting to revere the moon,

Intractable, 'erocious, beyond its native temper,

Rushes in anger with its fibrous trunk that serves it for a nose,

Against the horn which the rhinoceros sharpens of hardest stone."

Was ever greafer nonsense given to the world before as
poetry ? Cowper knew something about hares' rumps, but
nothing about rhinoceros' horns or elephants' noses. And
imagine Adam, who was a thorough naturalist not only by
inspiration but personal observation, talking in such slif>-
shod manner about a beast he knew so well — presuming it
to have existed. And the suspicion of plagiarism is added
to the absurdity by reading in Glover how —

" In the wastes of India, while the earth
Beneath him groans, the elephant is seen
His huge proboscis writliing, to defy
The strong rhinoceros, whose pond'rous horn
Is newly whetted on a rock."^

^ Pliny Fays, on an agate, hence this frequent error.

148 The Poets Beasts.

It was evidently a moot point with the poets whether the
elephant or the rhinoceros were the better in open lists. As
a rule, they are merely seen (as in Glover's poem) at the
opening of the duel —

" Anon each hideous bulk encounters.
* * * Earth her groan
Redoubles. Trembhng from their coverts fly
The savage inmates of surrounding woods,
In distant terror."

Dryden, however, decides against the rhinoceros (the
female), calling the elephant "her unequal foe;" and so
does Lovelace, who makes it die "under his castle-enemy."
Cowper, on the other hand, and Darwin, make the rhino-
ceros the better of the two.

" Go, stately lion, go ! and thou with scales impenetrable armed,
Rhinoceros, whose pride can strike to earth the unconquered
elephant."

Their tone is generally very respectful to the rhinoceros —
"the horned rhinoceros," "the armed rhinoceros," "the
mailed rhinoceros that of nothing recks;" — but what does
Johnson mean by saying, " He speaks to men with a rhino-
ceros nose " (" which he thinks great ") ; or Moore by
" rhinoceros' ivory ? "

Yet the rhinoceros in its simple, secluded, harmless life
might have afforded an occasional illustration of strength
not abused, of a dignified retirement, of magnificent soli-
tude. The ponderous hermit slowly crashing its way
through the cane-brakes is a striking figure, and! like to
think of it — the solitary rhinoceros, tranquilly wading along
the river's edge, with no companions larger than the otter
that watches it from mid-stream, the little reed-birds swing-
ing on the flags, and the small white egrets catching the frogs
which the giant's progress startles out from the ooze.

Hippopotamus is not an accommodating word for a verse,

So7ne Harmless Beasts. 149

and when it is referred to it is as " Behemoth," or " river-
horse." It then becomes "Job's beast," "scaled," and
" spouting," and, therefore, more or less fabulous or more
or less mixed up with crocodiles and whales. Montgomery,
however, gallantly takes the whole name into a line, and for
his isolated courage, in spite of his absurd misrepresen-
tation of the comfortably-browsing pachyderm, deserves
quotation —

" The hippopotamus amidst the flooci.

Flexile and active as the smallest swimmer,
But on the bank ill-balanced and infirm ;
He grazed the herbage with huge head declined,
Or leaned to rest against some ancient tree,"

But I confess that the river-horse has less significance than
many animals. There is much, of course, that is pleasant
enough in the manner of its life — its lazy lounging existence
in warm streams, its circumstances of perpetual plenty, its
innocent pastimes when undisturbed, its helpless ferocity
when attacked. But, except as living a slothful and appa-
rently useless life under conditions of unalloyed hippopota-
mus-happiness, as a symbol for pure, feral enjoyment in
its utmost expression, this monstrous grotesqueness — as if
from some " great chronicle of Pantagruel " — this familiar
of old Nile in his cradle, has little significance

As Behemoth it is a delightful fiction, but in its actual
carnal bulk it is only a hippopotamus. The Rabbins said
that there were never more than two Behemoths at a time
in the world. They inferred this from the compassionate
goodness of the Almighty. For if there were to be more
than two at a time, they doubted if the whole earth could
provide them sufficient sustenance. It is a pity in one way
that the day of beliefs in unique existences is past; for
what zest it would have lent to travel and sport if there had
been a possibility of meeting with the pair of hippopotami,
ihc phcenix, or the one and only unicorn !

150 The Poets Beasts.

Nor does Montgomery hesitate at the giraffe (though he
has to make the second syllable short ^). But the very few
others who refer to the animal prefer to call it "the camel-
opard." Hood has a sportive ode to the "great anti-
climax" as he calls the animal, "so very lofty in its front,
but so dwindling at the tail ; " but he does not exhaust, or
even tap, the potentialities of fun which the giraffe suggests :
" For this sky-raking animal, that passes all its life, so to
speak, looking out of a fourth-storey window, that looks
down into the birds' nests as it browses, and seldom sees the
ground except when it lies down on it, is about the best
instalment of the impossible that has been vouchsafed
to us. "2

With the camel, one of the most provoking, discontented
animals in the world, the poets express a very pleasing
sympathy ; and Byron in his phrase, " the patient swiftness
of the desert ship," sums up compendiously three of the
reasons for the poets' tenderness; while, if we add Thomson's
" patient of thirst and toil, son of the desert," we have them
all four. Its extreme patience and extraordinary swiftness
are two proverbial, and erroneous, attributes of " the bunch-
back camel " — as Quarles (adopting Isaiah's epithet) calls it
— while the voyaging of the " helmless dromedary " (Byron)
over the sandy oceans of the desert and its supposed inde-
pendence of wells naturally commend it to poetical fancy.

But here is the camel to the life, in Jean Ingelow —

" The Red Sahara in an angry glow

With amber fogs, across its hollows trailed
Long strings of camels, gloomy eyed and slow,

And women on their necks, from gazers vcikd,
And sun-swart guides who toil across the sand
To groves of date-trees on the watered land."

' *' From rude CafTraria where the giraffes browse

With stately heads among the forest boughs." — West Ittaics.

2 " Noah's k\V."—Phil Kobinson.

Some Harmless Beasts. 151

Here and there besides are pleasant touches of camel life
— and what a poem the beast really is ! — " the tinkling
throng of laden camels," " the browsing camels' tinkling
bells"—

" 'Neath palm trees' shade
Amid their camels laid
The pastoral tribes with all their flocks at rest."

But, as a rule, the poets' attention is unfortunately turned
to those aspects of the camel which are now known to be
fictions. Leyden matches it against " the swiftest courser,"
and Heber and Sir William Jones, both of whom should
have known better, compare the camel with the ostrich for
speed — *' the camels bounded o'er the flowery lawn like the
swift ostrich " — and make it even excel it — " not the ostrich
speed of fire my camel can excel." As a matter of fact,
and in spite of its having carried Mahomet in four jumps
from Jerusalem to Mecca, seven miles an hour is the
camel's best pace, nor can it maintain this rate over three
hours. Its usual speed is about five miles an hour — a
slow, lounging pace beyond which it is dangerous, with
nine camels out of ten, to urge them, or else, as Asiatics
say, they " break their hearts " and die on the spot. For,
once a camel has been pressed beyond this speed and is
spent, it kneels down, and not all the wolves of Asia will
make it budge again. The camel remains where it kneels,
and where it kneels it dies.

And this stubbornness is really what the poets call
"patience." An Oriental proverb says that "the camel
curses its parents when it has to go up hill, and its Maker
when it has to go down," and " camelishness " is a term of
abuse for one who is obstinate past all reasoning. As a
matter of fact the camel is one of the most impatient brutes
in existence ; it will remain motionless as long as you per-
mit it to do so, or till hunger arouses it. But remaining

152 The Poets Beasts.

motionless is just what camels like. Once begin to load
them, and the camel grumbles and roars as if its vitals were
being wrenched out. " So habitual is this conduct that if
a kneeling camel be only approached, and a stone as large
as a walnut laid on its back, it begins to remonstrate, groan-
ing as if it were being crushed to the earth with its load." ^
'* We have all been to Egypt or Syria, and many of us have
been bitten by his long front teeth, trampled over by his
noiseless feet, deafened by his angry roar, and insulted by
the affected, not to say sanctimonious, iourmire of his head
and neck and the protrusion of his contemptuous upper
lip. No one who thus knows him at home retains a spark
of belief in the beast's patience, amiability, fidelity, or any
other virtue. The camel must be reckoned among the
lost illusions of youth ! " 2

Urge it to get up on to its legs, and it remonstrates voci-
ferously ; but once get it going, with the string through its
nose tied to the tail of the camel in front of it, and it will
keep on going just as long as the one in front of it keeps
on pulling its nose. But the moment one camel in a line
stops, they all stop. There is " patience " of course in this
perpetual plodding, but, so far from being admirable, it
used to exasperate the British soldier, both in Afghanistan
and Egypt, into the most ludicrous paroxysms of indigna-
tion. The brutes moved like machines, at a regulated rate
of motion, and not one step would they take faster than
another. To the bewilderment of Tommy Atkins, they
paid no attention whatever to sticks ; but suddenly, as if it
had made up its mind that life was not worth more trouble,
a camel would come down on its knees with a thump —
and there remain. The gap would be made good, the file
pass on, and the sulking camel be left where it had knelt,
with its head upheld superciliously in the air and gazing

' " liible Animals," Rev. J. G. Wood.
^ " False Beasts and True,"

Some Harmless Beasts. 153

vacantly into distant space. And there it would patiently
starve to death. It was no use taking off its load ; the camel
had refused to " hold the fort " any longer, and, persisting
in thinking life impossible, insisted on dying.

Nor, unfortunately for poetry, does the camel's abstinence
from water hold quite good in fact. It is one of the
thirstiest of animals, and ought not to be allowed to go
without water for any length of time, if it is expected to be
of any use. In this respect a horse has more endurance.
But Nature has provided the camel with an arrangement of
cells in the stomach which it can fill with water if it pleases.

" Unwearied as the camel, day by day,

Tracks through unwatered wilds his doleful wny,
Yet in bis breast the cherished draught retains.
To cool the fervid current in his veins."

But if Montgomery had often ridden camels, he would
have wondered why the brute did not drink some of the
cherished draught sometimes, instead of wanting to re-
plenish itself at every possible opportunity.

" The all-enduring camel, driven
Far from the diamond fountain by the palms.
Who toils across the middle moonlit nights.
Or when the white heats of the blinding noons
Beat from the concave sand, yet in him keeps
A draught of that sweet fountain that he loves.
To stay his feet from falling, and his spirit
From bitterness of death."

Keats carries the idea one stage further, and has " slake
my greedy thirst with nectaroiis camel-draughts " — an ad-
missible prolongation of the original, inasmuch as it conveys
to the mind an immediate consciousness of the extreme
aridity of deserts — "long, long deserts scorch the camels
foot " — and the terrible drought from which the camel has
so often, poor beast, to suffer.

154 ^-^^ Poets' Beasts.

" Even the camel feels,
Shot through his withered heart, the fiery blast."

But it will hardly be believed that the *' ship of the desert "
takes an immoral advantage of this kindly arrangement to
enjoy the deplorable pleasures of illicit tippling. Yet such
is said to be the sad fact, for the date juice (so it is stated)
sometimes finds its way into these water cavities, lies there,
and ferments ; so that while every one is admiring the camel
as such a prodigious teetotaller, the Bedouin quadruped has
really got a spirit-cask inside it instead of a water-butt.

In spite, however, of this grievous falling away from Islam,
the camel receives extraordinary honour from the Faithful.
Are not the names of Al Kaswa and Al Adha, the camels
of Mahomet, as sacred to the Arab as those of any of the
nine wives of the Prophet ? And has not Mahomet pro-
mised the camel all the enjoyments of Paradise — which no
other animals share with it except Al Borak, the Prophet's
horse, and Ketura, the Dog of the Seven Sleepers, Tobit's
dog, Balaam's ass, and the cuckoo? When it carries the
sacred cloth to Mecca in the annual pageant-pilgrimage of
Al Sherif, what man in all the caravan has such honour of
Islam as the camel that bears the musnud ? Had it not
been for a camel would Zem-Zem ever have been found,
and without Zem-Zem would man have ever attained to
Paradise ?

One poet speaks of its " ear attentive," though the camel's
ear is certainly not a " feature " of the animal. Its hearing
is dull — though it is not so deaf but that it stops when it
hears no voices — and the ears themselves are so small that
the Arabs have a legend to account for it. Once, they say,
it had long ears and asked Allah for hoins to match them,
but Allah in reply cropped its ears.

Spenser has Avarice riding on a camel, and elsewhere
speaks of it as "simple" and the victim of carnivorous
ferocity, the tiger and — the boar !

Some Harmless Beasts. 155

This idea is of course borrowed from fable, in which the
camel often falls a victim to the superior astuteness of the
boar, wolf, fox, and other animals.

As a remote kind of beast that does not concern the
poets, the bison, or buffalo, finds little recognition. Jean
Ingelow is a very notable exception, and uses the headiong
herd very finely on two occasions —

" Raging up like doom
Tlie dangerous dust-cloud that was full of eyes —
The bisons ; "

and again —

" The mad
Masterful tramping of the bison herds
Tearing down headlong, with their bloodshot eyes
In savage rifts of hair."

B}Ton pays it the compliment of " stately," and describes
it tossing about, as it were a mere pastime, the pack of wolves
that have attacked it And here and there we meet with the
casual bison careering : while Leyden has a Scotch bison
not known to these degenerate days, " whose bounding
course outstripped the red deer's speed," who shook a
"yellow lion-mane" and "tossed his moony horns around"
This beast appears to have been slain in mad charge by
" the chief from whom their line the Turnbulls drew," and
it left, unfortunately, no posterity.

" Bold was the chief from whom their line they drew,
Whose nervous arm the furious bison slew.
The bison, fiercest race of Scotia's breed,
Whose bounding course outstripped the red deer's speed.
By hunters chafed, encircled on the plain.
He, fuming, shook his yellow lion-mane,
Spumed, with black hoof, in bursting rage, the g:ound,
And fiercely tossed his moony horns around.
On Scotia's lord he rushed, with lightning speed
Bent his stron" neck, to toss the startled steed.

1 5 '5 The Poets Beasts.

His arms robust the hardy hunter flung,
And rolled the panting monster on the ground.
Crushed, with enormous strength, his bony skull ;
And courtiers hailed the man who turned the bull."

But, as a rule, it is the American bison of which the
poets treat — not the reem,^ the extinct Urus, of which the
Bible speaks, and which (according to legend) had to be
towed behind the Ark, as its horns would not allow it to
get in by the door. Asks Young in his paraphrase —

" Will the tall reem which knows no lord but me
Low at the crib and ask an alms of thee ?
Submit his unworn shoulder to the yoke,
Break the stiff clod, and o'er thy farrow smoke? "

Not the magnificent gaur of Asia, that the natives say
takes up stones with its nostrils and discharges them at
its assailants with the force of a musketball ! — nor the
great Arna of the wondrous horns that ramps at large in the
swampy jheels of Bhutan, charges the elephant whenever
it meets it, and lords it over the dense marshy thickets
bristling with canes and wild rose, nor its African congener
of equally terrible armament, but the animal that the Red
Indian knows so well, and with which his whole life was
at one time bound up : the bison that has been called
the true pioneer of Western America, and, once " spread
o'er the vast savannah, ranged masterless" is now being
fast exterminated by the amazing progress of the New
World—

" In these plains

The bison feeds no more. Twice twenty leagues

Beyond remotest smoke of hunters' camp,

Roams the majesiic brute in herds that siiake

The earth."

But the bison is an animal of extraordinary picturesque-

■■ Mentioned by Drayton and Young.

SoTne Harmless Beasts. 157

ness, and round it gather centuries of the history of the
nations of the red men.

Kangaroos are not poetical beasts in the poets' sense,
and except, therefore, when they are made fun of, as in
Hood's verses, receive no attention —

" A pair of married kangaroos

(The case is oft a human one too)
Were greatly puzzled once to choose

A trade to put their eldest son Xo.
It came — no thought was ever brighter —

In weighing every why and whether
They jumped upon it both tc^ether.

Let's make the imp a shorthand writer."

Lovelace refers to them vaguely as " cubs of India," and,
addressing the snail, says that, like them —

" Thon from thjrself a while dost play.
But, frighted by a dog or gun,
In thine own l>elly thou dost run ; "

which is a delightful confusion of epitaphs.

Some score of allusions to the beaver are to be found
in the pcets, but they present nothing of interest As a
" furry nation " and " fur-bearing," also as supposed to
furnish a perfume, they are benignly treated, for conducing
to the best of their small abilities to the welfare of lordly
humanity. But, so far as the poets are concerned, they are
things of prodigious solitude " where earth's unli\-ing silence
all would seem, save where on rocks the beaver built his
dome " — a passage characteristic of blundering Campbell
— and the comrade in Mackay's " Arctic Regions " of
" the white wolf that howls to the moon." Dyer, too, has
some delightful nonsense about it.

In Darwin, however, it is the "half-reasoning" beaver,
and Drayton preserves the following very interesting fact of
British natural history- in his quaint rhyme —

158 The Poets Beasts.

" More famous long agone, than for the salmons leape,
For bevers Tivy was,^ in her strong banks that breii
What else no other brooke of Britaine nourished ;
Where nature, in the shape of this now-perisht beast,
His propertie did seeme t' have woundrouslie expre^i ;
Being bodied like a boat, with such a miglitie taile,
As serv'd him for a bridge, a helme, or for a saile."

Several poets give the ermine a place.

" I will disdain, and from your proffers fl)',
As from vile dirt the snowy ermine."

Cowper here refers to a pretty fiction, still current, I find,
about this little creature, to the effect that it detests contact
with any impurity.

There are some ants, which Sir John Lubbock knows all
about, that hate untidiness and "messes" so much, that if
you throw rubbish over their nests they all decamp pre-
cipitately. They absolutely refuse to live in a parish where
sanitation is not properly attended to. But the ermine
carries its aversion even further than this, for it prefers
death to dirt.

" Better to die than be sullied."

This was the motto on the ermine-device borne by kings
of Naples and of Castille. I'here was also a Breton " Order
of the Ermine," with t'ne same legend, and the device was
adopted by " La Reine Duchesse," Anne of Brittany, wife
of Charles VIII., and afterwards of Louis XII. These
words, " Pliitot 7uourir que souillcr^'' or " Malo mori quam
fcedari,^^ in the original, allude to the fancy that if an ermine
be encircled with mud it will fastidiously prefer capture
to crossing the dirty barrier. " It is of so pure a nature
that it will choose rather to be taken than defile its skin."
Trappers, therefore, were supposed to take advantage of
this suicidal cleanliness, and build walls of dirt round the
ermines, and so catch them ; but, it might well be added,

' " Inter fluvios Cambria- . . . solus hie [ Teivi] castores Iiabct."

Some Harmless Beasts. 159

" the wiser and older hunters preferred putting salt on the
ermines' tails."

However, the superstition greatly enhanced this dainty
little animal's unsullied reputation. Thus Marvel makes
the small exquisite one of the creatures of Paradise —

" In fair Elysium to endure,

Willi milk-wliite lambs and ermines pure ;"

while in the present world it has been selected as the most
befitting emblem of sovereignty —

" Whose honour, ermine-like, can never suffer
Spot or black soil."

So the robes of royal and noble personages are lined with
this fur, " to signify," says the author of " Historic Devices,"
" the internal purity that should regulate their conduct."

At one time it was the only fur represented on coats of-
arms, and was the natural white, with black tail-points —

" Tipped with jet.
Fair ermines, spotless as the snows they press. '

But afterwards, like every other object in Nature, it wan-
dered into varieties — "counter-ermine," which was black,
with white tail-tips ; " erminois," gold, with black points ;
and " erminite," white, with black points edged with red.

A special interest attaches to the whimsical exaltation
of this elegant creature, as the ermine is really — under a
climatic variation of fur — only the stoat, which is as guileful,
stealthy, and wicked a little assassin as ever ran on four legs.
- Yet, we ask, "What's in a name?"

Just as the hedgehog is reproached for having " thorns "
on its back, so the porcupine for wearing quills. Its mythi-
cal power of shooting its quills at assailants is accepted.
Thus " like porcupine she sends a piercing dart " ( Jenyns),
and "more dangerous than porcupine his quill" (Somer-
villc).

i6o The Poets Beasts.

" Fretful " is an excellent epithet for the porcupine. Yet
I cannot help thinking that in the Ghost's speech "fretted"
^Yould perhaps have been better. For though it is perfectly
true that the former characterises the animal's disposition to
take offence quickly, the latter would have assisted out the
spectre's meaning. " Each particular hair on your head,"
he would then have said, " would stand on end with horror,
like the quills upon the porcupine when he is out of temper."
As it is, he seems to imply that the animal's quills are always
standing on end — which is not strictly true. Now Milton
has the line, "Chafed wild boar or ruffled porcupine;"
and "ruffled" is admirable, inasmuch as it conveys two
facts in one word — the agitation both of body and mind.

The occurrence of this beast in another poet, also con-
joined with the boar, is perhaps noteworthy, as in myth
the porcupine is a vague sort of animal, occupying a place
somewhere between the boar and the hedgehog. In the
" Dragon of Wantley " we have the other association pre-
sented to us — its hedgehog side —

" Had you but seen him in this dress,
How fierce he looked and how big,
You would have thought him for to be
Some Egyptian porcupig.
He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all,
Each cow, each horse, and each hog ;
For fear they did flee, for they took him to be
Some strange outlandish hedgehog."

Yet the poets — three at any rate — employ the metaphor in
regard to woman. Thus Cowley, singing of Beauty, says — -

" They are all weapons, and they dart
Like porcupines from every part."

And Byron has —

" Those cursed pins,
Wliich surely were invented for our sins,
Making a woman like a porcupine,
Not to be rashly touched."

Some Harmless Beasts. i6i

Qtti £y frotte iy pique was the legend on Charles the
Bold's device of a porcupine. Another heraldic w him about
this animal, and one that might have attracted the poets, is
the Colonna's motto of Vecus et iutamen in armis, wherein
is contained a wholesome moral both for individuals and
nations, and a practical fact, of whic'n the porcupine is
most thoroughly well aware.

The reference in Cowley's lines, quoted above, to the
" darting," is an allusion, of course, to the fiction — a very
ancient one— that the porcupine can shoot its quills like
arrows. When the animal ciiarges an enemy — which it
does backwards, by the way — it often, no doubt, leaves a
quill or two sticking. Also, when the skin is contracted for
the erection of the quiils, a loose one may, no doubt, some-
times fall out; and seeing how sudden and violent the
muscular action is, it is not inconceivable that such a
loosened quill might seem to be " shot " off. But there is
no capacity for deliberate archery in the beast. It is not
so deficient in sagacity as to fire its weapons away.

I find in Mrs. Bury Palliser's fascinating volume the
following passage : —

"In 1397, Louis, Duke of Orleans, instituted the Order
of the Porcupine, and on the occasion of the baptism of
his son Charles he took this animal as his emblem, with
the motto ' Near and Afar,' alluding to the vulgar error
that the porcupine is able not only to defend itself from
close attack, but can throw its quills against more distant
assailants, Duke Louis meaning thereby to convey that he
would defend himself with his own weapons, and that he
would attack his enemy, John, Duke of Burgundy, as well
at a distance as near. Louis XIL abolished the Order
after his ascension to the throne, but retained the hereditary
badge of his family, and took two porcupines for the sup-
porters of his arms. His cannons were marked with the
porcupine, and his golden * ecus au pore-epic ' were much

L

1 62 The Poets Beasts.

sought after by the curious.'' To this is added a note :
" On the submission of Paris, in 1436, the Constable,
Richemont, goes to dine at the Duke of Orleans' Hotel
du Pore-epic, and in 1438 the Order was conferred on a
lady, Mdlle. de Murat."

From the French name, of course, comes our own word,
porcupig.

There are few passages in Nature more beautiful through-
out than the deer poem. Whether we see them as the
"playmate fawns," the "gentle hinds," or the " noble stag,"
they are equally poetical and lovable. No wonder, then,
that so exquisite a theme attracts poets.

Every period of life, indeed almost every action, of these
dainty creatures affords a beauty to their verse, and the
appreciation of the surpassing charm of deer as they really
are in nature seems to have so completely contented the
poets, that they pay little attention to the legendary animal,
do not care to seek for metaphors or similes from them,
and do not venture to let improving imagination meddle
with a picture already so complete.

No epithet or phrase that conveys a compliment
seems misapplied to creatures that can never be ungraceful
or unpicturesque. The light-stepping deer, the rustling
deer in the thickets, the tread of the fawn, the hind's soft
eyes of love — even the most commonplace phrases, if the
word " deer " occur in them — receive a gentle grace from
the association.

The dainty and delicate fawn, confiding and yet so timid, is
indeed one of the sweetest touches of Nature, and the poets
take a delight in leading it out to play upon lawns begemmed
with dewdrops, to drink at babbling brooks, and fall asleep
in beds of fern and moss. Nor less the hind with its large
soft eyes, the gentle, careful mother of " the dappled fawn."
It is perpetually recurring as an image of tranquil innocence.

Very often, of course, it is hunted, or its fawn killed, and

Sonic Harmless Beasts. 163

the grief of the hind then ranks with the poets only second
to that of the " turtle-dove " when similarly afflicted. But
no amount of sympathy seems excessive for the loss of
such offspring by such a parent

In all circumstances of life, therefore, the deer is pictur-
esque, whether "crushing the heath-bells as they tread"
the mountain side, or in the hollows, " belling from ferny
bed " (Faber). The poet —

" Sunk deep in fern marks the stealthy roe.
Silent as sleep or shadow, cross the glade,
Or dart athwart his view as August stars
Shoot and are out."

At rest, when " the summer sun shines on fhe trees, and
the deer lie in the shade " (Mary Howitt) ; or when, " m
summer's moonUght, the gentle deer lie sleeping ; "

" The gentle deer lie sleeping in the moon.
With their own fairy shadows at their side" (Faber) ;

or (Grahame) "in ruminating peace, the fallow deer, a
grove of antlers."

In the daytime, under the elms, " in herds, the troubled
deer shake the still-twinkling tail and glancing ear " (Words-
worth), or "couched on the close sward, while ears and
antlers in the grass with restless movement twinkle "
(Faber), So Bloomfield has "with rattling horns and
twinkUng ears."

The solitary stag quenching his thirst at noon ; the hind
leading her fawn in the evening to the stream ; the whole
herd pacing out from the tree-shadows to drink ; the stag,
starting to run, " proudly tossing his antlered head."

Cowper's quiet park, "haunt of deer, and sheep-walks
f)opulous with bleating lambs;" Mackay's "nooks where
the shy deer browse the bent;" Thomson's forest glade
where the wild deer trip and, often tiuning, gaze ; Camp-
bells birchen glades, with the deer " glancing in the sun-

1 54 The Poets Beasts,

shine." Its grace when first aroused, its haughty flight, its
courage when it stands "with hornie bayonnettes at bay" —

" The chase is up — but they shall know
The stag at bay's a desperate foe " —

are all insisted upon again and again, and the wood-nymphs
and the fairies are for ever being called in to help the
hunted favourite.

Its horns — " the stag's large front," as Thomson curiously
calls it, or as Denhara, with more enthusiasm —

" On whose sublime and shady front is reared
Nature's great masterpiece " —

give the stag that unusual stateliness of gait which is fami-
liar to all, and which the poets are never tired of admiring.
" Stately as a deer with antlers " is Longfellow's simile for
surpassing dignity of bearing. They note its growth and
renewal, always introduce the antlers in the foremost pas-
sage of the description ; and on this point the deer's sup-
posed regret at having so " heavy a head " when hunted,
they give fancy play.

Shedding its horns, or, as Surrey says, "hanging his old
head on the pale" — unantlered ; "flying to the wood to
hide his armless head" (Marvell) — rehorned, "gracefully
pacing, the wild-eyed harts, to their traditional tree, to
clear the velvet from their budded horns " (Jean Ingelow)
— we meet it in every stage.

Nor do the poets fail to do full justice to that striking epi-
sode of the deer's closing life, its retirement into solitude to
die — " as the stricken deer withdraws himself alone " — " so
the struck deer in some sequestered part lies down to die "
— " I was a stricken deer that left the herd, long since "
(Cowper).

" So wings the wounded deer her flight,
Pierced by some ambushed archer of the night,

Some Harmless Beasts. 165

Shoots to the woodlands with her bounding fawn,

And drops of blood bedew the conscious lawn ;

Tliere hid in shades she shuns the cheerful day,

Hangs o'er her young and weeps her life away." ^ — Dar-aiin.

Nor are the poets unaware of the real reason for this
retirement— namely, the instinct of the herd to drive away
from their company any individual that is crippled or in-
firm, as being a source of common danger. The limping
comrade might bring the huntsman on its heels, upon the
whole herd at rest, and the forester coming upon a sick
deer would know that the rest of the antlers were not
far off.

Tliis selfishness is carried to a cruel extreme when deer,
seeing one of their number in distress, refuse him asylum ;
and the habit of the herd to repulse a member when in
danger is noted by Leyden and by Thomson — " the watch-
ful herd alarmed, with selfish care avoid a brotb.er's woe."
Scott, too, refers to it in —

" The Douglas like a stricken deer
Disowned by every noble peer."

Somerville also has of the hunted stag —

" He mingles with the herd where once he reigned
Proud monarch of the groves, whose clashing beam
His rivals awed, and whose exalted power
Was still rewarded with successful love.
But the base herd have, learned the ways of men —
Averse they fly, or with rebellious aim
Chase him from thence."

* Pope has-

" So the struck deer, in some sequestered part,
Lies down to die (tlie arrow in his heart) :
There, hid in shades and wasting day by day.
Inly he bleeds and pants his soul away."

1 66 The Poets Beasts.

Another peculiarity of the deer kind, their often fatal
curiosity, finds very frequent notice ; as Spenser's " amazed
deere;" Greene's "deer that doat the gaze, mazed dismay-
fully ; " Shakespeare's " poor, frightened deer that stand at
gaze ; " Broome's " tim'rous deer, swift starting as they graze,
bound off in crowds, then turn again to gaze ; " Rogers'
" with fearful gaze ; " Quarles' " with strange amaze, and
senseless half, through feare they stand at gaze," and a
score of others.

One result of this tenderness for the deer is that deer-
hunting seldom meets with admiration from the poets.
With the fox it is very different. Having condemned
Reynard beforehand, they see no cruelty in the pack of
hounds that murder the brave little beast, but applaud the
hunters as if they had overtaken and slain some desperate
bandit. The crimes of the fox are supposed to have earned
its death, so it dies unpitied.

" Not so the stately staj^, of liarmless force,
In motion graceful, rapid in liis course ;
Nature in vain iiis lofty head adorns
With formidable groves of pointed thorns.
Soon as the hounds' fierce clamour strikes his ear,
He throws his arms behind, and owns his fear ;
Sweeps o'er the imprinted grass, the wind outflies —
Hounds, horses, hunters, horns, still sound along the skies.
He, trembling, safety secivs in every place,
Drives throui;h the thicket, scales the lofty steep ;
Bounds o'er the hills, or darts through valleys tieep ;
Plunges amid the river's cooling tides,
While strong and quick he heaves his panting sides.
He from afar his loved companions sees,
Whom the loud whoop that hurtles on the breeze
Into a crowded phalanx firm had cast,
Their armed heads all outward round them placeil.
To these he flies, and begs to be allowed
To share the danger with his kindred crowd ;
But must, by general voice excluded, know
How loathed the sad society of woe.

Some Harmhss Beasts. 167

The cmel hounds pour ronnd on every hand ;
Desperate, he turns to make a feeble stand,
Big tears on tears roli down his harmless face ;
He falls, and sues in vain, alas I for grace."

Thomson's imitation of this poem is well worth noting.
It differs from Leyden's admirable lines chiefly by its errors
and its lack of force. But he repeats all Leyden's sympathy
for the stag.

Drayton, after a passing word of wonder that no poets
before himself should have sung the chase,^ invokes Diana,
and commences to tell in rhyme of the hunting in Arden
Forest

But Drayton, though fired by the sport of the chase, keeps
his sympathy with the st^. The hunters are "blooey
hunters," and the hounds are "cruel and ravenous."
Quarles tells us how the stag's " weeping eyes beg silent
mercy from the following hounds," and from the chase
draws this vigorous metaphor — " Before a pack of deep-
mouthed lusts I flee."

Grahame, in his " October," has —

" The clamorous pack rush rapid down the vale,
\Yhilst o'er yon brushwood tops at times are seen
The moving branches of the victim stag.
Soon far beyond he stretches o'er the plain ;
Oh ! may he safe elude the savage rout.
And may the woods oe left to peace again ! "

Nor can Scott be charged with want of sympathy for the
"bold red deer." How he triumphs with the "antlered
monarch of the waste," that, sleeping in lone Glenartneys
hazel shade, suddenly awakes to the deep-mouthed blood-
hounds' heavy bay —

" Then, as the headmost foes appeared,

\Yith one brave bound the copse he cleared,

^ Drayton's memory was at fault.

i6S The Poets Beasls.

And, stretching forward free and far,
Sought the wild heaths of Uam-var ! "

Leyden, as has been seen, is also full of sympathy, but
confesses to a regret that the stag does not make better use
of his ** formidable grove of pointed thorns;" as Waller
also —

" So the tall stag upon the brink

Of some smooth stream about to drink,

Surveying there his armed head.

With shame remembers that he fled

Tlie scorned dogs, resolves to try

The combat next. But if their cry

Invades again his trembling ear.

He straiglit resumes his wonted care,

Leaves the untasted spring behind,

And, winged with fear, oulflies the wind."

Several poets even go so far as to make the stag regret
its armament as cumbering it in its flight. For instance,
Davenant —

" As deer that mourn their growth of head with tears
Where the defenceless weight does hinder flight."

But this is probably only a reminiscence of the familiar story
of the stag proud of its antlers that met with Absalom's
fate.

In other poets besides those who sing specifically of the
chase, all the details of the deer-hunt " where we did chase
the fearful hart of force," and all redounding to the honour
of the quarry — " the frighted roebuck and his flying roe "
— will be found abundantly scattered.

Somerville alone is cruel, after his wont. He has a
wretchedly cruel account of a stag-hunt, in which he follows,
with a detail that seems like gloating over suffering, the
wretched stag's agonised flight. He compares its terror to
that of "the poor, fury-hunted wretch (his hands in guiltless
blood bestained) that slill seems to hear the dying shrieks,

Some Harm/ess Beasts. 169

and the pale threat'ning ghost moves as he moves, and, as
he flies, pursues." In a burst of sycophant solicitude he
implores royalty not to go too near the stag even though a
score of hounds are worrying it ; and when at last the stag
is at the point of death, and —

" Beneath the weight of woe he grows distressed.
The tears run trickling down his hairy cheeks,"

the King "beholds his wretched plight, and tenderness
innate moves his great soul," and he orders off" the pack.
Upon which the poet —

" Great Prince ! from thee what may tliy sabjects hope.
So kind and so beneficent to brutes,
O mercy, heav'nly bom ! "

&c &C. But from reading Somerville it might be imagined
that he knew nothing of humaneness.

In legendary allusions both the milk-white doe of fairy-
tale and the black roe of Oriental myth, as also .^sop's
stag, " a creature blameless, yet something vain," are to be
found, with here and there an enchanted hind that was
" hunted to his hurt " by some mythical knight or prince.
But, as I have said above, the poets seem too well satisfied
with the deer as it is in Nature to try to assist it to sympathy
and honour by the adventitious graces of tradition or the
exercise of a fanciful license.

Yet deer enjoy remarkable prominence in myth and folk-
lore. In " elemental '"' symbolism, they appear as luminous,
variegated, or dark, according as the sky is ruddy, dappled,
or lowering, and they drag the chariots of the wind-fiends,
the spirits of the storm, and are the heralds of the elephant,
" the hurricane." And in foik-lore, how many a hero both
of East and West has the magic fawn, the milk-white doe,
that beautiful but dangerous quarry, or the enchanted hart
— " a creature that was current then, the hart with golden

170 The Poets Beasts.

horns " — beguiled into the forest depths to the hunter's
woe. In our own ballads, momentous disasters sprang
from "the hunting of the deer." And in semi-sacred
legends what an important place it holds, the cross-bearing
stag, the celestial hind. And how European history would
have been altered if kings had never chased the deer. In
the East it is even more fateful. Many princes'have come
by their adventures following the deceptive quarry. The
whole "Ramayana" turns upon the hero being beguiled
from his leafy hermitage in pursuit of the silver-spotted
stag. In fact, the deer of myth, whether "stag," "hind,"
"gazelle," or "antelope," is a thing universally desired, but
almost invariably the cause of perplexity and trouble to its
pursuer.

Superstitions about them are very frequent. They are
captivated by music, as several poets tell us, and when
wounded —

" For his secure an herb can find
The arrow to withdraw."

Some say this is the " Lancashire asphodel," but others that
" the hart, wounded with an arrow, runs to the herb dittany
to bite it, that the shaft may fall out."^ Every one knows,
too, that a hart's horn burnt drives all the snakes away from
the neighbourhood, and that the deer is the most dreaded
foe of the serpent, for it sucks up the air out of the snake-
holes, and the snakes cannot help but follow ; and then,
when the snake appears, the deer eats it like a stalk of
celery. So if you wear deerskin no snake will ever touch
you. But deer folk-lore, if it were collected, would be
found to be prodigious in quantity and traversing half our
philosophies. Dig deep into the earth under the roots of
the dread ash Ygdrasil, and you will find four stags on
the guard there. Look up above you into the sky, and

' This healing lierb has many pretty Icjjends.

Some Harmless Beasts. 171

you will see the deer's head, Orion, glittering in sleepless
vigil

Several other species of horned animals share in the
popularity of the British deer. Thus the "antelope"— a
vague creature enough in Campbell, Thomson, Moore, and
Shelley, who make it "snow-white with silver feet" and
"feeding on lilies" — is used as a type of timid innocence,
is called "sweet antelope," and affords similes of feminine
elegance and beauty —

" Sister-antelopes
By one fair dam, snow-white, and swift as wind,
Nursed among lilies near a brimming stream." — Shelley.

The grace of its neck makes a goddess envious ; the light-
ness of its step is the despair of nymphs ; its eyes —

" The lady rising up with such an air
As Venus rose with from the wave, on them
Bent, like an antelope, a Paphian pair
Of eyes,"

and carries off Don Juan into delightful captivity. And no
wonder that antelopes should attract the poets, for they are
even swifter and more graceful than the deer. The peculiar
charm of their movements, their elegant impatience, so airy
and impulsive, are happily rendered, as in Moore's " fleet
and eager down the slope, like antelopes the bright nymphs
bound ; " and " down the slope, the silvery-footed antelope,
as gracefully and gaily springs," "with light sound;" or
Shelley's "antelope in the suspended impulse of its light-
ness ; " and " the wild antelope, that starts whene'er the dry
leaf rustles in the brake, suspends her timid steps to gaze."
The antelope is one of the constellations of the Indian
zodiac, sacred to Chandra, and the recognised symbol of
feminine grace.

"Gazelle" is nearly synonymous with antelope. "Its
airy step and glorious eye " find equal favour with Byron,

172 The Poets Beasts.

and Moore, and Shelley. *' Its soft black eye," "large and
languishingly dark," " glorious," " now brightly bold or
beautifully shy," is almost a poetical proverb, and " gazelle-
eyed " one of their supreme compliments —

" Her eye's dark charm 'twere vain to tell ;
But gaze on that of the gazelle,
It will assist thy fancy well."

But the poets were wrong to speak of them as going in
vast herds, or to make them " of many a colour, size, and
shape," and still more to place their wild gazelles among
lilies and on " flowery champaigns." In Nature it is beauti-
fully placed in sandy wastes and amongst the barrenness of
the wilderness.^

Among the later poets the chamois meets with occasional
reference, as the companion of the eagle in mountain heights
that "mock the hunters' might," and "baffle the hunters'
ken." It is the " flying chamois," leaping across "the dark-
blue crevasse," skipping over "the glaciers bright," an
emblem of Swiss independence and liberty generally : " shy
as the jealous chamois, Freedom flies."

The elk, "in his speed and might," though a vague entity,
is no doubt that favourite figure of red man's myth and
tradition, the mighty animal that in the epoch of the bison
was one of the noblest trophies of the northern Indians and
the feast-dish of the braves. Thomson happily depicts the
elk in one of its picturesque situations —

" Scarce his head
Raised o'er the snowy wreath, tlie branching elk
Lies slumbering sullen in the white abyss ; "

and Moore refers to a curious tradition —

* Says a great naturalist, " It prefers the bare plain, rocky hill, or
sandy wa--te, and a l;anen country to a rich one."

Some Harmless Beasts. 1 73

" In the woods of the North there are insects that prey
On the brain of the elk till his very last sigh ; "

his application thereof being —

*' O genins ! thy patron?, more cruel than they.
First feed on thy brains and then leave thee to d;e."

But I am unable to find any grounds for the poets' facts, at
any rate in special relation to the elk.

Another northern "deer" that is occasionally met with
in verse is the reindeer. Montgomer)' is specially fond of
it Campbell makes it the steed of Winter —

" Howling Winter fled afar
To hiils that prop the polar star ;
And loves on deer-l>ome car to ride
With barren darkness by his side."

The gemsbok gives Jean Ingelow the subject of a power-
ful vignette —

" Or far into the heat among the sands
The gemsbok nations, snuffing up the wind.
Drawn by the scent of water, and the bands
Of tawny-bearded lions pacing, blind
With the sun-dazzle in their midst, opprest
W'ith prey, and spiritless for lack of rest ! "

And " the brindled gnu " finds also a single reference.

VII.

BRITISH WILD BEASTS.

I REMEMBER once, when lying dozing under a tree in a very
quiet scrap of English woodland, seeing a badger. The
very suddenness of such an apparition is in itself a delight-
ful touch of wild nature — for Nature is always sudden in
these glimpses of her inner life.

Thus I remember, when in India, waiting for bear or
leopard to be driven past my post, the spectral visions of
boar and pea-fowl or fox that would rise up as it were from
the ground. One instant absolute solitude, and the next,
and lo ! a great sambhur stag, with all its pride of antlers,
standing out in the open. It takes two steps and is gone
again — for ever. Was it ever there at all ? You feel in-
clined to rub your eyes. A twig snaps. You look up : there
is nothing. You begin to think of phantoms and Shelley's
" panther-peopled solitudes." And look ! from opposite
you steps out a peacock. For half a second you see it with
all its pomp of trailing brilliance. How it lights up the
undergrowth ! But on a sudden it turns, and the glittering
undulating plumes vanish behind a bush, noiseless and
splendid like a coil of some great burnished snake, and
once more gloom settles deep on the glade. And so it goes
on all the time you wait. Sudden and silent things come
and go, and in each flash you catch a glimpse of Nature's
self, a i)eep into her private diary.

British Wild Beasts. 1 75

So it was with my English badger. And of all animals
the " brock " is one of the most suitable for an apparition ;
for the colouring and the shape of the beast make its whole
body, when it is facing you, look like only the head of some
much huger creature. It seemed to me for a second, there-
fore, that some subterranean monster had thrust its head up
above the ground- But the badger lifted one of its hind-
paws and scratched its nose, and then I recognised my
visitor. It did not see me, and began to root its way along
among the bracken. My botanising tin was h'ing in its
path, and the badger came upon it " A trap ! " said the
beast, as plainly as ever a grunt said anything, and turning
round, my visitor pattered back into the hazels whence it
had emerged.

But there was something very picturesque and very
engaging in this unexp>ected verse of poetry. We have very
few wild animals, and the sight of one, whether otter or
weasel, badger or fox, at its ease and unsuspecting, makes
a day's walk memorable to me for ever. " That is where I
saw so-and-so," I say to myself whenever I pass near the
spot or hear it mentioned. A rare flower — " Sole sitting
by the shores of the old romance," makes something of the
same impression on me. It carries the place back into the
far past Antiquity comes up with us again.

But poets are averse to badgers.^ They notice "the
tod " as being hunted with terriers and " vexed " in barrels.
And they are quite content that it should be. Popular
errors have no doubt given poets their bias, for the brock
is a beast of ill-omen in parts of rural Britain, and the
poets' phrase, " uneven as a badger," comes from the mis-
taken idea that the legs of the animal were shorter on one
side than on the other. Another tradition is to the effect

* Has the phrase to " badger " a person come from the practice of
ba<1gering badgers ? It should properlj therefore mean " to make a
banger of a person."

176 . The Poets Beasts.

that the badger is a very cleanly person, and that the fox
takes advantage of this amiable weakness to drive it out
of its burrows, which it then occupies. Thus Phineas
Fletcher —

" So where the neatest badger most abides,

Deep in the earth she frames her prettie cell.
And into halls and closulets divides ;

But when the stinking fox with loathsome smell
Infects her pleasant cave, the cleanly beast
So hates her inmate and rank-smelling guest,
That far she flies and leaves her loathed nest."

But there is no foundation for this pleasant fiction of the
fastidiousness of the badger. On the contrary, it is rather
an ill-savoured animal — to " stink like a badger " is a pro-
verb— and is no enemy of the fox, the two being sometimes
unearthed together. So in " Reynard the Fox," the badger,
Grimbard, husband of the garrulous Lady Slopard, is the
nephew of the hero, and the only one of all the beasts that
has any influence for good over him.

Another relative of the fox in the same fable is the strik-
ing and picturesque animal, the otter, which is similarly
wasted by the poets. " The otter to his cavern drew," and
*' forth from his den the otter drew," are the usual refer-
ences, and even these are singularly few, to the otter. Rogers
has the otter "rustling in the sedgy mere," and two or
three others introduce it as an adjunct of the rural scene.

*' This subtle ?poiler of the beaver kind,

Far off, perhaps, where ancient alders shade,
In deep still pool, within some hollow trunk
Contrives his wicker couch, whence he surveys
His long purlieu, lord of the stream, and all
The finny shoals his own."

Thus, one of the most picturesque and poetical of our
native wild beasts is as neglected as most of our more
]jic:urcsque and bcauiiful birds, the kingfisher, bittern,

British Wild Beasts. 177

woodpecker, and heron. Its analogy in poetry to the heron
is very close, for like that bird, it is referred to occa-
sionally as a fish-destroyer, but chiefly as a quarry for
trained hawks ; so it fares with the poor " water-dog." Scott
devotes to it one good passage, but he, the poet of the
Scottish stream and loch, ought to have devoted at least
a dozen.

•' Grayling and trout their tjTant know,
As between reed and sedge he peers.
With fierce round snout and sharpened ears ;
Or, prowling by the moonbeam cool,
Watches the stream or swims the pooh"

Though sometimes mentioned as a fish consumer, it is more
frequent as a beast of chase. Thus Somerville in his cruel
*' poem "—

" Yon hollow trunk.
That with its hoary head incurved salutes
The passing wave, must be the tyrant's fort
And dread abode. How these impatient dimb.
While others at the root incessant bay !
They pull him down. See there he dives along !
Th' ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way.
Quick fix the nets, and cut oflF his retreat
Into the shelt'ring depths.

Ah ! there he vents !
The pack plunge headlong, and protended spears
Menace destruction, while the troubled surge
Indignant foams, and all the scaly kind,
Affrighted hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns,
And loud uproar. Ah ! there once more he vents ;
See ! that bold hound has seized him, down they sink
Together lost ; but soon shall he repent
His rash assault.

Again he vents ;
Again the crowd attack. That spear has pierced
His neck, the crimson waves confess the wound.

M

178 The Poets Beasts.

Fixed is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest,
Where'er he flies ; with him it sinks beneath,
With him it mounts, sure guide to ev'ry foe.
Inly he groans, nor can his tender wound
Bear the cold stream.

See ! there escaped he flies
Half-drowned, and clambers up the slipp'ry bank
With ooze and blood distained. Of all the brutes
Whether by Nature formed or by long use,
This artful diver best can bear the want
Of crystal air. Unequal is the fight
Beneath the whelming element, yet there
He lives not long, but respiration needs
At proper intervals.

Lo ! to yon sedgy bank
He creeps disconsolate : his num'rous foes
Surround him, hounds and men. Pierced thro' and thro'
On pointed spears they lift him high in air ;
Wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain.
Bid ihe loud horns, in gaily warbling strains,
Proclaim the felon's fate. He dies, he dies ! "

Gay also is an enthusiast in his hatred of the otter, and in
other poets "this subtle spoiler of the beaver kind," "the
sly goose-footed prowler," is marked out as a proper object
of the chase.

" Would you preserve a num'rous finny race.
Let your fierce dogs the rav'nous otter chase,
Th' amphibious monster ranges all the shores.
Darts thro' the waves and ev'ry haunt explores.
Or let the gin his roving steps betray,
And save from hostile jaws the scaly prey."

In myth the otter is a creature of formidable character —
"like a swift otter, fell through greedinesse" is Spenser's
simile for the invader from over-sea, and there was nearly
as much trouble in Asgard over the killing of the great
otter, brother of Fafnir, as in the Troad over the rape of

British Wild Beasts. 179

Helen. The otter, Enudris of the Edda, is a fearsome
beast, and so too is the other which, in Muscovite legend,
carries off the Czar's son under the winter sea, and with its
snoring makes the sea ebb and flow, nine miles at each
breath.

As might have been expected, the hedgehog, being
prickly, has no friends among the poets. They do not
forgive it its spines.

" Who whilst in hand it gryping hard behent,
Into a hedgehogge all unwares it went,
And prickt him so that he away it threw."

" Ugly urchins, thick and short," is Spenser's description.
" The thorn-back hedgehog dull," says Quarles. If poets
were fairies and given to tumbling about in hedgerows and
copses by moonlight, the prickly animal might be objected
to — as indeed Titania does object to the " thorny " thing ; —
but that any rational man with boots on should bear a
grudge against the hedgehog for having spines on its back
seems unaccountable. For the urchin is a very pleasing
little animal, exceedingly harmless in a wild state, and both
useful and diverting when tame. That it makes garden-
paths untidy by rooting up the plantain weeds is a com-
plaint brought against it by Gilbert White, but plantains
are in themselves untidy on garden paths. Tennyson notes
its fondness for the plant in his " Aylmer's Field " —

" Then the great hall was wholly broken down,
And the broad woodland parcelled into farms ;
And where the two contrived their daughter's good
Lies the hawk's cast, the mole has made his run,
The hedgehog underneath the plantain bores,
The rabbit fondles his own harmless face.
The slow-worm creeps, and the thin weasel there
Follows the mouse, and all is open field."

Instead of ridiculing it and reproaching it, why did not the

i8o The Poets Beasts.

poets take it (as antiquity did) as the symbol of prudence,
mother-wit, and self-reliance ? Can modesty, honour, virtue,
do more than the hedgehog does when attacked — roll itself
up, and present to the assailant a front equally defended at
every point ? What a delightful lesson of patient hopeful-
ness it teaches the Christian ! It submits to misfortune
without a murmur, waiting till malice shall have spent itself
and its troubles cease. What problems too it symbolises,
this spherical impossibility ! How gingerly you have to
handle them. Can you make head or tail out of them ?
Yet, like most problems, if you will leave them alone long
enough, they will solve themselves. It is surely, too, a
type of innocence, being so harmless itself, yet so fully
armed. It might stand, too, for law, which runs along on
four feet, looking a simple thing enough, but which, the
moment any one begins to meddle with it, resolves itself
into a hopeless ball of difficulties.

One of the legends of the hedgehog tells us how a viper
had come into its hole, and being very much inconvenienced
by the hedgehog's prickles, begged it to go away. "Let
him go," replied the master of the house, "who cannot
stay." The hedgehog's treatment of the mythic wolf is
equally delightful.

In folk-lore the urchin possesses occult properties which
make it more or less eerie in reputation, but do not prevent
it being eaten or kept in houses for clearing them of cock-
roaches. In Drayton's " Polyolbion " the rustic, enumerat-
ing his worldly possessions, says —

" .Sweeting mine, if thou mine own wilt be,

I've many a pretty gaud I kcepe in store for thee,
A nest of broad-faced owls and goodly urchins too ;
And better yet than these, a bulkin two years old,
A curled-pate calf it is, and oft could have been sold ;
And yet besides all this, I've goodly bear-whelps two."

Its ^ voice is a curious, unnatural-sounding snoring, and

British Wild Beasts. i8l

sometimes a squeak — "the hedge-pig's whining" of the
witches on the heath. It is supposed also to foretell the
changes of weather (as indeed nearly all animals do to the
careful observer), and so we meet with lines, " as hedgehogs
doe foreshew ensuing storms," "observe what way the
hedgehog builds her nest." That it had the power of
shoeing its quills off at pleasure is a popular tradition of
wide prcTalence. Thus in " Hiawatha " —

" From a hollow tree the hedgehog
With his sleepy eyes looked at him.
Shot his shining qaills like arrows ;
Saying, with a drowsy mmrnm*,
Through the tangle of his whiskers.
Take my quills, O Hiawatha ! "

Though Drayton speaks of "conies" being "banisht
quite from every fertile place," they have since then become
a tolerably " common object of the country." Few poets,
therefore, describing a rural scene, omit this pretty and
familiar incident of

" Bobbing rabbits.
Their white tails glancing."

" The upright rabbit, where he sits and mocks yon,
Ere he deigns to hide."

" The Uttle noises fiang.
Out of clefts where rabbits play."

Clare is especially full of " coy " and " scouting " * and
"quirking" rabbits ; his poems are a regular warren.

" I love to peep out on a summer's mom.

Just as the scouting rabbit seeks her shed.
And the coy hare squats nestling in the com,
Frit at the bowed ear tott'ring o'er her head."

Somerville and his contemporaries call them "dodging"
* An epithet used by Bloom£eId and Grahame also.

t82 The Poets Beasts.

conies, and, by their suggestions of their feebleness, imply
the error of identifying them with the conies of Holy Writ,
though the latter are really, in spite of their rabbit size,
the connecting links between the enormous hippopotamus
and rhinoceros, and not much more nearly related to
Bunny than they are to " Welsh rabbits."

It is unfortunate for the rabbit, poor " Wabasso," in one
way, that it should be such excellent eating, for if they
shared the hedgehog's immunity from the pie-dish, their
pleasant republics might never know the recurring massacre.
I confess that much as I delight in watching warren-life,
and, indebted as I am to the grotesqueness of rabbits at play
or at work for many a hearty laugh, I remember them
very tenderly in a pie — a cold pie.

I never feel guilty when I shoot rabbits. There is an
idea somewhere about me that they multiply under destruc-
tion. They are like peppermint plants. If you go and root
out the bed in the corner of the garden, the plant breaks out
all over the path. It is like fighting with original sin, as
Dudley Warner says. So I pepper away in a warren with a
light heart. After all, if you smash up a comet it splinters
into stars.

Rabbits, they say, taught men sapping and mining, — in
" Rasselas," at any rate, the Prince and his companion take
the hint of tunnelling a way of escape out of the Happy
Valley from these small rodents — and their burrows are cer-
tainly sometimes models of ingenious complication, strong-
holds though without strength, impregnable though without
armament. If the poets had wanted an analogous instance
of maternal sacrifice to take the place of the wretched old
pelican, they might have remembered the rabbit, which
lines her nursery with fur pulled off her own body.

Hares go with rabbits by a process of unconscious cere-
bration. Laprel and Kayward are sympathetic. Each in
turn plays the other's shadow. Rabbits, however, are much

British Wild Beasts. 183

more familiar to most of us than hares. In a country walk
you pass a second rabbit without remark ; but you draw
attention to a hare every time you see it, and watch it as
long as you can.

But in the poets there are fifty hares for every rabbit, —
" as numerous as hares on Athos " — and the reasons for this
are obvious. The poets go by preference to antiquity,
legends, fictions, for their Nature. They do not go to Nature
for it

Now, the " light-foot " hare possesses as voluminous a
folk-lore as almost any animal, and ever since there were
men and women in the world to be frightened by supersti-
tion, this little creature, itself one of the most timid of
things, has inspired human beings with dread.

•' Nor did we meet with nimble feet
A single fearful lepus,
That certain sign, as some divine,
Of fortune bad to keep us."

Sir Thomas Browne says, " There are few above the age
of threescore and ten who are not perplexed at a hare
crossing their path," and a number of poets allude to the
superstition of the ill-luck foreboding, when inauspicatum
dat iter oblatus lepus.

•' If a poor timorous hare but crosse the way,
Morus will keep the chamber all the day." — Quarles.

"The mythical hare," says delightful Gubernatis, "is
undoubtedly the moon," and the wide-spread connection of
the animal with that luminary gives the myth something of
a popular acceptation. Thus the Chinese represent the
moon-figure, Jut-ho, with a hare at her feet, and symbolise
Luna by a rabbit pounding in a mortar. In Vedic myth,
"the leaping one" is the moon, and the spots on the face
of it are hares by the shore of the moon-lake. These hares

184 The Poets' Beasts.

have a king, and it is Death. Buddhists, again, aver that
the "hare is in the moon as a reward for its self-sacrifice —
meeting Buddha hungry the hare cooked herself for his
meal, and the Great Master threw her up there to be an
object of the world's homage. The Red Indians also have
a hare in their moon.

But its peculiarly sinister reputation has arisen from its
own timidity — " the hartlesse hare," the most timorous
of animals, suggesting fear and so portending something
to be feared. And in this significance the whole world at
one time or another has taken divination from "the
fearful hare." From north to south, from Lapland to
Arabia, from east to west, from the Chinese to the Red
Indians, all nations in the past, and many in the present,
have seen the hand of fate in the movements of this little
creature.

Its appearance of perpetual alarm specially attracts the
poets. It sits "all trembling in its form" and "springs
astonished." It is the "list'ning" hare (Bloomfield) ; "in
act to spring away" (Thomson); "beneath her bramble
screen, quaking as astound" (Heber) ; "afraid to keep or
leave her form " (Prior). " To lie and dare, as in a fourme
sitteth a weary hare " (Chaucer), is a poetical proverb, and
in Herbert's poem, Humility gives "the fearful hare her
ears " to Fortitude. The story of the terrified hares being
checked in their purpose of suicide by seeing how they had
frightened a linnet is versified by Beattie —

" Is there on earth a wretch, they saki,
Whom our approach can strike with dread ? "

From this notion of perpetual apprehension, due in part
to the nervous restlessness of the hare's ears, arose the fancy
that the hare slept with one eye open — the sotnnus leporitius.
Thus Keats speaks of the hare's "half-sleeping fit," and
another poet has the admirable phrase " hare-eyed unrest."

British Wild Beasts. 185

This sleepless vigilance, however, gives the hare an important
place in mythology, where it often figures as the sentinel.

Being thus of ill-omen, the hare's flesh was condemned.
Thus Burton advises against it, quoting profusely in sup-
port of his advice. "'Tis melancholy meat," says Lady
Answerall.

Yet, in spite of their being nominally in such disfavour,
we find the Romans maintaining extensive "leporaria," not
for coursing but for the table, the shoulder being considered
the tit-bit, while the phrase " to live on hares' flesh " became
a synonym for " the lap of luxury " or " the fat of the land."

Its flesh being thus reputed, the animal itself becomes
"melancholy," and "as melancholy as a hare" is a poetical
simile. " The sad hare," says DavenanL

Clare notes its dulness in winter as a striking contrast to
its summer gaiety of manners —

" The woods how gloomy in a winter's mom.
The crows and ravens even cease to croak ;
The little birds sit chittering on the thorn,
The pies scarce chatter when they leave the oak,
Startled from slumber by the woodman's stroke.

The quirking rabbit scarcely leaves her hole,

But rolls in torpid slumbers all the day ;

The fox is loth to 'gin a long patrol.

So scouts the woods content with meaner prey ;

The hare so frisking, timid once, and gay,

Now scarce is scared though in the traveller's way,

Though waffling curs and shepherd dogs pursue."

Finally, as melancholy conduces to madness, the hares —
especially March hares — are popularly considered a trifle
insane.

Yet it is far from being of a triste or solemn kind ; for
who has ever watched a hare, when it thought itself in safety,
and not been amused by its absurd light-heartedness. In-
stead of behaving like the witches' familiar, which folk-lore

1 86 The Poets' Beasts.

has made it, it is the veriest elf of frolic. Faber talks of the
"almost silent gambols of the hares in the tall grass" —
Burns has them on a happy summer's day " hirplin down
the furze," and again "jinking hares in amorous whids " —
and Wordsworth sees her "running races in her mirth."
Cowper has pet ones —

" I kept him for his humour's sake,
For he would oft beguile
My heart of thoughts that made it ache
And force me to a smile " —

that are " still wild Jack-hares," and —

" A turkey carpet v/as his lawn,
Whereon he loved to bound,
To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around."

Nor is the "panting timorous" hare always "fearful."
Like all wild things in England, where dogs, and guns, and
traps cover the land with such a labyrinth of danger, they
suspect man and all his works. But a very little will suffice
to gain the confidence of hares, and make them "lose
much of the vigilant instinctive dread," as Cowper, being
himself inoffensive, found — "the timorous hare scarce shuns
me." Sometimes, indeed, they require only too little en-
couragement for boldness, and having been invited into the
paddock with cabbage-leaves and parsley, invite themselves
later on into the kitchen garden. In winter too, when —

" The foodless wilds
Pour forth their brown inhabitants, the hare,
Tliough timorous of heart and hard beset
By death in various forms, dark snares and dogs,
And more unpitying men, tlie garden seeks,
Urged on by fearless want." — Thomson.

In "Reynard the Fox," the hare, Kayward, though a
simpleton, is certainly not a coward.

British Wild Beasts. 187

But the great majority accept only the sinister, dismal,
and unhappy aspects of the hare. It goes " limping " in
Grahame, Keats, Thomson, Burns, and others, as if limp-
ing were a feature of a woe-begone, mendicant sort of
existence, and not its natural gait, when at ease in its mind
and quite happy. " The hare hmped trembling," " the
fearful hare limped awkward," " the limping hare stops, and
looks back, and stops and looks on man, his deadliest foe."
As a matter of fact, of course, the hare's " limp " is merely
its loitering pace, and expressive of poor Watts' only too
infrequent tranquillity.

Associated with the hare and rabbit, but in a very
disagreeable manner for those animals, are the " thin "
weasels, and their relatives the ferrets —

" In Shetland's grassy holms, the mining tribe
Skulking, is there well pleased to dwell obscure,
Regardless they of what loud bustling men
Concert in clamorous camp or palace high ;
But what avails their unambitious care.
If the fierce ferret spies the vaulted cell
And rushes headlong in to seize his piey ?
At once the subterraneous state alarmed,
Shrieks out all over — whither shall they fly ?
Caught in their inmost chambers, where they slept
Vainly secure. The assassin fierj'-eyed
Winding up all their mazes, through and through
Spreads desolation o'er the feeble race." — Leyden.

Not only in the land of Shakspeare's " weasel-Scot," but
in England, the ferret may still be found wild ; but Scot-
land alone can now boast of the larger marten.

The "sucke-egg^ weasele" (Quarles), " night- wandering
weasel " (Shakespeare), " wicked " weasel, finds barely a
dozen references in all the range of poetry, though to the

^ " I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs." —
As You Like It.

1 88 The Poets Beasts.

prosaic mind this elegant little monster is full of signifi-
cances. At any rate it is quite as pretty as the panther —
such a favourite for its beauty with the poets —

" Fayre was this yonge wif, and therewithal
As any weasel hire body gent and smal," — •

and quite as fierce as the tiger, while its voracity, agility,
and various natural endowments, make it one of the most
dreadful little creatures in Nature. A thousand times better
to be a deer in a tiger's jungle than a rabbit in the same
copse as a weasel.

" My lord and I are kindred spirits,
Like in our ways as two young ferrets,
Both fashioned as that supple race is,
To twist into all sorts of places.
Creatures lengthy, lean, and hungering,
Fond of blood and burrow-mongering." — Moore.

Yet the weasel has a benign significance in ancient
Hindu myth, as also in Red Indian legends, for one
reason, perhaps, that it is erroneously supposed to be the
dire foe of snakes and scorpions. Its leanness of person
is due to the fact that, when the beasts were invited to
help themselves from Manobozho's fat-pool, the super-
cilious weasel came last and got none. Pope has a weasel
that grows fat in a corn-loft. But the poet may mean upon
a diet of mice and not corn.

A great many poets, it may be, never saw a wild squirrel,
so ihey refer only to those in cages, and draw the moral of
foolish ambition from the sight. For myself, I think it
very pathetic, the hopeless scrambling of the squirrel on its
wheel ; and such lines as these exasperate me —

" Contented like llie playful squirrel
To wanton up and down my cage."

British Wild Beasts. 1S9

Besides, what privilege have the poets to take it for granted
that this creature of liberty, this "merry forester," is deluded
by the clattering revolution of its prison into supposing that
it is " skimming up the silent beech," or " dancing oak-trees
round and round ? " It is, I think, a little high-handed to
teach a squirrel to spin its wire treadmill, and then to
pretend that "the foolish creature thinks he climbs," that
it has mistaken your wretched whirligig for its old " mazy
forest-house," the tops of the wind-blown pines, or the
fragrant bowers of " nut-grown " hazels. I resent the similes
of Prior, Mallet, and others, who see in the poor captives
illustrations of human weakness and the vanities of foolish
ambition. Nor, Mr. Moore, " does the name of the Uttle
animal rhyme with ' girl.' "

Of course many poets have really seen it wild, and
they delight in it— the "bright-eyed," "busy," "gay," and
"wanton creature," "flippant, pert, and full of play."

" The squirrel, with aspiring mind.
Disdains to be to earth confined.

But mounts aloft in air ;
The pine-tree's giddiest height he climbs.
Or scales the beech-tree's loftiest limbs.

And builds his castle there.

As Nature's wildest tenants firee,
A merry forester is he,

In oak o'ershaciowed dells;
In glen remote, or woodland lawn,
\Vhere the doe hides her infant fawn,

Among the hills he dwells."

They stop to watch it crack its nuts and drop the shells,
hear it "rattling in its hoard of acorns," peep into "the
brown hermit's " larder, its winter-store of acorn, pine-cone,
and filbert, and note " its prettiness of feigned alarm, and
anger insignificantly fierce."

I go The Poets Beasts.

" And he could tell how the shy squirrel fared,
Who often stood its busy toils to see ;
How against winter she was well prepared
With many a store in hollow root or tree,
As if being told what winter's wants would be ;
Its nuts and acorns he would often find,
And hips and haws too, heaped plenteously
In snug warm corner that broke off the wind,
With leafy nest made nigh, that warm green mosses lined."

"Wingless squirrel," says Montgomery; so Cowper,
" swift as bird ; " and Charlotte Smith, at greater length —

" Though plumeless, he can dart away,
Swift as the woodpecker or the jay,

His sportive mates to woo ;
His summer's food is berries wild,
And last year's acorn cups are filled

For him with sparking dew.

Soft is his shining auburn coat,
As ermine white his downy throat,

Intelligent his mien ;
With feathery tail and ears alert,
And little paws as hands expert,

And eyes so black and keen.

Soaring above the earth-born herd
Of beasts, he emulates the bird.

Yet feels no want of wing ;
Exactly poised, he dares to launch
In air, and bounds from branch to branch,

With swift elastic spring."

Naturally enough, the poets admire the forethought of
the squirrel in furnishing its Uirder against the winter —

" Within some old fantastic tree,
Wiiere time has worn a cavity.
His winter food is stored j

British Wild Beasts. 191

The cone beset with many a scale.
The chestnut in its coat of mail,
Or nuts complete his hoard."

Or, in Clare —

" The squirrel bobbing from the eye
Is busy now about his hoard ;
And in old nest of crow or pye.
His winter-store is oft explored."

But this engaging prevision has a charm within a charm.
For the squirrel goes to sleep during the winter, and its
diligence in collecting food for a time when it does not
need it might therefore seem somewhat misdirected. But
the squirrel knows that there are often breaks of fine
weather in the middle of winter, and it is really for these
occasional picnics that the brown hermit provisions him-
self—

" When drawn from refuge in some lonely elm,
That age or injury has hollowed deep,
Where on his bed of wool and matted leaves
He has outslept the winter, ventures forth
To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun."

So that as a matter of fact the squirrel does not lay up
food against bad weather, but against fine, Moreover, it
very often happens that the Uttle creature forgets where
it has concealed its hoards; and every one who Hves in
the country knows how common it is in tumble-down walls
or about old trees to find stocks of nuts and acorns that
have been laid up but never consumed. The instinct to
lay by against hea\7 snowfalls has been inherited, no doubt,
from progenitors who lived in the years of harder winters,
and though the necessity for its exercise now hardly exists,
the squirrel is still as industrious as ever, and, therefore,
twice as industrious as it need be.

Its merry heart is certainly one of the squirrel's many

192 The Poets Beasts.

claims to favour, and its nimble industry, so often noted by
the poets, suggests one of the most curious legends of which
this delightful little animal is the subject. On the top of
the dreadful ash-tree Ygdrasil sits the Death-Eagle, and
down among its roots lies coiled Fate, the dragon Nidhoge,
and the squirrel is for ever running up and down from one
to the other, trying to make them quarrel.

Red men have many superstitions about their squirrels,
one species of which closely resembles our own ruddy
favourite. As every one knows, it was Hiawatha's bene-
factor and honoured companion in that perilous voyage on
the black pitch-water —

" On the bows with tail erected
Sate the squirrel Ajidauno ;
In his fur the breeze of morning
Played as in the prairie grasses."

They cough to this day because once they were men, and
Manobozho, the mischief-maker, gave them meat which
turned to ashes in their mouths, and then, for coughing out
his victuals, he turned them all into squirrels. They are one
of the Indians' most familiar forms of enchantment, and in
many of their tales the hero is turned by beneficent fairies
into this animal's form in order to enable him to accomplish
his labours. Thus " the wearer of the Ball " becomes a
squirrel when he has to chase the flying hut which is built
in the top of a pine-tree that keeps on growing up higher
the higher the hero climbs.

Moles have in some countries a diabolical, in others only
a mysterious reputation. Now and again it has a medicinal
aspect, as among the Russians, who say that if you kill a mole
by squeezing it in your hand, you can touch for the king's
evil, while in England, not so very long ago, a mole was a
sure cure for ague — if eaten crisp. But these are excep-
tional views to take of the "little gentleman in the velvet

British Wild Beasts, 193

coat," and to be accepted with as much reserve as the moles
of Holy Writ, which, owing to errors of translation, should
sometimes be read " Swan ! " The intelligent, however,
will do well to regard the mole as a curious little beast,
created apparently for the purpose of providing the earth
with an invaluable system of sub-soil drainage, and, sub-
ordinately, as a moral discipline for landscape gardeners —
and (in Hurdis) for shepherds —

" Scarce disappears the deluge, when the mole,
Close prisoner long in subterranean cell
Frost-bound, again the miner plays, and heaves,
With treble industry, the mellow mound
Along the swarded vale. The shepherd's eye
With unforgiving enmity surveys
'The long concatenated sweep of hills,
Whose soft and crumbling soil abridges more
The scanty pittance of his hungry fold."

Cowper, with a wail of sympathy that is almost charac-
teristic of him,- finds in the little harmless beast a sinister
analogy —

" We mount again, and feel at every step
One foot half sunk in hillocks green and soft.
Raised by the mole, the miner of the soil.
He, not unlike the great ones of mankind,
Disfigures earth, and plotting in the dark,
Toils m.uch to earn a monumental pile
That may record the mischief he has done."

Nor is it without interest as being the chief possessor of all
the world below the surface.

" What need of all this marble crust
To impack the wanton mole of dust,
That thinks by breadth the world t' unite
Though the first builders failed in height." — Marvell.

In some places the rat usurps its patrimony, but the

N

194 ^'^<^ Poets Beasts.

" handed " mole has plenty of room to spare, and though
the worms drive their narrow tunnels in subterranean
labyrinth, the mole does not complain, for it eats the
worms.

With the poets " the mole that scoops with curious toil
his subterranean bed " (Montgomery) ; that *' the crumbled
earth in hillocks raises " (Gay) ; " unwearied still roots up
many a crumbling hill" (Clare) ; is a "dark grubbing" and
" blinking " creature. Cowper typifies Error as a mole, and
Dryden has "like a mole busy and blind, works all his
folly up and casts it outward to the world's open air."
Eliza Cook is good enough to say that " there's a mission,
no doubt, for the mole in the dust," and Spenser speaks
of the " moldwarp " as a slothful sensualist. Mackay calls
all sorts and conditions of men — grasping tyrants, angry
bigots, selfish rulers, palace knaves, canting hypocrites,
greedy authors, smug philosophers, Malthusians — every-
body in fact who tries "to keep the nations down" by
plotting against liberty of mind or freedom of conscience,
" moles "—

" Grub, little moles, grub underground,
There's sunshine in the sky."

Keats uses the image finely in the following passage from
, "Isabella"—

" Who hath not loitered in a green churchyard,
And let his spirit, like a demon mole,
/ Work through the clayey soil and gravel hard,

To see skull, coffined bones, and funeral stole ;
Pitying each form that hungry Death had marred,
And filling it once more with human soul."

On the other hand, the poets applaud its acute sense of
hearing, and deplore its feeble eyesight —

•' What modes of sight betwixt the wide extreme !
The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam." — Pope.

British Wild Beasts. 195

The chief point about the natural mole — Tennyson's "four-
handed mole " — is its industry in digging ; and the poets,
observing the superficial evidences of its diligence, address
the "moudiewort " as "patient," draw numerous reflections
from its "delving," "earth-piercing," and "mining," which,
by the way, the fairies are supposed to have taught them.
Thus Pope advises man to imitate the mole in deep-
ploughing.

Mice are not suitable subjects for poetry. There is very
little of the hieroglyph, few subtle significances, in the
pantr)'-invading, cat-eaten mouse. It is diflScult to dignify
it. Mouse-character is very one-sided : there are no
enormities about it, no picturesque ferocity, or blood-
curdling wolfishness ; nor does it conceal itself suflSciently
to be worth calling " obscene." Besides, it is so absurdly
small. Once in a way it was well enough to make " the
crumb ravisher," "cheese-rind nibbler," " bacon-lick er," and
their comrades-in-arms, heroic ; but the joke does not bear
repetition. It is sad that cats should think so well of them
as food, and that mouse-traps should be so eflScacious, but
what is to be done? They insist on being where they
should not go, and affront man himself by tampering with
his victuals.

Such is the poetical acceptation of the mouse. As
" Tom's food " they are benignly congratulated upon their
utility, and, though expected to rejoice when cats decease,
are sternly reminded that pussy alive was a wholesome
corrective to mouse excesses. Thus Clare —

" Ah mice, rejoice I ye've lost your foe,
Who watched your scheming robb'ries so
That, while she lived, twa'nt yours to know

A crumb of bread :
'Tb yours to triumph, mine's the woe,

Now pussy's dead ;
WTiile pussy lived ye'd empty maws.
No sooner peeped ye out your nose.

196 The Poets Beasts.

But ye were instant in her claws,

With squeakings dread ;
Ye're now set free from tyrant's laws,

Poor pussy's dead."

They may eat crumbs if they can, but if the cat comes,
it will serve them right if they get eaten themselves ; as in
Herrick —

" So the brisk mouse may feast herself with crumbs,
Till the green-eyed kitling comes,
Then to her cabin, blest she can escape
The sudden danger of a rape."

So also when the mouse is cauglit in a trap, the poets
hold it inevitable justice that it should die. Thus Somer-
ville speaks of " the rigorous decree of fate " that condemns
cheese-hunting mice to execution, and Clare of the "rigid
fate " that awaits the tiny pilferer.

But outside the poets, the mouse has considerable dignity.
It is " the ravisher " of Vedic legends, and in the solar
myth the mice are the shadows which creep out from under
the hills, and which the cat-moon and her kitten the twi-
light hunt. It was turned into a tiger as a reward for
assisting a Brahmin, and might have been a tiger still, had
it not in its new shape proceeded to eat the Brahmin, and
for this been promptly turned back into a mouse again.
Nor can an animal be called merely a pantry-thief that
sometimes eats kings and archbishops, to say nothing of
the sons of Polish dukes. ^ Is the mouse, portentous to
Rome, to be perpetually cowering before "green-eyed kit-
lings?" If poets have no respect for m.ice, have they none
for St. Gertrude, their patron ? Take again their position
in fairy tales. The mice arc always beneficent. Their feud
with the sparrows is doubtless deplorable, but did it arise

1 According to legend King Popelus was eaten by mice, also Duke
Conrad's son (of Poland), also Olho, Archbishop of Mentz.

British Wild Beasts. 197

from the fault of the mice ? Were not they and the spar-
rows firm friends till the former behaved so meanly in that
matter of the odd poppy seed, eating the whole of it them-
selves instead of fairly dividing it with the mice? Nor
should it be remembered as discreditable to the mouse
that it is not on good terms with the cat, for the cat be-
haved very shabbily towards its little partner about that pot
of fat which they had stored away in the church, for joint
winter consumption ; for, not content with faithlessly eating
all the fat by herself, Grimalkin also ate the mouse for
reproaching her. The majority of fables are to the credit
of the mouse : its gratitude is conspicuous, its services to
princes in trduble momentous ; and did it not, at the risk
of its own hfe, release a lion ? Lions are great mouse-
eaters.

But the mouse, apart from man's household and yet more
sacred person, that is to say, the field-mouse — for poets con-
sider corn-stealing in the country merely an amiable weak-
ness as compared with the iniquity of crumb-stealing in the
town — receives more sympathetic treatment. They rejoice
over ''the pilfering mouse entrapped and caged" in a
kitchen, and moralise loftily —

" When the watchful hungry mouse
At midnight prowling round the house,
Winds in a corner toasted cheese,
Glad the luxurious prey to seize,
With whiskers curled, and round black eyes,
He meditates his luscious prize,
Till caught, trepanned, laments too late
The rigorous decrees of fate." — Somerville.

For the " city mouse, well coated, sleek, and gay, a mouse
of high degree" (Cowley), is looked upon as an animal that
arrives at great personal comfort, and lives luxuriously, by
dishonest practices. ' But the "fieldish" mouse has some-
how acquired a character for industrious honesty and

198 The Poets Beasts.

thrifty struggling against poverty. Thus Wyatt, in his
delightful poem " On the Mean and Sure Estate" —

" The fieldish mouse,
That for because her livelihood was but thin,
Would needs go see her townish sister's house,
She thought herself endured to grievous pain,
The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse ;
That when the furrows swimmed with the rain,
She must be cold and wet, in sorry plight.
And worse than that, bare meat there did remain.
To comfort her, when she her house had dight,
Sometime a barley corn, sometime a bean,
For which she laboured hard both day and night
In harvest time, while she might go and glean.
And when her store was stroyed with the flood.
Then welladay ! for she undone was clean."

Thus Clare delights in the pretty little animal with its
nest swinging from a wheat-stalk —

" The little chumbling mouse
Gnarls the dead weed for her house.

The fields are cleared, the labouring mice

To sheltering hedge or wood patrole,
When hips and haws for food suffice

That chumbled lie about their hole."

Hurdis sits out to watch

" The wanton mouse,
And see liim gambol round the primrose head,
Till the still owl comes smoothly sailing forth,
And with a shrill ' to-whit ' breaks off his dance
And sends him scouring home."

Indeed, the owl, "whose meteor eyes shoot horror through
the dark," often gets well rated for "numbing the tiny
revellers with dread." Its habit of "prowling along the
fields " is thrown in its beak, and it is reproached for sub-
terfuge, when

British Wild Beasts. 199

" In a bam
He sees a mouse creeping in the corn.
Sits still and shuts his round blue eyes.
As if he slept, until he spies
The little beast within his reach.
Then starts and seizes on the wretch." — Butkr.

Burns laments over the

" Wee sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rons beastie,"

and its little home in the stubble ruined by the plough, —

" That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble."

Two full-grown " harvest-mice " weigh exactly one half-
penny, and it was no doubt the marrow of this diminutive
species that Titania used to have on her toast. It is not,
however, out of place here to remind poets that the
" dehghtful" field-mouse, as they think it, and as it un-
doubtedly is to all lovers of Nature, is " the corn-destroyer "
of Holy Writ, and that they are " the mice that marred the
land " of PhUistia, the scourge of an angry Jehovah. Nor
— to descend to lesser catastrophes — are the field-mice that
ate up the Bishop of Bingen altogether trivial creatures. In
England and Europe generally, the "pilfering" field-mice
that "with far-fetched ear its hole supplies" (Clare), some-
times commit very serious depredations in the barns and
rick-yards into which it has been carried at harvest time.
Those that have been left behind in the fields become
partially torpid, and take refuge in Uttle grass-lined burrows ;
but their more fortunate friends in the barns keep awake in
winter " as if on purpose to show their gratitude for their
hberal provender."

References are made to many of the mice of story —
Wyatt's fieldish mouse; the town mouse and its country
cousin ; the golden mice of the covenantal ark ; those that
fought the frogs ; the mouse (in Crabbe)

200 The Poets Beasts.

" That trespassed and the treasure stole,
Found his lean body fitted to the hole ;
Till, having fatted, he was forced to stay,
And, fasting, starve his stolen bulk away,"

and those of the Mouse Tower on the Rhine, while the
morals and wise saws derived from the same animal are
unexpectedly numerous.

" I hold a mouse's wit not worth a leke,
That hath but one hole for to stenten lo." —Chaucer.

" 'Tis a bold mouse that nestles in a cat's ear,
I gave the mouse a hole and she is become my heir." — Herbert.

" Dronke as a mous." — Chaucer.

" The mouse
Finds no pleasure in a poor man's house. — Quarks.

" State vermin, gnawing into labour's bread." — E. Cook.

" Show him a mouse's tail and he will guess,
"With metaphysic swiftness, at the mouse." —Keats.

Women, it is proverbial, dread mice. Says Crabbe —

" She who will tremble if her eye explore
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor."

But they do not, as a rule, altogether dislike them, or
Suckling might regret his pretty simile, who writes —

•' Her feet beneath her petticoat
Like little mice crept in and out,
As if tliey feared the light."

^ Pope has it weakly —

" The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole,
Can never be a mouse of any soul."

So Herbert —

" Tlie mouse that hath but one hole is quickly taken."

British Wild Beasts. 201

In Jean Ingelow there is a pleasant reference to the
" water-mouse " among the reeds —

" His bright eyes glancing black as beads,
So happy with a bunch of seeds,"

and several poets refer kindly to the " drowsy," " wondering,''
"sleepy" dormouse. In Red Indian fairy tales the dor-
mouse, the " bUnd woman," is a thing of some consequence.
Once upon a time, a dwarf, annoyed by the sun, persuaded
his sister to make a net out of her hair, and going out to
the edge of the prairie next morning, he caught the sun
just as it was rising, and pinned it down inside the net to the
ground. Prodigious was the consternation in Nature when
the sun did not rise, and long and serious the pow-wow of
the blasts. But at last the venerable dormouse (at that
time the largest of all animals and the Ulysses among them)
guessed what was the matter, and going to the edge of the
prairie released the luminary. But in doing so it was
shrivelled up to its present size.

As regards its forethought for the winter, the dormouse
is even more interesting than the squirrel. For not only
does it, like the squirrel, lay up its little hampers for
occasional picnics in the snatches of fine weather, but it
takes care, before turning into its cosy little moss-ball for
the winter, to fatten itself up to an extraordinary obesity.
So fat, indeed, does it become, that without any food at
all laid by, it could sleep out a whole winter comfortably.
But the delightful little Sybarite is not going to run any
risks, so, like the juryman in Punch, it first of al eats
itself into invincible fatness, and fills its pockets besides
with condensed foods.

It was this capacity for fattening that endeared the
dormice to Roman epicures. Their "gliralia" or "dor-
mouse parks " were most extensive and costly erections,
planted with oaks and nut-trees for the sustenance of these

202 The Poets' Beasts.

small deer, who, as required for the table, were caught
and put into jars provided with every sort of mouse
luxury.

Rat is a frequent epithet of reproach. Sycophants
deserting a declining patron " as rats do a falling house,"
are vermin. So are beggars " as poor as church rats "
(Marvell), and so are thieves. " There be land-rats and
water-rats, land-thieves and water-thieves," and so are the
Jesuits in Oldham.

" Prophet, curse me the babbling lip.
And curse me the British vermin, the rat ;
I know not whether he came in the Hanover ship
But I know that he lies and listens mute
In an ancient mansion's crannies and holes.
Arsenic, arsenic, sure would do it.
Except that now we poison our babes, poor souls !
It is all used up for that."

Its two great historical iniquities, eating Mrs. Throck-
morton's bullfinch —

" P'or aided both by ear and scent,
Right to his mark the monster went.

Ah, muse ! forbear to speak.
Minute the horrors that ensued ;
His teeth were strong, his cage was wood,
He left poor Bully's beak" (^Cowper) —

And Bishop Hatto —

" In at the windows, and in at the door,

And through the walls by thousands they pour,
And down from the ceiling and up from the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below,
And all at once to the bishop they go.
They have whetted their teeth against the stones,
And now they pick the bishop's bones.

British Wild Beasts. 203

They gnawed the flesh from every limb.

For they were sent to do judgment on him " [Southey] —

are each the subject of a poem. Nor is the death of the
bishop at all beyond rat capabilities ; for it is beyond doubt
that men have been killed and eaten by rats in the sewers,
both of London and Paris, while Professor Bell, on the
authority of Robert Stephenson, relates the following
instance of the extreme ferocity of the rat when driven to
hunger.^ " In a coal-pit," he says, " in which many horses
were employed, the rats (which fed upon the fodder pro-
vided for the horses) had accumulated in great multitudes.
It was customary in holiday times to bring to the surface
the horses and the fodder, and to close the pit for the time.
On one occasion, when the holiday had extended to ten
daj'S or a fortnight, during which the rats had been deprived
of food, on reopening the pit, the first man who descended
was attacked by the starving multitude, and speedily killed
and devoured ! " Of their audacity Butler gives delightful
illustration — rats getting into his worthy's breeches-pockets
to eat his rations —

" For, as we said, he always chose
To carry little in his hose.
That often tempted rats and mice
The ammunition to surprise ;
And when he put a hand but in
The one or t'other magazine.
They stoutly on defence on't stood,
And from the wounded foe drew blood.
And till th' were stormed and beaten out,
Ne'er left the fortified redoubt " —

while Shenstone records in verse the all-too-frequent
vanity of the rat-trap.

^ Cassell's " Natural History," edited by Professor P. Martin Duncan,
F.R.S., F.G.S.

20^. The Poets Beasts.

" But more of trap and bait, sir,
Why should I sing of either ? •
Since the rat who knew the sleight,
Came in the dead of night,
And dragged 'em away together.

Then answer this, ye sages !

Nor deem I mean to wrong ye.

Had the rat, which thus did seize on '

The trap, less claim to reason

Than many a skull among ye ? "

Tennyson makes " the little rat " a terrific agent in
catastrophe —

" Ah, little rat, that borest in the dyke

Thy hole by night, to let the boundless deep
Down upon far-off cities while they dance
Or dream.

Among British " wild animals " may also be enumerated
the polecat, pine-marten, and wild-cat, and each is referred
to by our poets.

VIII.
BEASTS OF CHASE,

" The chase, the sport of kings, image of war without its
guilt," is Somerville's definition; and he tells us that "devo-
tion, pure and strong necessity, first began the chase of
beasts." Thus pious in conception, and innocent in pro-
cess, " sport " should have no need of apology.

But let us hear the other side, and by preference — as
more nearly corresponding to Somerville in extremity of
prejudice — Thomson :

"In the gleaming mom
The beasts of prey retire, that all night long,
Urged by necessity had ranged the dark,
As if their conscious ravages shunned the light,
Ashamed. Not so the steady tyrant man,
Who, with the thoughtless insolence of power
Inflamed beyond the most infuriate wrath
Of the worst monster that e'er roamed the waste,
For sport alone pursues the cruel chase
Amid the beamings of the gentle day.
Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage.
For hunger kindles you, and lawless want ;
But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty rolled,
To joy at anguish, and delight in blood,
Is what your horrid bosoms never knew."

Nor is Cowper less pronounced in his aversion to the
hard exercise of hunting.

2o6 The Poets' Beasts.

Between these two superlatives stand ranged every con-
ceivable degree of comparison, and it is very difficult indeed
to decide whether the poetic instinct is hostile to sport, as
sport, or is favourable. A few writers devote whole poems
to the glorification of the chase in general and certain forms
of hunting in particular. On the other hand, a score and
more of poets condemn it root and branch.

Even on special points the diversity of opinion is note-
worthy ; for, while some go into raptures over the death of
the stag, others mingle their tears with those of " the sobbing
victim ; " one party exults over the fox-hunt, styling the
field " bold heroes ; " the other calls them " cravens," and
says the whole thing is a crying shame. Gay magnifies
coursing the hare as a delirious delight ; Somerville calls
down the vengeance of Heaven upon " the vile crew " who
go after Puss with greyhounds.

They are not even agreed on facts. The quarrel com-
mences at the very beginning. For instance, Somerville
says —

" When Nimrod bold,
A mighty hunter ! first made war on beasts ; "

while Pope has —

" Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began ;
A mighty hunter, and his prey was man."

And they carry on their differences up to their own days.
Thus one poet eulogises the modern lady in the hunting-
field, as if she were a Florence Nightingale ; another cries,
Fie on her ! and tells the hussy to get home. So that it is
not easy to arrive at the just middle of poetical opinion
upon the subject of sport.

But a very unmistakable point upon which our poets are
agreed, and, in my opinion, are every one of them open to
unfavourable criticism, is their deficiency of sympathy. Of
"sentiment" they have a constant abundance. I regret

Beasts of Chase. 207

its excess in Wordsworth, for instance, and resent it in
Cowper ; Tliomson provokes me almost to apoplexy ; and
as for Eliza Cook, I weep such tears over her as, I am
informed, I wept in childhood over that unfortunate ram
which Abraham chanced to sacrifice in the place of his son.
There is much pathos in the fate of the ram which had
come as a looker-on, and had to take the leading part
straight oflF without even a rehearsal. There is much
pathos, too, about Eliza Cook's poetry.

By " sympathy " I mean literally what the word implies ;
that is, fellow-feeling ; and nowhere in poetry do I find this
beautiful quality so wanting — as compared with prose — as
in the poets' treatment of the chase. When they hold with
the hare they seem to have no appreciation of the courage
and endurance of the riders, horses, or pack ; when they
hunt with the hounds they are as pitiless as the dogs them-
selves, rush frenzied into the death-worry, and roll in the
spilt blood. This loss of balance puzzles me. If a "poet"
was of necessity a genius I could understand it But their
madness has not always this justification of aUiance.

Shelley may say anything he likes — he does, as a rule —
but I do not object to his spotted tigers or his kingfishers
that feed on raspberries. He may make his tigers feed on
kingfishers, or his kingfishers on tigers — it would not matter.
Nor is there anything that might not be forgiven to a Milton,
a Crashawe, or a Keats. I would follow a man all round
the parish with my bowie-knife who objected (seriously) to
Spenser's statements that boars feed upon camels or that
bats are birds.

For though these great poets are often wrong in facts —
and what decently-thinking man does not hate them ? the
accomplished fact is a simple brute — they are never deficient
in sympathy. Yet they never "gush." Without calling
man a monster they can admire and feel with the creatures
which for his pleasure or his profit he puts to death. But

2o8 The Poets Beasts.

the majority seem unable to do this ; they have not the
strength for impartiaUty; they keep themselves perpen-
dicular with sprawling buttresses of prejudice.

To illustrate this. The wild boar is a noble beast ; he is
the counterpart of the noblest men of an earlier age; a
Charles Martel, Charles the Bold, Charles XII. — a grand
creature, who treats the odds against him as children treat
chronology, as something that he neither understands nor
cares to. He takes victory by the ears and drags her along
with him into battle. But in poetry none of the courage,
this perfection of heroism, is carried to the boar's credit ;
it all goes to that of the hunters or the boar-hounds. The
latter beset it, and do it to death with weapons, nets, and
stress of numbers. They are " heroic," but the boar is only
" savage."

The stag, again. He is stately and fleet of foot. But if
this is true of the quarry, what shall we say, the poets ask,
of the men and the stag-hounds that hunt it down ? The
hare and the otter are wonderfully cunning, but what fools
they are compared to the craft of human kind ! The fox,
too, what do its wiles avail when outraged man is on its
racks, thirsting to avenge the duckling and the chicken ?

In the poem on " The Chase " Somerville ranges over
half the animal kingdom; but, as far as British poets are con-
cerned, the beasts of sport are virtually only five — the wild
boar, deer, fox, hare, and otter. The wild-cat, as is proved
by old manorial charters, was once included in the list, but
it is not a poet's beast

Incidentally, of course, every quadruped that finds notice
in verse is referred to in its relation to man — that of the
hunted to the hunter — but, as objects of the chase, the
animals finally resolve themselves into the mystic five. The
chief of these is the boar.

Homer, describing the outrush of the brothers Ajax,
employs it as a simile —

Beasts of Chase. . 209

" Forth from their portals rushed th' intrepid pair.
Opposed ibeir breasts and stood themselres the war.
So two wild boars spring forioos from their den.
Roused with the cries of d(^ and Toke of men.
On every side the crackling trees they tear.
And root the shrubs, and lay the forest bare ;
They gnash their tusks, with fire their eyeballs roll.
Till some wide wound lets out their mighty souL"

Ovid, in his description of the beast, has the following
lines —

" Sanguine et igne micant ocnii, riget horrida cervix,
£t setae, densis similes hastilibus horrent,
Stantque velut vallam, velut alta hastilia setae.
Fervida cum rauco latos stridore per armos
Spuma fluiu"

In these two p)as?ages are contained the sum total of the
English poets' wild boar : Homer's simile and Ovid's
description have sufficed.

This animal, by the way, affords us a standard by which
to measure our own manhood with that of the "heroic,"
chivalrous, and historical days. "The destruction of a
wild boar,"' we read, "ranked in the middle ages among
the deeds of chivalry, and won for a warrior almost as much
renown as the slaying of an enemy in open lists." Think
of this, you jolly hog-hunters of India ! Regret, when you
next ride to pig, with a single spear in your hand, that you
did not Uve in the past, when, if you had gone after the
same beast in armour, javelined, and sworded, you might
have been a hero. Look at yoiu^ trophies of tushes and
lament Each pair of those in the days of the Earl Guy
might have made you a national hero for life and perhaps
even a Saint of Christendom thereafter !

In Windsor Forest the redoubtable Earl " did all to —
kill" a "grisly bore," and he Uves for ever a mirror of
heroism.

o

2IO The Poets Beasts.

" As also how hee slue
That cruell boare, whose tusks turned up whole fields of giaine
(And wrooting, raised hills upon the levell plaine,
Dig'd caverns in the earth, so darke and wondrous deepe
As that into whose mouth the desperate Roman leepe) ;
And, cutting off his head, a trophy thence to beare." — Drayton.

Are the Gordons ever likely to forget their illustrious clans-
man who slew " the boar of Huntley ? " or the Boswells
how their ancestor avenged the death of Farquhar II., King
o' Scots? —

" When beyond he lyeth languishing,
Deadly engored of a great wild bore."

In Chetwode once abode a boar, and the terror of it was
so great that the country people could not pass that way to
Rookwood ; and even travellers of quality "passed by on
the other side." Then Sir Ryalas, Lord of Chetwode,
thinking it great shame that he should be thus isolated
■from society by an " urchin -snouted boar," goes forth to
slay it, as if the beast were a Guillaume le Sanglier with a
mighty fanfaronade of castle trumpets.

" Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong —
Wind well thy horn, good hunter ;
Tlirashed down the trees as he ramped him along,
To Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.

Then they fought four hours in a long summer day —

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ;
Till the wild b lar fain would have got him away

From Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.

Then Sir Ryalas he drew his broadsword with miglil —

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ;
And he fairly cut the boar's head olT quite,

For he was a jovial liunter." ^

1 " Within a mile of Chetwode Manor-House there existed a large
mound, surrounded by a ditch, and bearing the name of 'the Buai's
Pond.' It had long been overgrown with gorsc and brushwood, when,
about the year iSlo, the tenant to whose farm it belonged, wishing to

Beasts of Chase. 2 1 1

Another illustration of the prodigious importance attached
to such a feat is afforded by the legend of Boarstall, the
seat of the Aubreys. " It is situated within the limits of
the ancient forest of Bernwood, which was very extensive
and thickly wooded. This forest, in the neighbourhood
of Brill, where Edward the Confessor had a palace, was
infested with a ferocious wild boar, which had not only
become a terror to the rustics, but a great annoyance
to the royal hunting expeditions. At length one Nigel,
a huntsman, dug a pit in a certain spot which he had
observed the boar to frequent, and, placing a sow in the pit,
covered it with brushwood. The boar came after the sow,
and, falling into the pit, was easily killed by Nigel, who
carried its head on his sword to the king, who was then
residing at Brill." For this the king knighted him "and
amply rewarded him 1 "

All this goes to prove the manly courage of the men
who killed boars ; yet the boar's courage is all bloodthirsty
ferocity. Adonis will not stay with his celestial charmer ;
his thoughts are all given to the boar-hunt he has on hand —

*' But for she saw him bent to cruell play,
To hunt the salvage beast in forest WT-de.
Dreadful! of danger that mote him betyde,
She oft and oft advized to refraine
From chase of greater beastes, whose brutish pryde
Mote breede him scath unwares."

So, too, the lovely Thyamis wedded to a " loose, unruly
swain,"

bring it into cultivation, began to fiil up the ditch by levelling the
mound. Having lowered the latter about four feet he came on the
skeleton of an enormous boar lying flat on its side and at full length.
Probably this was the very spot where it had been killed, the earth
around having been heaped over it so as to form the ditch and mound.
The space formerly thus occupied can still be traced. It extends about
thirty feet in length and eighteen in width, and the field containing it
is yet called 'the Boar's Head Field.' " — Book of Days.

2 r 2 The Poets Beasts.

"Who had more joy to range the forest wyde,
And chase the salvage boar with busie payne,
Than serve his lady's love ; "

goes out loveless into the wilderness.

Boar-hunting had therefore — at least so it would appear —
momentous consequences in the days of chivalry; now-a-days
it is a mere pastime with Englishmen ; they call it " stick-
ing pigs." None of them expects knighthood for the per-
formance, nor does the pig-sticker expect his wife to go
forth mad during his absence. Of course it may be said
that boars are not what they were " in the good old days,"
and there the poets have the best of it — for their boars are
perfect hurricanes. But I protest against their handling of
them. The valour of the gallant brute was worth a passing
compliment.

" Hero-like, who on their crest still wore
A lion, panther, leopard, or a boar."

Now the three first animals mentioned in Lovelace's lines
are, according to the traditions of the College of Arms, one
and the same beast. Virtually, therefore, the boar is the
only animal except the lion that was considered worthy by
ancient chivalry to be worn as a badge.

" Tiisky boars '
Razed out of all thy woods, as trophies hung,
Grin high-emblazoned on thy children's shields."

So Planche', in his " Pursuivant of Arms," notes how in
Glover's Roll (temp. Henry III.) only three beasts were
then borne upon English coats-of-arms, and that one of
them was the boar. It shared with the lion and the leopard
the honourable distinction of emblazonment upon shields.
Mrs. Bury Palliscr also, in her most fascinating work on

^ Leydi-n's "Albania."

Beasts of Cfiase. 2 1 3

*• Historic Devices," bears ample testimony to the heraldic
dignity of the beast

The device of a boar was used by Richard III. before he
was a king, and when Duke of Gloucester he had a pur-
suivant named Blanc Sanglier. His cognisance was a rose
supported on the dexter side by a bull, a badge of the house
of Clare, and on the sinister by a boar, which boar he had
found among the badges of the house of York. " The
latter he selected for his own personal device, and it was
that by which he was generally designated, as we know by
the doggrel which is said to have caused its composer to be
shortened by the head and four quarters " —

" The Ratte, the Cat, and LotcII onr do^e.
Rule all England under the Ho^e,"

meaning by the hog, " the dreadful wild boar " which was
the king's crest But Collingboume was one of the most
seditious of the disaffected, and held correspondence with
Richard and deserved his fate.

" When I meant the king by name of hog,
I only alluded to his badge the boar."

Queen Margaret calls Richard a "rooting hog," and
Hastings says —

" To fly the boar before the boar parsnes
Were to incense the boar to follow us.
And make pursuit when he did mean no chase.
Go, bid thy master rise and come to me.
And we will both tc^ether to the tower,
WTiere, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly."

Again, Hastings to Stanley —

" Come on, come on, where is your boarspear man?
Fear you the boar and go so unprovided ? "

Nor was the bristled boar wantin:? at the battle of Bos-

2 14 ^/^"^ Poets Beasts.

worth ; for, gorgeously attired in splendid armour, and
rendered still more conspicuous by the royal diadem which
surmounted his helmet, Richard rode upon a milk-white
charger superbly caparisoned and attended by his body-
guards, displaying the banner of England and innumerable
pennons glittering with the silver boar. After his death,
Richard's body was placed across his war steed "like a
hogue calf," the head and arms hanging on one side of
the horse and the legs on the other side, and was thus
disposed behind his pursuivant-at-arms, Blanc Sanglier, he
wearing the silver boar upon his coat, and carried back
to Leicester in trophy of the morning's victory.

The poetical boar is a very fine presentment of the
noble brute in Nature. It is " the mighty boar," " bristled,"
" tusked," and foaming. " Fierce as forest boar " is a con-
stantly recurring simile in verse, and its " headlong rush "
through the brake, a familiar figure. But Spenser makes
the quaint error of supposing that boars eat camels —

"He shortly met the tiger and the boar,
Which with the simple camel raged sore
In bitter words, seeking to take occasion
Upon his fleshy corpse to make invasion."

And so err all those poets who make it carnivorous.
" Throw me to the wild boar " to be devoured is as absurd
in Heber as '* the boars that roar through the woods " of
Ossian.

Perhaps the good bishop had in his mind that episode
in the Seven Champions of Christendom, where St. James
of Spain goes a-hunting with Neburazadan, the King of
Jerusalem, and by the slaying of a great man-eating boar
wins the Hebrew's daughter. He found it, we are told,
lying in its mossy den, gnawing the mangled joints of
some passenger whom it had murdered as he travelled
through the forest. It was of wonderful length and size,

Beasts of Chase. 2 1 5

and so terrible to behold, that at first sight it almost
daunted the courage of the Spanish knight; for its mon-
strous head seemed ugly and deformed, its eyes sparkled
like a fiery furnace, its tusks, more sharp than spikes of steel,
and from its nostrils fumed such a violent breath, that it
seemed like a tempestuous whirlwind ; his bristles were
harder than seven times solid brass, and his tail more
loathsome than a wreath of snakes. A gruesome beast,
indeed ! — and standing in no need of the wings which
^lian gives to the Flying Hog of Clazomenae to make it
worthy the steel of a knight of Christendom.

But Pope need not have described the wild boar " in
silence creeping " upon a sleeping youth, and goring him
" with unrelenting tooth." It is far too " generous," in the
poets' sense, to attack a sleeping adversary. Why, too,
should Scott go out of his way to call it " the felon boar ? "
The abuse is not more just than that poet's frequent
plagiarisms are creditable.

" No man who has not been an eyewitness of the
desperate courage of the wild hog would believe in his utter
recklessness of life, or in the fierceness that will make him
run up the hunter's spear, which has passed through his
vitals, until he buries his tusk in the body of the horse or his
rider." " No animal exceeds him in ferocity ; he will boldly
charge the largest elephant who may have disturbed him
without further provocation." "There is hardly a more
dangerous brute to cope with. He will fight to the last,
and then die game."

These are quotations from the foremost of Indian sports-
men and naturalists — Elliot, Shakespeare, Kinloch, Jerdon,
and others of equally established reputation.

They are of the fighting caste — Gadites — men of war from
their youth up. If they meet each other there is a duel at
once ; any other beast, and a fight immediately commences.
They have absolutely no idea of giving way, or yielding the

2i6 The Poets Beasts.

path. It is no boxing-gloves with them, always the cestus.
They strike the shield always with the bare lance-point.
Their challenge is "to the death." So the poets always
have them in conflict.

" As wilde bores gan they togeder smite,
That frothen white as fome for anger wood."

" As when two bores with rankling malice met,
Their gory sides fresh-bleeding fiercely fret,-
Till breathless both themselves aside retire,
Where foaming wrath their cruel tusks they whet,
And trample the earth the whiles they may respire,
Then back to fight again."

Chaucer and Spenser are especially fond of the wild boar
simile, and employ it with great effect for their furious
knights. " Hurtling round, advantage for to take,"
"chafering and foaming," and "grinte with his teeth so
was he wroth." Later poets take their cues of course from
the elder. Thomson has " the brindled boar grins fell
destruction ; " Gray, " the tusky boar on surrounding foes
advanced." Darwin gives a sketch from Nature —

" Contending boars, with tusk enamelled, strike
And guard with shoulder shield the blow oblique,
While female bands attend in mute surprise.
And view the victor with admiring eyes."

But the wild hog, if I am not mistaken, is monogamous.
Gay, too, has a sketch of combatant boars which reads — from
the introduction of " Westphalia " and the ** mire " — as a
mock-heroic.

" So when two boars in wild Ytene bred,
Or on Westphalia's fat'ning chestnuts fed.
Gnash their sharp tusks, and, roused with equal fire.
Dispute the reign of some luxurious mire ;
In the black flood they wallow o'er and o'er,
Till their armed jaws distil with foam and gore."

^ Beasts of Chase. 2 1 7

Byron has an admirable line, " the lion and his tusky
rebels," for though the two animals are not found together
— except so infrequently that the error is not justified — the
"rebel" is one of the wild boar's most notable characters.
The tiger is his natural Raja, but he revolts at the first
menace of oppression. The jungle path is his as much as
the tiger's, he says, and if they meet, the pig as often as not
joins issue as to the right of way. " The native Shikarries
affirm that the wild boar will quench his thirst at the river
between two tigers, and I (Shakespeare) believe this to be
strictly the truth. The tiger and the boar have been heard
fighting in the jungle at night, and both have been found
dead alongside of one another in the morning." "Though
the wild hog often becomes the tiger's prey, it sometimes
falls a victim to the successful resistance of its intended
victim. I (Elliot) once found a full-grown tiger nearly
killed by the rip of a boar's tusk, and two similar instances
were related to me by a gentleman who had witnessed them,
one of a tiger, the other of a panther."

Once upon a time the boar was lord of British woodlands,
and, as Thomson says —

" The sad barbarian, roving, mixed
With beasts of prey, or for his acorn meal
Fought the fierce tusky boar."

As a beast of chase it was extant in England up to the
Stuarts' time.

According to Bell, "about the year 940 the laws of Hoel
Dha direct that it shall be lawful for the chief of his hunts-
men to chase the boar of the woods from the 5th of the
Ides of November (9th) until the Calends of December
(ist)." In the next century, Bell states that "the numbers
had perhaps begun to diminish, since a forest law of
William I., established in 1087, ordained that any who were
found guilty of killing the stag, the roebuck, or the wild

2i8 The Poets Beasts.

boar, should have the eyes put out, and sometimes the
penalty appears to have been a painful death. It appears,"
continues Bell, " that Charles I. turned out some wild swine
in the New Forest for the purpose of restoring the breed to
that royal hunting-ground, but they were all of them de-
stroyed during the civil war. A similar attempt was made
in Bere Wood in Dorsetshire, but one of the boars having
injured a valuable horse belonging to the wealthy Nimrod
who exhibited this specimen of sporting epicurism, he
caused them to be destroyed."

The wild boar probably became extinct in Britain before
the reign of Charles I. ; while in Ireland it was abundant as
late as the seventeenth century.

Spenser's touches and descriptions are from the life, no
doubt. He must have seen Leicester, Essex, Sidney,
Raleigh, and others go out hunting, perhaps went with
them, and on his estate (some 3000 acres, with a rental of
;^i7) in Ireland must have been familiar enough with the
wild boar as a tenant.

Somerville, therefore, wrote too late to speak of the animal
— " churning his foam, and on his back erect his pointed
bristles rising" — except from hearsay, and "young Red-
mond" of Rokeby, that "gallant boy in hunter's green"
who

" Loved to wake the felon boar
In his dark lair on Greta's shore,"

lived barely in time to save Sir Walter from an anachronism.
The genius of Shakespeare presents the fierce beast to the
life, " with frothy mouth bepainted all with red, like milk
and blood being mingled both together." The " blunt "
boar he calls it, "the foul, grim, urchin-snouted boar, whose
downward eyes still looketh for a grave." But Venus'
description is matchless. It hns all the majesty of Job's
poem on Ixviathan.

Beasts of Chase. 2 1 9

" His tushes, never sheathed, he whetteth still.
Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.
On his bow-back he hath a battle set
Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes ;
His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret ;
His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes ;
Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way.
And whom he strikes his cruel tushes slay.
His brawny sides, with hairy bristles armed.
Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter ;
His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed ;
Being ireful, on the lion he will venture ;
The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes." .

Keats, too, well imagines the scene " when snouted wild
boars rooting the tender corn " anger the huntsmen ; for it is
a shrewd beast at furrowing up a field. " The rage of a wild
boar is able to spoil more than one wood," says Herbert.

But Somerville, in his sketch of the " Arabian " chasing
the animal, is somewhat " out of the hunt : "

'* The grisly boar is singled from his herd
As large as that in Erimanthean woods
A match for Hercules. Round him they fly
In circles wide, and each in passing sends
His feathered death into his brawny sides ;
But perilous the attempt, for if the steed
Haply too near approach, or the loose earth
His footing fail, the watchful angry beast
Th' advantage spies, and, at one sidelong glance,
Rips up his groin.

Wounded, he rears aloft.
And, plunging, from his back the rider hurls
Precipitant ; then, bleeding, spurns the ground,
And drags his reeking entrails o'er the plain.
Meanwhile the surly monster hurls along.
But with unequal speed, for still they wound,
Swift wheeling in the spacious ring. A wood
Of darts upon his back he bears : adown
Pours many a gaping font ; and now, at last.
Staggering he falls, in blood and foam expires."

2 20 TJlq Pods Beasts.

The Greeks and Romans, when they hunted him —
" Adonis' bane " — took extraordinary precautions for their
personal safety. They went in large parties, keeping
together, and were attended by the largest and fiercest
hounds — Locrian, Spartan, or Cretan. Nets were carried
with them to throw over the brute, and the javelins used
were of a specially murderous description.

In metaphor the boar is singularly rare. Burns has a
"wild Scandinavian boar" that issued forth "to wanton in
carnage and wallow in gore," but, changing the beast in the
next line into the plural, " brave Caledonia in vain they
assailed, as Largs well can \vitness and Loncartie tell." In
Gray's " Bard" we find the English king "the bristled boar
that in infant gore wallows beneath the thorny shade ; " and
Dryden has a semi-domesticated hog as the type of the
Baptist —

" Tlie bristled baptist boar, impure as he,
But whitened with the form of sanctity,
With fat poUutions filled the sacred place,
And mountains levelled in his furious race ;
•So first rebellion founded was in grace.
But since the mighty ravage which he made
In German forests had his guilt betrayed,
With broken tusks, and with a borrowed name,
lie shunned the veuLjcance and concealed the shame."

Yet in folk-lore and myth it is a constantly recurring and a
very formidable figure.

It is sacred to Scandinavian Thor, and drags the car
of Freyya, its bristles golden, its head refulgent. Vishnu
appears as the tusked one, the irresistible piercer ; and the
thunderbolts, the fathers of the winds, are red boars,
horned, bristled, and fierce.

Once upon a time the Trinity of the Hindoos disputed
for supremacy. Brahma, seated on his lotus, could sec
nothing else in the universe, and so said to himself, " I ani

Beasts of Chase. 2 2 1

the beginning of all." But he descended the stalk and came
upon Vishnu asleep. " Who are you?" he asked. " I am
the beginning of all things," was the reply. Then Brahma
raised his arm to strike. But on a sudden Shiva stood
before them. " What are you quarrelling about ? Ani not
I, Shiva, the first-born ? Which of you can see either the
crown of my head or the soles of my feet ? " Brahma stood
aghast ; but Vishnu without a word plunged down, and,
ripping up the universe, pierced below the infernal regions,
and lo ! the feet of Shiva. So the two others did obeisance
to him, the sharp-tusked one.

It was one of the labours of Hercu'.es to kill a boar.
Meleager's hunt —

" A great boar, that no man could withstand,
And many a woe he wrought upon the land " —

gathered all the heroes of Greece together, and for the
trophy of the brute's hide cities went to war. Indras, in
that he slew the boar that guarded the Demons' treasure,
proudly wore its tusks. Mars protected it as the warrior
among the beasts : it was once the badge of Rome.

Even the Christians' boar's head, " crested with bays and
rosemary," is said to have honorific origin, as a symbol
of gloomy winter slain at the solstice. " Aper significat
Diabolum," quoth Du Cange.

He is always obtrusive, assailing. Gods and heroes are
perpetually after him. There is no guardian of a treasure
like him, except perhaps the griffin. It is no use tr}-ing to
pipe ht'fn to bed. He will see the whole of Argus asleep
and still be awake. He would have rooted Medea out of the
garden in no time and tusked Mercury if he had not been
too nimble with those heels of his. You never meet with
him, in myth, in an amiable mood. He is either red, the
colour of fury, or black, the hue of mischief, malignity, and
diabolism. He hurtles about bristling and demoniacal.

222 The Poets Beasts.

With the poets the deer is a universal favourite. " The
dew-clawed stag" (Keats), "a stag of ten, bearing his
branches sturdily " (Scott), always makes a stanza go
statelily. Even Ossian's tiresome " dun sons of the bound-
ing hind, the dark-brown deer of Cromla," relieve the
dreary monotony of the Phairson's native heath. Every
poet likes to talk about them —

" The wild and frightful herds
That, hearing no noise but that of chattering birds,
Feed fairly on the lawns : both sorts of seasoned deer,
Here walk the stately Red, the freckled Fallow there
The Bucks and lusty Stags amongst the Rascals strewed,
As sometime gallant spirits among the multitude."

And they all agree in paying tribute to its courage — " Wlien
at bay a desperate foe."

They exult in its escape. Thus even Somerville — ■

" Heaven taught, the roebuck swift
Loiters at ease before the driving pack,
And mocks their vain pursuit. Nor far he flies,
But checks his ardour, till the streaming scent
That freshens on the blade provokes their rage.
Urged to their speed, his weak, deluded foes
Soon flag fatigued ; strained to excess, each nerve,
Each slackened sinew fails : they pant, they foam.
Then o'er the lawn he bounds, o'er the high hills
Stretches secure, and leaves the scattered crowd
To puzzle in the distant vale below."

So, too, Scott seems glad when t'lie " antlered monarch
of the glen" baulks those dogs "of black St. Hubert's
breed," and, dashing down "into the Trosach's wildest
nook," is soon " lost to hound and hunter's ken," and from
its place of refuge

" Hears the baffled dogs in vain
Rave through the hollow jiass amain,
Ciiiding the rocks that yelled again."

Beasts of C/iase. 223

When it dies the poets weep with it If it is a fawn no
Lesbia sheds such tears over her sparrow. Read, for instance,
Marvell's dainty poem. But it is a pity that he, so true,
as a rule, to Nature, should err (with many other poets) in
making fawns " white."

" I have a garden of my own.
And all the spring-time of the year
It only loved to be there.
Among the bed of lillies I
Have sought it oft where it should lye.
But could not, till itself should rise,
Find it, although before mine eyes ;
For in the flaxen iillies' shade
It like a bunch of iillies laid.
Upon the roses it would feed
Until its lips e'en seemed to bleed.
And then to me 'twould boldly trip
And print those roses on my lip."

But the wanton troopers riding by shot the fawn, and it
died —

" Ungentle men ! they cannot thrive
WTao killed thee. Thou ne'er didst alive
Them any harm : a'as ! nor could
Thy death yet do them any good.

And nothing may we use in vain ;
Even beasts must be with justice slain;
Eise men are made their deodands."

Nor, when full-grown and antlered, does sympathy cease.
Thus in Phineas Fletcher's poem —

'•' Look as a stagge pierced with a fatal blow,
As by a wood he walks securely feeding —
In coverts thick conceals his deadly blow.
And feeling death swim in his endless bleeding,

His heavy head his fainting strength exceeding

Bids woods adieu, so sinks into his grave ;

Green brakes and primrose sweet his seemly herse embrave.

In the actual chase itself the poets' sympathies are never

2 24 ^-^^^ Poets Beasts.

far behind the deer. Drayton is a poet who is seldom read,
but as he Hved in the days when stags w^ere running wild in
England he is well worth the hearing — quite apart from the
rare robustness of his verse —

" The best of chase, the tall and lusty Red,
The stag for goodly shape and statelinesse of head,
Is fitt'st to hunt at force."

Such is the beast he starts with. He shows us the
huntsman in " the thicke," tracking it by its slot or by his
wood-craft, and then on a sudden the stag, startled by the
" bellowing hounds," rushes out —

" He through the brakes dotli drive,
As though up by the roots the bushes he would rive."

The hounds fall to, the horns are blown, and the quarry's
afoot —

" The lusty stag his high palmed head upbears,

His body showing state, with unbent knees upright,
Expressing (from all beasts) his courage in his fliglit."

But the pack come up to him, and then he exerts his
utmost speed. The baying of the hounds dies away, and
the stag, to baffle further pursuit, ''doth beat the brooks
and ponds," and " makes among the herds and flocks of
shag-wooUed sheep." But wherever he goes he finds him-
self shunned or opposed. In the fields the ploughman
goes after him with his goad, " while his team he letteth
stand." In the pasture the shepherd chases him, "and to
his dog doth halow." And all tliis time tlic hounds come
creeping up again, while the stag has wearied itself in futile
stratagem. " Through toylc bereaved of strength, his long
and sinewy legs are fayling him at length." A village comes
in his way; and he flies for safety to the abodes of men ;
but the people turn out and drive him forth. There are the
hounds, full in sight ; so there is nothing for it but to stand
at bav. " Some bank or quick set finds, to which his haunch

Beasts of Chase. 225

opposed, he turns upon his foes," and as the "churlish-
throated" hounds attack him "dealeth deadly blows with
his sharp pointed head." Then the huntsmen come up,
and one of them kills the stag. And so

" Opprest by force,
He who the mourner is to his own dying corse
Upon the ruthless earth his precious tear lets fall."

Thomson's sententious caricature of this passage in his
" Autumn " is well worth noting, but as the poet only knew
of fallow deer he makes the stag " spotted " in the face and
" chequered " in the sides. But in all matters of fact his
animal is simply Somerville's. It starts off with all its faith
in its own speed, '• bursts through the thickets," and goes
away. But —

" Slow of sure, adhesive to the track.
Hot-steaming up behind him come again
The inhuman rout. "

And then " oft to full-descending flood he turns," and '• oft
seeks the herd." But his "once so vivid ner\-es" begin to
fail, and " he stands at bay," " putting his last weak refuge
in despair '" —

" The bij round tears run down his dappled face;
He groans in anguish while the growling pack,
Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting cheek
And mark his beauteous checkered sides with gore."

In metaphor also the deer symbol is often used as of a
creature that may lay claim to superior intelligence and
special protection. Thus in Quarles —

'• Great God of hearts, the world's sole sov'raign Ranger,
Preserve Thy deer, and let my soul be biest
la Thy safe forrest when I seek for rest :
Then let the hell-hounds roar, I fear no ill,
Rouse me they may, but Iiave no power to ki.I."

P

2 26 The Poets' Beasts.

The hare is certainly one of the best hunted of animals,
and Swift puts its perpetual pursuit delightfully into rhyme — •

" A hare had long escaped pursuing hounds,
By often shifting into distant grounds,
Till finding artifices vain.
To save his life he leaped into the main ;
But there, alas, he could no safety find,
A pack of dogfish had him in the wind.
He scours away ; and, to avoid the foe,
Descends for shelter to the shades below.
There Cerberus lay watching in his den,
He had not seen a hare the Lord knows when.
Out bounced the mastiff with the triple head,
Away the hare with triple swiftness fled.
Hunted from earth and sea and hell, he flies
(Fear lent him wings) for safety to the skies :
Sirius, the fiercest of the heavenly pack,
Failed but an inch to seize him by the back ! "

Over this universal huntedness of the hare, the poets
maintain a very even quarrel. Some applaud the sport,
others condemn it. While Gay goes into raptures over
coursing, Somerville calls it a " mean, murderous " pastime,
and gravely invokes the retributive hand of Heaven upon
the " vile crew " who follow it—

" Nor the tim'rous hare
O'ermatched destroy, but leave that vile off"ence
To the mean muru'rous coursing crew, intent
On blood and spoil. O blast their hopes, just Heaven !
And all their painful drudgeries repay
With disappointment and severe remorse."

Not that Somerville was not really more cruel than Gay
(who was merely thoughtless), but he thought coursing
hares was wasting them. He insistctl on their being hunted
with beagles. Drayton has a straightforward description
of coursing without effusion of sentiment which Dryden
seems to borrow (for the occurrence can hardly be called a
familiar one) —

Beasts of Chase. 227

" So have I seen some fearful hare maintain,
A course, till tired before the dog she lay,
Who stretched behind her pants upon the plain,
Past power to kill, as she to get away."

On the other side are ranged all the rural poets : Hurdis,
Clare, Grahame, Bloomfield, Burns, and the rest ; and
Cowper, Thomson, and Wordsworth weigh in their sym-
pathies with the gentler majority —

" Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare.
O'er a weak, harmless, flying creature " —

and delight with Grahame in her escape either by her fleet-
ness of foot, when —

" She scorns
Thy utmost speed, and from the thistly lea
Espies secure thy puzzled fruitless searcli ; "

or by her cunning, when —

" With step reversed
She forms the doubling maze, then ere the morn
Peeps ilirough the clouds, leaps to her close recess ; "

or by some accident, as when, according to Grahame, —

("As erst befell in Clyde's fair dale)
She gain some floating rick ; there close she squats.
Now in the middle current shot along
In swift career, now near the eddying side,
Whirling amazed.

. , . Onward meanwhile she sails.
Till through the broadened vale, tlie stream expands
In gentle curve and gliding past the bank
Restores her, fearful, to the fields again."

Nor are coursing, hunting, and poaching the whole
of the hare's grievances, for, as Clare laments, there still
remains the gun.

2 28 The Poets Beasts.

" Poor pussy through the stubble flie?,
In vain, o'erpowering foes to shun,
The lurking spaniel points the prize.
And pussy's harmless race is run."

Sometimes, however, the wound is not mortal, and several
poets refer with horror to the poor hare's maimed existence.
Notable among the humane protests against an unintentional
cruelty is Burns — ■

" Go live, poor wanderer of the wood and field,

The bitter little that of life remains ;

No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains
To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yield.
Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest.

No more of rest, but now thy dying bed !

The sheltering rushes whistling o'er thy head,
The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest.
Oft as by winding Frith, I musing wait

The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn,

I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn,
And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless fate."

It is looked upon as the most melancholy, limping,
trembling creature imaginable — intended, apparently, by
Nature for the exercise of beagles, and given an extra-
ordinary degree of craft in order to amuse greyhounds.
Some poets strangely pity it and, considering it already
sufificiendy afflicted by natural timidity and general help-
lessness, think hunting it is a shame. Their argument is
a singular one. " See how frightened the poor thing looks,
don't frighten it," and '• See how fast the unhappy wretch
runs away, don't run after it." " Poor is the triumph o'er
the timid hare," "o'er a weak, harmless, flying creature" —
such is the view taken of the sport by the minority, their
expressions of regret being often marked by true pathos, as
thus, in the " Deserted Village " —

Beasts of Chase. 229

" And, as an hare whom hountis and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,
I still had hopes, my long vexations past,
Here to return, and die at home at last."

And what can be finer than the distracted Paphian's descrip-
tion of the hunted hare ?

" His grief may be compared well
To one sore-sick, that hears the passing bell.
Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
Turn and return, indenting with the way ;
Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch,
Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay :
For misery is trodden on by many,
And being low, never relieved by any."

The rest, strangely enough for poets perhaps, seem to
accept the fitness of the hare to be hunted as a matter of
course, its suitableness for "the chase" a provision of
Nature. " If thou needs will hunt," says Venus, " be ruled
by me, uncouple at the timorous, flying hare."

Pope, Gay, Rowe, Mallet, Drayton, and Somerville are
instances in point. Thus the author of " Polyolbion " —

" The man whose vacant mind prepares him for the sport
The Finder sendeth forth to seek out nimble Wat
\Vhich crosseth in the field each furlong, every flat,
Till he this pretty beast upon the Forme hath found.
Then, viewing for the course which is the fairest ground,
The greyhounds forth are brought, for coursing then in case.
And choicely in the slip, one leading forth a brace.
The finder puts her up and gives her courser's law ;
Then whilst the eager dogs upon the start do draw
She riseth from her seat, as though on earth she flew,
Forced by some yelping curre to give the greyhounds view,
Which are at length let slip, when leaping out they goe.
As in respect of them the swiftest wind were slow,
When each man runs his horse, with fixed eyes, and notes
Which dog first turnes the hare, which first the other coats,
Till oft for want of breath to fall to ground they make her,
Ti.e greyhounds both so spent that they want breath to take her."

230 TJie Poets Beasts.

Gay was not much of a sportsman, as he himself confesses,
for, finding himself committed to the subject of rural sports,
he feels that he cannot do less than, at any rate, refer, in
passing, to hunting as one of them ; but he pulls himself up
with pleasing frankness and a " what on earth do I know
about it " sort of apology —

" The theme demands a more experienced lay.
Ye mighty hunters ! spare this weak essay."

Fishing was his weakness, with a fly by preference ; but still
he breaks out into an artless linnet-chirrup about "the
chase, a pleasing task." He confines his remarks to hare-
hunting, and thus abruptly finishes Wat off —

" New stratagems and doubling wiles she tries —
Now circling turns, and now at large she flies —
Till, spent at last, she pants and heaves for breath,
Then lays her down and waits devouring death ! "

Somerville is, however, par excellence " the poet of the
chase," and the second book of his poem, which is mainly
concerned with hare-hunting, cannot be passed over without
becoming notice.

Commencing with some general remarks about " that
instinct which, unerring, guides the brutal race, which
mimics reason's lore, and oft transcends," he passes on to
the special instinct " that directs the jealous hare to choose
her soft abode" and "oft quit her seat, lest some curious
eye should mark her haunt." He then describes the
changes which she makes, according to the season, "as
fancy prompts her or as food invites," and counsels the
huntsman to make a note of them, as otherwise his labours
will be wasted in looking for hares in places they arc not
likely to be, and " his impatient hounds, with disappoint-
ment vexed, each springing lark, babbling pursue, far scat-
tered o'er the fields."

Beasts of Chase. 231

So supposing it to be autumn, and the crops all gathered
off the ground, he starts out with his harriers —

" The gay pack
In the rough, bristly stubbles range unblamed :
No widow's tears o'erflow, no secret curse
Swells in the farmer's breast, which his pale lip?.
Trembling, conceal, by his fierce landlord awed :
But courteous now he levels every fence,
Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud,
Charmed with the rattling thunder of the field."

The pack is thrown off; after a while the old hound, with
his " authentic voice, avows the recent trail," and away they
go. But a double gives them a check, and then they steady
down, working the fallow in a business-like way, and all of
a sudden the huntsman himself comes upon puss in her
form, and away she bolts. The hounds are laid on, and
" as winds let loose, from the dark caverns of the blustering
god, they burst away."

" Now, my brave youths !
Stripped for the chase, give all your souls to joy ; "

for the hare "o'er plains remote now stretches far away."
The country side is up at the sound of the "clanging
horns;" the schoolboy, dreading no more the "afflictive
birch," runs out of school to see the hunt go by; the
travellers on the roads climb up to the highest spots ; the
shepherd and ploughman leave their work ; the peasants
"desert the unpeopled village."

" And wild crowds
Spread o'er the plains, by the sweet frenzy seized."

The hare doubles again, gets behind the pack, and " seems
to pursue the foe she flies."

" Let cavillers deny
That brutes have reason : Sure 'tis something more.
'Tis heaven directs, and stratagems inspires,
Beyond the short extent of human thought."

232 The Poets Beasts.

But the hounds find her out, and the pack sees her sitting
on an eminence, " Ustening with one ear erect," and won-
dering what to do next, "pondering and doubtful what new
course to take." At length she decides to trust to her
heels again, and is off —

" Once more, ye jovial train, your courage try."

She has gone uphill, which takes it out of the hounds, and
down the steep other side, which takes it out of the riders ;
but " smoking along the vale," the hunt has the hare full in
view, A flock of sheep baulks the hounds for a while, but
they take up the " streaming scent " again, and " the rusthng
stubbles bend beneath the driving storm " of harriers —

" Now the poor chase
Begins to flag, to her last shifts retiuced.
From brake to brake she flies, and visits all
Her well-known haunts, where once she ranged secure.
With love and plenty blessed. See ! there she goes ;
She reels along, and by her gait betrays
Her inward weakness. See how black she looks.
The sweat that clogs the obstructed pores scarce leaves
A languid scent.

And now in open view
See, see ! she flies ; each eager hound exerts
His utmost speed, and stretches ev'ry nerve.
How quick she turns, their gaping jaws eludes,
And yet a moment lives, till round enclosed
By all the greedy pack, with infant screams
She yields her breath, and there, reluctant, dies."

Alter this, of course, there is nothing to come but exulta-
tion and, for the houiuls, a taste of blood —

" The huntsman now a decji incision makes,

Sliakes out with liands impure, and dashes down,

Her reeking entrails and yet quivering heart.

These claim the pack, the bloody perquisite

Of all their toils. Stretched on the ground she lies

A mangled corse ; in her dim-glaring eyes

Cold death exults and stiffens every limb."

Beasts of Chase. 233

After all this, the poet — the poet, remember — says this —

*' Thus the poor hare,
A puny, dastard animal, diverts the youthful train. "

The fox — what an endless theme the mere name sug-
gests ! The stanchest pen might well despair of running
down a creature of such interminable breath, such im-
measurable craft.

A proverb says that all the cloth of Ghent, if it were
turned into parchment, would not hold the stories of vulpine
perfidy and sagacity, and though several scholars have
devoted themselves to the "epic exploit" of this little
animal, it seems to be far from exhausted. Yet its character
is by no means altogether despicable. Bacon and Machia-
velli say that for success a little of the fox is indispensable.
Pope has a line to the effect that " the lion's skin is length-
ened by the fox's tail " — a repetition of Lysander's apothegm,
" When the lion's skin does not suffice, add on that of the
fox."

Fortunately the poets' fox has but one aspect — the dis-
peopler of the poultry-yard. It eats chickens, therefore it
should be vindictively hunted to death.

In the East the fox is not a familiar beast It lives a
secluded life, and seldom haunts the abodes of men. The
jackal, therefore, is the original of those Oriental myths
which European fabulists have adapted, and wherein the
Western fox takes the place of its foreign congener. The
two animals have very much in common in habits and
character, though the fox is the superior in physical en-
durance, speed, and, perhaps, courage. I qualify my
opinion on the last point, because it may be that the
appearance of inferior pluck in the jackal may be really
only due to an extra measure of that astute discretion
which has made this animal the foremost figure in myth
and folk-lore.

2 34 The Poets Beasts.

If we accept the myth translations of Gubernatis we see
in the fox-jackal the ruddy interval between daylight and
darkness that shades off bye-and-bye into twilight-grey with
black night-points. It is the crepuscular phenomenon of
the heavens taking an animal form. But just as there are two
" auroras," the morning and the evening, so the fox-jackal has
in every twenty-four hours two chances at the sun-cock, both
of which it punctually fails to score, missing the solar fowl
with an invariable accuracy that ought by this time to have
had a depressing effect upon Reynard.

In fables the character of the fox is also dual. It is
generally the deceiver, but also on occasions the dupe.
Many animals on occasion fall a victim to it — in the single
romance of Reincke Fuchs it outwits and infamously ruins
the king-lion and pretty nearly all his courtier quadrupeds —
but every now and again the same animals flout it, make
fun of it, play tricks on it. Even cocks and kids have a
joke occasionally at its expense, which is very true to
nature, for we often see the professional sharper, the habitual
traitor, exposed and put to shame by simple honesty or
innocent mother wit. Betty with her mop routs the fencing-
master. But, above all, the fox is always beaten when he
tries to pass off his dishonesties upon other foxes ; the
rogues know each other too well to try to guess where the
pea is. So when the fox falls by accident into a dyer's vat,
and comes out a fine blue all over, he goes back to his
kindred and tells them that he is a peacock of the sky. But
they recognise his voice, and worry him till they pull all his
blue fur off, and he dies. Stories of the same purport are
abundant and familiar to all.

Yet there are plenty of occasions in which the fox behaves
very honourably to its friends, and appears in the light of a
benefactor, notably, in those tales where Reynard plays tlie
l)art of Puss-in-boots, such as Cosmo the Quickly Enriched,
and others. Moreover, the cock is sometimes found on the

B easts of Chase. 235

most friendly relations with the fox, who helps it against
their common enemy, the wolf.

It is almost needless to say that many poets condemn
fox-hunting, " which rural gentlemen call sport divine," and
perhaps superfluous to add that their reasons hardly justify
their condemnation. To them the sportsman appears some-
thing rather less than human —

" To the field he flies,
Leaps every fence but one, then falls and dies
Like a slain deer ; the tumbril brings him home,
Unmissed but by his dogs and by his groom.".

Especially does this class of poet detest to see women in
the field —

" Far be the spirit of the chase from them !
Uncomely courage, unbeseeming skill,
To spring the fence, to rein the prancing steed."

They hope "such horrid joy" will never "stain the bosom
of the British fair."

Nor when they come to discriminate between one kind of
sport and another is their argument such as to increase
respect for their opinion. When Venus implores her darling
not to hunt fierce beasts, but, if he iiiust hunt, to go after
the " timid hare," there is womanly reason enough in what
she says. But when Thomson begs " ye Britons " not to
hunt the poor " dappled " stag with the " chequered " sides,
nor the " flying hare," but, if they must hunt, to ride after
the fox, " the nightly robber of the fold," and, " pitiless,
pour their sportive fury " upon it, the fustian of his senti-
ment is neither masculine nor feminine.

This idea, that Englishmen hunt the fox because it
eats ducks, is quite a common one with the poets, and
justifies, to their minds, the chase of it. So that it seems
incredible that they could ever have seen a fox-hunter,
still less have heard him speak with admiration, pride, even

2^6

The Poets Beasts.

affection, of the staunch, pluck}', little beast that had given
him a fast run, and saved its brush after all. At any rate^
the idea that the animal is hunted because it kills chickens,
and, therefore, richly deserves the worst that can happen
to it, is utterly foreign to the character of "sport." The
fact that foxes are preserved in order to be hunted should
have corrected the theories of modern poets.

With the otter it fares exactly the same. Because the
beast catches fish which men wish to catch it is said to
merit the death which overtakes it when the hounds pursue
and tear it to pieces. They all seem to hate it, call it
"felon," "robber," and "prowler," and Somerville descants
at length in a very spirited but most deliberately cruel poem
on the pleasures of murdering an otter.

IX.

THE POETS' FLOCKS.

" Let me hear
The morning uproar of the fleecy flock,
What lime, vociferoas, their tardy march
With baying curs impatient their rude load
To the green pastures urge. Loud inquires
The bleating mother for her sundered lamb.
As loud complaining for his mother lost.
With quick infallible perception, she.
Amid the mingled outcry, hears distinct
His slender shrill entreaty, he remote.
With nicety that shames our grosser sense.
Her voice acknowledge?, and through the crowd
Winds his insulted way."

I THINK this Stanza is exquisite, and, as a sketch straight
from Nature, perfect But the poets are, as a rule, excep-
tionally happy in their treatment of sheep. Most of them
are bom shepherds. They seem to have an instinctive
sympathy with the woolly folk. «

" To him the whistling ploughman's artless tune.
The bleating flocks, the oxen's hollow crune.
Give more delight tiian the Italian song."

With what a nice accuracy they watch them ; how exactly
faithful they are to the real life of the flocks.

At morning the sheef>-fold pours out its fleecy tenants
" o'er the glade, and, first progressive in a stream, they seek
the middle field, but scattered by degrees, each to his

238 The Poets Beasts,

choice, soon whiten all the land " (Cowper). They are the
"restless," "ever-wandering" sheep —

" Russet lawn and fallows grey
Where the nibbling flocks do stray."

So the morning passes and the heat increases. "With
numerous bleat," they seek the trees " spreading a shady
boon," and "creep close by the grove, to hide from the
rigours of day." Here they lie ruminating ; smoothing the
knotted thorns by rubbing against them ; and then spread
again over the land till evening, and " in the soft sunshine
of departing day" the "cheerful lambs skip in the fields
and lead the wanton race." The twilight falls, and

" Every mother ruminates apart
Recumbent in the dusk, and every son
Sportful no longer, and his bleating hushed,
Reclines expectant of the dewy night
Fast by his chewing dam."

Or the shepherd convenes the flock, and they troop to the
fold " with hurried bell and dust-provoking feet."

Not that their days are altogether uneventful. Cowper's
" Needless Alarm " is an excellent case in point, when they
discuss the propriety of suicide in consequence of the over-
whelming horrors of the approaching fox-hunt, thinking all
the fiends are let loose upon themselves. The description
of the mutton-headed folk is delightful —

" Awhile they mused. Surveying every face,
Tiiou hadst supposed tliem of superior race ;
Tiieir periwigs of wool and fears combined,
Stamped on eacli countenance such marks of mind,
That sage they seemed as lawyers o'er a doubt,
Which, puzzling long, at last they puzzle out."

Sometimes, again, dogs worry the flock. Somerville pre-
scribes the proper punishment for any hound caught in
such an act —

The Poets Flocks. 239

" If at the crowding flock
He bay presumptuous, or with eager haste
Pursue them scattered o'er the verdant plain,
In the foul fact attached, to the strong ram
Tie fast the rash offender. See ! at first
His horned companion, fearful and amazed,
Shall drag him trembling o'er the rugged ground.
Then, with his load fatigued, shall turn his head,
And with his curled hard front incessant peal
The panting wretch, till, breathless and astunned,
Stretched on the turf he lie. Then spare not thou
The twining whip, but ply his bleeding sides.
Lash after lash, and with thy threat'ning voice
Harsh echoing from the hills, inculcate loud
His vile offence,"

Even if there is no malicious intent, the presence of a
strange dog is enough to bring excitement into their day.
"Look," says Hood,

" How a panicked flock will stare.
And huddle close and start and wheel about,
Watching the roaming mongrel here and there;"

and Grahame, how " the startled Iambs with bickering haste,
fly to their mother's side and gaze around."

Sportsmen are out and the guns alarm them, as so many
poets note. The passing train, the whirring covey, the
shouting plough-boy, are each of them episodes of puzzling
interest to the woolly ones. Yet they have their amuse-
ments also. Panic is not their only dissipation. They are
" sportive " — especially as lambs.

" I am so old, so old I can write a letter,
My birthday lessons are done ;
The lambs play always, they know no better.
They are only one times one."

The lost lamb affords a theme for countless excellent
passages. Who has not, in the course of a country walk,
come, as Clare does, upon the small wanderer on the wrono-

240 The Poets Beasts.

side of the hedge, looking in vain for the hole it got
through, " having no sense to find the same again," and
" calling for help " as it trots up and down in nervous
bewilderment, the mother meanwhile pacing backwards
and forwards on the other side, and replying with a grave,
troubled voice to the pitiful lamentations of her little one ?
Indeed, getting lost or thinking that it is lost, and straight-
way abandoning itself to an excessive pity for itself, is
almost the normal condition of the lamb.

" Soon lost and soon inquiring for its dam,
Wlio bleats and mumbles at bis slender call."

As the " playful," " dancing " lamb, it is one of the
insignia of the poets' Spring, its voice a " vernal note " like
the linnet's, its presence contemporary with, and a co-
efficient of, the budding flowers and sprouting leaves and
birds' nests with their eggs. Spring personified comes with
" whinny braes all garlanded with gold " (Grahame), and
with lambkins sporting round her, " full of May." Its asso-
ciation with the linnet is often very prettily worked in, as
where Crabbe has "browsing by the linnet's bed," and
Grahame, the lamb chasing his twin round and round " the
linnet's bush." In Phineas Fletcher's eclogue one of the
features of the vernal season is the lamb ; " they forget
their food to mind their sweeter play," and so too in
Bloomfield's " Spring " this charming adjunct of the young
year finds, with characteristic aflfection for Nature, con-
spicuous description. The passage commencing —

" A few begin a short but vigorous race,
And indolence astonished soon flies the place.
Thus challenged fortli, see thitiier, one by o)ie,
From every side assembling playmates run,"

makes a delightful vignette.

But of all the metaphors and similes drawn from this
inexhaustible source, I would give the palm to Lovelace's—

The Poets' Flocks. 241

" Lost hearts, like Iambs drove from their fields by fears, .
May back return by chance, bat not by tears. "

Then comes Summer, when the flies are abroad, and the
shearers a-field — " what time the new-shorn flock stand here
and there, with huddled head, impatient of the fly." No
one who knows the midsummer pastures can have missed
noticing how the restless sheep, worried by insects, can
hardly venture to stand still to eat a mouthful, but nibble
and walk at the same time, and pitied the poor wretches
for their uncomfortable feeding ; or how, in despair, they
congregate, and, hiding their faces under each other, try to
baulk the indefatigable "bot." How carefully they keep
their noses down in the grass, even though too fidgety to
eat, and then suddenly, when one gives the alarm, how the
whole company decamps from one side of the fie'.d to the
other. Not that the shepherd can do much for them ; as
a rule, he merely leans on the gate, and extends a passive
sympathy ; so that Quarles' " Emblem," taken from this
pastoral incident, would *em somewhat wide of the fact —

" Look how the sheep, whose rambling steps do stray
From the safe keeping of the shepherd's eye,
Eftsoon becomes the unprotected prey

Of the winged squadron of beleaguering fly. "

The shearing of the sheep, once an acknowledged rural
festival, gives poetry many a charming passage — as " the
gambols and wild freaks at shearing-time," when, after the
creatures, soused one by one into the pool, had been
hurdled up, and the shearer got him ready for his work, the
"queen" of the day, with her chosen "shepherd-king,"
came, with bravery of summer flowers, and bright clothes
and rustic music, upon the scene, and, the short day's work
over, headed the long evening's revels —

" The chief, in gracious dignity enthroned,
Shines o'er the rest, the pastoral queen, and lays

Q

242 The Poets Beasts.

%

Her smiles, sweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king,
While the glad circle round them yield their souls
To festive mirth and wit that knows no gall."

Thomson's description of the scene, " while, ever and
anon, to his shorn peers a ram goes bleating " (Keats), is
excellent —

** In one diffusive band
They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog
Compelled, to where the mazy, running brook
Forms a deep pool : this bank, abrupt and high,
And that fair-spreading in a pebbled shore,
Urged to the giddy brink, much is the toil.
The clamour much of men and boys and dogs,
Ere the soft, fearful people to the flood
Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain,
On some impatient seizing, hurls them in :
Emboldened then, nor hesitating more.
Fast, fast, they plunge amid the flashing wave.
And, panting, labour to the farthest shore.
Repeated this, till deep the well-washed fleece
Has drunk the flood, and frorti his lively haunt
The trout is banished by the sordid stream;
Heavy and dripping, to the breezy brow
Slow move the harmless race ; where, as they spread
Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray,
Inly disturbed, and wondering what this wild
Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints
The country fill ; and, tost from rock to rock.
Incessant bleatings run around the hills.
At last, of snowy white, the gathered flocks
Are in the wattled pen innumerous pressed,
Head above head : and, ranged in lusty rows.
The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears."

Then stormy Autumn comes with its "huddling" flocks,
and

"The sheep before the pinching he.iven
To sheltered dale and down are driven
Where yet some faded herbage pines.
And yet a watery sunbeam shines.

Tlie Poets Flocks. 243

«

In weak despondency they eye

The withered sward and wintry sky.

The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold.

And wraps him closer from the cold ;

His dogs no merry circles wheel.

But, shivering, follow at his heel ;

A cowering glance they often cast.

As deeper moans the gathering blast" — Scott.

And so to Winter, with "the dun-discoloured flocks, unt ended
spread, cropping the wholesome root" — or, as Grahame
more prosaically puts it, '^on the turnip-field, in portions
due, staked off, the bleating flock their juicy meal, nibbling
partake" — or it may be with the same poor woolly folk
piteously neglected, like Milton's "hungry sheep that look up
and are not fed, but, swollen with wind and the rank mist
they draw, rot inwardly," or, as in Thomson —

" The bleating kind
Eye the bleak heavens, and next the glistening earth,
With looks of dumb, despair, then sad dispersed
Dig for the withered herb, through heaps of snow."

Fond as poets are of their sheep, they hardly justify their
excessive affection for them by the character which they
give the " woolly people." Their habit of following their
leader, " whether led to the downs or from the wave-worn
rock reluctant hurled " (Armstrong), brings down upon their
heads frequent contempt Slaves are as obedient "as
sheep," and stupid men are "like sheep that follow." As
flocks they are always " silly," " the tame, implicit team "
(Armstrong), as individuals they are meekly feeble. Says
Swift—

" Therefore the shefep, those foolish cattle.

Not fit for courage or for battle,

And being tolerable meat.

They're good for nothing but to eat. '"

"Specious and sage, the sovereign of the flock," the

244 '^^^^ Poets Beasts.

ram, " the flocke's father," finds but scanty reference ; the
truth being that this generous and bold-fronted beast mars
the symmetry of the poetical sheep-idea. His independent
bearing, his courage in misfortune, spoil the woolly-silky-
gentle picture. In the olden verse the rams that " fight for
the rule of the rich-fleeced flock," and " meet so fierce with
horned fronts," receive a robust and becoming sympathy,
which is in accordance with the splendid traditions of the
beast —

"As when two rams, stir'd with ambitious piide,
Fight for the rule of the rich-fleeced flocke,
Their horned fronts so fierce on either side
Doe meete, that, with the terror of the sliocke
Astonied, both stand sencelesse as a blocke,
ForgetfuU of the hanging victory :
So stood these twaine, unmoved as a rocke,
Both staring fiercely, .and holding idely
The broken reliques of their former cruelly."

The ewe, the "mumbling" ewe, has but little indivi-
duality. They call her " Goody Sheep," and, in Mother
Hubbard's delightful tale, the fox and wolf flout her when
she comes to complain to the ape — then ruler of the four-
footed — of the loss of her young. She is only the mother of
the lamb. Eagles stooping from their watch-towers and
" gathering large tribute from every vale," — wolves rushing
from the bushes upon the gamboling lambkins, — the butcher
levying his toll upon the flock, all relegate her to obscurity.
Take away her lamb and she vanishes into nonentity. Give
her another, and she reappears.

" Slic provident
Her milky treasures lor Ills life reserves,
Butting intruders wiili a frown away.
At length he finds her, and with bended knee^,
Emblem of innocence and filial giace
His plenteous meal receives, and bleats no more."

In Nature the mother and her young one are ever a delight-

The Poets Flocks. 24^

ful and loveable sight ; and the charm is often beautifully
translated into verse. Thus in Blomfield —

" The teemmg ewes, that still their burdens bear :
Beneath whose sides to-morrow's dawn may see
The milk-white strangers bow the trembling knee.
And at their birth the pow'rful instinct's seen
That fills with champions all the daisied green,
For ewes that stood aloof with fearful eye,
With stamping foot now men and dogs defy,
And obstinately faithful to their young
Guard their first steps to join the bleating throng."

Hurdis has the following curious passage about the
pastoral artifice of dressing up a lamb in the skin of another,
and thus palming it off upon some bereaved mother — -

"Often let me mark
The sullen ewe's authoritative stamp
Where'er the sheep-dog passes. Let me smile
At her deluded sense, what time her lamb
By the bleak season slain, his wilted coat
Yields to the flayer, and the ravished twin
Of some fond mother, in the coarse disguise
Appears loose-coated, and usurps the dug.
Dull fool, how ill perceives thy stupid eye
The palpable imposture I ''

The lamb, when not "prancing" and "gambolling," is
" witless " and " unconscious." Above all, it is innocent.
" Is not this a lamentable thing, that the skin of an innocent
lamb should be made parchment? that parchment being
scribbled o'er should undo a man ? "

That the wolf should eat the lamb is therefore one of that
beast's most infamous points. It is intolerable to the poets,
and they are never weary of denouncing the base assassina-
tion. They admit the provocation the lamb gives by losing
itself, by bleating loudly, by opening doors which its mother
had particularly cautioned it to keep shut ; but their indig-
nation against the murderer is none the less unmeasured

246 The Poets Beasts.

and persistent. Their lambs are innocent and white and
gentle ; so the wolves that eat them are atrociously guilty
and unspeakably swarthy and grim. Bi^t this is after all
only the survival of the world's original pastoral myth.

Judged from any but a poet's standpoint, sheep might
almost be accounted the happiest and most fortunate of
animals. Death, after all, is the universal lot ; the grim
policeman calls with his summons upon each in turn. Not
that sheep ever seem to contemplate anything farther ahead
than their own noses. They are not troubled with visions
of cold mutton —

" The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleased to the last he crops the flow'ry food
And licks the liand just raised to shed his blood." ^ — Pope.

But, with the poets, their mildly-idiotic vacuity of face, their
senseless imitation of each other's actions, their shambling
evasion of anything like vigorous independence for attack
or self-defence, are interpreted into innocence, docility, and
meekness. Their timidity is called gentleness. Thus
invested with many good qualities — those which specially
engage the poetic fancy — we find them constantly besung

^ What an admirable passage is Tennyson's- —

" And in the flocks
The iamb rejoiceth in tlie year,
And raceth freely with his fere,
And answers to his mother's calls
F'rom the flowered furrow. In a time
Of which he wots not, run short pains
Tiiro' his warm lieart, and tiien, from whence
He knows not, on his lijjlit there falls
A shad(}w ; and his native slope,
Wliere he was wont to leap and climb,
Floats from liis sick and filmed eyes.
And something in the darkness draws
His forehead earthward, and he dies." ^

The Poets Flocks. 247

as a virtuous people whose lives are sadly oppressed Their
perpetual nervousness, one of the most absurd phenomena
of animal life, is excused on the ground that the events that
cause the alarm are arbitrary and brutaL Some tyrant or
another, a dog that barks, or man with a gun, rudely disturbs
the happy calm of the gentle sheep. So all persecuted
sects, communities, or persons are called '-'flocks'' and
" sheep," although, says Herbert, " to a short-shorn sheep
God gives wind by measure."

So it becomes the symbol of home-life, and its peace.
In the pet-lamb, Bums' lamented "hoggie," this idea, as in
Mary Howitfs very charming poem, reaches its extreme
expression, but the flocks in general convey the same sig-
nificance in a hundred difierent ways. Their mere presence
suffices to tranquillise the scene, and, like some other sounds
in Nature, their voices emphasise the rural silence.

" For sheep-bells chiming from a wold,
Or bleat of lamb wichin its fold.
Or cooing of love-legends old

To dove-wives makes not quiet less ;
Ecstatic chirp of winged things.
Or bubbling of the water spring,
Are sounds that more than silence bring

Itself and its delightsomeness." — Jean Ingelow.

Wordsworth hears, in the bleat of the lamb on the hill, " the
plaintive spirit of the solitude." Thomson is very fond of
"the bleating mountains,"^ the "distant bleatings of the
hills," as an emblem of repose. The absence of sheep
from the landscape (as in Grahame) reminds the wanderer
in other lands of the happy tranquilUty of "home." He
longs, with Faber, to hear

" The bleating tribes.
The nomads of the moorland, which send down
A plaintive greeting from the windy heights."

^ So too we have with the herds " lowing vales."

248 The Poets Beasts.

Thomson's shepherd therefore "dwells with Peace," and
"the porch of his mossy cottage" is in Wordsworth
rendered more touchingly home-like by the corner-stones
on either side being

"With dull red stains discoloured, and stuck o'er
With tufts and hairs of wool,

As if the sheep that fed upon the common, thither came
Familiarly, and found a couching place
Even at the threshold."

It follows therefore that any accidental association of
sheep with stirring scenes or sounds of the chase or battle
— as lambs "in friskful glee" that sport round "the mossy
mound, the rampart once of iron war " — should give the
poets a point of strong contrast. So (in Pitt) " the bleating
flocks that along the bastion pass, and from the awful ruins,
crop the grass," illustrates the peaceful meeting of generals
to sign a truce upon their recent battlefield. The utter-
ness of change is shown in Byron by sheep feeding on the
lost site of Ilion's outworks — " where I sought for Ilion's
walls, the quiet sheep feeds, and the tortoise crawls," and
so too in Leyden —

" Green waves the harvest, and the peasant boy
Stalls his rough herds, within the towers of Troy ;
Prowls the sly fox, the jackal rears her brood,
Where once the towers of mighty Ilion stood."

Though thus idealised as a genus, the various species are
all practically rendered. A poet's acquaintance with Nature
is not, as a rule, so extensive that he can afford to waste a
variety of sheep. The "small black-legged sheep" that,
" fleshless, lank, and lean," devour "the meagre herbage "
of the Cumbrian hills; the "goat-horned" animals "of
fleece hairy and coarse, of long and nimble shank," that
"browse their thinly-scattered meal o'er tlie bleak wilds " of
the Cambrian ; the Cotswold, " hills of milder air, that

The Poets Flocks. 249

gently rise, o'er dewy dales, a fairer species boast, of shorter
limb and frontlet more ornate, such the Silurian ; " the
Southdown, " the larger sorts of head defenceless," " whose
fleece is deep and clammy, close and plain ; " the other,

" Whose tawny fleece in ringlets curls.
With horns Ammonian circulating twice
Around each open ear — like those fair scrolls
That grace the columns of th' Ionic dome,"

and many another, is specifically described, while the
elaborate minuteness of Dyers history of the Fleece, from
the ingredients that compose the soil, that grows the grass,
that feeds the sheep, that gives the wool, that makes dyers
rich, and ought to make England mistress of the world, is
probably too well known to need any detailed reference
here to that amazing abuse of poetical instinct, and unique
infelicity of choice of subject. But the " poem," for such
Akenside declares it to be, contains some delightful refer-
ences to foreign sheep and shepherds, which are worth a
passing notice. Having put the Indus in Cashmere, he
calls the goats of the country sheep, and then, rambUng
off across Cathay, refers enraptured to the shepherd by
" China's long canals," and so, coming round to the west,
sees Mississippi " lengthen-on " her sheep-walks, and finally
arrives in South America, where he speaks of the llama or
the alpaca of Peru as

" That sheep
Of fertile Arica, like camels formed,
Which bear huge burdens to the sea-beat shore
And shine with fleeces soft as feathery down."

But the whole poem is too pathetic in its vain struggle with
the hopeless to be made fun of There are lines and
occasional passages of tolerable merit, but of the work, as a
whole, Johnson's verdict on it will generally commend itself
to the majority.

250 The Poets Beasts.

The value of our wool productions is, however, a fre-
quently recurring point in verse ; and though the Old
pastoral days are called (by Phillips), " the unluxurious
times of yore, when flocks and herds were no inglorious
store," the possession of flocks is usually spoken of as an
important factor in individual, local, and national wealth.
Says King, " the fleecy produce of the Cotswold field
shall equal what Peruvian mountains yield." The beauty
of the wool itself comes often also under admiration, its
whiteness and its softness exceeding indeed sometimes the
poets' stock of simile and comparison. More than one
even goes so far as to blame us for dyeing it, and to draw
a moral of voluptuous luxury therefrom. So Hammond,
for instance —

" Unwise who first the charm of Nature lost
With Tyrian purple soiled the snowy fleece."

A.S the sheep are, so are the shepherds ; creatures of a
" witless " innocence, a feeble simplicity. Thus Parnell's —

" Gaping, tender, apt to weep,
Their nature's altered by their sheep."

Or, again, in Spenser —

" And meek he was, as meek might be,
Simple as simple sheep,
Humble and like in each degree
The flock which he did keep."

Indeed, " the cheerful tendance of the flocks " would hardly
seem, from the poets' description of those who tend them,
to conduce to much dignity of thought or intellectual
occupation. They see them grazing, as Crabbe says, " with
what a pure and simple joy ! "

" Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,
Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep."

The Poets Flocks. 251

And when they meet they have but a slender stock of
intelligence to exchange, as in Herrick —

" But say, what news
Stirs in our sheep-walk ?
None. Save that my ewes.
Wethers, and lamb?, and wanton kids are well,
Smooth, fair, and fat."

Yet Faber would seem to be envious of such company —

" That in mute company with the creatures.
And gazing in their patient features,
I might receive some sweet sense
Of our original innocence."

There are, however, two varieties of the shepherd. The
first is the strictly poetical shepherd, " with his artless reed."
This is Mallet's " rural king amid his subject flocks," who
(Dyer) flutes to "charm his sheep" and (Otway) " pipeth to
his feeding sheep." Jean Ingelow has, in '• Gladys' Island,"

" A grassy down.
Where sheep and lambs were feeding, with a boy
To tend them. 'Twas the boy who wears that herb
Called heartsease in his bosom, and he sang
So sweetly to his flock, that she stole on
Nearer to listen,"

The other is the ordinary rustic, who lies about on the
grass, and, when he is awake, gazes at his sheep and the
landscape generally, and who has a dog to do all his work
for him. A pleasing sub-variety, however, is " the blooming
maid," who sometimes drives her flocks afield. Their
queen is surely Lovelace's Chloris — that

" Chloris, the gentlest shepherdess
That ever lambs or lawns did bless."

Country folk take omen and augury from so many beasts,
birds, and plants, that it would be strange if sheep were
exempt from prophetic functions, and not invested with
prognostic powers.

252 TJie Poets Beasts.

" When Blouzelind expir'd, the wether's bell
Before the drooping flock toU'd forth her knell,
The solemn death-watch click'd the hour she dy'd,
And shrilling crickets in the chimney cry'd.
The boding raven on her cottage sate,
And with hoarse croak warn'd us of her fate ;
The lambkin, which her wonted tendance bred,
Dropp'd on the plains that fatal instant dead.
Swarm'd on a rotten stick the bees I spied,
Which erst I saw when Goody Dobson died."— Caj'.

Certain noises are said to sicken the ewes ; shrew-mice in
the grass, newts in the water, are supposed to " blast " them.
The poets take due cognisance of these superstitions ; and
the fauns and fairies who avert such disasters are becomingly
admired. Of old-world fancies, Keats has beautifully pre-
served the following —

" And it had gloomy shades, sequestered deep.
Where no man went ; and if from shepherd's keep
A lamb strayed far adown those inmost glens,
Never again saw he the happy pens
Whither his brethren, bleating with content,
Over the hills at every nightfall went.
Among the shepherds 'twas believed ever,
That not one fleecy lamb which thus did sever
From the white flock, but passed unworried
By any wolf, or pard with prying head.
Until it came to some unfooted plains
Where fed the herds of Pan : ay, great his gains
Who thus one lamb did lose."

This beautiful legend of Pan — " Hearkener to the loud-
clapping shears " — and the fauns guarding the shepherd
and his sheep — the cloud-flocks of the divinities — of
Oceanus — the golden fleece of Colchos —

" There was a shepe, as it was toUle,
Tiie whiche his flees bare all of golde.
And so the goddess had it sette,
That it ne might awaie be fette " {Gower) —

The Poets Flocks. 253

the strange shepherding of Orpheus, " when lambs would
scorn their food to hear his lay, and savage beasts stand by
as tame as they " (Cowley), and many another fancy of a
pastoral antiquity, finds a place in our poets' verse ; while
the similes, analogies, morals, and metaphors from the sheep
of Scripture, the classics, or folk-lore individuality are innu-
merable. The Lamb of the Messiah —

" Tell me, was he a Shepherd or a Lamb?

Shepherd and Lamb at once. He took each name.
Since then our God a Shepherd's name doth wear.
The name of lamb who will not wish to bear ?
And who will not be shepherd, since God deigns
To be a Lamb for suffering of sin's pains." — Crashaux.

Of Pentecost, of sacrifice, " the useful beast on Isaac's pile
consumed " (Cowley), the flocks of David and of the shep-
herds of Bethlehem, afford again and again an image or a
thought —

" h. deceitful concnbine, who shore me

Like a tame wether, all my precious fleece,"

Una with her milk-white lamb, Joan of Arc with her crook,
Don Quixote's army of Pentapolin.

Being thus prepossessed in favour of sheep, it is almost
a natural sequence that the poets should be prejudiced
against the goat, which is the moral antithesis of their
favourite animal. Allan Ramsay's fable admirably illustrates
this difference of sentiment A ram "of upright, hardy
spirit, really a homed head of merit," who all summer and
autumn through had led his family to abundant pastures,
takes them, as winter comes on. "to crop contented frozen
fare, with honesty, on hills blown bare." Then he meets
a goat who by his rascally trespassing upon fields and
gardens had earned the hatred of all his neighbours, and
who, anxious if possible to secure a friend, offers to give
the ram some of his coat, which is close and intact, while

254

TJie Poets Beasts.

the ram's, being torn by brambles, leaves his body half
naked to the biting mountain-wind. But the sturdy old
ram refuses.

" No," said he, " though my coat's torn,
Yet ken, thou worthless, that I scorn
To be obliged at any price
To sic as you, whose friendship's vice :
I'd have less favour frae the best,
Clad in a hatefu' hairy vest
Bestowed by thee, than as I noo
Stand but ill-drest in native woo'.
Boons frae the generous make ana smile ;
Fro' miscreants, make receivers vile."

"THE BEARD-BLOWN GOAT:'

Goats possess the great advantage over sheep of having
beards. This should be especially in their favour with the
poets, for the beard makes the animal romantic — it becomes,
in Tennyson, the " beard-blown goat " — and gives it that air
of the nide and shaggy which Dr. Syntax assures us is the
soul and essence of the picturesque.

Bearded is always a favourite epithet with the poets, when
they wish to convey an idea of rugged strength or venerable
wisdom. Thor, with all his presence, could hardly spare
that red torrent from his chin ; Peru's dignity and strength
lies in his thunder-black beard. Remember Schaibar. He
was a dwarf, and a dreadful ogre at that But he trailed
thirty feet of beard, ^^^len the wind blew he looked forth
as from a mist of flame. Regiments of guards fell flat
before him as he walked. Kings upon their thrones
shivered in their golden sandals at the sight of the much-
bearded brother of the Peri Banou. How better describe
the grim earl than to call him " Hakon Grizzle-beard ? "
The portrait is authentic at once. From the beard we
straightway deduce the complete man. Barbarossa stands
out from the page forthwith.

Conversely, disrespect attaches to the shabby beard ; as
Don Quixote, admonishing Sancho on the manner of his
life when he should come to be s;overnor of an island or an

256 The Poets Beasts.

earldom, says, "What thou art will be seen a bow-shot off
if thy beard be not as it should be."

The anomalous beard makes the whole man eccentric,
grotesque, and absurd. What reverence would attach to
the appearance of the Nestors of the Moon-folk, whose
beards, as we know, grew just above their knees ? or to
those elders of the wise sea-folk with their faces smothered
in green tangles ?

Again, to be altogether beardless has passed into an
expression of scornful contempt. It was David's hairless
chin that exasperated Goliath. It is true that some races
affect to despise the beard — thus the Red Indians, who say
that a European's face resembles a dog's with a squirrel in
its mouth — but they are those who cannot grow a really
handsome and venerable length of beard, and illustrate,
therefore, very aptly the fable of the fox that had lost its
tail. As a rule, all nations of antiquity prided themselves
on this adornment. No oath carried with it the same dignity
of earnestness as " by my beard " — even when a Welshman
pronounced it with a " p ; " no affront such humiliation as
that which was offered to the beard. The gods themselves
pledged their honour "by their beards." The reddened
beard of Ahenobarbus, black till then, was the great Twin
Brethren's gage of victory.

When men succumb to the vril-staff of women in the
struggle for existence they are to become Ana and beardless.

"So his prophesying thus to the Assyrians moved them
to paint Apollo with a large, long beard beseeming an old
settled person of a most sedate, staid, and grave demeanour :
not young and beardless as he was pourtrayed most usually
among the Grecians." In fairy tales, again, what beards the
magician, the ogres, and the giants have ! When tliey are
blue or scarlet (as in the Red Shoes story), or green, like
those of the pine-forest Kobolds, they are a trifle whimsical,
no doubt, but never ridiculous.

The Beard- Blown Goat. 257

Thus the goat starts, as it were, with a beard "to the
good" —

" Hung high in air the hoaij goat reclined.
His streaming beard the spoit of every wind."

What a delightful confusion of mental pictures the couplet
innocently conjures up — Rogers' Swiss mountaineers — Keaf 3
discrowned Titans — the Last Minstrel. Put any other word
in the place of " goat ' and see the effect. " Hung high in
air the hoary god reclined/' &c. Lo ! Saturn overlooking
the conflict that shook the Elder Divinities out of the
heavens. Try "prince" instead of "goat," and we have
doomed Saul lying stretched upon the mountain side, his
eyes, ominous of to-morrow's woe, scanning the hosts of
Philistia as they darken the spurs of Gilboa. Change it
for "chief," or "sage," or "bard," and the effect of the
couplet remains the same.

It is the beard that does it. Dignity is insej)arable from
it — when it is long enough to " stream," and the owner is
in repose. "The old romantic goat, his white beard low-
waving." Here Coleridge has the vignette complete.

Not that the goat's beard, as such, is in itself a reverend
svTnboL On the contrary, if it is transplanted from the
animal's chin to any other, it carries with it those scarcely-
admira'ole significances which the folk-lore of ail nations
has attached to the he-goat. " Mad and careless, hot and
vain," is the poets' summing-up of the male animal, and
Spenser tells us how —

" The blossoms of lust to bad do begin.
And spring forth rankly under his chin."

Satyrs and all sorts of misbehaving persons, even Apollyon
himself, cohircinate therein, and in the "Beasts' Confes-
sion " of Swift we read how —

" The goal advanced with decent pace,
And first excused his youthful face ;

258 The Poets Beasts.

Forgiveness begged that he appeared
('Twas Nature's fault) without a beard.
'Tis true, he was not much inclined
To fondness of the female kind,
For he had made a holy vow
Of chastity, as monks do now."

Moreover, there is a popular superstition that no he-goat
ever remains in sight for twenty-four consecutive hours.
For just as every Grimalkin has to be a cat for eight of her
lives and a witch for one, so, they darkly hint, the goat has
to go once a day to the Devil to have his beard combed.

In the practical household the appendage had its use as
a cider-strainer. Thus the Poet of the Apple advises —

" With timely care
To shave the goat's shaggy beard, lest thou too late
In vain should'st seek a strainer to dispart.
The husky terrene dregs from purer must."

When the Bachelor disguises himself to deceive the Don,
he ties on to his face a beard which the innkeeper's wife
angrily despoils him of, it being her strainer.

But the poets have very skilfully utilised both aspects.
As the beard promiscuous or general it claims for the animal
a uniform picturesqueness ; as the beard particular — caprine
• — it gives the poet an easy simile.

Next to their beards, the sure-footedness of this daring
mountaineer that —

"Mid the cliffs with steady footstep climbs,"

attracts poetical regard, and certainly not without cause.
For the amazing confidence of this animal is certainly
among the chief marvels of Nature. Caution in movins; and
deliberateness in setting down the foot on a new spot are
characteristics of nearly all wild things, whether furred or
feathered. Even cats look carefully before they leap.
Birds flutter before settling on an untried perch. But goats

The Beard-Blown Goat. 259

appear to have no fear whatever, and never fail in their
trust of themselves. They make no pauses between their
bounds, but spring from point to point, from sliding shingle
to hard rock, sharp peak to sloping boulder, without
apparently the least calculation — and sometimes they break
their legs. So the poets call them " the careless goats ' —
Spenser has them '■ dancing on the craggy cUflfs at will," and
Montgomery speaks of them " vaulting through the air, as if
a thought conveyed them to and fro."' They delight to
"hang" them upon "dizzy heights," or make them, as
Wordsworth does, frolic " by the side of dashing waterfalls."

" The vine-mantled brows
The pradent goats unveii, regardless they
Of hourly peril, tho' the rifted domes
Tremble to ev'ry wind."'

There is, indeed, a fine independence of character about
the goat which separates it by many parasangs from the
sheep. The latter lives placidly by faith, and seems assured
of redemption; the former is possessed by the restless
genius of unbelief. You cannot keep goats on the level
road, even though you take the greatest possible pains to
show them the farmyard and the fold at the end of it.
They detest the commonplace. Rather than plod safe'y
home by the regular way, they prefer to travel adventurously
by paths of their own. By choice, they take the ups and
downs of Ufe ; and when they do not find them ready made
for them, they make them for themselves. If there is a
heap of stones by the roadside, they get up on to it — their
spirits at once rise at finding themselves on an eminence :
and till the herdsman comes up ihey snatch a precious half-
minute in playing •' Tom Tiddler's Ground." If there is a
ditch it is just the same. As many goats as possible get down
into it and pretend it was in their way. They get among
the sheep, and deliberately disorder the woolly procession

26o The Poets Beasts.

They jump over the sheep's backs to show their indifference
to orthodoxy.

It is very seldom indeed, therefore, that the versatile,
generous-minded goat is found in Nature mixed up with the
dull but eminently respectable sheep. They are bored by
them. When the herdsman calls his charges together, the
sheep come along the valley in a compact body, taking the
beaten track. But the goats drop in promiscuously, singly,
or in twos or threes ; and most of them from above.

" At feeding time the goats will be browsing in long lines
on the mountain sides, while the sheep are grazing in the
plain. At midday, when the flocks are gathered round the
wells to await the rolling away of the stone that guards the
water, the goats assemble on one side and the sheep on the
other. And at night, when they are all gathered into one fold
by one shepherd, they are still separated from each other."

I confess this exclusiveness commends itself to me, and
I cannot find it in me to reproach goats for avoiding the
company of sheep. I can imagine no company less exhila-
rating or improving. Sheep are very woolly.

This independence of character is finely shown in the
goat's demeanour. He bears himself in a stately way.
Read Proverbs —

"There be three things which go well, yea, four are
comely in going.

"A lion which is strongest among beasts, and turneth
not away from any.

"A greyhound; an hc-goat also; and a king, against
whom there is no rising up."

Indras, therefore, does not derogate from his dignity in
assuming the form of the "warrior he goat," nor Thor select
unbecoming steeds for his thunder-car when he yokes the
Butting Ones.

Boldness is in the blood of it — an inheritance from its
great-horned ancestry of the Asiatic ranges. These are the

Tlie Beard-Blown Goat. 261

paseng and the ibex, among the bravest of animals and
symbols of proud and fearless freedom. The markhor, too,
is a grand type of the mountaineer, with its gravity of bear-
ing, induced as it were by a hfe of constant peril, and an
implacable courage.

As distinct from sheep — the ordinary fleecy flocks of the
dawn — goats are the shaggy clouds that hang on the hill-
side, as in Phillips' lines —

" On the cliffy height
Of Penmenmaur and that cloud-piercing hill
Plinlimmon, from afar the traveller views
Astonished, how the goats their shrubby browse,
Gnaw, pendent " —

or are blown about the peaks, as in Montgomery —

*' Goats that swing
Like spiders on the crags."

They are the darker nimbics clouds as contrasted with the
lamb's-wool cirrus of meteorologists. A suspicion of the
sinister lurks about them. They have latent potentialities
for mischief. They huddle together at twilight in the
wolfish gloaming, and threaten with their horns the monster
of Night, whether wolf or witch, that fills the herdsman's
hours of darkness with terror — substantial, four-footed terrors,
some of them : superstitious, aerial, the others. They patrol
the midnight sky lest the enemy with the myriad eyes, the
sleepless one, should do them harm. When day breaks,
and Aurora opens her folds to drive her charges afield, they
separate each after its kind, just as in the pastoral land-
scape—

" Go.its upon the frowning steep,

Fearless with their kidlings browse.
Here a flock of snowy sheep,

There a herd of motiey cows.''

For the cloud- myth, a fancy of primitive man, is altogetl.er

262 The Poets Beasts.

pastoral ; and goats — more common than sheep in the
countries where that myth originated — have always their
appropriate prominence.

Goatherds differ from shepherds only as their charges
differ, being more picturesque and in a manner more
vagabond. They are described in prose, in Don Quixote
and Gil Bias, for instance, as of a more active, aggressive, and
enterprising kind than the Gentle Shepherd. Byron's little
goatherd "in his white capote, leaning his boyish form
along the rock," affords a pleasing vignette from the rocks,
and many speak of him as delighting, like the guardian of
the sheep, in music.

" Meantime on earlier pipe a lowly lay,

As my kids browse obscure in shades, I play."

Following goats naturally called for a greater robustness
of limb and character, and so, though we occasionally find
in the poets an " Acantha roaming in thymy valleys, tending
her milk-white goats and gathering honey," the goatherdess
is a very rare phenomenon. It may be feminine enough
to follow the "silly sheep" among their level pastures; but
trying to keep order among goats, or clambering after them
to lend assistance to adventurous kids in distress, is scarcely
becoming to the sex.

Of the antiquity of their domestication we have some
evidence from the first sacrifice, from which we learn that
they were kept in herds by the second generation of man-
kind ; and we may, therefore, without any unreasonable
license of assumption, suppose that the First Man, "the
old gardener," was a goatherd also. By what devices our
great Progenitor circumvented the original goat we are not
told. But they were not, probably, very different from
those by which Robinson Crusoe caught his. For that
Adam, cast upon the desert island of the earth outside of
]'aradisc, had a dog for a companion, the traditions of

The Beard-Blown Goat. 26

a

antiquity suffice to assure us, and, given a dog, everything
becomes possible for man in the most natural way. More-
over, Lilith, who is called the first wife of Adam, came, it is
said, from a pastoral folk ; and it may be that she brought
with her into the soUtary wigwam that stood among the
thistles hard by the gates of Eden, the secret of weaving
the primitive pushm.

" With glossy hair of shaggy goat,
Are light tiaras woven that wreath the head,
And airy float behind."

There, too, was first made goats'-milk cheese, the original
Gruyere, such as the son of Jesse carried down to the camp
in the valley of Elah, for a present to the captain of the
thousand in which his brothers served. There, too, the
wandering jackal first sniff'ed the odour of the Kibab, the
roasted kid-flesh, such as Rebecca made haste to get ready
for old Isaac's deceiving, preparing it like Esau's venison,
" the savoury meat which his father loved."

How is it, by the way, that this excellent meat is not
more common in England .-* The empty hills of Wales
would surely support innumerable herds of goats, and the
flesh of the kid is infinitely better eating, both in flavour
and texture, than half the " lamb " which is sold in butchers*
shops.

That this animal was selected to bear away upon its head
the sins of the people, has somehow brought it obliquely
into disrepute, and the " scape-goat " has become a symbol
of reproach. Yet it should not be forgotten that when the
lots were cast, there were only two chances, and that the
goat which was not Azazel, "the departing one," was drawn
'^ for Jehovah." So that it rested only on the hazard of the
Levite's choice which of the two remained in the Hebrew
camp, consecrated for sacrifice to the Lord, and which was
sent forth.

264 The Poets' Beasts.

" The scape-goat on his head
The people's trespass bore,
And to the desert led,

Was to be seen no more :
In him our Surety seemed to say,
* Behold, I bear your sins away.'"

Nor also should it be overlooked that the goat which
was drawn "for Jehovah" was at once led to the altar and
slain for the " Great Atonement." So that the one which
was set at liberty was not less honourable than the other
which was dedicated to death. Nor can it be said to have
been less fortunate.

The legend of the scape-goat is a very widespread one,
and belongs indeed to those "primitive fancies" with
which each nation seems to have started as a stock in
common. In sacrifice, also, it has always been conspicuous.
But this is a melancholy distinction which in one way or
another has befallen every animal man could manage to
catch for the purpose, but which should never be supposed
to derogate from the victim's respectability, or else humanity
itself becomes contemptible on the altar, and the life of
man be held a worthless offering.

In parts of Egypt the he-goat was sacrificed ; in others
it was worshipped. Thus, the Memphians held public
mourning, whenever one of the "horn-lifting" animals went
over to the majority.

As the wet-nurse of the King of Olympus —

" Above the rest in grace Adraste stood,
Who rocked the golden cradle of the God,
On his ambrosial lips the goat distilled
Her milky store, and fed ih' immortal cliild " —

the she-goat arrives at considerable conseciuencc, and its
horns, presented by grateful Jove to Amalthea, the sister
of the honey-nymph, flourishes immortal as the cornucopia,
the horn of plenty, and glitters among the stars. Indeed,

The Beard- Blown Goat. 265

the astral honours of the goat are rather exceptionaL The
Milky Way, "the bridge of souls," is the she-goat — ^the
same whose milk " nurse Amalthea skimmed for the boy
Jupiter," and when called "St. James' Way," is still of
caprine significance, though perhaps of a kind somewhat
deplorable for the animal concerned, inasmuch as on that
Saint's day it was the custom in Germany to throw a goat
out of the window. The Pleiades, again, are called in many
parts of Europe the Seven She-goats, and no one who has
read of the notable ride of Don Quixote and his Squire on
the wooden horse Clavileno, can forget how Sancho — wish-
ing to have something to say as to what he saw when blind-
folded— declares to the Duchess that he found himself at
one point of the journey so near the sky that it was not a
span above him.

" And it so fell out that we passed close by the place
where the seven she-goats are kept ; and, truly, having been
a goatherd in my youth, I no sooner saw them but I longed
to play with them awhile : and had I not done so, I verily
think I should have died ; so what does I but, without
saying a word, softly slide down from Clavileno, and play
with the sweet litde creatures, which are like so many
violets, for almost three-quarters of an hour."

On being further questioned, he goes on to say that two
of them were green, two carnation, two blue, and one
motley-co'.oured. The Duke protests that he had never him-
self seen such goats. " No," replies Sancho ; " but your
highness will allow that there must be some difference
between celestial goats and those of the lower world."

The she-goat in Aquarius has two kids, and Hindoo
astrology knows them as the Rain-bringers. In this aspect
they descended to the Romans, and Ovid, Horac^ and
Virgil have each of them due reference to the '* signum
pluviale capel'.se." Her character is always beneficent and
motherly, whether we find her in classical fancy as Galathea,

266 The Poets Beasts.

"the milky one," or in contemporary folk-lore as the self-
sacrificing she-goat that gives up her life for her less in-
telligent companions. "Billy" maybe overbearing, hot-
tempered, and unprincipled ; but "Nanny" is meek and mild
and benign. Though " the goat of El-Akhfash " has passed
into Arab proverb as a fool, the adult animal in fable is in-
variably discreet The " wanton kidling " is a trifle imbecile.
Wolves and other villainous personages are the cause of
" kiddie's" succumbing to the most obvious frauds, as in
the Shepherd's Calendar — and thereafter punctually in all
poets.

" All save a bell, which he left behinde
In the basket for the kidde to finde ;
Which, when the kidde stouped downe to catch,
He popt him in, and his basket did latch ;
Ne stayed he once the dore to make fast,
But ranne away with him in all hast."

That goats carry with them an ungracious aroma — are,
in fact, the Bassas of the flock — is a circumstance most
reproachfully urged against them ; yet, though, as Sir
Thomas Browne would sa\', " I concede many questionable
points, and dispute not the verity of sundry opinions which
are of affinity thereto," I know not how to admit that their
odour is a diabolical one. For Chaucer is not the only
poet who thus unsavourily associates goats and devils —

" And evermore wherever that they gon.
Men may hem kennen by smell of brimslon,
For all the world they stinken as a gote."

Now, Sancho Panza, who, having been a goatherd in his
youth, was an authority on the subject, speaks endearingly
(as we have seen) of certain goats as "little violets," while
in another place he refers si)ecifically to the demoniacal
odour as something very different. "Truly, sir," quoth
Sancho, " I have already touched them, and this same

The Beard- Blown Goat. 267

devil, who is so very busy about us, is as plump as a |
partridge, and has another property very different from \^
what your devils are wont to have, who all smell of brim- \
stone." (

It is a curious point, too, that in England, as well as in f
other countries, the goat is considered a healthy animal, and |
its fragrance especially is supposed to be beneficial to cattle, ;
horses, and sheep. For this obsolete reason a single goat 1
is still often kept in our farmyards.

This may have arisen out of the world-wide superstition,
that these creatures are wise in simples and the medicine of
the fields. Indeed, it is said that man got his first ideas of
vegetable efficacies from the leechcraft of this animal and
its knowledge of the uses of wild balsam.

" Fresh dittany beloved of goats " is a poet's allusion to
the wondrous _,virtues of the herb which the deer also are
said to have recourse to when wounded.

It had other drugs, too, "for its secure." Thus —

" Here grows melampode everywhere,
And terebinth good for goats,
The one my madding kids to smear,
The next to heal their throats."

Mrs. Bury Palliser, in her delightful work, tells us
how the Count of Soriano, who fell by the hand of
Francis I. at Pavia, bore the device of the wild
goat, " which when pierced by the arrow-shaped leaves of
the palm-tree, seeks, to heal its wounds, for the herb
dittany, which grows under the shade of the same tree,"
with the motto " Hinc vulnus, salus et umbra." Of the
herb dittany PUny says, "The goats first showed us the
virtue of the herb dictamnus or dittany, to draw out arrows
forth of their bodies. Perceiving themselves shot with a
shaft, they have recourse presently to that herb, and with
eating thereof it is driven out again." So in Virgil we find

268 The Poets Beasts.

Venus, in order to cure her son, speeding to Crete to fetch
the plant

" Well known to wounded goats, a sure relief
To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief."

It is true that " the goddess-mother brews the extracted
hquor with ambrosial dews, and odorous panacea," but the
healing of Eneas' hurt is none the less due to the herb.

In Folkard's "Plant-lore"^ I find many items about the
weed. Thus, that Plutarch says that the women of Crete,
seeing how the goats, by eating dittany, cause the arrows to
fall from their wounds, learnt to make use of the plant to
aid them in childbirth. Gerard recounts that the plant is
most useful in drawing forth splinters of wood, bones, &c.,
and in the healing of wounds, "especially those made with
invenomed weapons, arrowes shot out of guns, and such
like." The juice, he says, is so powerful, that by its mere
smell it " drives away venomous beasts, and doth astonish
them.''' When mixed with wine, the juice was also con-
sidered a remedy for the bites of serpents. According to
Apuleius, however, the plant possessed the property of
killing serpents. The dittany of Crete, it should be noted,
is not to be confounded with the dittany, dittander, or
pepper-wort of the English herbals. This plant, the
lepidium latifolhun, from its being used by thrifty house-
wives to season dishes with, obtained the name of poor
man's pei)per.

From this knowledge of natural medicines, the goat then
became itself medicinal. Its blood had singular potencies.
False emeralds shivered to pieces under a drop of it.
Smear the palms of a sleeping man with it, and he will tell
you all his secrets.

" To artists who wish to engrave glass handsomely, now
will I disclose to you a method exactly as I myself have

* " riant-Iore Legends and Lyrics." .Sampson Low & Co.

The Beard-Blown Goat.

269

proved it. I collected fat earthworms turned up by the
plough : and at the same time took vinegar and the hot
blood out of a big he-goat, which I had skilfully fed upon
strengthening herbs for a short time, when kept tied up in-
doors. With the hot blood I then rinsed the worms, and
the vinegar, and so anointed the whole of the bright glass
bowl j which being done I essayed to engrave upon the glass
with the hard stone known by the name of pyrites." Those
who " desire to attack with the steel the noble gems which
the princes of Rome loved far above gold," had also to use
goats' blood, and so, too, had those who wished to engrave
on cr5-stals. But whether Heraclius meant what he said,
or whether he was only " showing the way the trick was
done," after the manner of Maskelyne and Cook — whose
delightful explanations of their mysteries only serve to make
them more mysterious than before — nobody will ever know.
But as far as the professors of the glyptic art have gone yet,
the blood of goats appears to be about as inefficient for
softening gems as it is for calling up witches. For this also
was one of its deplorable potencies.

But the watches had their revenge upon the animal that
could thus disturb their rest For on their " Sabbaths "
they murdered goats, black ones — and ate them, raw.

^ymsmm:^^:

XI.

THE POETS' HERDS.

In the earliest poetry of the world, the prose myth, the
"epic exploit" of cattle is so conspicuous a theme that, if
I might take poetical license, I should speak of " hornM
legend " and of "lowing verse."

That amazing puzzle, " the Solar myth," is largely bovine,
and the primitive mythology being naturally zoological, found
its constant illustration and most frequent subject in the bulls,
cows, and calves without which man, in the first days of uni-
versal discomfort, would have been himself little better than
a beast of the field. The phenomena of Nature represented
to the bucolic generation a herd of cattle, and nothing more.
Everything suggested itself to them as a mode of beef.

Men started with a cow as the original datum of con-
sciousness, and round it, as the one and only positive fact
they possessed, their lives and thoughts were grouped. Let
their imagination wander as far as it might, it never got
outside the cattle-run, and fancy could not stray beyond
ear-shot of the lowing kine. As they fed their bodies upon
the produce of their herds, so they pastured their minds
upon beef and milk. 'J'he skies became meadows, and the
firmament a cattle-yard. 'I'iiunder lowed, and the hurricane
bellowed. The lightning was horned, and the storm, rat-
tling overhead, went on hoofs. Black and white, red, dun,
and dappled, the clouds went grazing or ramping across the

Tlie Poets Herds. 271

fields of heaven- The lowering, gloomy rain-nimbus tossed
its head and pawed the air ; in the lighter drift they saw
the sporting calves. The end of the world was a slaughter-
yard, and Nature closed the volume in a catastrophic
Smithfield.

This is no exaggeration of the prominence of the cattle
in myth. The bull and the cow represent in turn nearly
everything that man then distinguished in the elements of
the earth or their functions, everything that he saw in the
skies above the earth, and everything that he guessed at in
the depths below it Never were there such kine before.

They wandered about in such a maze of avatars that it
seemed impossible they could ever turn up as mere cows
again, and no Protean divinity — whether in classical myth
or modem fairy tale — had such a phantasmagoric repertory.
They impersonated everything, and everjthing at once.
The cow was a cloud in the sky, which was itself a cow.
The king in his fortress was a cow, and the forest about
the fortress was a cow, and so was the cave within the
forest about the fortress, and so was the giant inside the
cave within the forest about the fortress in which the cow-
king lived. Cow was stuffed within cow, like the bird within
bird which we find in the Yorkshire pie ; and every incident
of Nature — human, zoological, or elementary — revolved
round the bovine idea just as things do round the malt
"that lay in the house that Jack built." The cow, again,
is the thunder and the lightning too, both rain and sunshine,
sun, moon, and stars. Then it gets mixed up with auroras
and twilights, till, in the confusion of metamorphoses, we
find the cow-morning pursuing the cow-night — each being
attended by its appropriate twilight calf — and we find them
also running away from each other by the light of the cow-
stars that are shining out of the cow-sky.

And the bull is alongside all the time, and every now
and then there is a calf to complicate the situation. It

272 The Poets Beasts.

is a dreadful myth altogether, ranging from language to
language with exasperating indifference, and from people
to people as if there were no fences in the ethnical and
religious pastures in which it roves. It drags in, too, by
countless arms, like some octopus of theory, every symbol
of the folk-tale and fairy lore.

Cinderella's slipper is proved to be a bull's tail. The
bean-stalk which Jack climbs is a cow's tail. The won-
derful lamp and the persecuted maiden, the girl that was
seven years old whom the thunder carried off, the three
dwarf brothers, and the magic flute, — are all of them modi-
fications, we are told, of the bovine idea, and the cock
comes in, and the hare and the crow, and the grateful
pike, and the quail and the fox, and the red apples, and
the kidney bean, and grief that inspires song, and the
shrimps that saved the fairy.

Who, too, cannot at once see the connection between the
saviour bull and Turn-little-Pea, and Ivan who went out on
his crook-backed horse to look for the casket under the oak
at the bottom of the sea? and the witch that was burned in
the form of a cat, and the cock that came out of the moun-
tain, the Bird of Light that performed such wonders against
the serpent and tortoise, and Medea and Orpheus, and the
Strong Bear of the Finns ? Was not the bull sold to a tree,
and did not the tree burst and out of it come gold which
turned into bees ? And does not all this make it as clear
as cow-daylight that stock-raising was the only religion of
the earth once upon a time, and justify a firmament filled
with stars of beef that illuminate the Milky Way ?

Wander as you will in these antique myths, and Nature
all round and above you, sunlit or moonlit or eclipsed,
is still all cattle. Go where you choose, they still bellow
and low, and paw and toss their heads, the luminous calf
and the azure cow, the black bull with the golden horns,
demoniacal cattle and celestial, malignant and benign.

The Poets Herds. 273

Time passed, and then came the days of sacrificial honour
and of temple worship,

" The pontiff knife
Gleams in the sun, the milk-white heifer lows,
The pipes go shrilly, the libation flows."

In the melancholy honour of the sacrifice cattle have
been always conspicuous, and in nearly all countries.
Among the Hebrews they were selected for the purposes
of the altar "without blemish," and were conscientiously
consumed to ashes. Among the Spartans the leanest
specimens were specially chosen, and the gods put off with
only the entrails, the attendants of the shrine eating the
meat. Even the Athenians made believe that the deities
preferred the smoke of the sacrifice to the flesh. It was a
convenient credulity, for while Olympus sniffed, the popu-
lace feasted. Hecatombs were therefore vastly popular in
Greece. The pagans of Africa at the present day piously
economise in their burnt-offerings much in the same way,
for though they sacrifice a beast in honour of Aunt Sally —
as one feels irreverently inclined to call their idols — they
eat it themselves. But they are very careful to give the
medicine-man some of the teeth, to put inside his rattle.
None the less, consecration was an honour, and the horned
folk have in their day suffered from a surfeit of it. The poets
prefer to see the heifer at the altar —

" Who are these coming to the sacrifice ?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest, >

Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, |

And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?"

Yet as a rule it was a bull or bullock — in Egypt alwaj
Yet Cowley has —

" With less complaint the Zoan temples sound,
Wlien the adored heifer's drowned,
And no true marked successor to be found."

S

2 74 ^'^^ Poets Beasts.

The allusion is of course to the Egyptian practice of leading
out the sacred bull at a stated period and drowning it, the
people going into mourning until a successor with the
proper marks upon it was found by the priests. It was
essential that the animal should be black, with a white spot
on the forehead, and a white crescent on the right flank ;
the image of an eagle on the spine, a knot under the tongue
that resembled the scarabaeus beetle, and the hairs of
the tail double. In Roman sacrifice the white oxen of
Umbria that pastured by the Clituranus were for their size
and beauty specially preferred ; otherwise the poets' prefer-
ence for this colour has no countenance from the past. The
fact of the devoted animals being gaily garlanded and orna-
mented, and their consequent appearance of a superior
stateliness as they approached the place of doom, has given
the poets many occasions for apt simile.

" Like as the sacred oxe that carelesse stands
With gilden homes and flow'ry girlonds ciown'd,
Proud of his dying honor and deare bandes,
Whiles th' altars fume with frankincense arouml,
All suddeinly with mortall stroke astound,
Doth groveling fall, and with his streaming gore
Distaines the pillours and the holy grovvnd,
And the faire flowres that decked him afore."

Those honours, such as they were, of gilded horns and
rose-wreathed neck, of fillet and votive garland, are things
of the past —

" Nor is Osiris seen

In Meniphian grove or green,

Trampling the unshovvcrod grass with lowings loud."

At any rate, tliey only survive in the form of Christmas beef.
We no longer strew the victim's Iiead wiili roasted barley
and salt; we pin a bkic rosette on instead. When the

The Poets Herds. 275

Smithfield butcher draws the head upwards,^ it might be
whimsically inferred that we still sacrifice to the Olympic
deities. In the scrutiny of the sanitary inspector we may
recall the careful divination by entrails of the old haruspex,
while the poets' descriptions of the ancient holocaust apply
to our own Yule-tide immolations.

Indeed, who can say, visiting any great Cattle-show, that
the old worship of the horned things is extinct ? If the cult
is dead, what means this thronging of people to see these fat
cattle? Pilgrims come from every part of the kingdom,
and among those who officiate in the rites are the highest
in the land.

" The sacred herd march proud and softly by.
Too fat and gay to think their deaths so nigh.
Hard fate of beasts, more innocent than we,
Prey to our luxury and our piety ! "

Suppose a Herodotus on his travels had chanced to pass
through London and seen the Show, and inquired of the
inteUigent native what it meant, would he not have put
it down in his note-book that we had a great saint named
Christmas, who was commonly depicted as an aged man
of jolly countenance, and crowned with evergreens and
berries ; that the priests of the temples, of which the chief is
called Smithfield, annually sacrificed large numbers of fatted
kine or sheep and pigs in his honour, and that the people
exhibited the utmost reverence for this festival, never failing,
even to the poorest, to do their best to celebrate it with
merrymaking? This festival, he might have added, "comes
but once a year,'' and it is commonly alleged by those who
sing at night for alms in the streets, and have often to wait
a long time before they get them, that this is the reason
why they are so punctual in their observance of it.

* If downwards the Greeks meant that the sacrifice was to heroes
or the gods of the lower world ; if upwards, to Olympus.

2/6 The Poets Beasts.

Nor would any one be surprised at such a conjecture, for
whether we look at the solemn crowds that gravely survey
the devoted animals and then go away complacent as if a
religious duty had been paid, or watch the experts reve-
rently punching a bullock's ribs or handling a fat sheep, it is
very difficult not to imagine that one is assisting at a pious
rite. Gazing at these prodigies of beef and mutton, women
are serious and men stern. There is less cheerfulness than,
for instance, at any Oriental shrine, where pilgrims from
the country meet to offer their dues and chatter, and there is
all the difference between the crowd inside and outside, as if
the Agricultural Hall were some kind of sacred edifice. As
a matter of fact, indeed, there is something solemn about
the uniform nobility of size, something that represses mirth
in the monotonous flatness of these prize animals' backs.
You could lay out tea upon the back of that Hereford
there, or play a game of cards upon that Southdown. It
looks as if a roller had been passed over them all. On the
other hand, there is a tendency to lofty exultation, chastened
yet inspiriting, in the contemplation of all this meat to so
little bone. It mollifies the spectator ; when he thinks of
so much tenderness he melts unconsciously himself. He
would not, if he could help it, harm even the most trifling
butcher. But it does not conduce to much hilarity. A
baron of prize beef is not a thing to jest about. So the
visitors are mostly of a solemn kind.

If the oxen that once, in pre-historic times, wandered about
the Thames valley where Islington now stands, could return
to the scenes of their lives, and see the Agricultural Hall,
with its contents, they would probably l)e astonished. It
is permissible, at least, to su])pose they would be.

For, though the Pleistocene cattle may naturally have
been of a kind that required much astonishing, seeing that
tliey were familiar with the mammoth and the woolly
rhinoceros and other marvels of Nature, it is still within the

The Poets He7'ds. 277

possibilities that the alterations which have taken place
since their day in Islington and the neighbourhood would
be calculated to surprise. When they were in the flesh the
site of London was an agreeable forest, interspersed with
patches of marsh-land, affording the finest of grazing for
everybody. Occasionally, perhaps, a man painted blue
would come creeping along and whiz a pebble at them out
of a sling, and then scramble up the nearest tree as fast
as he could, or a carnivorous beast — lion, bear, or wolf, —
would come up from the jungles about King's Cross, and
make a meal off one of them.

But if they came back now they would find but poor
pasturage in Islington. There is no great luxuriance of
meadow-grass in Pentonville, nor would oxen find much of
the old bush herbage left in St. John Street Road. On the
other hand, there would be no chance of azure aborigines
coming up from the Smithfield marshes to annoy them with
pebbles out of slings, or of lions and bears lying in wait to
eat them as they passed along to the Agricultural Hall. So
that, " taking one thing with another," it is not easy to say
whether the antiquated old cattle whom we find in the
Essex fossil-beds would prefer the present state of things or
the old.

Imagine, for instance, an ancient auroch, accustomed all
his Ufe to fight for everything he wanted, seeing the modern
shorthorn in its stall. In his day, he would say, cattle were
cattle. They had horns wath which they could drill a hole
through a rhinoceros; long and sinewy legs that carried them
nimbly up the hills when tigers ran after them ; tough and
shaggy hides, loose-fitting, that stood them in good stead in
many a tussle for the lordship of the herd or the possession
of a juicy pasture. In his day it was the hardest head and
the stoutest heart that gained for their possessors all the
luxuries of life ; dexterity in defence and ferocity in attack
that won for them the reward of unmolested enjoyments ;

278 The Poets Beasts.

and when they were too old to live they died. He only
knew of one kind of food, and that was grass ; and as far
as he could remember, never saw but one human being in
all his life, and if that one had not been so remarkably
agile in getting up a tree that happened to be near, he
would have tossed him on his horns sky high.

With the animals of to-day it is vastly different.- They
are perpetually being fed upon new kinds of food, none of
which bear the slightest resemblance to grass, and instead
of having to go out and look for it for themselves — and
fight for it, probably, before they could eat it — they find
their meals being constantly replenished and put under
their very noses. The result is that the hide grows fine,
the bones become small, and the fattening beasts get bulkier
every day, and shorter-winded. A pretty figure the prize
beef would look trying to run up Box Hill, with a pack of
wolves after it !

Yet the comfort of such arrangements — a thickly-littered
stall and a pail of appetising " patent food " always at hand,
and nothing to worry him— would certainly suggest itself to
the old-world visitor. For, after all, this was the utmost
ambition of his own life in the Pleistocene days — plenty of
food, comfortable quarters, and absence of enemies. For
a moment, perhaps, he would regret that he had been born
in such early times ; but on a sudden, probably, he would
remember that, though the lives of these stalled cattle were
made very pleasant for them, they did not last long, and so
in the end he would come to the conclusion that liberty,
with length of years, was better than domestication and
sudden death.

Yet a very little further on he will find some of his
])OSterity that have the true old feral ring about them, and
all the shaggy romance of mountain and forest, as fleet and
fierce as any primeval beast that had to fight with lions or
escape from them.

The Poets Herds. 279

They are the Highland cattle, with their long-haired
ruddy coats, their bison heads, bold wild eyes peering out
through the overhanging locks, and horns with a menacing
up-lift and terribly keen at the points.

" Mightiest of all beasts of chase
That roam in woody Caledon,
Crashing the forest in his race
Tiie mountain bull comes thundering on.

Fierce, on the hunter's quivered hand

lie rolls his eyes of swarthy glow,
Spurn>, with black hoof and horn, the sand,

And tosses high his mane of snow."

Some are coal-black, the veritable beasts of Ossian, and at
once suggestive of those old myths in which they figure as
storm clouds and malignant agencies.

Nor are the Welsh cattle on the other side of the Hall
much behind them in wild picturesqueness, while that fine
black fellow, for ever restlessly tramping and turning his
horns this way and that in the vain hope of finding some-
thing near enough to prod, is a beast that the gladiators
must have found some trouble with when the Romans
imported British bulls for the spectacles of the amphitheatre.
It looks as if it could go up hill as fast as down, and is fierce
enough to perplex even a Texan cow-boy. But the breeder,
when he selects his stock, thinks of Smithfield and not of
the prairies, and lays his plans for the approval of the
Christmas judges and not of wild herds of bison.

Yet the spectacle of a prize bullock set down in the
middle of a prairie, and submitted to the criticism of a herd
of American bison, or taken down to the source of the /
Congo and left alone with some old buffaloes, would be a/
very interesting one. What a puzzle such a phenomenon!
of beef would be to them. How they would walk round/lt,
and snort and wonder. /

/

2^o The Poets Beasts.

" Stood all astound, like a sort of steeres,
'Mongst whom some beast of strange and forralne race
Unwares is chaunc't, far straying from his peers."

Then familiarity with the object would probably lead to
personalities, and when it came to fighting the prize-winner
of Smithfield would have but a hard time of it. So it is
better that he should remain where he is appreciated, and
where his points are understood.

The beef again, when sporting in the meadow, is not the
master of its own fate.

" The pampered wanton steer of the sharp axe,
Regardless that o'er his devoted head
Hangs menacing, crops his delicious bane,
Nor knows the juice is life."

It may think it is, and behave as if it thought so. But
other hands shape its destiny, rough-hew it as it may, and
the widely divergent results are such as to justify any con-
scientious person in hesitation before he decides to com-
mit the heedless bullock to the unhonoured publicity of
the suburban meat-stall, or to reserve it for the blue-riband
dignities of Smithfield in December. What does the
horned yearling know of Christmas or its possibilities of
obsequious sacrifice? It is of Christmas but not in it.
Pantomimes do not compete for its patronage ; the shops
expect no purchases of him. In all the acres of fir forest
robbed for Christmas trees not one is lit up for his amuse-
ment. No one sends him hampers of game or barrels of
oysters. He knows nothing of plum-puddings, snapdragon,
or crackers. How is he to do so? Is he not himself
part of the festivity, a passive actor in the bright scenes of
social enjoyment ? Who can have time to think of the
animal that gives us the beef we cat, even though his life
was given with it? Yet if wc do think of him why not
remember that he has had a life of jollity himself in order

The Poets Herds. 281

that he might add to the pleasures of the season ; that but
for our great annual holiday he would have died long ago,
unwept, unhonoured, and unsung? If it had not been for
the Christian institution of the 25th he would have been a
common bullock. As it is, he has had a twelvemonth's
grace of life, and luxurious life too. Fed upon the best of
everything, and tended as if he were an emperor's favourite,
he has dreamed away his days in obese contentment, and
now that the end has overtaken him he goes to his fate
surrounded with every accessor)' of importance.

The influence, therefore, of human society upon the
bullock is all for its advantage. If it had not been for
Christmas he would have been common beef long ago.
But as it is he is prize beef, and those who bred him, sold
him, and ate him, are all the better for the time and money
spent upon his education.

In Greece and Rome it was a matter of popular belief
that animals devoted to sacrifice walked to the altar with
something of a nobler gait than when at liberty in the grass.
They were conscious of an exceptional dignity in the occa-
sion, and paced to death with a becoming stateliness.

"The fatter the ox," says the Pilgrim, "the more game-
somely he goes to the slaughter." The significance of the
fancy is of course obvious. The ancients wished to think
that the animal world was in alliance with them in the
honours that were conferred upon their divinities, and in
harmony with themselves. The thought of unwilling death
jars upon the dignified composure of the sacrificial rite.

Whether or not bullocks look upon Yule-tide as an occa-
sion for high spirits, is of course a point involved in some
doubt But I do not think we need feel any hesitation in
congratulating ourselves upon having given these amiable
animals the opportunity of doing so if they Uked, We
bring a great moral purpose into their lives and add a
dignity to decease. If they do their duty in death, they

282 The Pods' Beasts.

live in ease and peace. Fate spins them a more generous
length of days, and when the fatal day comes it is really an
altar that awaits them.

For what is Christmas in its festal aspect but a feast in
honour of the genius of good living, and what are the store
of choice viands that we prepare for it but sacrifices ? So
the pig, the bullock, and the sheep find, just as in the old
pagan days, the fillets of sacrificial flowers, the garlands,
and the ornaments ready. There is ceremony over the act
of offering, and reverent appreciation of the remains.

The Pontifex Maximus of the market himself prepares
the prize beef, and the ordinary ministers of the place
attend the rite in deferential attention. With what scientific
nicety the joints are got ready ; with what conciseness of
skill and brave affectations of gesture the operator does his
work. He might be a surgeon with an emperor for his
subject. And then with what parade of circumspection
each portion is removed, with what fine quibblings as to
trifles of position each is placed aside. Dexterous hands
have already carved the lucid turnip and the glowing carrot
into floral effigies, and the blue satin bows have fringes of
silver tinsel, and the skewer is gilt. Under the master's
own eye the decorations are affixed. In private there are
many rehearsals, till at length taste is satisfied, and then
the lordly fragments are brought out for public view. Now
all this circumstance of demise, this consequential pomp
of posthumous adornment, ought surely to have an elevating
influence upon the bullock and his friends.

They are the descendants of " the wild lierds that own
no master's stall," of the reem — the animal that had such
wide horns that Noah (so the Talmudists say) could not
get it into the ark, and had to tow it behind — and of the
urus, which Julius Cxsar says was only a trifle smaller than
the elephant. And to-day they arc the brothers of the
American bison, "the majestic brute that roams in herds

TJie Poets Herds. 283

which shake the earth," and of the gigantic gour of the
Indian swamps. It is not true (though the natives believe
it is) that the latter snuffs up chunks of stone with its
nostrils, and then discharges them with the force of a cata-
pult at those who attack it, but it is beyond doubt that the
gour shows no hesitation whatever in charging anything
that stands in front of it.

In the East the whole family of " homed beasts " is
treated with superstitious reverence, for all the animals
which are the " vahans " or " vehicles " of the gods are sacred,
and amongst these are the bull and buffalo — but above all
the cow. For Brahma is said to have created the Brahmin
and the cow at the same binh ; the former to offer sacrifice,
the latter to yield the "ghee" for anointing the offering.
The eating of ghee (or "clarified butter") in sufficient
quantities destroys all sin — so the Hindoos say — while the
consumption of the five products of the cow cleanses from
all pollution. One of these is used all over India for spread-
ing over the floors and walls on scrubbing days, and, strange
to. say, it has the effect of cleansing them perfectly, and
giving the rooms the fragrance of the Tonquin bean.
" How," asks Sir George Birdwood. " would Dr. Richard-
son explain this ? " The Hindoo explains it easily by a
miracle. Yet the enormous importance of the cow in
Hindooism is only of comparatively recent date, for, as the
Brahmins themselves confess, the blessed animal is only
coeval with themselves, and until recently India has known
so little of its ancient self that Hindoos have come to believe
that it was ordained at the creation that man should not
eat beef The impulse to literary research given by British
encouragement of education has, however, resulted in show-
ing that the original, ante-Brahminical gods of the Hindoos
used to eat beefsteaks habitually — it was their favourite
diet, in fact — and, what is more, that they got ver)' drunk
on soma after their meals.

284 The Poets Beasts.

No animal in all the range of zoolatry has ever arrived
at such dignities as the Hindoo cow. The monkey is sufifi-
ciently sacred, and it goes hard with the novice who, uncon-
scious of any sacrilege, shoots the village peacocks. In
other countries, as in the case of the dog and baboon, bull
and ram, crocodile, hawk, and ibis of ancient Egypt, or the
eagle and crow, snake, wolf, shark, and pike of the modern
clan-animal worship, many birds and beasts, reptiles and
fishes, have attracted to themselves the homage of nations.
But, putting them all together, whether in fur, feather, or
scales, they do not collectively outweigh the stupendous
sanctity with which Brahminism has invested the cow. The
bull shares in some degree his consort's honours, and in the
more exclusively Hindoo towns sacred cattle of both sexes
lounge about the streets. No place is forbidden to them,
and they are free of every stall. Wherever they choose to
feed, there they are at liberty to eat ; and wherever they
choose to lie down, that place is theirs. The sweetmeat-
seller may bribe the sacred bull with a lump of sugar-stuff to
pass on to the next stall, or the grain-seller may exchange a
chatty of cheaper grain for that into which the fastidious beast
has plunged its black muzzle. Yet they are never struck
and seldom reproached, except v/ith qualifying phrases of
respect, in which the merchant deprecates his four-legged
visitor's displeasure, or apologises for his refusal of more
viands on the score of his own poverty.

The cow, and not the bull, however, is pre-eminently the
object of worship. The latter may be specially sacred as
the "vehicle" of this god or a particular symbol of that,
but the former pervades tiie whole religion, and itself adds
a sanctity to every deity in the Pantlieon. When Brahma,
the All-Father, took upon himself the beneficent function
of creation, he first made tlie gods and then the holy men,
and the cow and the Brahmin were produced by the same
act of creative power. So Bralmiinism and the cow are

The Poets Herds. 285

inseparable, and the animal, the twin, as it were, of the
holy " twice-born," takes rank above many castes of men.
To save the life of a cow, to do it a service, to tend it in
sickness, to revere it at all times, are almost as advantageous
in the hereafter as if the same acts had been done towards
a Brahmin. To kill a cow, to wound it, or to insult it, is
reckoned, in the full austerity of Brahminism, a more
heinous offence than similar wrongs inflicted upon the
lower orders of Hindoos.

The camel selected to carry the Sultan's annual gift of
the new veil to Mecca is, in memory of El Kaswa which the
Prophet rode, treated, while on the road, with all the pomp
and care that would be extended to majesty itself, and the
competition for the honourable posts of attendance upon
the brute is sometimes very keen. So too in Egypt the
sacred animals became, once a year, by priestly condescen-
sion, the objects of public solicitude and recipients of
public services. But among the Hindoos the kine live in
the same sanctity perennially, and enjoy a universal tender-
ness of treatment from year's end to year's end. During
all the rest of the twelvemonth, when it is not loitering
along the caravan-route to the Holy City, the camel of
Islam receives but scant respect from a provoked rider or
short-tempered owner. So, too, the furry obliquities of
Egyptian adoration relapsed in the majority of cases and
for the greater part of the year into their proper places in
the animal world. But the glory of the cow of Hindostan,
like that of its prototype in Vedic legends, is never in
eclipse. It is always at the meridian. So to this day we
find it in Hindoo zoolatry as the supreme expression of the
kindliness of the powers of Nature to man, an authentic
proof of the goodness of the gods. Though all the herds
that other peoples worshipped have gone from the earth
w^ith the credulities upon which they pastured, the bull of
Shiva and the cow of Brahma have still their altars in a

286 The Poets' Beasts.

thousand temples, and arrogate the central dignity in a
religion which has two hundred millions of believers. To
this day Hindoos devoutly believe in Kamadhuk, the "cow
of plenty," which yields in heaven, from her exuberant
udders, every gift and blessing which the spirit of the dead
can demand.

Yet, elsewhere, in the West, cattle are called prosaic
animals, and it is a common thing for men to speak super-
ciliously of the bovine atmosphere of bucolic society.
From the supposed stupidity of kine the dulness of all
such as have their being among them is arbitrarily inferred.
The companionship of the bulky, slow-moving, cud-
chewing things is presumed to have a corresponding effect
upon the temperaments of those who are much with them.
To call a man a bullock is to suggest that he is clumsy-
footed and thick-headed, with an inert mind in a heavy
body.

Even the poets are of this way of thinking. They have
the same name for the animals and the men that tend
them ; they are all " herds " together, and which is the
more " simple," the quadruped or the biped, it were hard
to decide. But it is quite certain that the poetical "herd"
is as nearly an idiot as man could be without positively
gibbering, and his "patient charges," if absence of char-
acter be significant of defective intelligence, are not much
above him.

" The bound of all liis vanity, to deck

With one briglit bell a fav'rite heifer's neck."

Yet the poets make excellent use of their cattle, and the
complete calendar of the year might be easily constrtictcd
out of the moods of the kine in verse.

Spring is quiet with "placid beeves" " unworricd in the
meads," " the calm ];leasures of the pasturing herds," and
"the tranquil tinkle of the heifer's bell."

TJie Poets Herds. 287

" Straight to the meadow then he whistling goes,
With well-known halloo calls his lazy cows,
Down the rich pasture heedlessly they graze.
Or hear the summons with an idle gaze ;
For well they know the cow-yard yields no more
Its tempting fragrance, nor its wint'ry store.
Reluctance marks their steps, sedate and slow.
The right of conquest all the law they know.
Subordinate they one by one succeed,
And one among them always takes the lead.
Is ever foremost, wheresoe'er they stray,
Allowed precedence, undisputed sway.
With jealous pride her station is maintained,"
For many a broil that post of honour gained."

Then comes Summer with its flies and " restless herds "
with tails perpetually on the swing. They rush from their
tormentors into the pools.

"^^'hat lime the cow stands knee-deep in the pool.
Lashing her sides for anguish,

Scaring off with sudden head reversed the insect swarm.
That basks and preys upon her sunny hide,
Or when she flies with tufted tail erect.
Trie breeze- fly's keen invasion to the shade.
Scampering madly."

This breeze-fly is specially popular with the poets as
a summer detail. Spenser draws an illustration of the
" World's Vanity " therefrom —

" In summer's day, when Phoebus fairly shone,
I saw a Bull as white as driven snowe,
With gilden homes embowed like the moone.
In a fresh flowring meadow lying lowe ;
Up to his eares the verdant grasse did g'owe,
And the gay flowres did ofi"er to be eaten ;
But he with fatnes so did overflowe.
That he all wallowed in the weedes downe bea'.en,
Ne car'd with them his daintie lips to sweeten :
Till that a Brize, a seemed little creature.

2 88 The Poets Beasts.

Through his faire hide his angrie sting did threaten,
And vext so sore, that all his goodly feature
And all his plenteous pasture nought him pleased :
So by the small the great is oft diseased."

Next Autumn with its cattle "conscious of storms," "and
huddling side by side, in closest ambush seek to hide,"
Winter with its " miry herds " or " kine in stalls."

Winter is, indeed, a season of horrors for the poets' herds.
In the morning —

" Driven from their stalls to take the air,
How stupidly they stare ! and feel how strange !
They open wide their smoking mouths to low,
But scarcely can their feeble sound be heard ;
Then turn and lick themselves, and step by step
Move, dull and heavy, to their stalls again." — y. Baillie.

This is bad enough, but it is much worse sometimes.
They go afield, but there " in icy garments mourn, and wildly
murmur for the spring's return " (Crabbe). They then return
" from the untasted fields," and " wail their wonted fodder,
not, like hungering man, fretful if unsupplied, but silent,
meek" (Cowper), while "drooping the labourer-ox, stands
covered o'er with snow, and then demands the fruit of all his
toil" (Thomson). After this the end cannot be far —

"The grazing ox lows to the gelid skies,
Walks o'er the marble meads with witli'ring eyes ;
Walks o'er tlie solid lakes, snuffs up the wind, and dies."

The seasons, again, could be divided off almost into
months — so punctually are the changes in cattle-life noted ;
while the different periods of the day have each of them
their herds characteristic of the hour and in keeping with
the weather.

The cool air of the dewy morning, the still heat of noon,
the languor of the afternoon, the quiet of evening — are all
marked off by their special cattle features ; and rainy

The Poets Herds. 289

weather and fine, hot and cold, present us with just as
different aspects of the herds as the seasons. In the
morning

'•' The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising,
There are forty feeding like one " ( Wordsworth) ;

and there is

" A balm,
Of palpable and breathing calm.
By song of birds confessed.
And gentle kine that graze and move,
Spotting the misty pastures o'er." — Faber.

The sun rises higher over "green valleys musical with
lowing kine " — the " lowing vales," as several poets auda-
ciously called them^ — and with "the heifer's wandering
bell." And then noon. If it be summer —

* ' A various group the herds and flocks compose —
Rural confusion ! On the grassy bank
Some ruminating lie ; while others stand
Half in the flood, and, often bending, sip
The circling surface. In the middle droops
The strong laborious ox, of honest front.
Which incomposed he shakes ; and from his sides
The troublous insects lashes with his tail.
Returning stilL Amid his subjects safe,
Slumbers the monarch swain ; his careless arm
Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustained ;
Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands filled ;
There, listening every noise, his watchful dog. "

If winter, there is Cowper's picture —

" The very kine that gambol at high noon,
The total herd receiving first from one
That leads the dance, a summons to be gay,

^ Tennyson says the ox fills "the horned valleys" with his lowing., e
Is this an analogous instance of the transfer of epithet ?

290 The Poets Beasts.

Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouth
Their efforts, yet resolved with one consent
To give such act and utterance as they may
To ecstacy too big to be suppressed."

The herds " screened from the sun and from molesting
bite of vexing flies, peaceful enjoy the cool and fragrant
meal," and so on to evening, when " the horned cattle will
forget to feed, and come home lowing from the grassy
mead." We hear them "rub the pasture's creaking gate,"
and see them, in the yard, "their rustling feast enjoy,
and snatch sweet mouthfuls from the passing boy." If the
weather be stormy, we see them in the morning " on the
scowling heavens cast a despairing eye," at noon " gaze
upon the gloom, and, seemly, dread the threatened storm
to come," " with broadened nostril to the sky upturned,
the conscious heifer sniffs the stormy gale."

In poetry, therefore, the cow is regularly recurrent as a
feature of the passing day or changing year ; indeed, if we
except the birds as a class, no other image is such a
favourite with the bards as the herd. Whether they speak
of them collectively as " soft beavies," and " patient kine,"
or, individually, as the "lordly stiff-necked bull," "the
tyrant of the field," — the "milky mother," — "the strong
laborious ox with honest front," or "the slow team of steers
with down-sunk forehead and depending tongue," — "the
lowing heifer, loveliest of the herd," — the " stubborn "
bullock, or " the sportive calves with lifted tails," we find
them extending to the horned things all that sympathetic
admiration which is characteristic of the poets when speak-
ing of animals that are of direct use to man.

The bull is a really noble animal when you are not on
the same side of the hedge. As Hurdis says —

^ i^^j^ " 'Tis pleasure to approach,

, , rr I ' y, tl'C strong fence shiclilcd, view secure
marked off l)y tlu x^ , • ., in

^ = JNature, in the savage bull.

Tlie Poets Herds. 291

Soon as he marks me, he, the tjrrant fierce.

To earth descends his head ; hard breathe his lungs

Upon the dusty sod ; a sjilky leer

Gives double horror to the frowning curls

That wrap his forehead, and ere long is heard

From the deep cavern of his lordly throat

The growl insufiFerable."

But when you and it are both on the same side of the
palings, the spectacle of the bull —

" To the hollowed earth
WTience the sand flies, muttering bloody deeds.
And groaning deep,"

is not nearly so inspiriting. For the beast has a reckless
way about it that defies the calculations of the amateur —

" At random faces,
And whom he hits nought knows, and
Whom he hurts nought cares."

The professional torreador has the creature at his mercy,
and I can conceive nothing better calculated to impress
upon the mind a befitting sense of the superiority of human
reason over brute force and cunning, than the Portuguese
bull-ring. The vile cruelty of Madrid is not permitted in
Lisbon, and in the latter city therefore is to be seen the per-
fection of courage and skill —

" The bull's hoarse rage in dreadful sport to mock.
And meet with single sword his bellowing shock."

Byron has given an admirable description of the Spanish
scene.

The contests for " the lordship of the lowing herds "
afford the poets some fine touches — how they " fill the
fields with troublous bellowing," and " in impetuous battle
mix." The baited bull was a specially favourite image

292 The Poets Beasts.

with Spenser, perhaps a favourite sport. His sympathy is
always with the bull, as in the following —

" Like a wylde bull, that, being at a bay,
Is bayted of a mastiffe, and a hound,
And a curre-dog, that doe him sharp assay
On every side, and beat about him round ;
But most that curre, barking with bitter sownd,
And creeping still behinde, doth him incomber.
That, in his chauffe, he digs the trampled ground,
And threats his horns, and bellows like the thonder :
So did that squire his foes disperse and drive asonder."

The bullock is, in the poets, very properly the type
of headstrong, unmanageable youth, without the mature
dignity of the bull, but a sufficient measure of dangerous
potentiality.

Oxen are "sluggish," "stubborn," "dull, '"'toiling," "moyl-
ing," "tired," "patient," "willing," "slowpaced," "faint."

" The slow team
Of steers, reluctant pressing on the yoke,
With down-sunk forehead and depending tongue,
With winding shoulders and slow-pacing foot,
Pants."

Hurdis wrote this from the life, or he could never have
used the word "winding " for that laboured circular working
of the fore-legs. Yet what noble upstanding brutes the
oxen of the East are, and how admirably they look trotting
along an Indian road to the rhythmic tinkling of their bells,
with the crimson-canopied carriage behind them.

One great poet called the cow " the milky mother," a
phrase that does not sound so well in English as in Latin,
but five or six adopt it from him. She is a ponderous,
lethargic, slow-footed personage, but benevolent and tran-
quil. I'hose who live in the country may not be of the
same opinion, for many milky mothers are very awkward
to meet — •

The Poets Herds. 293

"Straight down she ran like an enraged cow
That is berobbed of her youngling dear " —

and after ail, in the matter of being tossed, it does not
matter much whether you are pitchforked by a " tyrant of
the herd " or a " milky mother." Sancho swore they were
clothworkers from Segovia : the Don said they were magi-
cians. Whichever they were, the squire's bones ached for
ever so many days, and his self-respect was tossed out of
him for the rest of his life.

The heifer is always, in the poets, a thing of beauty,
"gentle," "balmy-breathing," "sleeker than night-swollen
mushrooms " (Keats). Yet they like to see it, in the tradi-
tional tigress fashion, looking on while rivals combat to the
death for her possession —

"A lowing heifer, loveliest of the herd,
Stood feeding by, while two fierce bulls prepared
Their armed heads for fight, by fate of war to prove
The victor worthy of the fair one's love."

Nor outside the natural animal do the poets neglect
their kine. Scattered up and down are references to
bull- baiting —

" When through the town, with slow and solemn air.
Led by the nostril, walks the muzzled bear ;
Behind him moves, majestically dull,
The pride of Hockley Hole, the surly bull " —

and bull-fights — the sympathy of the poet being always
with the baited beast — to the kine that Egypt worshipped,
the bovine metamorphoses of Jupiter and of lo, the beast of
the Bethlehem stable —

" When He incradled was,
In simple cratch, wrapt in a wad of hay,
Betweene the tovlful oxe and humble asse."

294 ^-^^^ Poets Beasts.

the punishment of Nebuchadnezzar —

" That great proud King of Babylon,

That would compel all nations to adore,

And him as only God to call upon,

Till, through celestial doom thrown out of door,

Into an ox he was transformed of yore " —

Brahma's white bull and Europa's — ■

" Now lows the milk-white bull on Afric's strand,
And crops with dancing head the daisied land ;
With rosy wreaths Europa's hand adorns
His fringed forehead, and his pearly horns ;
Light on his back the sportive damsel bounds.
And pleased he moves along the flowery grounds,
Bears with slow step his beauteous prize aloof.
Dips in the lucid flood his ivory hoof;
Then wets his velvet knees, and wading laves
Ilis silky sides amid the dimpling waves " —

the bulls of heraldry, notably the " dun " the bulls of
Percy —

" Lord Westmoreland his ancient raised.
The Dun Bull he raised on high " —

the cows of popular superstition — white, black, and " shelly
coated," dappled, and sand-red, and brindled — and many
other creatures of story and myth, from Taurus of the zodiac
to the cow of Dunsmore Heath, of which the horn, albeit
an elephant's tusk is shown to this day, in proof of the
great Earl's great achievement.

XII.
SOME POETS' HORSES.

It is curious that poets should see so little of the natural
animal in the horse. As a beast, a quadruped, they
absolutely ignore it. It is only in its artificial varieties
that they recognise it at all, and even then so seldom as
to surprise the student of their pages. About the horse
particular, individual steeds of fame, a volume might easily
be gathered from our poets. But of the creature in Nature
they say nothing. The beast has become so thoroughly
relative that it has lost all individuality. It is either the
other half of a cavalier, a warrior, a war-chariot, a plough,
a coach, or a cart, or something else, that it cannot be
contemplated apart from its rider, its accoutrements, or the
vehicle it draws. Ail other animals have characters of their
own. The horse has none. It varies only according to the
kind of man on its back or the kind of thing behind it
Attach a plough to it, and it becomes at once " hea\'y " and
"dull;" set a soldier upon it, and it is "fiery" and
" proud." When ladies ride, their horses turn to " milk-
white palfreys ; " the hero of a poem, whether knight or
highwayman, bestrides, as a rule, a " courser." There are
also "swift-heeled Arabians," and "barbs," and "jennets;"
but these are not meant for real horses.

There is, of course, nothing surprising in the fact that
poets have but little in sympathy with stable-boys or book-

296 The Poets Beasts.

makers. When they do speak of grooms they rate them as
second-class horses, and the " horsey" gentleman as an in-
ferior amateur groom. This is, poetically, as it should be ;
but, on the other hand, when we remember that nearly ^11
history has been made on horseback, and that it is to the
character of that animal that man is indebted for the
moiety of his achievements, it strikes strangely to find
the poets so consistently disregarding the strongly-marked
individuality of the horse. Its sympathy with human
beings — as is the case with the poets' dogs also — has
doubtless much to do with the doubling-upof the animal
with its master. Whatever nature it may show, it is always
in accordance with that of its rider. Its temper always
matches its trappings, is strictly in keeping with its
harness.

Once upon a time — so the Greeks had the story^ — Athena
and Poseidon contended for the honour of being the best
friend of humanity, and, to clinch his claim, the ocean-god
created for the use of man the horse. Olympus had to
arbitrate between the rival divinities, and eventually decreed
in favour of Athena's olive-tree, "for," said Zeus, " I fore-
see that man will pervert the gift of Poseidon to the
purposes of war."

Appeal, however, lies from the judgment of the Thunderer
to the ultimate voice of history, and if " in the fulness of
time" we could ask the question again. Paternity would
certainly reverse the decree of the Olympian bench, for
the horse has done far more for man than salad oil.

In myth it is always noble. No monstrous form in
the classics has dignity except the Centaur, the Asvinau of
the Hindoos. The conjunction of man and horse in one
being was not considered degrading.

^ IIovv miserably tlie poets use tliis hcaulifiil episode. See, for
instance, Congreve (To the Karl of Godolphin), or rarnell (Tlie
Horse and the Olive).

Some Poets Horses. 297

To complete the majesty of deities, they rode or drove
horses. In primitive legend they go in pairs — the black
steed of Night with the grey of the Morning, the red horse
of Carnage and the white of Death. In the sunrise and the
sunset there gUtter the peacock-feathered manes of the
coursers of the sky. The spirit of the ^\^lirlwind sweeps
along charioted by a swarthy team. Thunder and Light-
ning, the terrific Dioscuri, ride in the heavens upon their
neighing, fire-breathing, stallions. The rain-god Indras
comes up drawn by the Rohits, "the brown ones;" the
Dawn has harnessed to her car three dappled greys. From
the stables of Asgard issue Hrimfaxe and Skimfaxe, the
steeds of Day and Night, just as from the stalls of Olympus
the Hours lead forth Xanthos '"the golden,'"' and Belios
*' the mottled," and Meranon's mother — " Tithonia conjux "
— springs fi-om bed to chariot, and, shaking their dewy
manes, Lampas and Phaethon whirl her upwards through the
reddening skies to awaken gods and men.

The spirits are all mounted — " Heaven's cherubim,
horsed upon the sightless coursers of the air" — "night-roam-
ing ghosts, by saucer-eyeballs known" (Gay) — "the Kelpy
on its water-palfrey" (Wordsworth) — the angels of death,
whose " coal-black steeds wait for men " (Jean Ingelow) —
the fays of Collins on miik-white steeds, and of Shelley on
" the coursers pf the air," the elfin king of Leyden on his
coal-black horse that goes with noiseless hoofs. Ossian's
steeds — " bounding sons of the hill," like every other
animal in that tiresome imposture — are wTeaths of mist.
But more substantial, in their way, are the night-steeds of
the moon in Campbell, the " pale horses '* of famine, war,
and plague (Mallet), the white horse, splashed with blood,
which Anarchy rides in Shelley, and the "pale horse,"
which is the steed of death in a score of poets. Coleridge
makes fun of it —

298 The Poets Beasts.

" A Pothecary on a white horse,
Rode by on his vocations,
And the Devil thought of his old friend
Death in the Revelations."

But it is reserved for Eliza Cook to speak of " the brave
iron-grey," which is Eternity's Arab !

The Oriental horse-myths have their exponent in Sir
William Jones, whose "green-haired steeds," " with verdant
manes," gallop through the skies. "The seven coursers
green" of Love and Bounty, "with many an agate hoofed,
and pasterns fringed with pearl," and those others, " the
steeds of noon's effulgent king, that shake their green manes,
and blaze with rubied eyes," are strictly in sympathy with
Hindoo tradition. Campbell, on the same theme, wanders,
as usual, into sunless skies of error.

Of horses more specifically, historically, individual, there
is a multitude, of course. Starting from the commence-
ment, there is the wild Scythian, supposed (by Phineas
Fletcher) to drink the blood of the horse he is riding —
"yet worse! this fiend makes his own flesh his meat" —
and the horses of ancient tradition, such as that "wondrous
horse of brass on which the Tartar king did ride ; " and so
we pass, through the classic steeds of Greece and Rome,
the steeds of Caesar and Alexander, to those of mediaeval
heroes, Arthur and the Cid ; and so along the picketed
lines of Rhenish steeds, knightly coursers, and milk-white
palfreys of the old-ballad age, to the horse of Mazeppa, and
the Tartar steeds of the revolt of Islam.

The horses of St. Mark and of Pharaoh, of which Miriam
sang when she went up before the host, with all the women
with timbrels and dances — of Darius, which neighed him
into the throne of I'ersia — of Diomed, anthropophagous
brutes, " Thracian steeds with human carnage wild" —

" Which fell Geryon nursed, their food
The flesh of man, their drink his blood"

Some Poets' Horses. 299

— of Nereus, the sea-horses, a very favourite fancy of the
poets — of Dan Phoebus —

" When he doth tighten up the golden reins
And paces leisurely down amber plains
His snorting four " —

the air-bred and wind-begotten steeds of Thrace — the
winged steeds of Perseus and Endymion, — and all the
" other foales of Pegasus, his kynde." So, step by step, pass
to Black Besses of the heath and road, the chargers of
our Joan-of-Arcs and other warriors of history, of Queen
Elizabeth and other sovereigns, to the Rozinantes, Grizzles,
and Dobbins, of Cervantes, Hudibras, and S}Titax, to hacks
of John Gilpin and the " Parish Doctor," and many a local
hero and heroine beside whose jades are the subjects of a
passing jest.

I remember having seen somewhere a picture of Adam,
in the garb of Eden, riding a bare-backed mustang, a lion
gamboling by his side. But in Holy Writ the horse
appears in only one aspect — as the war-horse. '• He saith
among the trumpets. Ha ! ha ! and he smelleth the battle
afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting." ^

In Genesis the name does not occur at all. Nor, as a
matter of fact, could it do so, seeing that the first " horse "
(the first that science knows of) was a little, five-toed, sharp-
nosed creature, much too small for a man of even our
degenerate stature to ride upon, and otherwise also unsuit-
able for a steed ; and it is, therefore, very probable that
" the first man " never was on horseback.

Yet the use of the animal dates back to a prodigious
antiquity. The Assyrian sculptures show us high-bred and
carefully-caparisoned chargers, three thousand years and
more ago. Nor is it at all likely that they were the first to

^ Job's splendid poem has incited several poets (Quarles, Young,
Broome, for instance) to attempt the same theme, which, however,
gains no accession of beauty or power from their paraphrases.

300 The Poets Beasts.

train them, for the horse is a native of Central Asia, and
the early Aryan is hardly likely to have wasted such a
useful beast. At any rate, the perfection to which the
extremely ancient Assyrian monuments show us that
the breeding had attained some eighteen hundred years
before Christ, must certainly have taken a long time in
development.

The poets, therefore, do not take more than their usual
license when they describe a primitive race catching the
wild horse and breaking it into their use. Thus in *' Before
the Flood "—

" With flying forelock and dishevelled mane,
They caught the wild steed prancing o'er the plain,
For war or pastime reined his fiery force ;
Fleet as the wind he stretched along the course,
Or, loudly neighing at the trumpet's sound,
With hoofs of thunder smote the indented ground."

The colt "with heels undipped and shaggy mane
promiss," and "nothing conscious of his future toils,"
"approving all pastures but his own" (Hurdis), grows up,
and for a while longer retains his liberty.

" Wanton
He skims the spacious meadows,
Then stops and snorts, and tlirowing up his heels,
Starts to tlie voluntary race again."

But in due time he becomes a full-grown horse.

" Then think how short the time, since, joyous, free,
lie roamed the mead, or, by his mother's side.
Attended jilougli or harrow, scampering gay ;
And think how soon his years of youth and strength
Will fly, and leave him to that wretched doom
Which ever terminates the horse's life.
Toil more and more severe, as age, decay,
Disease, unnerve his limbs, till sinking faint
Upon the ruad, the brutal stroke resounds."

So7ne Poets' Horses. 301

The phrase " which ever " is not, however, strictly correct
in England, whatever, according to Grahame, may be the
universal rule in Scotland. For, as Cowper says —

" The veteran steed excused his task at length,
In kind compassion of his failing strength.
And turned into the park or mead to graze.
Exempt from future service all his days,
There feels a pleasure perfect in its kind."

This may be accepted as almost the total sum of the
natural horse in poetry. That episode in Venus and
Adonis, where the conduct of the young boar-hunter's steed
suggests to the quick-witted goddess an argument from
analogies, has suggested several exaggerated descriptions
of the stallion at large, but they are scarcely sketches from
the Ufe.

In the chase, Somerviile of course excepted, the horse
does not occupy the prominent place that might have been
expected. Hunting is not a favourite pastime of the poeL
He does not ride as Byron says Don Juan did —

" So that his horse, or charger, hunter, hack.
Knew that he had a rider on his back."

And they skirt the subject, except so far as sentiment goes,
with the utmost delicacy. Some, indeed, contemn "the
squire " who takes a pride in his steed.

Somerviile, of course, is a unique exception, and his
apostrophes of the " brave youths " who go a-hunting are
delightful rubbish, as the opening rhapsody goes to show —

*' Hail, happy Britain ! highly favoured isle.
And Heaven's peculiar care ! to thee 'tis given
To train the sprightly steed, more fleet than those
Begot by Winds, or the celestial breed
That bore the great Pelides thro' the press
Of heroes armed, and broke their crowded ranks."

But he knew a good horse as well as Hiurdis did, and

302 The Poets Beasts,

was a far better sportsman than he was a poet. For tV
utter humUiation of the noble brute read Eliza Cook.

The race-horse finds but few friends among the poet
They see only the cruelty of the sport. The jockeys a
" murderers," and the animals come in with " rivers '
sweat and blood flowing from gored sides." They admi
the animal ''with his nostrils thin, blown abroad by tl
pride within," but they avoid it.

The war-horse finds more frequent and appreciati''
reference, but the poets cannot shake Job off. The fe
lines of the Patriarch's poem stretch farther than all the
laboured eulogies, just as the staff of Moses reached farth
than the linked sceptres of all the Kings of Edom.
neighs and paws and snorts, but it gets no further, after a
than the 25th verse of the 39th chapter of the Book of Jo
" Taboring the ground " is, however, an excellent conce
of Quarles, and shows an unusual judgment in plagiari
ing.

The poet's cart-horse is a most dismal creation. N'
long ago cruelty to animals was much more prevalent th£
it is now — thanks to a society that has the eyes of Argu
the funds of Croesus, and the sympathy of the country-
and from Chaucer to Wordsworth the draught-horse is
miserable brute, habitually ill-treated, and dying from cru
over-work. It is "as lene as is a rake " (Chaucer); "2
bones and leather " (Butler) ; " a wretched unlucky corse
(Ramsay); "toil-worn" in Grahame, who seems to ha:
had an exceptionally bad opinion of Scotch treatment 1
horses. Cowper implores the carter to spare his " po(
beasts ; " Wordsworth beseeches the waggoner to be mini
ful of his responsibilities. Both these poets, however, p£
a tribute of respect to the draught-horse's willingness, whi
those who know him better — Hurdis, Clare, and Bloor
field, for instance — admire it, " patient of the slow-pace
swain's delay ; " or as

Some Poets Horses, 303

" Up against the hill they strain,
Tugging at the iron chain."

Joanna Baillie has a bitter passage : is there still all the
old truth about it ?

* ' What forms are these with lean galled sides ? In vain
Their laxed and ropy sinews sorely strain
Heaped loads to draw, with lash and goad urged on.
They were in other days, but lately gone,
The useful servants, dearly prized, of those
Who to their failing age give no repose —
Of thankless, heartless owners. Then full oft
Their arched, graceful necks, so sleek and soft,
Beneath a master's stroking hand would rear
Right proudly, as they neighed his voice to hear.
But now how changed ! And what marred things are these,
Starved, hooted, scarred, denied or food or ease ;
Whose humbled looks their bitter thraldrom show,
Familiar with the kick, the pinch, the blow ?
Alas ! in this sad fellowship are found
The playful kitten and the faithful hound."

In metaphors and analogies, similes and morals drawn
from an original so exceptionally promising as the horse,
the poets show themselves strangely self-denying and even
parsimonious. In a great measure the dog forestalls it.
Moreover, when comparisons of courage, speed, or a gene-
rous spirit are sought there are the poets' lions and eagles
to draw upon. The horse therefore is made an adjunct
in description rather than a moral auxiliary. It adds a
material feature to the scene, but affords no lesson. The
poets, in fact, do not recognise the horse as an animal. It
is an equipment, an adornment, furniture.

Herbert is a very striking exception ; he has a whole
quiver full of equine "jacula." Thus, for example, "a
jade eats as much as a good horse ; " " Who lets his wife
go to every feast, and his horse drink at every water, shall
neither have good wife nor horse ; " " The master's eye

304

The Poets Beasts.

fattens the horse;" "For want of a nail the shoe is lost
for want of a shoe the horse is lost : for want of a hors
the rider is lost;" "The horse thinks one thing, and h
that saddles him another ; " " Speed without pains, a horse.
These must suffice. Cowper uses the metaphor " pad
horse constancy," and Churchill, though with deficier
skill, utilises the colt as a simile for " loose Digression,
that " spurning connection and her formal yoke, bound
through the forest and wanders far astray." The colt, ir
deed, furnishes an analogy to many things and persons thj
depreciate it,- for the poets too often forget that, after al
innocence in the young beast sets it quite apart from th
deliberate obliquities of reasoning humanity.

XIII.

SOME POETS' DOGS.

" MastiflF, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound or spaniel, bracli or lym.
Or bobtail-tyke or trundle-tail."

Premising, in the poet's humour, that animals are only
worthy of regard relatively to man, it follows that no animal
is so suitable for poetical treatment as the dog, for the dog
has virtually no independent existence. Apart from man
it has no identity.

For the wild dog is hardly a dog. It smells like a fox,
has eyes that gleam in the twilight like a wolfs, is silent
under all canine provocations to bark, and when it does
give tongue, its howling is in a voice that is absolutely
unlike any other created utterance. In appearance it is a
cross between a jackal and a wolf, assuming a furry winter
coat in high latitudes, while its. manners in captivity re-
semble neither the one nor the other. In Byron it " howls
o'er the fountain brim, with baffled thirst and famine grim,"
but as he is speaking of the deserted courts* of Hassan's
palace, the animal intended is probably only the "pariah-
dog " of the East, as also in the following —

" He saw the lean dogs beneath the wall
Hold o'er the dead their carnival ;

3o6 The Poets Beasts.

Gorging and growling o'er carcass and limb,

They were too busy to bark at him !

From a Tartar's skull they had stripped the flesh,

As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh ;

And their white tusks crunched o'er the whiter skull.

As it slipped through their jaws when their edge grew dull,

As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead,

When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed ;

So well had they broken a lingering fast

With those who had fall'n for that night's repast.

The scalps were in the wild dog's maw,

The hair was tangled round his jaw ;

But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf.

There sat a vulture flapping a wolf,

Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away,

Scared by the dogs, from the human prey ;

But he seized on his share of a steed that lay,

Picked by the birds, on the sands of the bay,

And see, worms of the earth, and fowls of the air.

Beasts of the forest, all gathering there ;

All regarding man as their prey,

All rejoicing in his decay."

By the way, were pariah-dogs ever a feature of English
life ? Or how is it that Spenser, Chaucer, and others talk so
often of vagrant curs that beset well-bred dogs; of "a sort
of hungry dogs y-met, about a carcass in the common way,"
and so forth. It is very probable that we once had pariahs,
just as every other half-civilised country still has them.
This opens up, it seems to me, rather an interesting point
for inquiry and research. At any rate, our older poets
evidently sa7v them in packs quarrelling over offal on the
roads.

When, therefore, the poets speak of dogs they mean the
tamed descendants of the creatures which were given to
man by a compassionate Providence to be his eyes and
ears, and which centuries of experience have proved to be
tlie best servants beyond all comparison that humanity has
ever dignified into utility. Under domestication the dog

Some Poets Dogs. 307

has varied from its original types with such extraordinary
ingenuity that it would now be very difficult indeed to
resolve the different species of Europe into their primal
elements or to refer each to its old wild-brier stock.

I do not say it would be impossible, for I have myself
seen so many transition-varieties between the bona fide
" wild dog " — the tiger-hunting pack of the Indian jungles
— and the thoroughly civilised animal, that I have no doubt
that if travellers put their experiences together, the exist-
ence of most of our dogs, with their present special char-
acteristics in full development, could be traced back to
the remotest ages. Thus, long before white men went to
North America, the Red Indians had possessed the grey-
hound ; the dames of old Mexico centuries ago cherished
curly-haired lap-dogs ; the villagers of the Himalayas
guarded their hill-paths in the Vedic days with ferocious
thick-coated shepherd-dogs ; Nineveh borrowed the mastiflf
from Egypt — and Egypt from " Accadia."

I yield to no one in my honourable and affectionate
regard for the dog. But I place it far below man ; for
man, I contend, made the dog, and I agree with him who
says that '* man is the Providence of the dog." The sagacity,
fidehty, and disinterested, passionate attachments of the
dog are such old facts that the person who would disbelieve
in them can hardly be imagined; and for myself, I am
almost afraid to think of the dog's possibilities in intelli-
gence and affection, if its life were only commensurate with
our own. Yet granting all this, Talways find myself resent-
ing the irrational infatuation of dog enthusiasts, and being
thus apprehensive of the excesses of others, am perhaps
inclined to weigh out the measure of my own admiration
with too exact a hand. For a margin of eulogy is excusable
for an animal that without reason learns in its short span
of years so nearly to simulate it ; that without inherited
data evolves from its own perceptions such an admirable

^o8 TJic Poets Beasts.

o

morality ; that without free agency formulates so fearlessly
and faithfully its table of duties to be done and temptations
to be resisted ; that without any hope of a hereafter, so
often seem.s to be living in expectation of a life to come.
But the sum of all this does not reach by many figures the
full equation of man.

Yet the dog is a beautiful symbol, and though here and
there individuals may exceed into Egyptian idolatry of the
animal, it is as a type of courageous, self-forgetful friendship
that the poets use it most justly.

Occasionally, too, they confess that the best of dogs may
" from the path of duty err." ^ As Somerville admits —

" He may mistake sometimes, 'lis true,
None are infallible but you ;
The dog whom nothing can mislead
Must be a dog of parts indeed ; "

and as Eliza Cook delightfully illustrates in her address to
tlie staghound Bran —

" You have strength of muscle and length of limb,
Your jaws are deep and your beard is grim,
Your fangs are strong and ivory white,
Your mouth is as black as a cloudy night.
'Tis pleasant to hear the wise ones utter

The worth of your power and pace ;
But why did you swallow that pound of butter,

Dog of an ancient race?"

So, too, Cowper, rising for once out of his indolent,
timid life, to impatience with a little dog that persisted in
quarrelling with others, orders it to — " go ! "

* " E'en the docile pointer knows disgrace,
Thwarting the gen'ral instincts of his race ;
E'en so the mastiff or the meaner cur
At times will from the path of duty err."

Some Pods Dogs. 309

" I care not whether east or north,
So I no more may find thee ;
The angry Muse thus sings thee forth,
And claps the gate behind thee. "

To measure the real worth of a dog's attachment, the
true value of its friendship, we have only to take any one
of the poets' desperate assertions that the dog they deplore
was their " only " friend. Thus Byron —

" Ye who perchance behold this simple urn
Pass on — it honours none you wish to mourn ;
To mark a friend's remains these stones arise,
I never knew but one — and here he lies."

Now, what is the effect of this stanza on the mind ? Does
it exalt the worth of a dog's fidelity ? or does it not rather
fill the reader with an indignant pity for the man who in
all this world of men and women says he could find, or
keep, no better friend than a dog? Sympathy is of so
subtle a cr}'stal that it shivers to pieces at the first drop of
cynicism, and so, instead of admiring Byron's dog the more,
I feel inclined to admire the dog's master the less.

By his own showing, too, the poet was barely honest
to his one friend —

" Perchance my dog will whine in vain
Till fed by stranger hands ;
But long ere I come back again,
He'd tear me where he stands " —

and there is either gross injustice in this verse or false sen-
timent in the other. And each is alike disagreeable and
unjust

Meanwhile, the beauty of the dog's fidelity remains unim-
paired, and when the same poet (in his terrific dream of
" Darkness ") pays the tribute of his verse to the hound
faithful even to death, he commands a universal sympathy —

3IO The Poets Beasts. ,

" With a piteous and perpetual moan

And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress — he died,"

Mary Howitt's lines —

'* My mother is dead, and my father loves
His dogs far more than me,"

are within the facts, and so too is Tennyson's

" He will hold thee when his passion shall have spent its moral force
Something better than his dog, something dearer than his horse. "

Nothing, of course, can prevent a Cowper making even
a dog's friendship sometimes ridiculous, nor an Eliza Cook
arousing one's furious scorn with such a couplet as this —

" Nor deem me impious if I say
That next to God I hold my hound."

What a confession of faith — to worship God, and love her
dog better than her neighbour ! But where the poet does
not fall a victim to want of taste or to cheap cynicism, the
expression of affection for a worthy dog is always sure to
command a reasonable sympathy with the writer, if only for
the reason that the dog is one of man's finest triumphs.

King Lear bemoans it as " the most unkindest cut of all,"
that the dogs about his palace, " the little dogs and all,"
should bark at him. How many men have said it in half
earnest that they place their hopes no higher than the
Red Indian who " in another life expects his dog, his bottle,
and his wife," and that they envy Tobit and Arjuna their
canine companions in heaven —

" He asks no angel's wings, no seraph's fire,
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky.
His faithful dog shall bear him company." — Po/e.

It forms a feature, therefore, of all the happiest aspects
of life, is an emblem of the security and tranquil domestic

Some Poeti Dogs. 3 1 1

simplicity that are accepted as characteristic of the poetical
country-side.

The dog at ease is significant of auspicious times and
events ; the miserable one ominous of disaster present or
to come. The lazy dog is a feature of the summer's day,
and the active one of winter and spring. It is on the hills
with the shepherd, on the road with the carter, in the
comer of the field with the ploughman. No door or gate
opens without its appropriate dog. Guests, good and bad,
are to be distinguished by the kind of dogs that meet
them.

And there are few incidents of the animal's life that have
not been noted. The meeting of strange dogs, their making
acquaintance, their courtships, the birth of puppies, their
blindness, and sometimes untimely death by drowning ; the
playing of the puppies with the children of the house, their
being reared as members of the family circle, their entering
upon the duties of life, their different careers, and the
various incidents of each. And what delightful vignettes
they often suggest ! Grahame's haymaking dog for instance,
or Joanna Bailiie's summer-afternoon dog —

*' Silence prevails —
Nor low, nor bark, nor chirping bird is heard,
The shady nooks the sheep and kine conrene ;
Within the narrow shadow of the cot
» The sleepy dog lies stretched upon his side.
Nor heeds the footsteps of the passer-by.
Or at the sound but raises half an eyelid.
Then gives a feeble growl and sleeps again.
While puss composed and grave on threshold stone
Sits winking in the light."

And Jean IngeloVs delightful sketch of the fisherman's
puppies —

" Tlie village dogs and ours, elate and brave,
Lay looking over, barking at the fish ;

3 1 2 The Poets Beasts.

Fast, fast, the silver creatures took the bait.

And when they heaved and floundered on the rock

In beauteous misery, a sudden pat

Some shaggy pup would deal, then back away,

At distance eye them with sagacious doubt,

And shrink half-frightened from the slippery things."

At play or at war, snarling over a bone, quarrelling over
a piece of meat, crouching under the lash, barking at pass-
ing beggars, barking at nothing, asleep, awaking, awake,
rolling in the grass or dust, eating, drinking, chasing cats,
dreaming of chasing cats, annoyed by flies, wistful, honest,
suspicious, confiding, fawning; big dogs beset by little ones,
"generous" hounds by curs of low degree; the poor man's
dog, the blind man's dog, the poacher's dog, the mad dog ;
— in each and all these phases we find the dog in poetry.
Indeed, there is no mood of temper, no circumstance of life
whatever, in which, in one poet or another, the animal
does not figure, from the puppy blind to the dog
cooked —

" A kettle slung

Between two poles upon a stick transverse

Receives the morsel, flesh obscene of dog

Or vermin, or at best of cock purloined

From his accustomed perch."

Yet of all terms of reproach, the whole world over, and
from time immemorial, none is comparable in frequency of
use or in its provocative potentialities on the individual
abused, to the name of our best friend. " Treacherous,
false, ungrateful dog ! " and so forth, could be multiplied
indefinitely from the poets if there were any need to go
beyond the streets for evidence to the ignominy of the name.
Spenser has (" Fairy Queen," Book vi. c. vi. 33) the phrase
"vile cowheard (.\o<gg(i" and in the next stanza "cowheard
feare." In stanza 26, however, we find "craven cowherd
knight " who in " cowardize doth delight." These spellings
occur in Johnson's edition, and, though I have not met

Some Poets Dogs. 313

with it, I make no doubt commentators have elucidated
this complexity of etymology.

Even more curious, perhaps, is it that the hound, held in
such special honour, should if possible suggest an aggrava-
tion of the dog reproach. All over the world, in every
language from the far East to the far West, among savages
of all countries and from the earliest days to the present
time, " dog " is the supreme epithet of scorn. Whenever
a European goes among an unfriendly population he is a
'•dog of an infidel," "a Christian dog;" and the worst
that savages can say of him is that he "eats dog's meat,"
and has "dog's teeth." But for us, who have evolved the
hound from the dog, the former stands a point in contempt
below even the latter.

In the same spirit the canine element in a composite
monster horribly enhances its deformity. How abominable
the Scylla form always is —

" Thereto the body of a dog she had,
Full of fell ravin and fierce greedinesse."

" Cur " is in poetry a genus which includes many specific
varieties — "mongrel of low degree," "bob-tailed tyke,"
"trundle-tail," "curtail dog," and so forth. It has long
been in use as a term of reproach ; and in this sense the
poets always use it Thus Wyatt's " curs do fall by kind
on him that hath the overthrow," and Herbert's '•' babbling
curs never want sore ears." And King's

" Cur of shabby race,
The first by wand'ring beggars fedj;
His sire, advanced, turned spit for bread,
Himself each trust had still abused,
To steal what he should guard was used
From puppy ; known where'er he came,
Both vile and base, and void of shame."

In the same way " puppy" and, with less reason perhaps

314 'The Poets' Beasts.

"whelp." "A fierce Hibernian whelp" is, in Hurdis,
curiously enough, a metaphor for a Scotchman, and " wanton
whelp that loves to gnaw," in Davenant for disease. Now,
seeing that man has given the young of a dog its name,
it is an illustration of human unfairness to arbitrarily attach
to the word any disagreeable significance. But whether
we call them puppies or whelps the result is much the
same to the animal.

Poetical proverbs and metaphors, all harping on the
worst points of the dog, are very numerous ; and as curious
as any, to my mind, are Watt's well-known lines, " Let dogs
delight to bark and bite, for God hath made them so^' in
which he throws the responsibility for the dog's implacable
ferocity upon an inscrutable Providence. " He that lies
with the dogs riseth with the fleas" (Herbert); "dog in
office, set to bark all beggars from the door " (Hood) ; " the
miserable pack that ever howl against fallen greatness"
(Rogers) ; " two-legged dogs still pawing on the peers "
(Pitt) ; " he can snap as well as whine " (Pope) ; " in
every country dogs bite," and " look not for musk in a
dog's kennel " (Herbert) ; " it is an houndes kynde, to
bark upon a man behynde " (Gower). Avarice is a dog-
madness (Young) ; Russians are "the dogs of Moscow,"
" Jews the curs of Nazareth " (Byron) ; " Malice is a cursed
cur " (Pope). The Furies, like clinging crime, in Shelley,
"track all things tliat weep and bleed and live, as lean
dogs pursue through wood, and lake some struck and
sobbing fawn." Spaniards, in Phineas Fletcher, are "curres
whelpt in Spain " — the laws of murder (Mallet) ; the meanly
envious, that " ever howl against fallen greatness " (Rogers).
Quarles likens the prayers of an unrepentant man to the
howling of a dog, and associates dogs and devils in a
curious way —

" Depart like dogs, with devils take your lot,
Depart like devils, for I know ye not ;

Some Poeis' Dogs. 315

Like dogs, like devik goe, goe howie and barke.
Depart in darknesse, for your deeds were darke."

But not only, of course, does every mood of the canine
character find abundant recognition in our poets, but every
variety also of the animal j above all, each variety of hound
used in sport.

" Trusty household guardians,' mastifis fell
Nightly to watch the walls,
Stout terriers that in high-hilled Sutherland
Beat up the wild cat's lodge or badgers rouse ;
And russet bloodhounds, wont near Annand's stream
To trace the sly thief with avenging foot,
Close as an evil conscience, stiil at hand :
Fleet greyhounds that outrun the fearful hare
And many a dog beside the faithful scent
To snuff his prey, on eager heel to scour
The purple heath and snap the flying game." *

Supreme of course as a creature of the chase is the fox,
and its correlative, the foxhound, is therefore proportion-
ately conspicuous.

" Of horn and mom and hark and bark.
And echo's answering sounds,
All poets' wit hath ever writ
In doggrel verse of hounds."

A reasonable quantity of rubbish was only therefore to
be expected. But bearing in mind the excessive sympathy
of the poets for the birds of sport and their habitual
lamentations over pheasants and partridges, the robust tone
in which they approve of the doings of foxhounds, beagles,
staghounds, otter-hounds, badger-hounds, spaniels, pointers,
and the rest, comes upon the student of poetical psychology
as a surprise. It would be too much, of course, to say
that the general tendency of poets to dislike wild beasts

' Levden.

3i6 The Poets Beasts.

influences them in their opinion of the animals which man
has taught to kill those quadrupeds ; but it really does
seem as if the poets' aversion to foxes, wolves, otters,
badgers, boars, and their indifference to rabbits and hares,
made them rather unfairly partial to their destroyers. In
the single case of the deer (for which they have a very
sincere admiration), there arose an obvious difficulty, which
the poets have audaciously met by exulting with the hounds,
and weeping with the deer. They " hang on the haunches "
of stags, while tears chase each other " down the innocent
noses " of their victims.

Some poets of the chase, however, have very decided
opinions as to its morality generally. On the one side are,
as examples, Somerville and Gay, on the other Thomson
and Cowper. These, being altogether on the side of the
victims, hold with the hares. Those, affecting a prodigious
indignation against the robbers of hen-roosts and consumers
of sprouting wheat, hunt with the hounds. These exhaust
their satire and denunciation against the hunters. Those
against the hunted. And neither are just.

Yet the just middle of sport is an easy one to hit, and
the significances of our national pastime are admirable
themes for the moralist and poet. It is not necessary for
poetical fidelity to be either cruel with the one or gush with
the other. It is not more remarkable that foxes should eat
geese than that geese should eat grass, nor more culpable ;
and for the men whom England has been most proud of,
they are rather those who have ridden straight to hounds
with Somerville, not those who went nutting with Thomson.
We can never have too many fox-hunting youths, but a very
few Cowpers are enough. For myself, all sport has a dark
side in the death of the victim. I eat the lamb with
equanimity, and " the pullet of tender years " without
mingling my tears with its sauce. But I regret the death
of the fox and the otter. My sympathy is with Nature, and

Some Poets Dogs. 317

not with the stock-yard. I had rather, if sheep had the speed
and pluck of foxes, hunt a sheep than a fox. But the poets'
sympathy is with the villatic and the domesticated, not with
the independent and the wild.

One poet at any rate — Soraerville — was sportsman first
and poet afterwards, and his rhymed instructions for the
breeding, rearing, and hunting of hounds is an admirable
instance of poetical ingenuity applied to an obstinately
technical subject. A notice of his poem in some detail
will cover all the others on the same subject, and may be
accepted, from the unswerving similarity of poetical " hunts,"
as typical of all ; while by selecting Somerville as the spokes-
m.an I give the other poets the advantage of that knowledge
of the subject in which they are so conspicuously deficient.

He commences by describing the origin of hunting, and
the rude manner of the first hunters —

" When Nimrod bold,
That mighty hunter ! first made war on beasts
And stained the woodland green with purple dye,
New and unpolished was the huntsman's art ; "

and goes on to state that at first the chase was only a means
towards sacrifice, but afterwards a necessity for food, the
Creator having added flesh to man's vegetable diet —

" So just is Heaven
To give us in proportion to our wants."

Then comes a gap from Cain to William the Conqueror,
bridged over by the poet only with a passing allusion to
"our painted ancestors being slow to learn." But the
Conquest arrives, and

" Victorious William to more decent rules
Subdued our Saxon fathers, taught to speak
The proper dialect, with horn and voice
To cheer the busy hound, whose well-known cry
His listening peers approve with joint acclaim.

3i8 The Poets Beasts.

From him successive huntsmen learned to join
In bloody social leagues, the multitudes
Dispersed, to size, to sort, train various tribes
To rear, feed, hunt, and discipline the pack.
Hail, happy Britain ! highly favoured isle,
And Heaven's peculiar care ! "

He then describes in detail the arrangements for the kennel,
insisting upon the necessity for perpetual watchfulness,
especially when the hounds are at food or at play.

" Which too often ends
In bloody broils and death,

... for oft in sport
Begun, combat ensues ; growling they snarl,
Then on tlieir haunches reared, rampant they seize
Each others' throats ; with teeth and claws in gore
Besmeared, they wound, they tear, till on the ground
Panting, half-dead, the conquered champion lies.
Then sudden all the base ignoble crowd
Loud clam'ring seize the helpless, worried wretch,
And thirsting for his blood, drag diffrent ways
His mangled carcass o'er the ensanguined plain.
O breasts of pity void ! t'oppress the weak.
To point your vengeance at the friendless head,
And with one mutual cry insult the fall'n ;
Emblem too just of man's degenerate race."

Directions are then given for the choice of hounds for the
different kinds of chase, pointing out the necessity for
selecting animals of medium size, and containing the
following description of the poet's " perfect " foxhound —

" See there, with count'nance blithe,
And with a courtly grin, the fawning hound
Salutes thee cow'ring, his wide-op'ning nose
Upward he curls, and his large sloe-black eyes
Melt in soft blandishments and humble joy.
His glossy skin, or yellow pied, or blue,
In lights or shades by Nature's pencil drawn,
Reflects the various lints ; his ears and legs,

Some Poets Dogs. 319

Flecked here and there^ in gay enamelled pride

Rival the speckled pard ; his rush-grown tail

O'er his broad back bends in an ample arch :

On shoulders clean, upright and firm he stands :

His round cat-foot, straight hams, and wide-spread thighs.

And his low-dropping chest, confess his speed.

His strength, his wind, or on tlie steepy hill

Or far extended plain ; in ev'ry part

So well proportioned that the nicer skill

Of Phidias himself can't blame thy choice ;

Of such compose the pack.

But here a mean
Observe, nor the large hound prefer.

For hounds of middle size, active and strong,

WiU better answer all thy various ends

And crown thy pleasing labours with success. "

For " the amphibious otter " or " stately stag " he advises

" The deep-flewed hound,
Strong, heavy, slow, but sure ;

Whose ears down-hanging from his thick round head
Shall sweep the morning dew, whose clanging voice
Awake the mountain echo in her cell
And shake the forests. "

And then comes a page or two on the " lime-hound " —

" The bold Talbot kind
Of these the prime, as white as Alpine snows.
And great their use of old "

on the Borders to track human culprits, cattle-lifters, and
horse-thieves.

A whole book then follows on the virtues of the beagle
and the merits of hare-hunting, but reverting, as antithesis
to " so mean a prey," to the sketch of a wild beast hunt in
the days of the Great Mogul Book III. finds us back in
England in the days of King Edgar and wolves, and from
the wolf the transition is easy to the fox.

320 The Poets Beasts.

" Oh ! how glorious 'tis
To right th' oppressed, and bring the felon vile
To just disgrace ! "

And then follows a eulogy of fox-hunting —

" Heav'ns ! what melodious strains, how beat our hearts,
Big with tumultuous joy ! The loaded gales
Breathe harmony ; and as the tempest drives
From wood to wood, thro' every dark recess
The forest thunders, and the mountains shake.
The chorus swells.

See how they range
Dispersed, how busily this way and that
They cross, examining with curious nose
Each likely haunt. Hark ! on the drag I hear
Their doubtful notes, preluding to a cry
More nobly full, and swelled with ev'ry mouth.

The gay pack
In the rough bristly stubbles range unblamed.
No widow's tears o'erflow, no secret curse
Swells in the farmer's breast, which his pale lips
Trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord awed ;
But courteous now he levels every fence,
Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud,
Charmed with the rattling thunder of the field."

The book then proceeds to give instructions for catching
foxes in traps, and thence digresses to pitfalls for lions and
elephants, with some hints how to hunt leopards with
looking-glasses, returning again to England with an account
of the royal staghounds out in Windsor Forest, remarkable,
apart from the ecstatic narrative of the actual hunt, for an
address to the ladies in the field —

" How melts my beating heart ! as I behold
Each lovely nymph, our island's boast and pride,
Their garments loosely waving in the wind.
And all the flush of beauty in their cheeks !

Some Poets Dogs. 321

While at their sides their pensive lovers wait.
Direct their dubious course, now chilled with fear
Solicitous, and now with love inflamed.
O grant, indulgent Heaven, no rising storm
May darken with black wings this glorious scene.
Should some malignant pow'r thus damp our joys
Vain were the gloomy cave, such as of old
Betrayed to lawless love the Tyrian queen —
For Britain's virtuous nymphs are chaste as fair ; "

and an equally preposterous address to the King, who
orders the hounds off the stag when it has been run
into —

" O mercy, heavenly bom ! sweet attribute ! "

Book IV. reverts to details of the kennel, the care neces-
sary in selecting " the parents of the pack " —

" The vain babbler shun,
Ever loquacious, ever in the wrong ;
His foolish ofispring shall offend thy ears
With false alarms and loud impertinence.
Nor less the shifting cur avoid, that breaks
Illusive from the pack : to the next hedge
Devious he stray?, there ev'ry muse he tries ;
If haply then he cross the steaming scent,
Away he flies vain-glorious, and extdts
As of the pack supreme, and in his speed
And strength unrivalled. Lo ! cast far behind,
His vexed associates pant and lab'ring strain
To climb the steep ascent. Soon as they reach
Th' insulting boaster, his false courage fails.
Behind he lags, doomed to the fatal noose.
His master's hate, and scorn of all the field.
What can from such be hoped but a base brood
Of coward curs, a frantic, vagrant race ? "

Counsel is then given for curing sheep- worrying by strapv-
ping the offender to a ram to be butted into repentance.

2,2 2 The Poets Beasts.

and a long dissertation on hydrophobia, elaborately horrible,
leads the poem to its conclusion. But

" One labour yet remains, celestial maid !
Another element demands my song ; "

and a spirited description of an otter-hunt closes " The
Chase."

For fairness sake, and to strike the balance equally be-
tween the enthusiasts in praise and denunciation, Thomson's
" Autumn," where (plagiarising as he goes) he condemns
the " falsely-cheerful, barbarous game of death," should be
read, especially the delightful account of the tipsy fox-
hunters up at the Hall —

" The table floating round
And pavement faithless to the fuddled foot ;
Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk,
Vociferous at once from twenty tongues,
Reels fast from theme to theme ; from horses, hounds,
To church or mistress, politics or ghost.
In endless mazes, intricate, perplexed.

Their feeble tongues
Unable to take up the cumbrous word
Lie quite dissolved. Before the maudlin eyes
Seen dim and blue, the double tapers dance,
Tlien sliding soft — they drop."

This is a counterblast of course to Somerville's "short
repast and temperate," to which the grateful farmer invites
the avengers of his hen-roosts. Nor less pointed is Thom-
son's reproof to ladies in the hunting ground, that com-
mences—

" Let not such horrid joy

E'er stain the bosom of the British fair ;

Far be the spirit of the chase from them ! "

Taken togetiier, the poems arc excellent illustrations of

Some Poets Dogs. 323

poetical extremes, and of the poetical weakness of false
sympathies.

Metaphors and similes from the chase are ver}- numerous,
and the "deep-mouthed," "cannon-mouthed" (Davenant),
" chiming," " yelUng," " baying " hounds are as industrious
and as apt in poetical pursuit and apothegm as in the field,
Wordsworth's line — " Keen as a fine-nosed hound, by soul-
engrossing instinct driven along " — is one of the many fine
metaphors which the subject affords.

Remembering the lamentations of the poets over the
"wheeling coveys" pursued by "leaden showers," it is
remarkable that the " full-eared " pointer and " wise-eyed "
setter should be so warmly eulogised, ^^^len the wolf eats
a sheep, all the sympathy is with the sheep, and when the
leopard kills a deer the poets bewail the dead. Yet when
the dogs of men hunt and murder a little animal which they
are not going to eat, they applaud the dogs. An'd so, ex-
tending this incongruous partiality for human weaknesses
a step further, they congratulate the pointer, setter, spaniel,
and retriever, upon their success in assisting man to kilL
Even Cowper, usually so fierce in his satire and denuncia-
tion of sport of all kinds, epitaphises a pointer without a
word of disparagement : indeed, after the manner of epitaphs
generally, with many compliments on his successful com-
plicity in bloodshed —

" Here lies one who never drew
Blood himself, yet many slew ;
Gave the gun its aim, and figure
Made in field, yet ne'er pulled trigger.
Armed men have gladly made
Him their guide, and him obeyed ;
At his signified desire,
Would advance, present, and fire.
Stout he was and large of limb,
Scores have fled at sight of him,

324 The Poets Beasts.

And to all this fame he rose
Only by following his nose.
Neptune was he called ; not he
Who controls the boisterous sea,
But of happier command,
Neptune of the furrowed land ;
And, your wonder vain to shorten,
Pointer to Sir John Throckmorton."

That Gay should applaud " the obsequious ranger " is not to
be wondered at.

The staghound — its very name is knightly — is an adjunct
of all baronial scenes, of royal sport, of chivalrous society.
It is the companion of chiefs and their daughters, a feature
of earls' firesides. How Scott delighted in it, its power and
grace. His verse is full of staghounds, though sometimes,
as in the "Lady of the Lake," he employs bloodhounds of
black St. Hubert's breed in pursuit of the antlered quarry.
But what an unmitigated bore they are in Ossian, those
"grey-bounding dogs," " long-bounding sons of the chase,"
that are for ever pursuing the everlasting " dun sons of the
bounding roe ! " In a score of our poets, conspicuously the
older and more robust, the staghound occupies a place of
considerable dignity, and not without reason, for it is a
noble animal.

Greyhounds are " gentle " and " graceful " — " a grey-
hound's gentle grace " is becoming both in a ship ('* the
vessel from the land, like a greyhound from the slips,
darted forth ") and an elegant woman — so that they are
popular with the poets. "A gentleman's greyhound and a
salt-box, seek them at the fire." But it is as the pursuer of
the hare that it receives most frequent notice ; and, singularly
enough, in spite of the poets' usual sympathy with the hare
apart from greyhounds, coursing is only here and there
considered cruel. Gay, for instance, forgets all his kindness
for the hare as soon as the greyhound is after it —

Some Poets Dogs. i':^'^

" Let {hy fleet greyhound urge his flying foe.

With what delight the rapid course I view !
How does my eye the circling race pursue !
lie snaps deceitful air with empty jaws,
The subtle hare darts swift between his paws.
She flies, he stretches ; now with nimble bound
Eager he presses on, but overshoots his ground ;
She turns, he winds, and soon regains the way,
Then tears with gory mouth the screaming prey."

Nor less emphatic than Gay's "delight" at such a scene
is Somerville's denunciation of it. Not, be it remembered,
from any sympathy with the hare, but because he preferred
killing it with harriers —

" Nor the tim'rous hare
O'ermatched destroy, but leave that vile offence
To the mean, murdering, coursing crew, intent
On blood and spoil. Oh blast their hopes, just Heaven ! "

The spaniel, as a pet— "household spaniel," "parlour
spaniel," " fond spaniel " — is a touch of description which
the poets use with excellent effect as completing the
domestic scene or rounding off strong family emotions.
As the water-spaniel it is utilised as the disturbing element
of water-fowl existence, the acid in the mixture that effer-
vesces the general tranquillity of life among water-lilies.

As the ordinary spaniel of bird-shooting, and " skilful to
betray " when it is usually " the snuffing spaniel " — its habit
of making a point often makes another for the poets.
Thus Thomson —

" In his mid career the spaniel struck
Stiff by the tainted gale, with open nose
Outstretched and finely sensible, draws full.
Fearful and cautious, on the latent prey."

While Grahame, Hurdis^Pope, and others find the simile
of the spaniel that —

326 The Poets Beasts.

" Scent struck,
With lifted paw, stands stiffened."

Gay has the cocker, " the roving spy," at the copse side.

" Cool breathes the morning air, and winter's hand
Spreads wide her hoary mantle o'er the land ;
Now to the copse thy lesser spaniel take,
Teach him to range the ditch and force the brake ;
Not closest coverts can protect the game.
Hark ! the dog opens, take thy certain aim ;
The woodcock flutters ; now he wav'ring flies !
The wood resounds : he wheels, he drops, he dies."

In character the spaniel appears to be more feminine
than other dogs (though Cowley uses it as a simile for
death) and proverb has extended the resemblance into a
humility that women of spirit will hardly concede/ and
that is hardly creditable to the spaniel — " like a thorough
true-bred spaniel licks, the hand which cuffs him and the
foot which kicks " (Churchill). Nor indeed do the poets
carry it altogether to the credit of the spaniel that it should
be so eager to forgive — " the beaten spaniel's fondness not
so strange " as a woman's love that is abused, and that, in
spite of abuse, strengthens. " No sycophant although of
spaniel race," says Cowper of his fop. Its extreme docility,
again, affords many a contemptuous simile ; as in Pope,

" So well-bred spaniels civilly delight

In mumbling of the game they dare not bite."

The sea, "spaniel-like with parasitic kiss," laps on the
shore.

The *' baying beagle " is a general favourite, in spite of
the hare being its victim, and a score of poets are to be
found in the meet when puss is the game. To

' " A woman, a spaniel, a walnut-tree.

The more you beat them the better they be."

Some Poets Dogs. 327

" See the deep-mouthed beagles catch
The tainted mazes, and on eager sport
Intent, with emulous impatience try
Each doubtful trace,"

is one of Armstrong's counsels for " Preserving Health,"
and Allan Ramsay asks —

" What sweeter music wad ye hear
Than hounds and beagles crying ?
The started hare runs hard wi' fear
Upon her speed relying."

Now and again the poets draw a sad moral from the chase,
as Pope, after admiring the beagles on the track, inter-
polates in brackets —

" Beasts, urged by us, their fellow-beasts pursue.
And learn of man each otiier to undo."

There are " wolf-dogs " in Leyden, Byron, and Words-
worth ; and the boar-hound — not a favourite with the
poets — being the " dastard curres " of Spenser, the defeated
assailants in Venus and Adonis — is a frequent species —

" Here kennelled in a brake she finds a hound.
And asks the weary caitiff for his master.
And there another licking of his wound
'Gainst venomed sores the only sovereign plaster ;
And here she meets another sadly scowling
To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling.
When he hath ceased his ill-resounding noise,
Another flap-mouthed mourner, black and grim,
Against the welkin volleys out his voice.
Another and another answer him,
Clapping their proud tails to the grormd below,
Shaking their scratched ears, bleeding as they go."

Bloodhounds, " sure-nosed as fasting tigers " (Davenant)

xD

28 The Poets' Beasts,

are, not unnaturally perhaps, even less popular with the
poets. They never forget the abuse of this animal's terrific
instinct — Moore's " precious scent " — of which man has at
different periods of history been guilty, and the crime is
poetically transferred from the human criminal to his inno-
cent instrument. They are gloomily apostrophised as " ban-
dogs." The flying slave,

" 'Midst the shrieks of murder on the wind,
Heard the mute bloodhound's death-step close behind,"

and the poets have never ceased to hear it ever since. It
is "the sagacious bloodhound" in many poets, but the
sagacity is that of the sleuth-hound, " skilled too well in all
the murd'ring qualities of hell " (Pomfret). It is " staunch "
also, but only in its fearful steadfastness to '*the bloody
trail." Shelley adds a horror to imprisonment in "the
prison bloodhounds huge and grim" that were permitted
to become familiar with the convicts whom they might
have to track, and they are used as similes for the relent-
less whirlwind in Faber, and for famine and pestilence in
Shelley. Says Byron, " Kings ! 'tis a great name for blood-
hounds," and Shelley, " the bloodhound of Religion's hungry
zeal."

As the "limehound," "creatures whose cold secrecy was
meant, by Nature, for a surprise," this animal was at one time
in demand on the Cheviot marches for tracking human
delinquents —

" Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail
Flourished in the air, low bending plies around
His busy nose, the steaming vapour snuffs
Inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untry'd.
Till, conscious of the recent stains, his heart
Beats quick ; his snufiing nose, his active tail,
Attest his joy ; then with deep op'ning mouih
That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims

So?ne Poets Dogs. 329

Th' audadoos felon : foot by foot he marks
His winding way, while all the list'ning crowd
Applaud his reas'nings.

O'er the wat'ry flood.
Dry sandy heaths and stony barren hiUs
O'er beaten paths with men and beasts detained,
Uneiring he pursues, till at the cot
Arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat
The caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey :
So exquisitely delicate his sense."

Davenant pays them the compliment of saying "Wise,
temperate limehounds that proclaim no scent, nor har-
b'ring will their mouths in boasting spend," and Spenser
and others of the older poets refer to the sleuth-hound with
respect Barry Cornwall's poem on the animal is an en-
thusiastic panegyric of '• the resolute fond bloodhound."

The mastiflf, strangely enough, arrives at little honour in
the poets' company. " Sagacious of his prey," " with eye
of fire," says Falconer, and as the opponent of " the salvage
bull " it arrives at many compliments. In Chaucer they are
a noble figure —

" About his car there went en white alanns,
Twenty and more, as great as any steer.
To hunten at the leon and the deer.
And followed him with muzzle fast yTjound."

But it is "an ill-conditioned carl," "gaunt," and "gruff,"
has to be taught manneis by being kicked in the mouth by
donkeys in Wordsworth, and, "growling at the gate," is
possessed with a horrible longing to eat beggars in Pope.
The sea when rough is, in Hurdis, a furious mastiff —

" Lo ! as we speak,
The wolfish monster kindles into rage.
Enormous mastiff, how he gnaws his chain
And struggles to be free, fast bound by fate
And never to be let loose on man.

2,2)0 The Poets Beasts.

Aloud he bellows, with uplifted paw-
Dances upreared, menaces the foot
Of earth with trembling diffidence protruded.
Lo ! the saliva of his deafening tongue
Her pebbled instep stains : his rugged coat
Is whitened o'er with foam,"

On the whole, it seems to me, a poet's sentiments
towards animals generally are very much like those of an
average girl. Both prefer little animals, with smooth skins,
and, for choice, white.

In this analogy perhaps is to be found the prevalent
fastidiousness with regard to mastiffs. Ladies as a rule do
not like them, nor do poets. When they baited bulls they
always received a measure of admiration, and in the stouter
verse of our older poets " the fell mastiffe " was a frequent
simile for furious ferocity,

" When an eager mastifTe once doth prove
The taste of blood of some engored beast,
No words may rate, nor rigour him remove
From greedy hold of that his bloudy feast,"

" With that all mad and furious he grew
Like a fell mastiffe."

An especial favourite is of course the " officious " sheep-
dog, "faithful to teach thy stragglers to return" (Dyer).
But just as it is impossible to think of dogs apart from man,
so it is very difficult to think of the shepherd-dog apart
from sheep. For the pet "colley," so rapidly being degene-
rated by town fashion into a cowardly sycophant, is not the
typical shepherd-dog. It is becoming a variety by itself,
" the coUey," and seen in the street recalls no rural sound
or sight. Far different is the unkempt muddy dog that
may be sometimes seen driving a flock of sheep through
the busiest thoroughfares of London. For as a rule the

Some Poets Dozs.

oo

shepherd's dog is a mongrel — "shaggy and lean and
shrewd, with pointed ears and tail cropped short, half
lurcher and half cur:" but in Scotland, "there still of
genuine breed, the colley, barking shrill-toned ' —

" Indeed, thy Ball is a bold bigge car
And could make a joUy hole in their fur " —

we meet with the beautiful beast, now so popular as a pet
in England, that Bums had before him in his glorious sketch
of the "TwaDogs"—

" The tither was a ploughman's collie,
A rhyming,- ranting, roving biilie,
\Mia for his friend and comrade had him.
And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him.
After some dog in Highland sang.
Was made lang syne — Lord knows how lang.
He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke.
As ever lap a sheugh or dyke.
His honest, sonsie, baws'nt face,
Aye gat him friends in ilka place ;
His breast was white, his towzie back
Weel dad wi' coat o' glossy black ;
His gawcie tail, wi' upward curl.
Hung o'er his hurdies wi' a swirL"

They are part of "the household" of the shepherd —
" two brave dogs tried in many a storm made all their
household " — and the reaper's children lie on the summer's
afternoon " curled up with the sheep-dogs asleep." For to
him they are veritably his eyes and his ears, and his legs
besides.

" Waving his hat, the shepherd from the vale
Directs his winding dog the clifEi to scale
That, barking busy, 'mid the glittering rocks
Hunts, where he points, the intercepted flocks."

In the house their honesty and discipline raise them

332 The Poets Beasts.

almost to the level of human companions. The gilly's wife
says, in Wordsworth —

" This honest sheep-dog's countenance I read.
With him can talk, nor blush to waste a word
On creatures less intelligent and shrewd."

Now and again, in order to point the extraordinary
depravity of the wolf, the moral tone of the colley is so
lowered that it connives with Sir Isegrim to destroy its
master's flocks; and in Mother Hubbard's Tale will be
found the deplorable narrative of the demoralised dog that
demoralised its master, the "disguised dog that loved
blood to spill, and drew the wicked shepherd to his will,
so 'twixt them both they not a lambkin left." Nor does
Southey hesitate to picture the dog reverting to lupine
habits : " The shepherd's dog prdfyed on the scattered flock,
for there was now no hand to feed him."

The bulldog, "with black mouth," the turnspit, that
affords the poets tlae same moral and similes as the caged
squirrel —

" That climbs the wheel, but all in vain,
His own weight brings him down again,
And still he's in the self-same place
Where at the setting out he was."

The St. Bernard's dog, "the dog of the Alps," "of grave
demeanour, all meekness, gentleness, though large of Umb "
finds honourable mention, in spite of Eliza Cook's assur-
ance that

" It is not ambition that leads him to danger,

He toils not for trophy, he seeks not for fame,
He faces all peril and succours the stranger,

But asks not the wide world to blazon his name," —

in the verse of Thomson, Rogers, and others. The New-
foundland, " the brave diver," in several, notably Burns —

Some Poets Dogs. '^'^^i

♦ " The first I'll name, they ca'd him Caesar,
Was keepit for his honour's pleasure :
His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs,
Showed he was nane o' Scotland's dogs,
But whalpit some place far abroad.
Where sailors gang to fish for cod.
His lockit, lettered, braw brass collar.
Showed him the gentleman and scholar.
But though he was o' high degree.
The fient a pride, nae pride had he ;
But wad hae spent an hour caressin'
E'en wi' a tinkler-gipsy's messin :
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,
Nae tauted tyke, though e'er sae duddie.
But he wad stan't as glad to see him,
And stroaned on stanes an' hillocks wi' him."

The "wiry terrier rough and grim," used "to hunt the
tod;" the "fierce otter-hounds," are all duly immortalised.

'* Would you preserve a num'rous finny race?
lyet your fierce dogs the rav'nous otter chase ;
Th' amphibious monster ranges all the shores,
Darts thro' the waves, and ev'ry haunt explores.
Or let the gin his roving steps betray,
And save from hostile jaws the scaly prey."

Poets, by the way, are unanimous in their dislike of
otters, which I attribute to the same reason as so many
other antipathies — a false sentiment. The *' hairy," " fierce "
otter devours the " silver," " innocent " fishes ; therefore the
otter should be detested and, if possible, murdered.

No village is complete without its " honest watch-dog,"
whose '* deep-mouthed welcome " sweetens return. Joanna
Baillie and Clare compliment it excellently. Thomson,
too, has a delightful scrap —

" In a corner of the buzzing shade,
The house-dog with the vacant greyhound lies,
Out-stretched and sleepy. In his slumbers one
Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults

334 '^^^^ Poets' Beasts.

O'er hill and dale ; till, wakened by the wasp,
They starting snap."

The poor man's dog, that shares the proverbial crust
with its master; the bUnd man's dog, which alone of all
their kind other dogs respect ; the dancing dog — all these,
and others, find their poets. How too can I omit Gold-
smith's mad dog.

" And in that town a dog was found,

As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound

And curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends ;

But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain his private ends,

Went mad, and bit the man."

Of the individual animals known to fame the list that our
poets immortalise is very long.

Lufra, Cavall, " King Arthur's hound of deepest-mouth,"
Luath, Beth-gelert, Berezillo (who drew the full allowance
of a soldier in the Spanish army), Bran, Herod, Tray, Fop,
Beau, Blanch, Sweetheart, " St. Hubert's breed ; " His High-
ness' dog at Kew — the hounds of Actason "that knew him
naught,"

" Those mistaken hounds of yore.

That for the slag their master tore " —

and of Adonis and Diana, " this goddess on an hart full
high sate, withsmall hounds all about her feet " (Chaucer) ;
Geryon and Cerberus ; Malaia's dog ; the dogs of Lazarus,
of Tobit, as in Quarles —

" What luck has Tobii's dog ! what grace ! what glory !
Thus to be kennelled in eternal s-tory !
Until th' Apocrypha and .Scripture sever
The mem'ry of Tobii's dog shall live for ever " —

and of Jezrccl, an interminable scries.

Some Poets' Does.

^>•

In addition to all these more familiar species and
individuals, the poets have many others not so well known
to sport or science. Gower has a " wood-hound " that is
of a benign character. Rogers, Shelley, and others have
a " dog of carnage," and others a " carrion-hound." A
"hell-hound" also is to be found occasionally in their
kennels— r

" Behold where Melecan, a dog in fierceness,
The savage dog of hell.
Darts growling to his prey ;
He flies and he returns
All covered and all drenched with human gore."

Superstitions about dogs are very numerous — " females
with tormenting spells, consult their dogs as oracles "
(Montgomery) — and none more widely spread than that
which supposes dogs to be able to see visitors from anoth er
world —

" His noble hound sprang from his lair,

The midnight rouse to greet,
Then, like a timid trembling hare.

Crouched at his master's feet.
Between his legs his drooping tail,

Like dog of vulgar race,
He hid, and with strange piteous wail

Looked in his master's face " (Joanna Baillie) —

and that their howling, which is therefore ominous, "making
men deem some mischief is at hand," is caused by these
supernatural visions. " Ossian's grey dogs are always howl-
ing at home ; they see his passing ghost." So in Kirke
White, " filled with fear, the howling dogs bespoke unholy
spirits near ; " and " disturbed by dreams, with wild affright,
the deep-mouthed mastiff bays the troubled night;" in
Joanna Baillie's "Ghost of Faden," and in "The Elder
Tree," where

336 The Poets\ Beasts.

" Cowering hounds the board beneath
Are howling with piteous moan ;
While lords and dames sit still as death,
And words are uttered none ; "

frequently in Scott, as —

" Sudden the hounds erect their ears,

And sudden cease their moaning howl ; *
Close pressed to Moy, they mark their fears
By shivering limbs and stifled growl ; "

and regularly in every poet who, wanting a rhyme to owl —
and wolves failing— or a sound of dread to complete a
scene of general, eeriness,

" Hears upon the mountain forest's brow
The death-dog howling loud and long."

XIV.
SOME POETS' CATS.

"A familiar beast to man, and signifies love."

—J/. JF. of IF.

Just as the dog is the poetical register of the out-of-door
life of man, the index of the pleasures and occupations of
the open air, the "power," so to speak, of the human
quantity, so the cat, in its differing moods and aspects, ex-
presses the various phases of domestic life, and stands for
the symbol of the alternations of existence within doors.

The Chinese, so I have read, take their time from cats'
eyes. So the history of the family inside the house might
be hieroglyphically written in a series of cats.

On the garden-wall, soliloquising at the top of its voice,
it means the household abed ; on the doorstep, with a too-
much-whisky-overnight expression of face, it denotes the
hour when the milkman and the sweep, like larks, " lead on
the merry hours and rouse the day ; " before the kitchen
fire, blinking at the ketde, it signifies breakfast; rubbing
itself, all on the slant, against the cook's petticoats, we know
that it is the hour of noon — of scraps from the early
dinner ; asleep on the hearth all the afternoon, it wakes up
with a start when the jack cracks under the twirling joint
for the later meal; the children's tea-hour finds it in the
nurser}' ; as evening closes in it sits before the fire musing —
" Shall I go to the club ? or what shall I do with myself

Y

;^T^S The Poets' Beasts.

to-night ? " — and then comes darkness, and the cat is in the
garden or on the pantiles, sitting in moonstruck reverie or
sharing a most melancholy dialogue —

" Or making gallantry in gutter-tiles,
And sporting in delightful faggot-piles ;
Or bolting out of bushes in the dark
(As ladies use at midnight in the park),
Or seeking in tall garrets and alcove
For assignations with affairs of love." — Butler.

Dejected or elated, morose or amiable, distant or familiar,
acrimonious or conciliatory, alarmed or tranquil, dreadfully
awake or fast asleep — in a score of other tempers and
states of mind — puss reflects a corresponding variation in
the domestic barometer. It is the indicator of the fluctua-
tions of family emotions, and apparently without spontaneity
in its moods, without independence in its actions. Its
existence would seem to be wholly relative and magnetised.
It lives within the influence of perpetual attractions. The
joint roasting at the fire draws it to the hearth with just
the same mechanical regularity as the voice of the cats'-
meat-man does to the garden-gate. These are natural forces
which it seems powerless to resist.

Now how is it that this little creature — the incarnation
of evasive vagrancy, one of the most hopeless of Bohemians,
as restless as the tides, and as fickle as the breeze, the
ancient symbol of the goddess of Liberty, whose amiabilities
are nearly all self-indulgence, and gratitudes self-interest —
has come to be regarded as the type of domesticity and
symbol of the hearth, where " the little Lares keep their
vigils round ? "

" Thou payst also, I walke out like a cat ;
For who so wolde senge the cattes skin,
Than wol the cat wel dwellen in hire inn :
And if the cattes skin be sleke and gay,
She wol nat dwellen in hous half a day,
But forth she wol,"

Some Poets' Cats. 339

to "show her fur and be caterwauled," as Pope has it in his
translation of the '• Wif of Bathe's Prologue.

The kitten's position in the household is easier to under-
stand. It is one of the most beautiful and amusing of pets.
The man who could watch kittens' " gambolling excessive,"
as Hurdis calls it, and not laugh, must have had a death-
rattle as his only plaything when a baby. Richelieu and
Colbert delighted in cats' company. Wriothesley's pet
found him out in prison, and was his solace. Mahomet,
rather than disturb his cat, which was asleep on it, cut off
the skirt of his robe. Pope Gregory made his cat a cardinal.
How Gautier l.ked them. Do you remember Zizi (which
means " too beautiful for anything " ) that had a nose like a
truffle and adored books ? or that other which had a resem-
blance to a tiger, which he found, he says, " very pleasing ; "
the cat that saw the parrot and said, "This is decidedly
— yes it is — a green chicken ! "

Not only is their unconscious absurdity immense, but
they have a deliberate appreciation of humour. They
know exactly when they are being played with and when
teased — Montaigne ''playing with his cat, complains she
thought him but an ass."

" Ye who can smile — to wisdom no di-grace
At the arch meaning of a kitten's face,"

must remember many a time and oft when the small thing,
with its elegant overtures to a frolic, has tempted you into
joining it in a fit of nonsense. And how it acted all the
time, the fluffy little impostor ! What an enthusiasm it
obviously feigned for the trailing worsted, what desperate
struggles it made believe to have with a tassel, how it
pranced and cavorted, standing ridiculously on two legs
and skipping sideways ! With what matchless art did it
not pretend to get itself into inextricable difficulties with a
chair leg, in order to show off a hundred pretty devices of

340 '-^^^^ Poets' Beasts.

paddling with its paws, and then in an instant how it was
up and off, with its tail all crooked, its ears anyhow, and an
absurd affectation of being scared ! Or, when two are
together and one is lazy, with what adroitness will the other
beguile its companion into a romp, gradually coaxing it on
till it is in an equal frenzy of light-heartedness with itself.

" What intenseness of desire
In lier upward eye of fire !
With a tiger-leap half-way
Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again :
Now she works with three or four
Like an Indian conjurer ;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of lieart.
Were her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare,
What would little tabby care
For the plaudits of the crowd ?
Over happy to be proud."

No wonder children love them so. Their faces are as
sweetly innocent as their own. Is it possible that these
winning little fliuffinesses could ever descend to the surrepti-
tious consumption of the family canary? or that such guile-
less faces could ever be stained with the purloined bloater?
Their delightful little cosy bodies seem made for a baby's
cuddling. Their natures are curiously alike. A kitten will
seldom take offence at what a little child does to it — and the
outrageous liberties taken with pussy are sometimes dreadful
to contemplate. I have seen a small boy go through a
meal with a kitten held in bagpipe fashion under his arm ;
and the poor animal stayed there with a half-squeezed look on
its face tliat was infinitely pathetic, but made no complaint.
Its confidence in the child carried it through the ordeal.

So7ne Poets' Cats. 341

It knew he would not do it if it was not all right. And so
it was ; for by-and-by the boy got the kitten and a saucer
of milk together, and, though there was a good deal
of unnecessary bobbing of its nose into the milk, the
kitten took it all as meant in kindness, and, when it had
had it9 face dried on a pinafore, was ready for another
romp.

But they can scratch when they are put out, as Joanna
Baillie's fat Tommy found —

" He did her hinder parts assail,
And pinched and pulled the kitten's tail.
On this her sudden anger rose.
She turned and straightway scratched his nose."

But it is of course the good-humoured and playful kitten
that chiefly attracts the poets. Many such are to be found
gamboling in verse : Wordsworth's yellow one, playing with
the falling leaves —

" Over-wealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure ; "

Gray's tortoiseshell tabby, "the pensive Selina," that got
drowned trying to catch gold-fish —

" Malignant Fate sate by and smiled,
The slipp'ry verge her feet beguiled —
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood.
She mewed to every wat'ry god
Some speedy aid to send.
No dolphin came, no Nereid stirred,
Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard —
A fav'rite has no friend !
From iience, ye beauties undeceived.
Know one false step is neer retrieved.
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize —
Nor all that glitters crold ; "

342 The Poets Beasts.

tlie kittens of Cowper that found the snake in the garden,
and Hurdis, "cuffing the suspended cork," of Blomfield and
Gay, and a score of others who delight in "the instinct joy
of kittens," and " the kitling ever happy." By-and-by, and
all too soon, they grow into cats.

"And so, poor kit ! must thou endure,
When thou becomest a cat demure,
Full many a cuff and angry word,
Chased roughly from the tempting board.
But yet, for that thou hast, I ween,
So oft our favoured playmate been.
Soft be the change which thou shalt prove !
When lime hath spoiled thee of our love.
Still be thou deemed by housewife fat,
A comely, careful, mousing cat ;
Whose dish is, for the public good.
Replenished oft with savoury food.
Nor, when thy span of life is past,
Be thou to pond or dung-hill cast ;
But, gently borne on gardener's spade,
Beneath the decent sod be laid ;
And children show, with glistening eyes,
The place where poor old pussy lies. "

In connection with the adage that the cat has nine lives
— found very useful, by the way, in verse — a very delightful
instance of what Bain would call eccentric ratiocination
occurs in Barry Cornwall. The line is this —

" One bite of a mad cat — no more than -woiiLl kill a tailor."

The relation here of a nine-lived cat (each cat being really,
therefore, only a ninth of one) to a tailor who, they say, is
only the ninth of a man, is, it seems to me, most humor-
ously involved.

For myself, I discredit the theory of sartorial fractions,
and hold with the poet (Taylor) who says —

".Some foolish knave, I think, it fust began
Tlie slander that three tailors make one man."

Some Poets' Cats.

04-J

I always feel inclined to retort upon it with the other adage
that " 'tis the tailor makes the man; " so in " King Lear" —

"A tailor makes a man ? Ay, a tailor, sir ; "

and hesitate to contribute my acquiescence in the circuitous
arithmetic of the playwright who makes a character, on
meeting eighteen tailors, cry out to them all, " Come on,
I'll fight you both." The inadequate championship of
Teufelsdrock does not satisfy me. He goes not far enough.
I remember well enough what Petruchio says to his
tailor —

" O monstrous arrogance ! Thou liest,
Thou thread, thou thimble,
Thou yard, three-quarters, half
Yard, quarter, nail.

Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket, thou.
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant ! "

and do not forget INIontaigne's evidence. "I have," he
says, " an honest lad to my taylor, who I never knew guilty
of one truth — no, not when it had been to his advantage
not to lye."

But I remember also how Master Feeble, '* the forcible
Feeble," proved himself the best man of all Falstaff's .
recruits ; with what discretion Robin Starveling played the
part of Thisbe's mother before the Duke ; and carry it to
their credit the public spirit of those stitchers of Tooley
Street.

" Give tbs gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth
their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows
to man the tailors of the earth."

I have no wish to rehabilitate Urquiza of Paita, nor
apologise for the tailor who pricked the elephant's trunk
with his needle and got squirted with a puddle by Behemoth
for doing so — except to say that I think the elephant was
an ill-mannered beast to 2:0 thrusting several feet of trunk

344 l^^^i^ Poets' Beasts.

into a tailor's shop. Nor do I ask to have that nursery
rhyme abolished which makes the tailors go forth to attack
a snail, but retire defeated on seeing her horns.

Yet, when I think of all the valiant tailors of story, I
hesitate to believe that four-and-twenty of the trade should
have been panic-stricken at the spectacle of an enraged
snail. What shall we say of that Snip of Basle who kissed
the dragon-princess? It is true that, the worst accom-
plished, he turned and fled, leaving his victory incomplete.
Not so much, perhaps, as a Hercules or a Sir Gavvain would
have done ; yet how many heroes had failed before the
tailor succeeded ! Then, again, there was that other who
passed the night with a bear, and won the princess ; that
other who slew seven at a blow, and lived himself to be a
king; that brave journeyman whom De Quincey has made
immortal for his courage. In many other ways they have
been distinguished, these knights of the needle, from the
father of Thumbling to that tailor of Yarrow who beat Mr.
Tickler hollow at backgammon. Who was it charitably
mended the bean, and who that sewed up the ship that was
smashed on the rocks ? Oriental story is full of tailors of
consequence. Remember that one who befriended Prince
Amgiad when he fell among the fire-worshippers, and him
that took in the poor hunchback who choked with a fish-
bone. Was not Aladdin himself the son of Mustapha the
tailor? — and a right good father he was, dying at last out
of sheer grief at Aladdin's scapegrace ways. In the great
Mosque at Mecca there is a Tailors' Gate.

But there is no need to accumulate such testimonies to
the worth of the cross-legged craft — and not more use. For
it has got into our system — into the British Constitution,
in fact — that it takes nine tailors to make one man, and
the equation will never probably be abandoned. So after
this digression let me return to Barry Cornwall and his mad
cat and its nine lives.

Some Poets' Cats. 345

" Cats there lay, divers had been flayed and roasted,
And after mouldy grown were toasted ;
Then, selling not, a dish was ta'en to mince them.
But still it seemed, the rankness did convince 'em.
For here they were thrown in with the melted pewter.
Yet drowned they not ; they had five lives in future."

In every town there is a constant proportion of vagabond
cats that have no homes ; and what house is there that has
not at one time or another mysteriously lost its cat ? Now,
is there no connection between these two phenomena ? For
myself, I cannot help thinking that the "lost" cats are
merely animals that, " to serve some private ends," have
deliberately, gone elsewhere. The gipsy instinct has over-
taken them, and they have decamped in quest of adventure,
and on the chance of "bettering" themselves. Some of
them, perhaps, go away to die — for is it not a curious fact
that so few of these pets ever die at home? But the
majority simply disappear. The children are told pussy
has " run away," By-and-by another cat comes ; that is
to say, it installs itself. No one probably invited it, but, as
it was mewing very much, the hall door or the kitchen door
was opened, and it was allowed to come in, on approbation.
But the small stranger made itself at home at once,
rubbed against the cook's petticoats — cats have an extra-
ordinary instinct for cooks — and sat down in the very
middle of the hearth opposite the fire, and there it re-
mained.

As there was no other cat in the house, it was taken on.
Now, it must have come from somewhere, as certainly as
its predecessor went somewhere ; so that perhaps there is a
perpetual exchanging of cats going on. Everybody gets
everybody else's in turn.

This mysterious but periodical disappearance of the
household pets finds, however, an explanation in the popular
tradition that every cat has to spend one life out of its nine

34^ The Poets Beasts.

as a witch. The time comes when Death beckons to
Grimalkin, and, whatever she is doing, she has to obey.
But, unless it be for the ninth, and fatal time, there are no
corporal remains to show for the decease, no dead cat lying
in the garden, or on the outhouse roof, or wherever it may
have been that the dread summons reached her. On each of
the eight occasions the cat that had been simply vanished
from the earth, and in the same instant reappeared in a
new avatar. Tabby yesterday, she is black to-day. But
the supreme moment arrives at last. The ninth messen-
ger is at the door. The cat, conscious of coming change,
sits before the fire, looking into the heart of the blaze, and
lost in thought. A voice she dare not refuse to hear calls
her away from the comfortable hearth, and she goes, pen-
sively, out into the dark night. The wind blows shrill, the
clouds are driving fast. She would like to go back to the
fire and the cook. But something she may not resist draws
her onward, farther into the garden, deeper into the gloom.
The bushes round her hide the lights of the house. In the
distance she hears the caterwauling of familiar voices.
And while she sits, shivering, wondering, waiting, lo ! it
all happens, and Grimalkin suddenly finds herself whisked
off up into the sky. A long cloak streams backwards from
her shoulders. A broomstick is between her legs. She is
a witch.

Several poets refer to her as a thing of " venomed spite
and cruel scratch," "from a witch transformed." So in
Southey's " Witch " —

" Wluit makes her sit there moping by herself,
With no soul near her but that great black cat,
And do but look at her ! "

and in Hcrrick's " Hag " —

" 111 a dirty hair trace
She leads on a biacc

Some Poets' Cats. 347

Of black boar-cats to attend her,
Who scratch at the moon
And threaten at noon
Of night from heaven to rend her."

" Old Grimalkin's glaring ej'es/' so often a terror to " wee
sleekit cowerin'" mice, are thus at times uncanny for human
beings. Envy, " spitting spite," is symbolised as a cat.

Not that the familiar of the " wise woman " seems to
take any very active part in her unkind performances. Her
function appears to be that of a tacit accomplice — one who
looks on at the wickednesses of the Black Art without
actually putting her hand to any particular villainy. She
is the sleeping partner of the confederacy. Sometimes,
indeed — as in the story where the witch's cat is grateful
to the good girl who has given it some ham to eat — the
dabbler in occult science is even beneficent.

In Sicily — where the animal is sacred to St Martha
— the cats that walk on the pantiles in the month of
February are supposed to be witches, and as such con-
sidered worthy of death. Somewhat analogous is our own
" March cat," which combines with the eccentricity of the
" March hare " a suspicion of necromantic leanings and
diabolic conspiracy.

Relativity, thy name is Cat. It is not easy to imagine
Grimalkin in a vacuum, isolated, alone in space. As easy
to think of matter without giving it form as to conceive
puss without either a hearth, a mouse, or a dog.

'* Not such thy spirit when insulted, puss,
Scampers the garden path, and climbs alert
The high espalier, there to dwell and swear,
Or, in close corner pent, upheaves her coat,
And blust'ring cuffs thee with vindictive claw."

"Dire foe ofmouse," "Grimalkin to domestic vermin
sworn an everlasting foe." Such are the usual "connota-
tions," if I may use the word, of tlie cat in verse. She

34^ The Poets' Beasts.

is the "mouse-eater," and because the poets, who dislike
mice, applaud her taste, becomes the "harmless necessary
cat."'

It is a curious fact, however, that classic legend makes
this animal the protector of the innocent : that in Hindoo
mythology she is sometimes the ally of little birds, and that
in monkish tradition St. Gertrude, a funereal saint, Svho is
the patroness of mice, is also the protector of cats. More-
over, puss, in occasional myths, is the crony of the dog, and
figures as the protector of poultry from the fox, of lambs
from wolves.

On the other hand, " the vermin-hunter " is a much
more frequent character. " By the austerity which it prac-
tises on the banks of the Ganges it inspires confidence
in the birds, who gather round it to pay reverence to its
sanctity. The mice imitate their example, and place them-
selves under the cat's tutorship. The cat of course eats
them, and by inducing them to go with it only two or three
at a time, grows mysteriously fat for a fakir." This assump-
tion of sanctimoniousness is not an uncommon characteristic
of the cat of fable. "II fait le saint, il fait la chattel"
The oldest of all myths shows us the cat moon eating up
the grey mice of twilight. That Diana, a lunar divinity,
should have taken the feline form is therefore strictly in
accordance with the original Aryan fancy ; and so, too, we
find Freyya, the Scandinavian Selene, drawn sometimes by
a team of cats.

But it pleases me immensely to remark how this little
animal of contradictions and perplexities puzzle mytho-
logists. They mix it up with the lynx and the ichneumon
and the mole. These are thieving, hunting, secret animals,
and so are distorted into the myth-phrases of night, and the
nocturnal forest, and so forth. In the Sahskrit, so we are
assured, the same epithet is indiscriminately applied to cat
and thief. It is in fact the beast "of three letters." So

So7ne Poets Cats. 349

also, in Vedic metaphor, the cat is " the cleanser," the one
that washes its face, and also " the hunter ; " as the white
cat, the moon, it protects innocent animals; as a black cat,
the dark night, it persecutes them. " It is easy," says
Gubernatis, " to pass from the Latin mustela to the Sanskrit
mushikautakrit" But then Gubernatis can stretch farther
with a foot-rule than any other man, and to go from a stoat
to a cat because the names happen in Sanscrit and Latin to
begin with the same letter of the alphabet (which is all they
really do) is to him the most natural transition in the world.
Yet if there is one Grimalkin more puzzling than another it
is surely " the cat in the bag of proverbs."

Our mousers, however, seem to have declined deplorably
from their old standards of diligence and dexterity. In
other respects the type has been immeasurably improved.
The size of some of these animals gives promise that before
long we shall have cats to rival that Brobdingnagian creature
that purred like a dozen stocking-weavers at work and
thought Gulliver too small an insect to run after, and carry-
ins: such a fleece as shall make the shearing of cats an
operation of commercial value. In beauty we have Grimal-
kins that would have driven Egypt mad with envy ; while
for downright wild-beastishness what can we have fiercer-
looking than the Russian lynx-Hke breed ?

As a rule, people look upon cats as being without variety.
They know that these animals catch mice, have evil designs
upon cream-jugs and canaries, scratch Baby, and hold melan-
choly concerts in the back garden. But beyond these points,
common to all the species, the great majority of people have
no standards of distinction. It is true that the creatures
vary in colour, but somehow, as a rule, we lump them all
together into the common or garden cat, and regard them as
being of a monotonous sort. Yet there is just as much
variety in a Cat-show as among the pippins in a Chiswick
" Apple Congress," or the chrysanthemums at the Temple.

OD

o T!ie Poets' Beasts.

Some, for instance, are pure wild animals in miniature.
One is an undeniable lynx, only half-size, and another a
mimic ocelot ; a third imitates the puma, and a fourth is
an excellent imitation of a raccoon. In colour of course the
range is very large, from pure whites and blacks to smudged
tortoiseshells. Some wear the pelts of rabbit and hare,
others the soft blue greys of the lemurs or the silvery fur
of the Arctic foxes. They are blotched, and barred, and
brindled, "ringstraked, speckled, and spotted," their pat-
terned hkins producing in combination or by accident of posi-
tion the most singular results of expression. Indeed, nothing
is more surprising than the immense diversity of character
which the faces illustrate. Placid dignity and street-boy
impudence are caged side by side, and a very little trouble
would give an artist the whole series of human types. The
cat with a black blotch in the middle of a white counten-
ance is obviously a burglar among his kind, and what deeds
of midnight violence would be too dreadful for some of
those smudged-faced Toms to commit. They seem to
have deliberately disguised themselves, as if they were
Thugs out on a murderous errand, and peer at you, as from
behind a mask, from a confusion of red and tan and black
fur like the demon cat of the Japanese. One would almost
hesitate to leave such a cat alone in a room with one's
purse.

Yet, all the same, in spite of their Merovingian length
of disorderly fur, or their furious aspect, in spite too of
their surpassing elegance of colour and form, a suspicion
widely prevails that the town-cat is abandoning its taste for
mice.

Daily familiarities with milkmen, the certainty of regular
and ample meals, have dulled its appetite for the chase.
Though it may not have forgotten that tlie mouse is tooth-
some, it remembers more than it used to do that the mouse
is nimble, and very troublesome to catch. An ordinary cat

Some Poets' Cats. 351

will studiously devote a whole day to the circumvention of
the lodger's canary rather than spend an hour upon the
landlady's rats. A single bullfinch in the drawing-room is
worth a wilderness of mice in the pantry.

" Let take a cat, foster her with milk,
And tender flesh, and make her couch of silk.
And let her see a mouse go by the wall,
Anon she scometh milk and flesh and all.
And every dainty that is in that house.
Such appetite hath she to eat the mouse.
Lo here hath kind her domination.
And appetite o'ercomes discretion."

This may be an allusion to that fable in ^sop where the
youth " falls in love " with a cat, and in a moment of caprice
calls upon Venus to change the pretty animal into a pretty
woman. The goddess does so. But the happy couple
have hardly met before a mouse happens to run by and the
bride rushes away in feline pursuit — "and appetite o'er-
comes discretion."

However diligent and habitual mousing may have been
a characteristic of cats in Chaucer's time, it may even be
true still. But yet there is abundant proof for the accusation
that mouse-catching has become for the town-cat a mere
pastime, or at best an avocation, a parergon. Just as the
town-sparrow now only eats insects by way of dessert, as it
were, and never goes among trees except for an occasional
picnic, so the cat amuses itself, of a wet afternoon, over the
mouse-hole in the cupboard — and as often as not goes to
sleep at her post.

If there be any other just cause of complaint against
this pretty little favourite, it is surely its habit of vociferous
dialogue during our hours of sleep. "Foul night-waking
cats," "clamorous o'er their joys," "who amant misere''
(Shelley). How heartily the poets hated it.

352 The Poets Beasts,

" I would rather hear cat-courtship
Under my bedroom window "

is the worst that Southey can say of odious sounds. Nor
is it easy to imagine any disturbance of slumber more exas-
perating than the melancholy love-makings of cats when
they foregather immoderately on the garden wall and pro-
long their woeful canticles into the hours of dawn — the
dismal soliloquy uttered

" From the depths of a divine despair "

that by-and-by becomes a gruesome dialogue, in which the
two voices rise in unison, from the expression of a profound
longing, cavernous and sepulchral, up and up and up
through the scale of sharpening grief to the utmost peaks of
anguish, and then in a frenzied climax the two hearts break
as one in a piercing discord of mutual appeal.

Is all over ? Are the two cats lying dead ? Did their
great hearts burst their little bodies in that last unspeakable
moment of tender despair ? Not a bit of it. Listen. They
are beginning again, exactly where they began before, at
the "Z?^ profundis" and they will climb up the keys in
precisely the same abominable crescendo of misery, and when
they can no longer restrain the pent-up torrent of their tor-
tured affections they will mingle their voices in one wild
shattering yell of pity for themselves.

Yet though the householder empties the phials of his
wrath — and, if of a choleric soul, also all the movable
trifles about the bedroom that may seem to an exasperated
imagination suitable for throwing — upon the wretches for
their nocturnal ululations, there comes with daylight a
milder frame of mind. The tranquil spectacle of pussy
snugly curled up in front of the fire routs all suspicions as
to its having had any share in the outrageous frolics that
broke the slumbers of the household, and causes the dis-
turbances of over-night to be placed to the discredit of the

Some Poets' Cats. 353

cat " next door." The truth is, we are all too fond of our
cats to continue long in wrath witli them.

Yet in fable and fairy tale they are not treated with the
tenderness and consideration one would expect for such a
universal favourite, and the poets accept this tendency of
foik-lore to laugh at and depreciate Grimalkin. All the
cat-poems banter the animal, or place it in a ridiculous
light. Besides those already noted, there is Allan Ramsay's
fable of the cats and the cheese, of which the monkey ate
two-thirds in trying to make an exactly equal division, and
kept the other third for his trouble. In the fable of the
cat and the fox that reproach the wolf for killing a lamb,
and immediately go off and kill a chicken themselves, as
also in the stories where the cat is fooled by the mice, made
to take the hot nuts oif the bars by the ape, and beguiled
into the oven by the sparrows, the motive seems always to
turn the laugh against puss.

In Cowper's poem of the "Retired Cat," an excellent
illustration is given of the creature's complacent self-assur-
ance that ever}'thing in a household is specially arranged
wnth relation to its own comforts. She finds the garden
draughty, and, searching the house for a convenient couch,
"some place of more serene repose," discovers an open
drawer half-filled with linen of "the softest kind, such as
merchants introduce, from India for the ladies' use," and
curls herself up for sleep " lulled by her own humdrum
song." By-and-by Susan, "housewifely inclined," comes in
and shuts the drawer, "all unconscious whom it held," —
pussy taking it for granted that this is done for her greater
tranquillity.

*' Was ever cat attended thus ?
■■ The open drawer was left, I see,

Merely to prove a nest for me ;
For soon as I was well composed,
Then came the maid, and it was closed.

Z

354 The Poets Beasts.

How smooth these kerchiefs, and how sweet !
Oh what a delicate retreat !
I will resign myself to rest
Till Sol, declining in the west,
Shall call to supper, when, no doubt,
Susan will come and let me out."

But Susan does not, and the cat nearly starves to death.

" So, beware of too sublime a sense
Of your own worth and consequence ;
The man who dreams himself so great,
And his importance of such weight,
That all around and all that's done
Must move and act for him alone,
Will learn in school of tribulation
The folly of his expectation."

Even the fact of their having been worshipped in Egypt
brings them little credit ; it only makes Egyptian worship
discreditable —

" Cats and dogs, and each obscener bea«t.
To which Egyptian dotards once did bow."

Or again —

" Lang syne in Egypt beasts were gods,
Sae mony that the men turned beasts.
Vermin and brutes, boot house or hold,
Had offerings, temples, and their priests."

And then the poet goes on to say how one day the people
of the Nile sacrificed a rat to the great glory of the cat, and
next day a cat to the great glory of the rat.

Not that their worship is by any means extinct. You

have only to go to a Cat-show to be assured of the

-urvival of the whimsical homage of Memphis, Bubastis, and

^bes. The old-world dignities of priestly service, temple

j^onial, and posthumous embalming have of course

broii^ in the lapse of time, but their place has been

turban

Some Poets Cats. 355

filled by a homage which is certainly more intelligent and
scarcely less sincere. The days are long gone by when, to
bury a cat, processions of white-robed Egyptians, crowned
with convolvulus, acacia, and chr)-santhemum, trailed their
effigies of water-beast and reptile, and images of dog-headed
or hawk-headed gods, with the clashing of cymbals and the
singing of the choirs of Isis, down through long aisles
of reverent folk, from the Memphian temple-gates to the
catacombs under the rocks.

It is to this day a fetish animal Indeed, in Siam, a
curious variation of the cult obtains. For there, in the
land of the White Elephant, there is a royal breed of cats,
and, so it is said, it is death for any one to take one beyond
the precincts of the palace. The colour of these illustrious
Grimalkins is very striking, being something between buff
and tan, with ears, nose, and other "points" jet-black.
Indeed, with a little trimming here and there, they might
easily pass for tolerable pug-dogs. But we need hardly go
so far as Bangkok for vestiges of the old worship, for it is
obvious to the most casual observer at a Cat-show, from the
epithets applied by visitors to the animals under exhibition
and the exclamations of pious rapture, that there are plenty
of persons of both sexes, who, if they do not actually set puss
up on an altar and sacrifice to it with music and incense and
temple rites, as was done in the palmy days of the Pharaohs,
are sufficiently in love with the species to be enthusiastic in
admiration. To hear a fierce old Russian cat described as
" adorable," and a snowy Persian apostrophised as " divine,"
bridges over the interv^al between the Crystal Palace and
the cat temples of Bubastis, and narrows the chasm some-
what between Pharaoh-Necho and the cats'-meat man.

And the modern taxidermist, as well as he can, has taken
up the duties of the priests, and where the creatures of the
Eg)'ptians' adoration used to be spiced, they are now
stuffed.

35^ The Poets Beasts,

Instead of lying swathed in cloths and steeped in
aromatic gums within a syenite sarcophagus, Puss stands in
the back parlour, and fixes with her glassy eye the new
tenant of the hearth-rug, and, from the cold neutrality of
wires and wadding, gazes upon the domestic circle of which
owct pars magna fuit.

THE END.

I'RINTED nV HAI.I.ANTYKE, HANSON ANU CO.
EDINBI'KOII AND LONDON.

lyanvary, 1885.

CHATTO & WiNDUS'S

List of Books.

About. — The Fellah : An Egyp-
tian Novel. Bj Edmosd About.
Translated by Sir Randal Roberts.
Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. ; cloth
limp, 2s. 6d.

Adams (\V. Davenport), Works

by:

A Oictionapy of the Drama. Being
a comprehensive Guide to the Plays,
Playwrights, Players, and Play-
houses of the United Kingdom and
America, from the Earliest to the
Present Times. Crown 8vo, half-
bound, 128. 6d. [^Preparing.

Lattep-Day Lyrics. Edited by W.
Davenport Adams. Post Svo, cloth
limp, 2s. 6d.

Quips and Quiddities. Selected by
W. Davenport Adams. Post 8vo,
cloth limp, 23. 6d.

Advertising, A History of, from

the Earliest Times. Illustrated by
Anecdotes, Curious Specimens, and
Notices of Successful Advertisers. By
Henry Sampson. Crown Svo, with
Coloured Frontispiece and Illustra-
tions, cloth gilt, 7s. 6d.

Agony Column (The) of " The

Times," from i8oo to 1870, Edited,
with an Introduction, by Alice Clay.
Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

Aide (Hamilton), Works by:
Carr of Carrtyon. Post Svo, illns-

trated boards, 23.
ponfldences. Post Svo, illustrated

boards, 2s.

Alexander (Mrs.).— Maid, Wife,

OP Widow ? A Romance. By Mrs.
Alexander. Post Svo, illustrated
boards, 28. ; cr. Svo, cloth extra, 38. 6d.

Allen (Grant), Works by:

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 68. each.

The Evolutionist at Large. Second
Editicn, revised.

Vignettes from Nature.

Colin Clout's Calendar.

Nightmares: A Collection of Stories.

Strange Stories. With a Frontis-
piece by George Di; Maurier.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Architectural Styles, A Hand-
book of. Translated from the German
of A. Rosengarten, by W. Collett-
Sandars. Crown Svo, cloth extra, with
639 Illustrations, 7s. 6d.

Art (The) of Amusing : A Col-
lection of Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks.
Puzzles, and Charades. By Fran;:
Bellew. With 300 Illustrations. Cr,
Svo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d.

Artemus Ward :

Artemus Ward's Works: The Works
of Charles Farrer Browne, better
known as Artemus Ward. With
Portrait and Facsimile. Crown Svo,
cloth extra, 78. 6d.

Artemus Ward's Lecture on the
Mormons. With 32 Illustrations.
Edited, with Preface, by Edward P.
Kingston. Crown Svo, 6d.

The Genial Showman: Life and Ad-
ventures of Artemus Ward. By
Edward P. Kingston. With a
Frontispiece. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 38. 6(1.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Ashton (John), Works by:

A History of the Chap-Books of the
Eighteenth Century. With nearly
400 Illusts., engraved in facsimile of
the originals. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., 7s. 6d.

Social Life In the Reign of Queen
Anne. From Original Sources. With
nearly 100 Illusts. Cr.8vo,cl.ex.,7s.6d.

Humour, Wit, and Satire of the
Seventeenth Century. With nearly
100 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d.

English Caricature and Satire on
Napoleon the First. 120 Illusts. from
Originals. Two Vols., demy 8vo, 28s.

Bacteria. — A Synopsis of the

Bacteria and Yeast Fungi and Allied
Species. By W. B. Grove, B.A. With
b7 Illusts. Crown Svo, cl. extra, 3s. 6d.

Balzac's " Comedie Humaine "

and its Author. With Translations by
H.H.Walker. PostSvo, cl.limp,2s. 6d.

Bankers, A Handbook of Lon-

don ; together with Lists of Bankers
from 1677. By F. G. Hii^ton Price.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Bardsley (Rev. C.W.),Works by :
English Surnames: Their Sources and
Significations. Third Ed., revised.
Cr. 8 vo, cl . extra, 7s. Sd.
Curiosities of Puritan Nomencla-
ture. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Bartholomew Fair, Memoirs

of. By Henry Morley. With 100
_ Illusts. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 78. 6d.

Basil, Novels by:

A Drawn Game. Three Vols., cr. Svo.
The Wearing of the Green. Three
Vols., crown Svo.

Beaconsfleld, Lord: A Biogra-
phy. By T. P. O'Connor, M.P. Sixth
Edit., New Preface. Cr.Svo, cl.ex.7s.6d.

Beauchamp. — Grantley

Grange: A Novel. By Shelsley
Beauchamp^ Post Sto, illust. bds., 28.

Beautiful Pictures by British

Artists: A Gathering of Favourites
from our Picture Galleries. In Two
Series. All engraved on Steel in the
highest style of Art. Edited, with
Notices of the Artists, by Sydney
Armytage, M.A. Imperial 4fo, cloth
extra, gilt and gilt edges, 2l8. per Vol.

Bechstein. — As Pretty as

Seven, and other German Stories.
Collected by Lunwio Becmstkin.
With Additional Tales by the Brothers
Grimm, and 100 Illwsts. bv Richter.
Small 4to, green and gold, 68. 6d. ;
gilt edges, 7s. ed.

Beerbohm. — Wanderings in

Patagonia ; or, Life among the Ostrich
Hunters. By Julius Beerbohm. With
Illusts. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Belgravia for 1885. One

Shilling Monthly, Illustrated by P.
Macnab. — A Strange Voyage, by
W. Clark Russeli-, is begun in the
January Number, and will be con-
tinued throughout the year. This
Number contains also the Opening
Chapters of a New Story by Cecii^
Power, Author of" Philistia," entitled
Babylon.

*,* Now ready, the Volume for July to
October, 1884, cloth extra, gilt edges,
73. 6d. ; Cases for binding Vols., 2s. each.

Belgravia Annual. With Stories
by F. W. Robinson, J. Arbuthnot
Wilson, Justin H. McCarthy, B.
MoNTGOMERiE RANKING, and Others.
Demy Svo, with Illusts., l3. . _

Benliett (^/vyc^Cb.),Works by:

A Ballad History of England. Post

Svo, cloth limp, 2s.
Songs for Sailors. Post Svo, cloth
limp, 23.

Besant (Walter) and James

Rice, Novels by. Post 8vo, illust.

boards, 2s. each; cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

each; or cr. Svo, cl. extra,3s. 6d. each,
ReadyMoney Mortiboy.
With Harp and Crown,
This Son of Vulcan.
My Little Girl.
The Case of Mr. Lucraft.
The Golden Butterfly.
By Cella's Arbour.
The Monks of Thelema.
'Twas In Trafalgar's Bay.
The Seamy Side.
The Ten Years' Tenant.
The^ Chaplain of the Fleet.

Besant (Walter), Novels by:

All Sorts and Conditions of Men:
An Impossible Story. With Illustra-
tions by Fred. Barnard. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo,
illust. boards, 23 ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

The Captains' Room, A.c. With
Frontispiece by H. J. Wheeler,
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 38. 6d. ; post
Svo, illust. bds., 28. ;cl. limp, 28. 6d.

All In a Garden Fair. With 6 Illusts.
b^ II. Furniss. New and Cheaper
Liiition. Cr. Svo, cl. extra, 3g. 6d.

Dorothy Forster. New and Cheaper
lulition. With Illustrations by Chas.
Green. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Uncle Jack, and other Stories. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 6s. [In the press.

The Art of Fiction. Demy 8vo, Is.

CHATTO &• W INDUS, PICCADILLY.

feetham-Edwards (M.), Novels

by. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

each. ; post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. each.

Feiicia. I Kitty.

Bewick (Thos.) and his Pupils.

By Austin Dobson. With 95 Illustra-
tions. Square 8vo, cloth extra, lOs. 6d.

Birtiiday Books: —

The Starry Heavens: A Poetical
Birtnday Book. Square 8vo, hand-
somely bound in cloth, 2s. 6d.

Birthday Flowers: Their Language
and Legends. By W. J. Gordon.
Beautifully Illwtrated in Colours by
Viola Boughton. In illuminated
cover, crown 4to, 6s.

The Lowell Birthday Book. With
lUusts., small Svo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d.

Blackburn's (Henry) Art Hand-
books. Demy Svo, Illustrated, uni-
form in size for binding.

Academy Notes, separate years, from
1875 to 1883, each Is.

Academy Notes, 1884. With 152 Illus-
trations. Is.

Acadeitiy Notes, 1875-79. Complete
in One Vol., with nearly 600 Illusts. in
Facsimile. Demy Svo, cloth limp, 63.

Academy Notes, 1880-84. Complete
in One Volume, with about 700 Fac-
simile Illustrations. Cloth limp, 6s.

Grosvenor Notes, 1877. 6cL

G rosvenop Notes, separate years, from
1878 to 1883, each Is.

Grosvenor Notes, 1884. With 78
Illustrations. Is.

Grosvenor Notes, 1877-82. With
upwards of 300 Illustrations. Demy
8vo, cloth limp, 63.

Pictures at South Kensington. With
70 Illustrations. Is.

The English Plcturesat the National
Gallery. 114 Illustrations. Is.

The Old IVIasters at the National
Gallery. 128 Illustrations. Is. 6d.

A Complete Illustrated Catalogue
to the National Gallery. With
Notes by H. Blackburn, and 242
Illusts. Demy Svo, cloth limp, 33.

Illustrated Catalogue of the Luxem-
bourg Gallery. Containina about
250 Reproductions after the Original
Drawings of the Artists. Edited by
F. G. Dumas. Demy Svo, 3s. 6d.

The Paris Salon, 1884. With over 300
Illusts. Edited by F. G. Dumas.
Demy Svo, 3s,

Art Handbooks, continued —
The Art Annual, 1883-4. Edited by
F. G. Dumas. With 300 full-page
Illustrations. Demy Svo, 5s.

Boccaccio's Decameron ; or.

Ten Days' Entertainment. Translated
into English, with an Introduction by
Thomas Wright, F. S.A. With Portrait,
and Stothard's beautiful Copper-
plates. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d.

Blake (William): Etchings from
his Works. By W. B. Scott. With
descriptive Text. Folio, half-bound
boards, India Proofs, 21s.

BowePs'(G-) Hunting Sketches:
Canters In Crampshire. Oblong 4I0,

half-bound boards, 21s.
Leaves from a Hunting Journal.

Coloured in facsimile of the originals.
Oblong 4to, half-bound, 2l3.

Boyle (Fpedepick), Works by :

Camp Notes: Stories of Sport and
Adventure in Asia, Africa, and
America. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illustrated bds., 2s.

Savage Life* Crown Svo, cloth extra
3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illustrated bds., 2s.

Chronicles of No-Man's Land.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Brand's Observations on Pop-

ular Antiquities, chiefly Illustrating
the Origin of our Vulgar Customs,
Ceremonies, and Superstitions. With
the Additions of Sir Henry Ellis.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, gilt, with
numerous Illustrations, 7s. 6d.

Bret Harte, Works by :

Bret Harte's Collected Works. Ar-
ranged and Revised by the Author.
Coinplete in Five Vols., crown Svo,
cloth extra, 6s. each.
Vol. I. Complete Poetical and
Dramatic Works. With Steel'Por-
trait, and Introduction by Author.
Vol. II. Earlier Papers-Luck of
Roaring Camp, and other Sketches
— Bohemian Papers — Spanish
AND American Legends.
Vol. III. Tales of the Argonauts

— Eastern Sketches.
Vol. IV. Gabriel Conrov.
Vol. V. Stories — Condensed
Novels, &c.
The Select Works of Bret Harte, in
Prose and Poetry. With Introduc-
tory Essay by J. M. Bellew, Portrait
of the Author, and 50 Illustrations.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.
Gabriel Conroy : A Novel, Post 8vo,
illustrated boards, 28.

BOOKS PU^LIStiED B^

Bret Harte's Works, continued —
An Heiress of Red Dog, and other

Stories. Post 8vo, illustrated boards,

2s. ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d.
The Twins of Table Mountain. Fcap.

Svo, picture cover, Is. ; crown 8vo,

cloth extra, 3e. 6d.
Luck of Roaring Camp, and other

Sketches. Post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s.
Jeff Brlggs's Love Story. Fcap. 8vo,

picture cover. Is. ; cloth extra, 2s. 6d.
Flip. Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. ;

cloth limp, 2s. 6d.
Californlan Stories (including The

Twins or Table Mountain, Jeff

Briggs's Love Story, &c.) Post

Svo, illustrated boards, 2s^

Brewer (Rev. Dr.), Works by ;

The Reader's Handbookof Allusions,
References, Plots, and Stories.

Fourth Edition, revised throughout,
with a New Appendix, containing a
Complete English Bibliography.
Cr. 8vo, 1,400 pp., cloth extra, 73. 6d.

Authors and their Works, with the
Dates: Being the Appendices to
"The Reader's Handbook," separ-
ately printed. Cr. Svo, cloth limp, 23.

A Dictionary of Miracles: Imitative,
Realistic, and Dogmaiic. Crown Svo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d. ; half-bound, 9s.

Brewster(SirDavid),Works by:

More Worlds than One: The Creed
of the Philosopher and the Hope of
the Christian. With Plates. Post
Svo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d.

The Martyrs of Science: Lives of
Galileo, Tycho Brahe, and Kep-
ler. With Portraits. Post Svo, cloth
extra, Is. 6d.

Letters on Natural Magic. A New
Edition, withnumerous Illustrations,
and Chapters on the Being and
Faculties of Man, and Additional
Phenomena of Natural Magic, by
J. A. Smith. Post Svo, cloth extra,
48. 6d.

Brillat-Savarin.— Gastronomy

as a Fine Art. By Bkillat-Savarin.
Translated by R. E. Anderson, M.A.
Post Svo, cloth limp, 2a. 6d.

Burnett (Mrs.), Novels by :

Surly Tim, and other Stories. Post

Svo, illustrated boards, 2s.
Kathleen Mavourneen. Fcap. Svo,

picture cover, iB.
Lindsay's Luck. Fcap. Svo, picture

cover, la.
Pretty Polly Pemberton. Fcap. Svo,

picture cover, 1b.

Buchanan's (Robert) Works :

Ballads of Life, Love, and Humour.
With a Frontispiece by Arthur
Hughes. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 63.

Selected Poemsof Robert Buchanan.
With Frontispiece by T. Dalziel.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Undertones. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 63.

London Poems. Cr. Svo, cl. extra, 6s.

The Book of Orm. Crown Svo, cloth
extra, 6s.

White Rose and Red: A Love Story.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Idylls and Legends of Inverburn.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

St. Abe and his Seven Wives: A Tale
of Salt Lake City. With a Frontis-
piece by A. B. Houghton. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 5s.

Robert Buchanan'sCompieto Poeti-
cal Works. With Steel-plate Por-
trait. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
7s. 6d.

The Hobrld Isles: Wanderings in the
Land of Lome and the Outer He-
brides. With Frontispiece by W,
Small. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6)»,

A Poet's Sketch-Book: Selection*
from the Prose Writings of Robert
Buchanan. Crown Svo, cl. extra, 6s.

The Shadow of the Sword: A Ro-
mance. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
33. 6d. ; post Svo, illust. boards, 2s.

A Child of Nature: A Romance. With
a Frontispiece. Crown Svo, cloth
extra, 33. 6d. ; post Svo, illust. bds., 2s.

God and the Man : A Romance. With
Illustrations by Fred. Barnard.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. ; post
Svo, illustrated boards, 23.

The Martyrdom of Madeline: A
Romance. With Frontispiece by A. W.
Cooper. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.;
post Sto, illustrated boards, 23.

Love Me for Ever. With a Frontis-
piece by P. Macnab. Crown Svo,
cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illus-
trated boards, 2s.

Annan Water: A Romance. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

The New Abelard: A Romance. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Foxglove Manor: A Novel. Thrcf
Vols., crown Svo.

Matt : A Romance. Crown Svo, clotl
extra, 88. 6d. [Shortly.

Burton (Robert):

The Anatomy of Melancholy. A

New Edition, complete, corrected
and enriched by Translations of the
Classical Extracts. Dciny Svo, cloth
extra, 7s. 6d.
Melancholy Anatomised: Being an
Abridgment, for popular use, of Bur-
ton's Anatomy of Mklancholv,
Post Svo, cloth limp, 2b. 6d.

CHATTO S- WINDU5, PICCADILLY.

Burton (Captain), Works by:

To the Gold Coast for Gold : A Per-
sonal Narrative. By Richard F. Bur-
ton and Verney Lovett Cameron.
With Maps and Frontispiece. Two
Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 2l8.

The Book of the Sword: Being a
History of the Sword and its Use in
all Countries, from the Earliest
Times. By Richard F. Burton.
With over 400 Illustrations. Square
8vo, cloth extra, 32s.

Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.

Edited by Rev. T. Scott. With 17
Steel Plates by Stothard, engraved
by Goodall, and numerous Woodcuts.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, gilt, 73. 6d.

Bypon (Lord):

Bypon'8 Letters and Journals. With
Notices of his Life. By Thomas
Moore. A Reprint of the Original
Edition, newly revised, with Twelve
fall-page Plates. Crown Svo, cloth
extra, gilt, 7s. 6d.

Byron's Don Juan. Complete in One
Vol., post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s.

Cameron (Commander) and

Captain Burton. — To the Gold Coast
for Gold : A Personal Narrative. By
Richard F. Burton and Verney
Lovett Cameron, With Frontispiece
and Maps. Two Vols., crown Svo,
cloth extra, 2l8.

Cameron (IMrs. H. Lovett),

Novels by:
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each ;

j)ost Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.
Juliet's Guardian.
Deceivers Ever.

CampbelL — White and Black:

Travels in the United States. By Sir
George Campbell, M.P. Demy Svo,
cloth extra, 143.

Carlyle (Thomas) :

Thomas Carlyle: Letters and Re-
collections. By MoNCURE D. Con-
way, M.A. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
with Illustrations, 63.

On the Choice of Books. By Thomas
Carlyle. With a Life of the Author
by R. H. Shepherd. New and Re-
vised Edition, post Svo, cloth extra,
IllHstrated, Is. 6d.

The Correspondence of Thomas
Carlyleand Ralph Waldo Emerson,
1834 to 1&72. Edited by Charles
Eliot Norton. With Portraits, Two
Vols., crown Svo, cloth extra, 24a.

Chapman's (George) Works :

Vol. I. contains the Plays complete,
including the doubtful ones. Vol. II.,
the Poems and Minor Translations,
with an Introductory Essay by Alger-
non Charles Swinburne. Vol. III.,
the Translations of the Iliad and Odys-
sey. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth
extra, I83. ; or separately, 63. each.

Chatto& Jackson.— A Treatise

on Wood Engraving, Historical and
Practical. By Wii. Andrew Chatto
and John Jackson. With an Addi-
tional Chapter by Henry G. Bohn ;
and 450 fine lUnstrations. A Reprint
of the last Revised Edition. Large
4to, half-bonnd, 28s.

Chaucer :

Chaucer for Cl)lldren : A Golden
Key. By Mrs. H. R. Haweis. With
Eight Coloured Pictures and nu-
merous Woodcuts by the Author.
New Ed., small 4to, cloth extra, 6s.

Chaucer for Schools. By Mrs. H. R.
Hamteis. Demy Svo, cloth limp, 28. 6d.

Clodd Myths and Dreams.

By Edward Clodd, F.R.A.S., Author
of'^"The Childhood of Religions," &c.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 53. {^Shortly.

City (The) of Dream : A Poem.
Fcap. Svo, cloth extra, 6s. [/» the press.

Cobban. — The Cure of Souls :

A Story. By J. Maclaren Cobban.
Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s.

Collins (C. Allston).— The Bar

sinister: A Story. By C. Allston
Collins. Post Svo, illustrated bds.,2s.

Collins (Mortimer & Frances),
Novels by:

Sweet and Twenty. Post Svo, illus-
trated boards, 2s.

Frances. Post Svo, illnst. bds., 2s.

Blacksmith and Scholar. Post Svo,
illustrated boards, 2s. ; crown Svo,
cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

The Village Comedy. Post Svo, illust.
boards, &. ; cr. Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

You Play Me False. Post Svo, illust.
boards, 28.; cr. Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Collins (Mortimer), Novels by :

Sweet Anne Page. Post Svo, illus-
trated boards, 2s. ; crown !vo, clot*;
extra, 3s. Cd.

Transmigration. Post Svo, illnst. tx'",
23. ; crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. (*.

From Midnight to Midnight. Pcj'.
Svo, illustrated boards, 23. ; crown
8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d.

A Fight with Fortune. Post 8vo,
illustrated boards, 2s.

^OOKS PUBLiSMMD BY

Collins (Wilkie), Novels by.

Each post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s;
cloth limp, 23. 6(i. ; or crown Svo,
cloth extra, Illustrated, 3s. 6d. j

Antonina. Illust. by A. Concanen. j

Basil. Illustrated by Sir John Gil- |
BERT and J. Mahonev. I

Hide and Seek. Illustrated by Sir
John Gilbert and J. Mahoney.

The Dead Secret. Illustrated by Sir
John Gilbert and A. Concanen.

Queen of Hearts Illustrated by Sir
John Gilbert and A. Concanen.

My Miscellanies. With Illustrations
by A. Concanen, and a Steel-plate
Portrait of Wilkie Collins.

The Woman In White. With Illus-
trations by Sir John Gilbert and

F. A. Fraser.

The Moonstone. With Illustrations

by G. Du MAURiERand F. A. Fraser.

Man and Wife. Illust. by W. Small.

Poop Miss Finch. Illustrated by

G. Du Maurier and Edward
Hughes.

Miss OP Mrs.? With Illustrations by

S. L. FiLDEsand Henry Woods.
The New Magdalen. Illustrated by

G. Du Maukier and C. S. Rands.
The Frozen Deep. Illustrated by

G. Du Maurier and J. Mahoney.
The Law and the Lady. Illustrated

by S. L. Fildes and Sydney Hall.
The Two Destinies.
The Haunted Hotel. Illustrated by

Arthur Hopkins.
The Fallen Leaves.
Jezebel's Daughter.
The Black Robe.

Heapt and Science: A Story of the
Present Time. Crown Svo, cloth
extra, 3s. 6d.

" I Say No." Three Vols., crown Svo,
31s 6(1.

Colman's Humopous Works:

" Broad Grins,'' " My Nightgown and
Slipperi," and other Humorous Works,
Prose and Poetical, of George Col-
man. With Life by G. B. Buckstone,
and Frontispiece by Hogarth. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, gilt, 78. 6d.

Convalescent Cookery: A

I'amily Handbook. By Catherine
Ryan. Crown Svo, Is. ; cloth, Is.Bd.

Conway (Moncure D.), Works

by:
Demonology and DevllLore. Two
Vols., royal 8vo, with 6j lUusts., 288.

Conway's (M. D.) Works, continued—^
A Necklace of Stopies. Illustrated
by W. J. Hennessy. Square Svo,
cloth extra, 63.
The Wandeping Jew. Crown Svo,

cloth extra, 6s.
Thomas Caplyle: Letters and Re-
collections. With Illustrations.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 63.

Cook (Dutton), Works by :

Hours with the Playeps. With a
Steel Plate Frontispiece. New and
Cheaper Edit., cr. Svo, cloth extra,6s.

Nights at the Play : A View of the
English Stage. New and Cheaper
Edition. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Leo: A Novel. Post Svo, illustrated
boards, 2s.

Paul Fostep's Daughter. Post Svo,
illustrated boards, 28. ; crown Svo,
cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Cooper.— Heart Salvage, by

Sea and Land. Stories by Mrs,
Cooper (Katharine Saunders;.
Three Vols., crown Svo.

Copyright. — A Handbook of

English and Fopeign Copypight hi
Literapy and Dpamatic Works. By

Sidney Jerrold, of the Middle
Temple, Esq., Barrister-at-Law. Post
Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

Cornwall. — Popular Romances

of the V/eat of England; or. The

Drolls, Traditions, and Superstitions
of Old Cornwall, Collected and Edited
by Robert Hunt, F.R.S. New and
Revised Edition, with Additions, and
Two Steel-plate Illustrations by
George Cruikshank. Crown Svo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Creasy. — Memoirs of Eminent

Etonians : with Notices of the Early
History of Eton College. By Sir
Edward Creasy, Author of " The
Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World."
Crown Svo, cloth extra, gilt, with 13
Portraits, 7a. 6d.

Cruikshank (George):

The Comic Almanack. Complete in
Two Series : The First from 1835
to 1843 ; the Second from 1844 to
1853. A Gathering of the Bkst
HuMOURof Thackeray, Hood, May-
HKw, Albert Smith, A'Bkckett,
Robert Brough, &c. With 2,000
Woodcuts and Steel Engravings by
Cruikshank, Hine, Landklls, &c.
Crown Svo, cloth gilt, two very thick
volumes, 7s. 6d. each.

CHATTO S' W INDUS, PICCADILLY.

Cruikshamk (G.), oitiiitutd —

The Life of George Cruikshank. By
Blanchard Ierrold, Author of
" The Life of Napoleon III.," &c.
With 84 Illnstrations. New and
Cheaper Edition, enlarged, with Ad-
ditional Plates, and a very carefully
compiled Biblio.^aphy. Crown 8to,
cloth extra, 7s. 6dL

Robinson Crusoe. A beautiful re-
production of Major's Edition, with
37 Woodcuts and Two Steel Plates
by George Cruikshank, choicely
printed. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
78. 6d. A few Large-Paper copies,
printed on hand-made paper, with
India proofs of the Illustrations, 36s.

Cussans.— Handbook of Her-

aldpy; with Instructions for Tracing
Pedigrees and Deciphering Ancient
MSS., &c. By John E. Cissans.
Entirely New and Revised Edition,
illustrated with, over 400 Woodcuts
and Coloured Plates. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Cyples.— Hearts of Gold: A

Novel. By William Cyples, Crows
8vo, clo»h extra, 3s. 6d.

Daniel. — Merrie England in
the Olden Time. By George Daniel.
With Illustrations by Robt. Cruik-
shank. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Daudet Port Salvation ; or,

The Evangelist. By Alphonsb
Daudet. Translated by C. Harry
Meltzer. With Portrait of the
Author. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
3s. 6d.

Davenant. — What shall nriy

Son be ? Hints for Parents on the
Choice of a Profession or Trade for
their Sons. By Francis Davenant,
M.A. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

bavies (Dp. N. E.), Works by:

One Thousand Medical Maxinns.

Crown 8vo, Is. ; cloth. Is. 6d,
Nursery Hints: A Mother's Guide.

Crown 8vo, Is. ; cloth. Is. 6d.
Aids to Long Life. Crown Svo, 2s. ;

cloth limp, 23. 6d.

Davies' (Sir John) Complete

Poetical Works, including Psalms I.
to L. in Verse, and other hitherto Un-
published MSS., for the first time
CoUected and Edited, with Memorial-
Introduction and Notes, by the Rev.
A. B. Grosart, D.D. Two Vols.,
crown Svo, cloth boards, 12a.

De Malstre. — A Journey Round

My Room. By Xavier de Maistre.
Translated by Henry Attwell. Post
8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

De Mille.— A Castle in Spain.

A Novel. By James De Mille. With
a Frontispiece. Crown Svo, clcth
extra, 3s. 6d.

Derwent (Leith), Novels by:
Our Lady of Tears. Cr. Svo, cloth
extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illust. bds., 2s.
Circe's Lovers. Crown Svo, cloth
extra, 38. 6cL

Dickens (Charles), Novels by :

Post Svo, illustrated boards, 23. each.
Sketches by Boz. 1 Nicholas Nicklaby.
Pickwick Papers. | Oliver Twist.

The Speeches of Charles Dickens.
{May fair Library.) Post Svo, cloth
mp. 2s. 6d.

The Speeches of Charles Dickens,
J841-1870. With a New Bibliography,
revised and enlarged. Edited and
Prefaced by Richard Herne Shep-
herd. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

About England with Dickens. By
Alfred Rimmer. With 57 Illustra-
tions by C. A. Vandkrhoof, Alfred
Rimmer, and others. Sq. Svo, cloth
extra, lOs. 6d.

Dictionaries:

A Dictionary of Miracles: Imitative,
Realistic, and Dogmatic. By the
Rev. E. C. Brewer, LL.D. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 78. 6d.; hf.-bonnd, 98.

The Reader's Handbook of Allu-
sions, References, Plots, and
stories. By the Rev. E. C. Brewer,
LL.D. Fourth Edition, revised
throughout, with a New Appendix,
containing a Complete English Bib-
liography. Crown Svo, 1,400 pages,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Authors and their Works, with the
Dates. Being the Appendices to
" The Readei^s Handbook," sepa-
rately printed. By the Rev. E. C.
Brewer, LL.D. Crown Svo, cloth
limp, 2s.

Familiar Allusions: A Handbook
ot Miscellaneous Information ; in-
cluding the Names of Celebrated
Statues, Paintings, Palaces, Country
Seats, Ruins, Churches, Ships,
Streets, Clubs, Natural Curiosities,
and the like. By Wm. A: Wheeler
and Charles G. Wheeleeu Demy
Svo, cloth extra, 78. 6d.

8

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

DicnoNARiES, continued —

Short Sayings of Great Men. With
Historical and Explanatory Notes,
By Samuel A. Bent, M.A, Demy
8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

A Dictionary of the Drama: Being
a comprehensive Guide to the Plays,
Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses
of the United Kingdom and America,
from the Earliest to the Present
Times. By W. Davenport Adams.
A thick volume, crown Svo, half-
bound, 123. 6d. [In preparation.

The Slang Dictionary: Etymological,
Historical, and Anecdotal. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 63. 6d.

Women of the Day: A Biographical
Dictionary. By Frances Hays. Cr.
Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Words, Facts, and Phrases: A Dic-
tionary of Curious, Quaint, and Out-
of-the-Way Matters. By Eliezer
Edwards. New and Cheaper Issue.
Cr. Svo, cl. ex., 7s. 6d. ; hf.-bd., 9s.

Diderot.— The Paradox of Act-
ing. Translated, with Annotations,
from Diderot's " Le Paradoxe sur le
Comedien," by Walter Herries
Pollock. With a Preface by Henry
Irving. Cr. Svo, in parchment, 4s. 6d.

Dobson (W. T.), Works by :

Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies,
and Frolics. Post Svo, cl. Ip., 2s. 6d.

Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentri-
cities. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

Dopan Memories of our

Great Towns ; with Anecdotic Glean-
ings concerning their Worthies and
their Oddities. By Dr. John Doran,
F.S.A. With 38 Illustrations. New
and Cheaper Ed., cr. Svo, cl. ex., 7s. 6d.

Drama, A Dictionary of the.

Being a comprehensive Guide to the
Plays, Playwrights, Players, and Play-
houses of the United Kingdom and
America, from the Earliest to the Pre-
sent Times. By W. Davenport
Adams. (Uniform with Brewer's
" Reader's Handbook.") Crown 8vo,
half-bound, 128. 6d. [In preparatio n .

Dramatists, The Old. Cr. 8vo,

cl. ex.. Vignette Portraits, 68. per Vol.

Ben Jonson's Works. With Notes
Critical and Explanatory, and a Bio-
graphical Memoir by W^m. Giffohd.
Edit, by Col. Cunningham. 3 Vols.

Chapman's Works. Complete in
Three Vols. Vol. I. contains the
Plays complete, including doubtful
ones; Vol. II., Poems and Minor
Translations, with IntroductoryEssay
by A. C. Swinburne; Vol. III., Trans-
lations of the Iliad and Odyssey.,

Dramatists, The Old, continued —
Marlowe's Works. Including his
Translations. Edited, with Notes
and Introduction, by Col. Cunning-
ham. One Vol.
Massinger's Plays. From the Text of
William Gifford. Edited by Col.
Cunningham. One Vol.

Dyer. — The Foltc-Lore of

Plants. By T. F. Thiselton Dyer,
M.A., &c. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
7s. 6d. [In preparation.

Early English Poets. Edited,

with Introductions and Annotations,
by Rev. A. B.Grosart, D.D. Crown
Svo, cloth boards, 6s. per Volume.

Fletcher's (Giles, B.D.; Complete
Poems. One Vol.

Davles' (Sir John) Complete
Poetical Works. Two Vols.

Herrick's (Robert) Complete Col-
lected Poems. Three Vols.

Sidney's (Sir Philip) Complete
Poetical Works. Three Vols.

Herbert (Lord) of Cherbury's Poems.

Edited, with Introduction, by J.
Churton Collins. Crown Svo,
parchment, 8s.

Edwardes(Mrs. A.), Novels by:

A Point of Honour. Post Svo, illus-
trated boards, 28.

Archie Lovell. Post Svo, illust. bds.,
23. ; crown Svo, cloth extra, 38. 6d.

Eggleston.— Roxy: ANovel. By
Edward Eggleston. Post Svo, illust.
boards, 2s. ; cr. Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Emanuel. — On Diamonds and

Precious stones: their History,Value,
and Properties ; with Simple Tests for
ascertaining their Realit)^. By Harky
Emanuel, F.R.G.S. With numerous
Illustrations, tinted and plain. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, gilt, 63.

Englishman's House, The: A

Practical Guide to all interested in
Selecting or Building a House, with
full Estimates of Cost, Quantities, &c.
By C. J. Richardson. Third Edition.
Nearly 600 Ulusts. Cr. Svo.cl. ex.,78.6d.

Ewald (Alex. Charles, F.S.A.),

Works by:

Stories from the State Papers.
With an Autotype Facsimile. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

The Life and Times of Prince
Charles Stuart, Count of Albany,
cominoulv called the Young Pre-
tender. From the State Papers and
other Sources. New and Cheaper
Edition, with a Portrait, crown 0VO|
cloth extra, 78. 6d.

CttATfO S- WINDVS. PICCADILLY.

9

Eyes, The.— How to Use our

£Tes,2nd How to Preserve Them. By
JoHK BROwjtixG. FJULS., &e. With
5a lUnstratioos. Is.; cloth. 13. Cfl.

FaJpholt. — Tobacco : Its His-
tory and Associatioiis ; whh an Ac-
iXMmt <d the Plant and its Mano-
factime. and its Modes of Use in all
Ages and CoontrieSL By F. W. Faik-
aoLT, FJS.A. With Cotoared Frontis-
IHcce and upwards ai too Illastia-
tions by the Antbor. Cr.frro.cl.ex-.6B.

Familiar Allusions: A Hand-
book of iliscellaceoos Information:
jiw-iinling the Names of Celebrated
Statues, Paintings, Palaces. Coontry
Seats, Rnins. Chnrches. Shipa^ Streets,
Chibs, Natnial Cariosities, and the
like. By Wiluam A. Wbbklek,
Author of " Noted Names (rfFicdaa;"
and CcLAJU.ES G. Wheexxk. Demy
8ro. cloth eitra. 7s. 6A.

Faraday (Michael), Works by :
TlM Chemie&l History of a Candle :
Lectmes delivered before a Jnvende
Audience at the Royal Institntion.
Edited by WnxiAM Ckookks. F.CS.
Post Sto, cloth extra, with nomeroos
Illostiations, 4a. Gd.
On the Various Force* of Nature,
and their Relatimis to each other:
Lectnres delivered befiorea Jnvenile
Andience at the Royal InstitntkHi.
Edited by WnxiAit Ckookxs, F.CS.
Post Svo^dodi extra, with ntminons
IUnsttations.4g.6d.

Farpcp. — Military Manners
and Cuatoms. By J. A. Faxker,
Anthor of "Primitive Manners and
Customs," Ac. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
6s. [/« pieperatiom,

Fin-Bee. — The Cupboard

Papers: ObservaiiKis cm the Art ci
Living and Dining. By Fuc-Bec. Post
8vo7aotfa limp, te. 6d.

Fitzgerald (Percy), Works by :

The Recreations of a Literary Man ;
or. Does Writing Pay? With Re-
colIectMos of some IJtenry Men,
and a View of a Literary Man's
WarkingLi£e. Cr. Svo, doth extra, GB.

The World Behind the Scenes.
Crovm Svo, cloth extra. 3b. Gd.

Little Essays: Passages from the
Letters of Chaxtas L.amb. Post
Svo, cloth limp. iL Gd.

Post Svo^ illastrated boards, ti. each.
Bella Donna. | Never Forgotten.
The Second Mrs. Tiliotson.
Polly.

Seventyflve Brooke Street.
The Lady of Brantome.

Fletchers (Giles, B.D.) Com-
plete Poents: Christ-'s Victorie in
Heaven, Christ's Victorie on Earth.
Christ's Triumph over Death, and
Minor Poem& With Hanorial-Intro-
dnction and Notes by the Rev. K. B.
Gkosakt, D.D. Cr. Svo. cloth bds.. Eg.

Fonblanque. — Filthy Lucre : A
Novel. By Ai.ba3jt de Fosblascce.
Post 8vt>. illnstrated boards, as.

Franciilon (R. E.), Novels by :

Crown 8vt>, cloth extra, SB. Gd.^u:h ;

post Svo, illost. boards, 2b. each.
Oiympia. | Queen Cophetua

One by One.

Esther's Glove. Fcap. Svo, {RCtnre

cov^-. Is.
A Real Queen. Cr. Svo. c!. extra. 2s. Gd.

French Literature, History of.

By Hejckt Vajc Lacx. Co2ipI«e in
_ 3 Vols., demy Svo, cl. bds.. 7g. £d. each.

Frere. — Pandurang Hari ; or.
Memoirs of a HindooL WithaPre&ce
by Sir H. Bastlb Fkkxk, G.CSX, &c
Crown Svo. cloth extra, 3B. Gd. ; post

Svx>. illEstiated boards, 2s.

Friswell. — One of Two: .\ Novel.
By Haix Frisweix. Post Svo, iUcs-
trated boards. 2b.

Frost (Thomas), Works by :

Crown Svo. cloth extra, 3b. Gd. each.
Circtis Life and Circus Celebritiea
The Live* of the Cor\jurers.
The Old Showmen and the Old
London Fairs.

Fry. — Royal Guide to the Lon-
don Charities. 1884-S. ByHzRBKKT
Fkt SbGwii:|^ their Name, Date of
Foundation, Objects, Income^ Officials,
Ac PnUished AnniaUy. CronnSvo,

cloth, to. ea.

Gardening Books:

A Year's Work in Garden and Green-
house: Practical .\dvice to Amatenr
Gardeners as to the Management of
the Flower,Fniit, and Frame Garden.
By Gborge Glzsxt. Post Stol iB. :
cloth. Is. Gd.

Our Kitchen Garden : The Plants we
Grow, and How we Cook Them.
By ToM Jerkold. Post Svo, cloth
limp, 2b. Gd.

Household Horticultupe : A Gossip
aboot Flowers. By Tom and J axe
Tsasou). lUnst. PD6t8vo,cl. Ip.fcftl.

The Garden that Paid the Rent.
By Tom Jekxoux Fcap. Svo, illas-
tiated cover, iB.; doth linqs iB. Gd.

My Garden Wild, and What I Grew
there. By F.G. Heath. Crown Svo,
dodi extra, Gb. ■ s>Ued8es,GL

16

BOOKS PUBLISHED Bf

Garrett.— The Capel Girls : A

Novel. By Edward Garrett. Post
Svo.illust.bds., 23.; cr.Svo, cl.ex., 33. 6(1.

Gentleman's Magazine (The)

for 1885. One Shilling Monthly. A
New Serial Story, entitled "The
Unforeseen," by Alice O'Hanlon,
begins in the January Number
"Science Notes," by W. Mattieu
Williams, F.R.A.S., and "Table
Talk," by Sylvanus Urban, are also
continued monthly.
%* Now ready, the Volume for July to

December, 1884, cloth extra, price 8s. 6d. ;

Cases for binding, 2s. each.

German Popular Stories. Col-
lected by the Brothers Grimm, and
Translatedby Edgar Taylor. Edited,
with an Introduction, by John Ruskin.
With 22 Illustrations on Steel by
George Cruikshank. Square 8vo,
cloth extra, 6s. 6d. ; gilt edges, 7s. 6d.

Gibbon (Charles), Novels by :

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each ;
post 8vo, illustrated boards, 23. each.

Robin Gray

For Lack of Gold.

What will the

World Say?
In HonourBound.
In Love and War.
?or the King.

Queen of the

Meadow.
In Pastures Green
Braes of Yarrow.
The Flower of the

Forest. [lem.
A Heart's Prob-

Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2g,
The Dead Heart.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each.
The Golden Shaft.
Of High Degree.
Fancy Free.
Loving a Dream.

By Mead and Stream. Three Vols.,

crown Svo.
Found Out. Three Vols., crown
- ■ ^^'°- tsiioitly^

Gilbert (William), Novels by r

Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.
Dr. Austin's Guests.
The Wizard of the Mountain.
James Duke, Costormonger.

Gilbert (W. S.), Original Pfays
by: In Two Series, each complete in
itself, price 2s. 6d. each.

The First Series contains — The
Wicked World— Pygmalion and Ga-
latea — Charity — The Princess — The
Palace of Truth— Trial by Jury.

The Second Series contains — Pro-
ken Hearts— Engaged— Sweethe.irls—
Gretchen— Dan'l Druce— Tom Cobb—
H.M.S. Pinafore- The Sorcerer— The
Pirates of Penzance.

Glenny.— A Year's Work In

Garden and Greenhouse: Practical
Advice to Amateur Gardeners as to
the Management of the Flower, Fruit,
and Frame Garden. By George
Glenny. Post Svo, Is.; cloth. Is. 6d.

Godwin. — Lives of the Necro-
mancers. By William Godwin,
Peat Svo, cloth limp, 2s.

Golden Library, The:

Square i6mo (Tauchnitz size), cloth
iimp, 2s. per volume.

Bayard Taylor's Diversions of Ihe
Echo Club.

Bennett's (Dr. W. 0.) Ballad History
of England.

Bennett's (Dr.) Songs for Sailors.

Byron's Don Juan.

Godwin's (William) Lives of the
Necromancers.

Holmes's Autocrat of the Break-
fast Table. With an Introduction
by G. A. Sala.

Holmes's Professor at the Break-
fast Table.

Hood's Whims and Oddities. Com-
plete. All the original Illustrations.

Irving's (Washington) Tales of a
Traveller.

Irving's (Washington) Tales of the
Alhambra.

Jesse's (Edward) Scenes and Oc-
cupations of a Country Life.

Lamb's Essays of Ella. Both Series
Complete in One Vol.

Leigh Hunt's Essays: A Tale for a
Chimney Corner, and other Pieces.
With Portrait, and Introduction by
Edmund Ollier.

Mallory's (Sir Thomas) Mort
d'Arthur: The Stories of King
Arthur and of the Knights of the
Round Table. Edited by B. Mont-
gomerie Ranking.

Pascal's Provincial Letters. A New
Translation, with Historical Intro-
duction and Notes, byT.M'CRiE.D.D.

Pope's Poetical Works. Complete.

Rochefoucauld's Maxims and IWoral
Reflections. Witli Notes, and In-
troductory Essay by Sainte-Beuvk.

St. Pierre's Paul and Virginia, and
The Indian Cottage. Edited, with
I.ilo, by tlie Rev. li. Clarke.

Shelley's Early Poems, and Queen
Mab. Witli Essay by Leigh Hunt.

Shelley's Later Poems: Laon and

Cythna, Ac.
Shsiley's Posthumous Poems, the
Sliclley Papers, &c.

CHATTO 6' W INDUS, PICCADILLY.

II

Golden Library, The, continued—
Shelley's Ppose Works, including A

Refutation of Deism, Zastrozzi, St.

Irvyne, &c.
White's Natural History of Sel-

borne. Edited, with Additions, by

Thomas Brown, F.L.S.

Golden Treasury of Thought,

The: An Encyclop.«dia of Quota-
tions from Writers of all Times and
Countries. Selected and Edited by
Theodore Taylor. Crown 8vo, cloth
gilt and gilt edges, 7s. 6d.

Gordon Cumming(C. F.),Works

by:

In the Hebrides. With Autotype Fac-
simile and numerous full-page Illus-
trations. Demy 8vo, cloth extra,
8s. 6d.

In the Himalayas and on the Indian
Plains. With numerous Illustra-
tions. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, 8s. 6d.

Graham. — The Professor's

Wife : A Story. By Leonard Graham.
Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, Is,; cloth
extra, 2s. 6d.

Greeks and Romans, The Life

of the, Described from Antique Monu-
ments. By Ernst Guhl and W.
KosER. Translated from the Third
German Edition, and Edited by Dr.
F. HuEFFER. With 545 Illustrations.
New and Cheaper Edition, demy 8vo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Greenwood (James),Works by:
The Wilds of London. Crown 8vo,

cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
Low-Life Deeps : An Account of the

Strange Fish to be Found There.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 33. 6d.
Dick Temple: A Novel. Post Svo,

illustrated boards, 28.

Guyot.— The Earth and Man ;

or, Physical Geography in its relation
to the History of Mankind. By
Arnold Glyot. With Additions by
Professors .\gassiz. Pierce, and Gray;
13 Maps and Engravings on Steel,
some Coloured, and copious Index.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, gilt, 4s. 6d.

Hair (The): Its Treatment in
Health, Weakness, and Disease.
Translated from the German of Dr. J.
PiNcus. Crown 8vo, Is.; cloth, Is. 6cl.

Hake (Dr. Thomas Gordon),

Poems by:
Maiden Ecstasy. Small 4to, cloth
extra, 8s.

Hake's (Dr. T. G.) Poems, continued—
New Symbols. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 6a.
Legends of the Morrow. Crown Svo,

cloth extra, 63.
The Serpent Play. Crown 8vo, cloth

extra. 63.

Hail.— Sketches of Irish Cha-
racter. By Mrs. S. C. Hall. With
numerous Illustrations on Steel and
Wood by Maclise, Gilbert, Harvey,
and G. Cruikshank. Medium Svo,
cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d.

Hall Caine.— The Shadow of a

Crime: A Novel. By Hall Caine.
3 vols., crown Svo. [Immediately .

Halllday.— Everyday Papers.

By Andrew Hallidav. Post Svo,
illustrated Iwards, 28.

Handwriting, The Philosophy

of. With over loo Facsimiles and Ex-
planatory Text. By Don Felix de
Salamanca. Post Svo, cl. limp. 28. 6d.

Hanky- Pan ky : A Collection of

Very EasyTricks,Very Difficult Tricks,
White Magic, Sleight of Hand, &c.
Edited by W. H. Cremer. With 200
Illusta. Crown Svo, cloth extra,4s. 61.

Hardy (Lady Duffus). — Paul

Wynter's Sacrifice: A Story. By
Lady Duffus Hardy. Post Svo, illust.
boards, 2s.

Hardy (Thomas).— Under the

Greenwood Tree. By Thomas Hardy,
Author of " Far from the Madding
Crowd." Crown Svo, cloth extra,
3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illustrated bds., 2s.

Haweis (Mrs. H. R.), Works by :

The Art of Dress. With numerous
Illustrations. Small Svo, illustrated
cover. Is. ; cloth limp. Is. 61.

The Art of Beauty. New and Cheaper
Edition. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
with Coloured Frontispiece and Il-
lustrations, 6s.

The Art of Decoration. Square Svo,
handsomely bound and profusely
Illustrated, lOs. 6d.

Chaucer for Children: A Golden
Key. With Eight Coloured Pictures
and numerous Woodcuts. New
Edition, small 4to, cloth extra, 68.

Chaucer for Schools. Demy Svo,
cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

Haweis (Rev. H. R.).— American
Humorists. Including Washington
Irving, Oliver Wendell Holmei,
James Russell Lowell, Arteuus
WARD,MARKTw.AiN,and Bret Harte.
By the Rev. H. R. Haweis, M.A.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

12

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Hawthorne (Julian), Novels by.

Crov.n 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6(1. each ;

post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.
Garth. I Sebastian Stpome.

Ellice Quentin. I Dust.

Prince Sfit'oni's Wife.

Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds.
Fcap. 8vo, illustrated cover, Is. ;
cloth extra, 2s. 66..

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each.

Fortune's Fool.

Beatrix Randolph. With Illustrations

by A. Fredericks.
iVIiss Cadogna. IShortly.

IMPORTANT NEW BIOGRAPHY.

Hawthorne (Nathaniel) and

his Wife. By Julian Hawthorne.
With 6 Steel-plate Portraits. Two
Vols., crown Svo, cloth extra, 24a.

[Twenty-five copies of an Edition de
Luxe, printed on the best hand-made
paper, large 8vo size, and with India
proofs of the Illustrations, are reserved
lor sale in England, price 48s. per set.
Immediate application should be made
by anyone desiring a copy of this
special and very limited Edition.]

Hays.— Women of the Day: A

Biographical Dictionary of Notable
Contemporaries. By Frances Hays.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 5s.

Heath (F. G.). — My Garden

Wild, and What I Grew There. By
Francis Georgb Heath, Author of
" The Fern World," &c. Crown Svo,
cl.ex , 6s. ; cl. gilt, gilt edges, 6s.

Helps (Sir Arthur), Works by :
Animals and their Masters. Post

Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.
Social Pressure. PostSvo, cloth limp,

2s. 6d.
Ivan de Biron: A Novel. Crown 8vo,

cloth extra, 33. 6d.; post Svo, illus-

trated boards, 2s.

Heptalogia (The) ; o^ The

Seven against Sense. A Cap with
Seven Bells. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Herbert.— The Poems of Lord

Herbert of Cherbury. Edited, with
Introduction, by j. Churton Collins.
Crown Svo, bound in parchment, 8s.

Herrick's (Robert) Hesperidcs,

Noble Numbers, and Complete Col-
lected rooms. With Memorial-Intro-
riuclion and Notes by the Rev. A. n.
Grosart, D.D., Steel Portrait, Index
of First Lines, and Glossarial Index,
{kc. Three Vols,, crown Svo, cloth, ISs.

Hesse- Wartegg (Chevalier

Ernst von), Works by :

Tunis: The Land and the People.
With 22 Illustrations. Crown Svo,
cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

The New SouthWest: Travelling
Sketches from Kansas, New Mexico,
Arizona, and Northern Mexico.
With 100 fine Illustrations and Three
Maps. Demy Svo, cloth extra,
I4s. [/» preparation.

Hindley (Charles), Works by :

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each.

Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings : In-
cluding the Origin of Signs, and
Reminiscences connected with
Taverns, Coflee Houses, Clubs, &c.
With Illustrations.

The Life and Adventures of a Cheap
Jack. By One of the Fraternity.
Edited by Charles Hindlev.

Hoey. — The Lover's Creed.

By Mrs. Cashel Hoey. With I2 Illus-
trations by P. MacNab. Three Vols.,
crown Svo.

Holmes (O.Wendell), Works by :

The Autocrat of the Breakfast-
Table. Illustrated by J. Gordon
Thomson. Post Svo, cloth limp,
23. 6d. ; another Edition in smaller
type, with an Introduction by G. A.
Sala. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s.

The Professor at the Breakfast-
Table ; with the Story of Iris, Post
Svo, cloth limp, 2s.

Holmes. — The Science of

Voice Production and Voice Preser-
vation : A Popular Manual for the
Use of Speakers and Singers. By
Gordon Holmes, M.D. With Illus-
trations. Crown Svo, Is. ; cloth, Is. 6d.

Hood (Thomas):

Hood's Choice Works, in Prose and
Verse. Including the Cream of the
Comic Annuals. With Life of the
Author, Portrait, and 200 Illustra-
tions. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Hood's Whims and Oddities. Com-
plete. With all the original Illus-
trations. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s.

Hood (Tom), Works by :

From Nowhere to the North Pole:

A Noah's ArkoBological Narrative.
With 25 Illustrations by W. Brun-
TON and R. C. Barnks. Square
ciown Svo, cloth exlr.i, gilt edges, 68.
A Golden Heart: A Noypl. PostSvo,
illu3tratc<l boards, 2Si

CHATTO S- WIND US, PICCADILLY.

13

Hook's (Theodore) Choice Hu-
morous Works, including his Ludi-
crous Adventures.Bons Mots, Puns and
Hoaies. With a New Life of the
Author, Portraits, Facsimiles, and
Illnsts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, gilt, 73. 6d.

Hooper— The House of Raby :

A Novel. By Mrs. George Hooper.
Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 23.

Home. — Orion : An Epic Poem,
in Three Books. By Richard Hen-
gist HoRNE. With Photographic
Portrait from a Medallion by Sum-
mers. Tenth Edition, crown 8vo,
cloth eitra, 78.

Howell.— Conflicts of Capital

and Labour, Historically and Eco-
nomically considered : Being a His-
tory and Review of the Trade Unions
of Great Britain, showing their Origin,
Progress, Constitution, and Objects, in
their Political, Social, Economical,
and Indostrial Aspects. By George
Howell. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 73. 6d.

Hugo. — The Hunchback of
Notre Dame. By Victor Hugo.
Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28.

Hunt. — Essays by Leigh Hunt.

A Tale for a Chimney Comer, and
other Pieces. With Portrait and In-
troduction by Edmund Ollier. Post
8vo, cloth limp, 23.

Hunt (Mrs. Alfred), Novels by :

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. Cd, each ;
post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.

Thornlcroft's Model.

The Leaden Casket.

Self-Condemned.

Ingelow.— Fated to be Free : A

Novel. By Jean Ingelow. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 3a. 6d. ; post 8vo,
illustrated boards, 2s.

Irish Wit and Humour, Songs

of. Collected and Edited by A. Perce-
_VAL Graves. Post 8vo, cl. limp, 28. 61.

Irving (Washington),Works by:

Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. each.
Tales of a Traveller.
Tales of the Alhambra.

Janvier. — Practical Keramics

for Students. By Catherine A.
Janvier. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Jay (Harriett), Novels by. Each

crown Svo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. ; or post
Svo. illustrated boards, 23.

The Dark Colleen.

The Que«n of Connaught.

Jefl'eries (Richard), Works by:

Nature near London. Crown Svo,

cloth extra, 6s.
The Life of the Fields. Crown Svo,

cloth extra, 63.

Jennings (H. J.), Works by :

Curiosities of Criticism. Post Svo,
cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

Lord Tennyson: A Biographical
Sketch. With a Photograph- Por-
trait. Crown Svo, cloth exua, 6s.

Jennings (Hargrave). — The

Roslcruclans: Their Rites and Mys-
teries. With Chapters on the Ancient
Fire and Serpent Worshippers. By
Hargravk Jennings. With Five full-
page Plates and upwards of 300 Illus-
trations. A New Edition, crown Svo,
cloth extra, 78. 6d.

Jerrold (Tom), Works by :

The Garden that Paid the Rent.
By Tom Jerrold. Fcap. Svo, illus-
trated cover, I3. ; cloth limp, Is. 6d.

Household Horticulture: A Gossip
about Flowers. By Tom and Jans
Jerrold. lUust. Post8vo.cl.lp.,2s.6d.

Our Kitchen Garden: The Plants
we Grow, and How we Cook Them.
By Tom Jerrold. Post Svo, cloth
limp, 2s. 6d.

Jesse. — Scenes and Occupa-
tions of a Country Life. By Edward
Jesse. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s.

Jones (Wm., F.S.A.), Works by:

Finger-Ring Lore: Historical, Le-
gendary, and Anecdotal. With over
200 lUusts. Cr. Svo, cl. extra, 78. 6d.

Credulities, Past and Present; in-
cluding the Sea and Seamen, Miners,
Talismans, Word and Letter Divina-
tion, Exorcising and Blessing of
Animals, Birds, Eggs, Luck, &c.
With an Etched Frontispiece. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 78. 6d.

Crowns and Coronations: A History
of Regalia in all Times and Conn-
tries. With One Hundred IIlus-
trations. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 78. 6d.

Jonson's (Ben) Works. With

Notes Critical and Explanatory, and
a Biographical Memoir by William
Gifford. Edited by Colonel Cun-
ningham. Three Vols., crown Svo,
cloth extra, 18a. ; or separately, 6s. each.

Josephus.TheCompleteWorks

of. Translated by Whiston. Con-
taining both " The Antiquities of the
Jews" and " The Wars of the Jews."
Two Vols.. Svo, with 52 Illustrations
and Maps, cloth extra, gilt, 148.

14

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Kavanagh The Pearl Foun-

tain, and other Fairy Stories. By
Bridget and Julia Kavanagh. With
Tliirty Illustrations by J. Moyr Smith.
Small 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s.

Kempt. — Pencil and Palette:

Chapters on Art and Artists. By Robert
KtMPT. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

Kingsley (Henry), Novels by :

Each crown Svo, cloth extra, 33, 6d. ;
or post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s.
Oakshott Castle. | Number Seventeen

Knight. — The Patient's Vade

Mecum: How to get most Benefit
Irom Medical Advice. By William
Knight, M.R.C.S., and Edward
Knight, L.R.C.P. Crown Svo, Is. ;
cloth. Is. 6d. ____^

Lamb (Charles):

Macy and Charles Lamb : Their
Poems, Letters, and Remains. With
Reminiscences and Notes by W.
Carkw Hazlitt. With Hancock's
Portrait of the Essayist, Facsimiles
of the Title-pages of the rare First
Editions of Lamb's and Coleridge's
Works, and numerous Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, lOs. 6d.

Lamb's Complete Works, in Prose
and Verse, reprinted from the Ori-
ginal Editions, with many Pieces
hitherto unpublis-hed. Edited, v;ith
Notes and Introduction, by R. H.
Shepherd. With Two Portraits and
Facsimile of Page of the " Essay on
Roast Pig." Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 7s. Gd.

The Essays of Ella. Complete Edi-
tion. Post Svo, cloth extra, 2a.

Poetry for Children, and Prince
Oorus. By Charles Lamb. Care-
fully reprinted from unique copies.
Small Svo, cloth extra, 5s.

Little Essays : Sketches and Charac-
ters. By Charles Lamb. Selected
from his Letters by Percy Fitz-
gerald. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

Lane's Arabian Nights, &c.:

The Thousand and One Nights:

commonly called, in England, " Thb
Arabian Nights' Entertain-
ments." A New Translation from
the Arabic, with copious Notes, by
Edward William Lane. Illustrated
by many hundred Engravings on
Wood, from Original Designs by
Wm. Harvkt. a New Edition, from
a Copy annotated by the Translator,
edited by his Nephew, Edward
Stanley Poole. With a Preface by
Stanley Lane-Poole. Three Vols.,
demy Svo, cloth extra, 78. 64. e^cb.

Lane's Arabian Nights, continued —
Arabian Society In the Middle Ages:
Studies from "The Thousand and
One Nights." By Edward William
Lane, Author of "The Modern
Egyptians," &c. Edited by Stanley
Lan E-PooLE. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Lares and Penates ; or. The

Background of Life. By Florence
Caddy. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Larwood (Jacob), Works by:

The Story of the London Parka.

With Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth

extra, 3s. 6d.
Clerical Anecdotes. Post Svo, cloth

limp, 2s. 6d.
Forensic Anecdotes Post Svo, cloth

limp, 23. 6d.
Theatrical Anecdotes. Post Svo, cloth

limp, 23. 6d.

Leigh (Henry S.), Works by :
Carols of Cockayne. With numerous

Illustrations. Post Svo, cloth limp,

2s. 6d.
Jeux d'Esprlt. Collected and Edited

by Henry S.Leigh. Post Svo, cloth

limp, 2a. 6d.

Life in London ; or, The History
of Jerry Hawthorn and Corinthian
Tom. With the whole of Cruik-
shank's Illustrations, in Colours, after
the Originals. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
73. 6d.

Linton (E. Lynn), Works by :

Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each.
Witch Stories.

The True Story of Joshua Davidson.
Ourselves: Essays on Women.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; post
Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.
Patricia Kemball.
The Atonement of Learn Dundas.
The World Well Lost.
Under which Lord P
With a Silken Thread.
The Rebel of the Family.
" My Love 1 "
lone.

Locks and Keys.— On the De-
velopment and Distribution of Primi-
tive Locks and Keys. By Lieut.-Gen.
Pitt-Rivers, F.R.S. With numerous
Illustrations. Demy ^to, b^lf Kof-
burghe, IQi,

CkAtTO &' W INDUS, PICCADiLLY.

iB

Longfellow:

Longfellow's Complete Prose Works.

Including " Outre Mar," " Hyper-
ion," " Kavanagh," " The Poets and
Poetry of Europe," and " Driftwood.''
With Portrait and Illustrations by
Valentine Bromley. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d.
Longfellow's Poetical Works. Care-
fully Reprinted from the Original
Editions. With numerous fine Illus-
trations on Steel and Wood. Crowu
8vo. cloth extra, 73. 6d.

Long Life, Aids to: A Medical,
Dietetic, and General Guide in
Health and Disease. By N. E.
Davies, L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, 2s;

cloth limp, 28. 6d. [Shortly.

Lucy. — Gideon Fleyce: A Novel.

By Henry W. Lucy. Crown 8vo,
cl. extra, 3s. 6d.; postSvo.illust. bds.,2s.

Lusiad (The) of Camoens.

Translated into English Spenserian
Verse by Robert Ffrench Duff.
Demy 8vo, with Fourteen full-page
Plates, cloth boards, 188.

McCarthy (JustTn, M.P.),Wopks

by:

A History of Cup Own Times, from
the Accession of Queen Victoria to
the General Election of i88o. Four
Vols, demy 8vo, cloth extra, 12s.
each. — Also a Popular Edition, in
Four Vols. cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 6s. each.

A Short History of Our Own Times.
One Vol., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.

History of the Four Georges. Four
Vols, demy 8vo, cloth extra, 128.
each. [Vol. I. now ready.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ;
post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.
Dear Lady Disdain.
The Waterdale Neighbours.
My Enemy's Daughter.
A Fair Saxon.
Linley Rochford
Miss Misanthrope.
Donna Quixote.
The Comet of a Season.

Maid of Athens. With 12 Illustra-
tions by F. Barnard. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

McCarthy (Justin H., M.P.),
Works by:
An Outlineof the History of Ireland,

from the Earliest Times to the Pre-
sent Day. Cr. Svo, Is. ; cloth, Is. 6d.
England under Gladstone. Crown
&VO, cloth extra, 63.

MacDonald (George, LL.D.),

Works by :

The Princess and Curdle. With 11
Illustrations by James Allen. Small
crown 8vo, cloth extra, 58.

Guttapercha Willie, the Working
Genius. With 9 Illustrations by
Arthur Hughes. Square 8vo, cloth
extra, 38. 6d.

Paul Faber, Surgeon. With a Fron-
tispiece by J. E. MiLLAis. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 33. 6d.; post Svo, .
illustrated boards, 28. t

Thomas WIngfold, Curate. With a
Frontispiece by C. J. Staniland.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 38. 6d. ; post
Svo, illustrated boards, 2s.

Macdonell. — Quaker Cousins:

A Novel. By Agnes Macdonell.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post
Svo, illustrated boards, 28.

Macgregop. — Pastimes and

Players. Notes on Popular Games.
By Robert Macgregor. Post Svo,
cloth limp, 2s. 6d.

Maclise Portrait-Gallery (The)

of Illustrious Literary Characters;

with Memoirs — Biographical, Critical,
Bibliographical, and Anecdotal — illus-
trative of the Literature of the former
half of the Present Century. By
William Bates, B.A. With 85 Por-
traits printed on an India Tint. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Macquoid (Mrs.), Works by:

in the Ardennes. With 50 fine Illus-
trations by Thomas R. Macquoid.
Square Svo, cloth extra, lOs. 6d.

Pictures and Legends from Nor-
mandy and Brittany. With numer-
ous Illustrations by Thomas R.
Macquoid. Square Svo, cloth gilt,
103. 6d.

Through Normandy. With 90 Illus-
trations byT. R. Macquoid. Square
Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Through Brittany. V/ith numerous
Illustrations by T. R. Macquoid.
Square Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

About Yorkshire With 67 Illustra-
tions by T. R. Macquoid, Engraved
by Swain. Square Svo, cloth extra,
103. 6d.

The Evil Eye, and other Stories.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post
Svo, illustrated boards, 2s.

Lost Rose, and other Stories. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo,
illustrated boards, 2s,

16

£00KS PtJ^LiStiBD BV

Mackay.— Interludes and Un-
dertones: or. Music at Twilight. By
Charles Mackay, LL.D. Crown 8vo,
cloth e:ttra. 63.

Magic Lantern (The), and its

Management: including Full Prac-
tical Directions for producing the
Limelight, making Oxygen Gas, and
preparing Lantern Slides By T. C.
Hepworth. With lo Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, Is. ; cloth, Is. 6d.

Magician's Own Book (The) :

Performances with Cups and Balls,
Eggs, Hats, Handkerchiefs, &c. All
from actual Experience. Edited by
W. H. Creuer. With 200 Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 43. 6d.

Magic No Mystery : Tricks with
Cards, Dice, Balls, &c., with fully
descriptive Directions ; the Art of
Secret Writing; Training of Perform-
ing Animals, &c. With Coloured
Frontispiece and many Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d.

Magna Charta. An exact Fac-
simile of the Original in the British
Museum, printed on fine plate paper,
3 feet by 2 feet, with Arms and Seals
emblazoned in Gold and Colours.
Price 6s.

Mallock (W. H.), Works byl

The New Republic; or, Culture, Faith
and Philosophy in an English Country
House. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. ;
Cheap Edition, illustrated boards, 2s.

The New Paul and Virginia; or, Posi-
tivism on an Island. Post 8vo, cloth
limp, 23. 6d.

Poems. Small 4to, bound in parch-
ment, 8s.

Is Life worth Living? Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 63.

Maliory's (Sir Thomas) Mort

d'Arthur : The Stories of King Arthur
and of the Knights of the Round Table.
Edited by B. Montgomerie Ranking.
Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s.

Marlowe's Works. Including
his Translations. Edited, with Notes
and Introduction, by Col. Cunning-
ham. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.

Marryat (Florence), Novels by:

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each ; or,
post Bvo, illustrated boards, 28.
Open ! Sesame !
Writtan In Fire.

Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28, each.
A Harvest of Wild Oats.
A Little Stepson.
Fighting the Air.

Masterman. — Half a Dozen

Daughters: .\ Novel. By J. Master-
man. Post 8vo. illustrated boards, 2s.

M ark Twain, Works by:

The Choice Works of Mark Twain.

Revised and Corrected throughout by
the Author. With Life, Portrait, and
numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s.

An 1 die Excursion.and other Sketches.
Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28.

The Prince and the Pauper. With
nearly 20O Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Tlie Innocents Abroad ; or. The New
Pilgrim's Progress : Being some Ac-
count of the Steamship " Quaker
City's " Pleasure Excursion to
Europe and the Holy Land. With
234 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
extra, 7s.6d. Cheap Edition (under
the title of" Mark Twain's Pleasure
Trip "), post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s.

A Tramp Abroad. With 314 Illustra-
tions. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. ;
Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s.

The Stolen White Elephant, &c.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.; postSvo,
illustrated boards, 2s.

Life on the Mississippi. With about
300 Original Illustrations. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

The Adventures of Huckleberry

Finn. With 174 Illustrations by

E. W. Kemble. Crown 8vo, cloth

extra, 7s. 6d^_

Massinger's Plays. From the
Text of William GirpoRD. Edited
by Col. Cunningham. Crown 8vo,

cloth extra, 63.

M ay hew. — London Charact^s

and the Humorous Side of London
Life. By Henry Mayhew. With
numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Mayfair Library, The :

Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. per Volume.
A Journey Round My Room. By

Xavier de Maistre. Translated

by Henry Attwell.
LatterDay Lyrics. Edited by W,

Davenport Arams.
Quips and Quiddities. Selected by

W. Davenport Adams.
The Agony Column of "The Times,"

from 1800 to 1870. Edited, with an

Introduction, by Alice Clay.
Balzac's "Comedle Humalne" and

its Author. With Translations by

H.H. Walker.
Melancholy Anatomised: A Popular

AbridKment of "Burton's Anatomy

of Melancholy."

CflATtO &• WINDUS. PICCADILLY.

17

IfATrJCK LiBEART, Continued—

Gasiponomy as a Fine Art. By
Bbilljit-Savaris,

T.13 Speeches of Charles Dickens.

Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies,
and Frolics. By W. T. Dobsos.

Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentrici-
ties. Selected and Edited by W. T.

DOBSOS.

The Cupboard Papers. By Fik-Bec

Criginal Plays by W. S. Gilbert.
First Series. Containing: The
Wicked World — Pvgmalion and
Galatea— Charity — "I'he Princess—
The Palace of Truth— Trial by Jury.

Original Plays by W. S. Gh-bert.
Secosd Series. Containing : Broken
Hearts — Engaged — Sweethearts —
Gretchen — D^'l Dmce — Tom Cobb
— H.M.S. Pinafore — The Sorcerer
—The Pirates of Penzance.

Songs of Irish Wit and Humour.
Callected and Edited by A. Tercet al
Graves.

Animals and their Masters. By Sir
Arthur Helps.

Social Pressure. By Sir A- Helps.

Curiosities of Criticism. By Hekrt
J. Jensisjgs.

The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table,
By OLrvBR We.ndell Holmes, li-
lostrated by J. Gordos Thomson.

Pencil and Palette. By Robert
Kempt.

Little Essays : Sketches and Charac-
ters. By Chas. Lavb. Selected from
his Letters by Percy Fitzgerald.

Clerical Anecdotes. By Jacob Lar-

WOOD.

Forensic Anecdotes; or, Hnmonr and

Cariosities of the Law and Men of

Law. By Jacob Larwood.
Theatrical Anecdotes. By Jacob

Larwood.
Carols of Cockayne. By Hesrt S.

Leigh.
Jeux d'Esprit. Edited by Henry S.

Leigh.
True History of Joshua Davidson.

By E. Lyss Liston.
Witch Stories. By E. Lyt«s Lintoh.
Ourselves: Essays on Women. By

E. Lynn Liston.
Pastimes and Players. By Robert

Macgregor.
The New Paul and Virginia. By

W. H. Mallock.
The New Republic By W. H. Mal-

LOCS.

Puck on Pegasus. By H. Cholmoxde-
let-Perneu.

Uayfair Library, coniinued —
Pegasus Re-Saddled. By H. Chol-

mosdeley-Pexxell. Illustrated by

George Du Maurier.
Muses of Mayfair. Edited by H.

Cholmosdelet-Pexxell.
Thoreau: His Life and Aims. By

H. a. Page.
Puniana. By the Hon. Hcgh Rowley.
Mor« Puniana. By the Hon. Hugh

Rowley.
The Philosophy of Handwriting. By

Don Felix de Salamanca.
By Stream and Sea. By William

Senior.
Old Stories Re-told. By Walter

Thornburt.
Leaves from a Naturalist's Note-
Book. By Dr. Andrew Wilson.

Medicine, Family. — One Thou-
sand Medical Maxims and Snraical
Hints, for Infancy, Adult Life, Middle
Aae, and Old Age. By N. E. Davies,
L.R C. P. Lond. Cr. 8 vo, 13. ; cl.. Is. 6d.

Merry Circle (The) : A Book of

New Intellectual Games and Amuse-
ments. By Clara Bellew. With
namerous Illustrations. Crown 8to.
cloth extra, 4s. 6d.

Mexican Mustang (On a).

Through Texas, from the Gulf to the
Rio Grande. A New Book of Ameri-
can Humour. By Ales. E. Sweet and
J. AsMOT Ksox, Editors of " Texas
Siftiags." 265 Illnsts. Cr. 8vo, cloth
extra, 7s. 6d.

Middiemass (Jean), Novels by:

Touch and Go. Crown 8tc, cloth

extra, &.6d.; postSvo, illnst. bds., 23.

Mr. Dorillion. PostSro,illust.bds.,2s.

Miller. — Physiology for the

Young; or. The House of Life: Hu-
man PhysK>logy, with its application
to the Preservation of Health. For
use in Classes and Popular Reading.
With nmnerous Illustrations. By Mrs.
F. Fe^twick MnXER. Small 8to, dotb
limp, 2s. 6d.

Milton (J. L), Works by:

The Hygiene of the Skin. A Concise
Set of Rules for the Management of
the Skin ; with Directions for Diet,
Wines, Soaps, Baths. &c. Small Svo,
Is. ; cloth extra, la. 6d.

The Bath In Diseases of the Skin.
Smail 6to, Is. ; cloth extra. Is. 6d.

The Laws of Life, and their Relatioq
to Diseases of the Skin. Small :>vo
Is. ; ciotb extra. Is. 6d

iOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Moncrieff. — The Abdication:

or. Time Tries All. An Historical
Drama. By W. D. Scott-Moncrifff.
With Seven Etchings by John Pettie,
R.A., W. Q. Orchardson, R.A., J.
MacWhirtek, A.R.A., Colin Hunter,
R. Macbeth, and Tom Graham. Large
4to, bound in buckram, 213.

Murray (D. Christie), Novels

by. Crown 8vo,cloth extra, 3s. Gd. each ;

post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.

A Life's Atonement.

A Model Father.

Joseph's Coat.

Coals of Fire.

By the Gate of the Sea.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each.
Val Strange : A Story of the Primrose

Way.
Hearts.

The Way of the World.
A Bit of Human Nature. [Shortly.

North Italian Folk. By Mrs.
CoMVNS Carr. Illust. by Randolph
Caldecott. Square 8vo, cloth extra,
73. 6d.

Number Nip (Stories about),

the Spirit of the Giant Mountains.
Retold for Children by Walter
Grahame. With Illustrations by J.
MoYR Smith. Post 8vo, cloth extra,
6s.

Nursery Hints: A Mother's

Guide in Health and Disease. By N.
E. Davies, L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, Is. ;
cloth, Is. 6d.

Oliphant. — Whiteladies : A

Novel. With Illustrations by Arthur
Hopkins and Henry Woods. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo,
illustrated boards, 2s.

6 Connor. — Lord Beaconsfield

A Biography. ByT. P. O'Connor, M.P.
Sixth Edition, with a New Preface,
bringing the work down to the Death
of Lord Beaconsfield. Ciov/n 8vo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

b'Reilly.— Phoebe's Fortunes :

A Novel. With Illustrations by Henry
Tuck. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28.

O'Shaughnessy (Arth.), Works

by:
Songs of a Worker. Fcap. 8vo, cloth

extra, 7s. 6d.
Music and Moonlight. Fcap. 8vo,

cloth extra, 78. 6d.
Lays of France. Crown 8vo, cloth

extra, 10a. 6d.

Ouida, Novels by. Crown 8vo,

cloth extra, 5s. each ; post 8vo, illus-
trated boards, 23. each.

Held In Bondage.
Strath more.
Chandos.
Under Two Flags.
Cecil Castle-

maine's Gage.
Idalia.
Tricotrln.
Puck.

Folle Farlne.
TwoLittleWooden

Shoes.

A Dog of Flanders,

Pascarel.

Signa.

In a Winter City

Ariadne.

Friendship.

Moths.

Piplstreilo.

A Villaie

mune.
Bimbi.
In Maremma

Corn-

Wanda: A Novel. Crown 8vo, cloth

extra, 68,
Frescoes : Dramatic Sketches. Crcwn

8vo, cloth extra, 68.
BimbI : Presentation Edition. Sq.

8vo, cloth gilt, cinnamon edges,

7s. 6d.
Princess Napraxine. New and

Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth

extra, 6s. [Shortly.

Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos. Selected
from the Works of Ouida by F.
Sydney Morris. Small crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 5s.

Page (H. A.), Works by :

Thoreau : His Life and Aims : A Study.
With a Portrait. Post 8vo, cloth
limp, 2s. 6d.

Lights on th« Way : Some Tales with-
in a Tale. By the late J. H. Alex-
ander, B.A. Edited by H. A, Page.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s,

Pascal's Provincial Letters, A

New Translation, with Historical In-
troduction and Notes, by T, M'Crie,
D,D, Post 8vo, cloth limp, 28,

Patient's (The) Vade Mecum:

How to get most Benefit from Medi-
cal Advice. By William Knight,
M.R.CS., and Edward Knight,
L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, Is.; cloth, l8.6d.

Paul Ferroll :

Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s, each.
Paul Ferroll : A Novel.
Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife,

Paul,— Gentle and Simple. By

Margaret Agnes Paui,. With a
Frontispiece by Helen PATERSiON,
Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d, ; post 8vo,
illustrated boards, 28.

CHATTO S- WINDUS, PICCADILLY.

19

Payn (James), Novels by.

Crown 8vo, doth extra, 3s. 6d. each ;

post 8to, ainstrated boards, 23. each.

Lost Sir Mass:ngb€Pd.

The Best of Husbands.

Walters Word.

Halves. ! Fallen Fortunes.

What He Cost Her.

Less Black than we're Painted.

By Proxy. I High Spirits.

Under One Roof. 1 Carlyon's Year.

A Confidential Agent.

Some Private Views.

A Grape from a Thorn.

For Cash Only | From Exile.

Post Svo, illnstrated boards, 2s. each.

A Perfect Treasure.

Bentlnck's Tutor.

Murphy's Master.

A County Family. | At Her Mercy.

A Woman's Vengeance.

Cecil's Tryst.

The Clyffiards of Clyffe.

The Family Scapegrace

The Foster Brothers, i Found Dead.

Gwendoline's Harvest.

Humorous Stories.

Like Father, Like Son.

A Marine Residence.

Married Beneath Him.

Mirk Abbey.

Not Wooed, but Won.

Two Hundred Pounds Reward.

Kit: A Memory. Crown Svo, cloth
extra, 33. 6d. I

The Canon's Ward. With a Steel- j
plate Portrait of the Aathor. Crown
8to, cloth extra, 38. 6cL

In Peril and Privation : A Book for
Boys. With namerons Illnstra-
tioos. Crown Sro, cloth extra, 6s.

[In pttparaium.

Pennell (h1 Cholmondeley),

Works by: Post Svo, cloth limp,
23. 6d. each

Puck on Pegasus. 'With lUostrations.

The Muses of Mayfair. Vers de
Societe, Selected and Edited by H.
C. Pennell.

Pegasus Re-Saddled. With Ten full-
page lilusts. by G. Do Macrier.

Phelps.— Beyond the Gates.

By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps,
Aathor of " The Gates .\jar." Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 23. 6d.

PIpkis.— Trooping with Crows :

A Story. By Catheiune Pirkis. Fcap.
Svo, pictore cover, l3.

Planche (J. R.), Works by:
The Cyclopaedia of Costume ; or,
A Dictionary of Dress— Regal, Ec-
clesiastical, Civil, and Military — from
the Earliest Period in England to the
Reign of George the Third. Inclnd-
ing Notices of Contemporaaeoos
Fashions on the Continent, and a
General Histotr of the Costumes of
the Princii«l Conntries of Enrtqw.
Two \cis., demy 4to, half mcHDCco
proftisely Illnstrated with C<donred
and Plain Plates and Woodcats,
£7 Is. The Vols, may also be had
uparately (each complete in itself)
at £3 13s. 6d. each : Vol. I. Thb
DiCTIOSART. VoL II. A Geseral

History of Costume is Europe.

The Pursuivant of Arms ; or. Her-
aldry Founded upon Facts. With
Coloured Frontispiece and 200 IlltK-
trations. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Songs and Poems, from 1819 to 1879.
Edited, with an Introdnctioa, by his
Dan^ter, Mrs. Mackarxess. Crown
Svo. cloth extra. S».

Play-time: Sayings and Doings
of Baby-land. By Edward Staxtoxd.
Large 410, handsomely printed in
Co'onrs. 53.

Plutarch s Lives of Illustrious

Men. Translated from the Greek,
with Notes Critical and Historical, and
a Life of Plntarch, by John and
William Langhorse. Two Vols.,
Svo, cloth extra, with Portraits, 108. 6d.

Poe (Edgar Allan) :—

The Choice Works, in Prose and
Poetry, of Edgar Allan Poe. With
an Introductory Essay by Charles
Baudelairb, Portrait and Fac-
similes. Crown Svo, cl. extra, 7s, 64.

The Mystery of Marie Roget, and
other Stories. Post Svo. illust.bds..2^

Pope's Poetical Works. Com-

plete in One Vol. Post Svo, cl. limp, 3s.

Power.— Philistia: A Novel. By
Cecu. Power. Three Vols., crown
Svo^

Price (E. C), Novels by:

Valentina: A Sketch. With a Fron-
tispiece by Hal Lcdlow. Cr. Svo,
cL ex., 3s. 6d.; post Svo.illnst. bds.,23.

The Foreigners. Cr. Svo, cl, ex., 3s.Gd.

Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. Crown Src,
cloth extra. 3s. Gd.

Gerald. Three Vols., crown Svq.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Proctop (Richd. A.), Works by ;

Flowers of the Sky. With 55 Illusts,
Small crown 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d.

Easy Star Lessons. With Star Maps
for Every Night in the Year, Draw-
ings of the Constellations, &c.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 63.

Familiar Science Studies. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 61.

Rough Ways made Smooth : A
Series of Familiar Essays on Scien-
tific Subjects. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra,6s.

Our Place among Infinities: A Series
of Essays contrasting our Little
Abode in Space and Time with the
Infinities Around us. Crown Svo,
cloth extra, 6s.

The Expanse of Heaven : A Series
of Essays on the Wonders of the
Firmament. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 63.

Saturn and Its System. New and
Revised Edition, with 13 Steel Plates.
Demy 8vo, cloth extra, lOs. 6d.

The Great Pyramid: Observatory,
Tomb, and Temple. With Illus-
trations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.

Mysteries of Time and Space. With
Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

The Universe of Suns, and other
Science Gleanings. With numerous
Illusts. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 73. 6d.

Wages and Wants of Science
Workers. Crown Svo, I3. 6d.

Pyrotechnist'sTreasupy(The);

or. Complete Art of Making Fireworks.
By Thomas Kentish. With numerous
Illustrations. Cr. Svo, cl. extra, 43. 6d.

Rabelais' Works. Faithfully

Translated from the French, with
variorum Notes, and numerous charac-
teristic Illustrations by Gustavk
DoR^. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Rambosson.— Popular Astro-
nomy. By J. Rambosson, Laureate
of the Institute of France. Trans-
lated by C. B. Pitman. Crown Svo,
cloth gilt, with numerous Illustrations,
and a beautifully executed Chart of
Spectra, 78. 6d.

Reader's Handbook (The) of

Allusions, References, Plots, and
Stories. By the Rev. Dr. Brewkk.
Fourth Edition, revised throughout,
with a New Appendix, containing a
CoMFLETE English Bibliography.
Cr. Svo, 1,400 pages, cloth extra, 78. 6d.

Richardson. — A Ministry of

Health, and other Papers. By Ben-
jamin Ward Kicharuson, M.L)., &c.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 68.

Reade (Charles, D.C.L.), Novels

by. Post 8vo, illust., bds., 2s. each ;
or cr. Svo, cl. ex., illust.. 3s. 6d. each.

Peg Wofflngton. Illustrated by S. L.
FiLDEs, A. R.A.

Christie Johnstone. Illustrated by
William Small.

It is Never Too Late to IVIend. Il-
lustrated by G. J. PiNWELL.

The Course of True Love Never did
run Smooth. Illustrated by Helen
Paterson.

The Autobiography of a Thief; Jack
of all Trades; and James Lambert.
Illustrated by Matt Stretch.

Love me Little, Love me Long. Il-
lustrated by M. Ellen Edwards.

The Double Marriage. Illust. by Sir
John Gilbert, R.A. , and C. Keene.

The Cloister and the Hearth. Il-
lustrated by Charles Keene.

Hard Cash. Illust. by F. W. Lawson.

Griffith Gaunt. Illustrated by S. L.
FiLDES, A.R.A., and Wm. Small.

Foul Play. Illust. by Du Maurier.

Put Yourself in His Place. Illus-
trated by Robert Barnes.

A Terrible Temptation. Illustrated
by Edw. Hughes and A. W. Cooper.

The Wandering Heir. Illustrated by
H. Paterson, S. L. Fildes, A.R.A.,
C. Green, and H Woods, A.R.A.

A Simpleton. Illustrated by Kats
Crauford.

A Woman-Hater. Illustrated by
Thos. Couldery.

Readlana. With a Steel-plate Portrait
of Charles Reade.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3S. 6d. each.
SIngleheart and Doubleface: A

Matter-of-fact Romance. Illustrated

by P. MacNab.
Good Stories of Men and other

Animals. Illustrated by E. A. Abbey,

Percy Macquoid, and J oskph Nash.
The Jilt, and other Stories. Illustrated

by Joseph Nash.

Riddell (Mrs. J. H.), Novels by:

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 38.6d. each ;

post Svo, illustrated boards, 28. each.
Her Mother's Darling.
The Prince of Wales's Garden Party.

Weird Stories,
extra, 38. 6d.

Crown Svo, cloth

Rimmer (Alfred), Works by :
Our Old Country Towns. With over

50 Illusts. Sq. Svo, cloth gilt, lOs 6d.
Rambles Round Eton and Harrow.

50 Illusts. S(]. Svo. cloth gilt, lOs. Cd.
About England with Dickens. With

58lllusts.bj;AnKKDRiMMKRandC. A.

Vakoebhqof. Sq. Svo, cl.gilt, 103.64.

CHATTO <S. W INDUS, PICCADILLY.

Robinson (F. W.), Novels by:

Women are Strange. Cr. 8vo, cloth
extra, 3s. Cd. ; post Svo, illust. bds., 23.

The Hands of Justice. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

Robinson (Phil), Works by:

The Poets' Birds. Crown 8vo, cloth

extra, 7s. 6d.
The Poets' Beasts. Crown Svo, cloth

extra, 7s. 6d. II n preparation.

Robinson Crusoe: A beautiful

reproduction of Major's Edition, with
37 Woodcuts and Two Steel Plates by
George CRUiKSHANK.choicel)' printed.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. A few
Large- Paper copies, printed on hand-
made paper, with India proofs of the
Illustrations, price 363.

Rochefoucauld's Maxims and

Moral Reflections. With Notes, and
an Introductory Essay by Sainte-
Beuve. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s.

Roll of Battle Abbey, Tlie ; or.

A List of the Principal VVarriors who
came over from Normandy with Wil-
liam the Conqueror, and Settled in
this Country, a.d. 1066-7. With the
principal Arms emblazoned in Gold
and Colours. Handsomely printed, 5s.

Rowley (Hon. Hugh), Works by:

Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each.
Puniana: Riddles and Jokes. With

numerous Illustrations.
More Puniana. Profusely Illustrated.

RusseTl (W. Clark), Works by:

Round the Galley-Fire. Crown Svo,

cloth extra, 6s.
On the Fo'k'sie Head : A Collection

of Yarns and Sea Descriptions.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Sala.— Gaslight and Daylight.

By George Augustus Sala. Post
Svo, illustrated boards, 2s.

Sanson. — Seven Generations

of Executioners: Memoirs of the
Sanson Family (1688 to 1847). Edited
byllhNRYSANSON. Cr.Svo.cl.cx. 3s.6d.

Saunders (John), Novels by:

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ;
post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.

Bound to the Wheel.

One Ag?.inst the World.

Guy Waterman.

The Lion in the Path.

The Twp Preamers.

Saunders (Katharine), Novels

by:
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each.
Joan IVlerryweather.
Margaret and Elizabeth.
Gideon's Rock.
The High Mills.

Heart Salvage, by Sea and Land.
Three Vols., crown Svo.

Science Gossip: An Illustrated

Medium of Interchange for Students
and Lovers of Nature. Edited by J. E.
Taylor, F.L.S., &c. Devoted to Geo-
logy, Botany, Physiology, Chemistry,
Zoology, Microscopy, Telescopy, Phy-
siography, &c. Price 4d. Monthly ; or
5s. per year, post free. Each Number
contains a Coloured Plate and numer-
ous Woodcuts. Vols. I . to XIV. nny
be had at 7s. 6d. each ; and Vols. XV.
to XIX. (18S3), at 5s. each. Cases for
Binding, Is. 6d. each.

Scott's (Sir Walter) Marmion.

An entirely New Edition of this famous
and popular Poem, with over 100 new
Illustrations by leading Artists. Ele-
gantly and appropriately bound, small
4to, cloth extra, I63.

[The immediate success of "The
Lady of the Lake," published in 1S82.
has encouraged Messrs. Chatto and
WiNDUs to bring out a Companion
Edition of this not less popular and
famous poem. Produced in the same
form, and with the same careful and
elaborate style of illustration, regard-
less of cost, Mr. Anthony's skilful
supervision is sufficient guarantee that
the work is elegant and tasteful as well
as correct.]

"Secret Out" Series, The:

Crown Svo, cloth extra, profusely Illus-
trated, 4s. 6d. eacn.
The Secret Out : One Thousand
Tricks with Cards, and other Re-
creations; with Entertaining Experi-
ments in Drawing-room or " White
Magic." By W. H. Cremer. 300
Engravings.
The Pyrotechnist's Treasury; or.
Complete Art of Making Fireworks.
By Thomas Kentish. With numer-
ous Illustrations.
The Art of Amusing : A Collection of
Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks, Puzzles,
and Charades. By Frank Bellew.
With 300 Illustrations.
HankyPanky: Very Easy Tricks,
Very Difficult Tricks, White Magic,
Sleight of Hand. Edited by W. H,
Cremer. With 200 Illustrations.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

" Secret Out " Series, continued —

The Merry Circle: A Book of New
Intellectual Games and Amusements.
By Ct-ARA Bellew. With many
Illustrations.

Magician's Own Book: Performances
with Cups and Balls, Eggs, Hats,
Handkerchiefs, &c. All from actual
Experience. Edited by W. H. Cre-
MER. 200 Illustrations.

Magic No Mystery: Tricks with
Cards, Dice, Balls, &c., with fully
descriptive Directions ; the Art of
Secret Writing ; Training of Per-
forming Animals, &c. With Co-
loured Frontispiece and many Illus-
trations.

Senior (William), Works by :

Travel and Trout in the Antipodes.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Cs.
By Sti'eam and Sea. Post 8vo, cloth

limp, 23. 6d.

Seven Sagas (The) of Prehis-
toric Man. By James H. Stoddart,
Author of " The Village Life." Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 63.

Shal<espeare :

The First Folio Shakespeare.— Mr.

William Shakespeare's Comedies,
Histories, and Tragedies. Published
according to the true Originall Copies.
London, Printed by Isaac Iaggard
and Ed. Blount. 1623.— A Repro-
duction of the extremel y rare original,
in reduced facsimile, by a photogra-
phic process — ensuring the strictest
accuracy in every detail. Small bvo,
half-Roxburghe, 7s. 6cl.

The Lansdowne Shakespeare. Beau-
tifully printed in red and black, in
small but very clear type. \Vith
engraved facsimile of Dkoeshout's
Portrait. Post 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Shakespeare for Children: Tales
from Shakespeare. By Charles
and MAuy Lamb. With numerous
Illustrations, coloured and plain, by
J. MoYR Smith. Crov/n 410, clotn
gilt, 6s.

The Handbook of Shakespeare
Music, l^eing an Account ot 350
Pieces of Music, set to Words taken
from the Plays and Poems of Shake-
speare, the compositions ranging
from the Elizabethan Age to the
Present Time. By Alfred Kofee.
4to, half-Koxburghe, 7s.

A Study of Shakespeare. By Alger-
non Charles Swinburnb. Crown
gyo, cloth extra, 8a.

Shelley's Complete Works, in

Four Vols., post 8vo, cloth limp, 8s. ;
or separately, 2s. each. Vol. I. con-
tains his Early Poems, Queen Mab,
&c., with an Introduction by Leigh
Hunt; Vol. II., his Later Poems,
Laon and Cythna, &c. ; Vol. III.,
Posthumous Poems,the Shelley Papers,
&c. ; Vol. IV., his Prose Works, in-
cluding A Refutation of Deism, Zas-
trozzi. St. Irvyne, &c.

Sheridan : —
Sheridan's Complete Works, with

Life and Anecdotes. Including his
Dramatic Writings, printed from the
Original Editions, his Works in
Prose and Poetry, Translations,
Speeches, Jokes, Puns, &c. With a
Collection of Sheridaniana. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with 10 full-
page Tinted Illustrations, 7s. 6d.
Sheridan's Comedies: The Rivals,
and The School for Scandal.
Edited, with an Introduction and
Notes to each Play, and a Bio-
graphical Sketch of Sheridan, by
Brander Matthews. With Decora-
tive Vignettes and 10 full-page Illus-
trations. Demy 8vo, cl. bds., 12s. 6d,

Short Sayings of Great Men.

With Historical and Explanatory
Notes by Samuel A. Bent, M.A.
Demy 8vo, cloth extra, 73. 6d.

Sidney's (Sir Philip) Complete

Poetical Works, including all those in
"Arcadia." With Portrait, Memorial-
Introduction, Essay on the Poetry ot
Sidney, and Notes, by the Rev. A. B.
Grosart, D.D. Three Vols., crowa
Bvo, cloth^boards, 183.

Signboards : Their History.
With Anecdotes of Famous Taverns
and Remarkable Characters. By
Jacob Larwood and John Camdkm
Hotten. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
with 100 Illustrations, 78. 6d.

Sims (G. R.)— How the Poor
Live. With 60 Illustrations by Fred.
Barnard. Large 4to, Is^

Sketchley. — A Match In the
Dark. By Arthur Sketchley. Post
Bvo, illustrated boards, 28.

Slang Dictionary, The: Ety-
niological. Historical, and Anecdotal,
Crown Bvo, cloth^ extra, gilt, 6s. 6d.

Smith (J. Moyr), Works by :

The Prince of Argolls : A Story of the
Old Greek Fairy Time. By J. Moyr
Smith. Small 8vo, cloth extra, with
130 Illustrations, 33. 6d.

CHATtO &• WIN bus, PlCCAttlLLY.

23

Smith's (J. Moyr) Works, continued —
Tales of Old Thule. Collected and
Illustrated by J. Moyr Smith. Cr.
8vo, cloth gilt, profusely Illust.. Bs.
The Wooing of the Water Witch :
A Northern Oddity. By Evan Dal-
DORNE. Illustrated by J. Moyr
Smith. Small 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.

Spalding.-Elizabethan Demon-

ology : An Essay in Illustration of
the Belief in the Existence of Devils,
and the Powers possessed by Them.
By T. Alfred Spalding, LL.B,
^ Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.

Speight. — The Mysteries of

Heron Dyke. By T. W. Speight.
With a Frontispiece by M. Ellen
Edwards. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s.

Spenser for Children. By M.

H. TowRY. With Illustrations bv
Walter J. McIrgan. Crown 4to, with
Coloured Illustrations, cloth gilt, 63.

Staunton. — Laws and Practice

of Chess; Together with an Analysis
of the Openings, and a Treatise on
End Games. By Howard Staunton.
Editedby Robert B.WoRM.ALD. New
Edition, small cr. Svo, cloth extra, 6s.

Sterndale. — The Afghan Knife:

A Novel. By Robert Armitage Stern-
dale. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post
Svo, illustrated boards, 2s.

Stevenson (R.Louis), Works by :

Travels with a Donkey In the

Cevennes. Frontispiece by Walter

Crane. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.
An Inland Voyage. With Front, by

W. Crane. Post Svo, cl. Ip., 2s. 6d.
Virginibus Puerisque, and other

Papers. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.
Familiar Studies of Men and Books.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s.
New Arabian Nights. Crown Svo,

cl. extra, 63. ; post Svo, illust. bds., 23.
The Silverado Squatters. With

Frontispiece. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 6s.
Prince Otto: A Romance. Crown

Svo, cloth extra, 6s. \ In preparation.

St. John. — A Levantine Family.

By Bayle St. John. Post Svo, illus-
trated boards, 23.

Stoddard. — Summer Cruising

in the South Seas. By Charles
Warren Stoddard. Illust. by Wallis
?^Iackay. Crown Svo, cl. extra, 33. 6d.

St. Pierre.— Paul and Virginia',

and The Indian Cottage. By Ber-
NARDiN St. Pierre. Edited, with Life,
by Rev. E, Clarke. Post Svo, cl, Ip., 2s.

Stories from Foreign Novel-
ists. With Notices of their Lives and
Writings. By Helen and Alice Zim-
mern ; and a Frontispiece. Crown
Svo cloth extra, 33. 6d.

Strutt's Sports and Pastimes

of the People of England; including
the Rural and Domestic Recreations,
May Games, Mummeries, Shows, Pro-
cessions, Pageants, and Pompous
Spectacles, from the Earliest Period
to the Present Time. With 140 Illus-
trations. Edited by William Hone.
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Suburban Homes (The) of

London: A Residential Guide to
Favourite London Localities, their
Society, Celebrities, and Associations.
With Notes on their Rental, Rates, and
House Accommodation. With Map of
Suburban London. Cr.8vo,cl.ex.,7s.6d..

Swift's Choice Works, in Prose

and Verse. With Memoir, Portrait,
and Facsimiles of the Maps in the
Original Edition of " Gulliver's
Travels." Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

Swinburne (Algernon C),

V/orks by :
The Queen Mother and Rosamond.

Fcap. Svo, 53.
AtalantainCalydon. Crown Svo, 6s.
Chastelard. ATragedy. Cr. Svo, 7s,
Poems and Ballads. First Series.

Fcap. Svo, 9s. Also in crown Svo, at

same price.
Poems and Ballads. Second Series.

Fcap. Svo, 93. Cr. Svo, same price.
Notes on Poems and Reviews. Svo Is.
V/iliiam Blake: A Critical Essay.

With Facsimile Paintings. Demy

Svo, 16s.
Sengs before Sunrise. Cr. Svo, lOs 6d.
Bothwell: A Tragedy. Cr. Svo,12s.6d.
George Chapman: An Essay. Crown

Svo, 7s.
Songs of Two Nations. Cr. Svo, 6s.
Essays and Studies. Crown Svo, 12s.
Erechtheus: A Tragedy. Cr. Svo, 6s.
Note of an English Republican on

the Muscovite Crusade. Svo, Is.
A r-Jote on Charlotte Bronte. Crown

Svo, 6s.
A Study of Shakespeare. Cr. Svo, 83.
Songs of the Springtides. Crown

Svo, 63.
Studies in Song. Crown Svo, 73.
Mary Stuart : A Tragedy. Cr. Svo. 8s.
Tristram of Lyonesse, and other

Poems. Crown Svo, 93.
A Century of Roundels Small 4to,

cloth extra, 8s.
A Midsummer Holiday, and other

Poems. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s.

24

BOOKS PUBtiSHEb B^

Symonds.— Wine, Women and

Song: Mediasval Latin Students'
Songs. Now first translated into Eng-
lish Verse, with an Essay by J. Ad-
DiNGTON Symonds. Small 8vo, parch-
ment, 63.

Syntax's (Dp.) Three Tours:

In Search of the Picturesque, in Search
of Consolation, and in Search of a
Wife. With the whole of Rowland-
.son's droll page Illustrations in Colours
and a Life of the Author by J. C.
HoTTEN. Medium 8vo, cloth extra,
73. 6(1^

Taine's History of English

Literature. Translated by Henry
Vak Laun. Four Vols., small 8vo,
cloth boards, 30s. — Popular Edition,
Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 15s.

Taylor (Dr. J. E., F.L.S.), Works

by:

The Sagacity and Morality of
Plants: A Sketch of the Life and
Conduct of the Vegetable Kingdom.
With Coloured Frontispiece and 100
Ulusts. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d.

Our Common British Fossils, and
Where to Find Them. With nu-
merous Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, 7s. 6d. [/« the press.

Taylor's (Bayard) Diversions
of the Echo Club: Burlesques of
Modern Writers. Post 8vo, cl. limp, 2s.

Taylor's (Tom) Historical

Dramas: "Clancarty," "Jeanne
Dare," "'Twixt Axe and Crown,''
"The Fool's Revenge," " Arkwright's
Vi'ife," "Anne Boleyn,'' " Plot and
Passion.'' One Vol., crown Svo, cloth
extra, 73. Gd.

■*,* The Plays may also be had sepa-
rately, at Is. each.

Tennyson (Lordj: A Biogra-
phical Sketch. By H. J. Jennings.
With a Photograph-Portrait. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 68.

Thackerayana: Notes and Anec-
dotes. Illustrated by Hundreds of
Sketches by William Makepeace
Thackeray, depicting Humorous
Incidents in his School-life, and
Favourite Characters in the books of
his every-day readinfl-. With Coloured
Frontispiece. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 78. 6d.

Thomas (Bertha), Novels by.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 38. 6d. each
post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.

Cresslda.

Proud Maisia

The Violin Player.

Thomas (M.).— A Fight for Life :

A Novel. By W. Moy Thomas. Post
8vo, illustrated boards, 23.

Thomson s Seasons and Castle

of Indolence. With a Biographical
and Critical Introduction by Allan
Cunningham, and over 50 fine Illustra-
tions on Steel and Wood. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra, gilt edges, 73. 6d.

Thornbury (Walter), Works by

Haunted London. Edited by Ed-
ward Walforh, M.A. With Illus-
trations by F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.

The Life and Correspondence of
J. M. W. Turner. Founded upon
Letters and Papers furnished by his
Friends and fellow Academicians.
With numerous Illusts. in Colours,
facsimiled from Turner's Original
Drawings. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 7ii. 6d.

Old Stories Re-told. Post 8vo, cloth
limp, 23. 6d.

Tales for the Marines. Post Svo,
illustrated boards, 28.

Timbs (John), Works by:

The History of Clubs and Club Life
In London. With Anecdotes of its
Famous Coffee-houses, Hostelries,
and Taverns. With numerous Illus-
trations. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 78. 6d.

English Eccentrics and Eccen-
tricities: Stories of Wealth and
Fashion, Delusions, Impostures, and
Fanatic Missions, Strange Sights
and Sporting Scenes. Eccentric
Artists, Theatrical Folks, Men of
Letters, &c. With nearly 50 Illusts.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d^

Torrens. — The Marquess

Wellesley, Architect of Empire. An
Historic Portrait. By W. M. Tor-
rens, M. P. Demy Svo, cloth extra, 14s.

Troilope (Anthony), Novels by:

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each
post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.

The Way We Live Now.

The American Senator.

Kept In the Dark.

Frau Frohmann.

Marion Fay.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each.
Mr. Scarborough's Family.
The Land-Leaguers.

Troiiope(Frances E.),Novel8by

Like Ships upon the Sea. Crown
Svo, cloih extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo,
illustrated boards, 2s.

Mabel's Progress. Crown Svo, cloth
extra, 38. 6a.

Anne Furness. Cr. 8vo,cl. ex.,3i. 6d.

CHATTO S' WINDUS. PICCADILLY.

25

Tpollope (T. A.).— Diamond Cut

Diamond, and other Stories. By
T. Adolphus Trollope. Cr. Bvo, cl.
ex.. 3s. 6d. : post 8vo. illust. boards. 23.

Trowbridge.— Farnell's Folly:

A Novel. By J. T.Trowbridge. Two
Vols., crown 8vo, 12s.

Tytler (Sarah), Novels by:

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ;

post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.
What She Came Through.
The Brides Pass.

Saint IVIungo's City. Crown 8vo,

cloth extra, 3s. 6(i.
Beauty and the Beast. Three Vols.,

crown 8vo, 3l8. 6d.

Tytlep (C. C. Fraser-). — IVIis-

tress Judith: A Novel. By C. C.
Fraser-Tytler. Cr.Svo, cl.ex., 3s. 6d.

Van Laun.— History of French
Literature. By Henry Van Laun,
Complete in Three Vols., demy 8vo,
cloth boards, 7s. 6d. each.

Villari. — A Double Bond: A

Story. By Linda Villari. Fcap.
8vo, picture cover, IST

Walcott. — Church Work and

Life in English Minsters; and the
English Student's Monasticon. By the
Rev. Mackenzie E. C. Walcott, B.D.
Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra,
with Map and Gronnd-Plans, 148.

Waiford (Edw., M.A.),Works by :

The County Families of the United
Kingdom. Containing Notices of
the Descent, Birth, Marriage, Educa-
tion, &c., of more than 12,000 dis-
tinguished Heads of Families, their
Heirs Apparent or Presumptive, the
Offices they hold or have held, their
Town and Country Addresses, Cl ubs,
&c. Twenty-fifth Annual Edition,
for 1885, clotfc, full gilt, 50s.

The Shilling Peerage (1885). Con-
taining an Alphabetical List of the
House of Lords, Dates of Creation,
Lists of Scotch and Irish Peers,
Addresses, &c. 32mo, cloth, l8.
Published annually.

The Shilling Baronetage (1885).
Containing an Alphabetical List of
theBaronetsof the United Kingdom,
short Biographical Notices, Dates
of Creation, Addresses, &c. 32mo,
cloth, Is. Published annually.

The Shilling Knightage (1885). Con-
taining an Alphabetical List of the
Knights of the United Kingdom,
short Biographical Notices, Dates
of Creation, Addresses, &c. 32mo,
cloth, Is. Published annuaily,

Walford's (Edw., M.A.) Works, con.—
The Shilling House of Commons
(1885). Containing a List of all the
Members of the British Parliament,
their Town and Country Addresses,
&c. 32mo, cloth, la. Published
annually.
The Complete Peerage, Baronet-
age, Knightage, and House of
• Commons (1885). In One Volume,
royal szmo, cloth extra, gilt edges,
5s. Published annually.
Haunted London. By Walter
Thornbury. Edited by Edward
Walford, M.A. With Illustrations
by F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 73. 6d.

Walton andCotton'sComplete

Angler; or. The Contemplative Man's
Recreation ; being a Discourse _ of
Rivers, Fishponds, Fish and Fishing,
written by Izaak Walton ; and In-
structions how to Angle for a Trout or
Grayling in a clear Stream, by Charles
Cotton. With Original Memoirs and
Notes by Sir Harris Nicolas, and
61 Copperplate Illustrations. Large
crown 8vo, cloth antique, 73. 6d.

Wanderer's Library, The:

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each.
Wanderings In Patagonia; or. Life
among the Ostrich Hunters. By
Julius Beerbohm. Illustrated.
Camp Notes: Stories of Sport and
Adventure in Asia, Africa, and
America. By Frederick Boyle.
Savage Life. By Frederick Boyle.
Merrie England In the Olden Time.
By George Daniel. With Illustra-
tions by RoBT. Cruikshank.
Circus Life and Circus Celebrities.

By Thomas Frost.
The Lives of the Conjurers. By

Thomas Frost.

The Old Showmen and the Old

London Fairs. By Thomas Frost.

Low-Life Deeps. An Account of the

Strange Fish to be found there. By

James Greenwood.

The Wilds of London. By James

Greenwood.
Tunis: The Land and the People.
By the Chevalier de Hesse-War-
TEGG. With 22 Illustrations.
The Life and Adventures of a Cheap
Jack. By One of the Fraternity.
Edited by Charles Hindley.
The World Behind the Scenes. By

Percy Fitzgerald.
Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings:
Including the Origin of Signs, and
Reminiscences connected with Ta-
verns, ColJee Mouses, Clubs, &c.
ByCuAra.ES Hindley. With Utasts.

26

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Wanderer's Library, The, continued —

The Genial Showman: Life and Ad-
ventures of Artemus Ward. By E. P.
Kingston. With a Frontispiece.

The Story of the London Parks.
By Jacob Larwood. With Illusts.

London Characters. By Henry May-
hew. lUustrated.

Seven Generations of Executioners :
Memoirs of the Sanson Family
(i6S8 to 1847). Edited by Henry
Sanson.

Summer Cruising In the South
Seas. By C. Warren Stoddard.
Illustrated by Wai.lis Mackay.

Warner.— A Roundabout Jour-
ney. By Charles Dudley Warner,
Author of " My Summer in a Garden."
Crown Svo, cloth extra, 63.

Warrants, &c. :—

Warrant to Execute Charles I. An

exact Facsimile, with the Fifty-nine
Signatures, and correspondinfj Seals.
Carefully printed on paper to miitate
the Original, 22 in. by 14 in. Price 2s.

Warrant to Eixecute Mary Queen of
Scots. An exact Facsimile, includ-
ing the Signature of Queen Eliza-
beth, and a Facsimile of the Great
Seal. Beautifully printed on paper
to imitate the Original MS. Price 28.

Magna Charta. An exact Facsimile
of the Original Document in the
British Museum, printed on fine
plate paper, nearly 3 feet long by 2
feet wide, with the Arms and Seals
emblazoned in Gold and Colours.
Price 53.

The Roil of Battle Abbey; or, A List
of the Principal Warriors who came
over from Normandy with William
the Conqueror, and Settled in this
Country, a.d. 1066-7. With the
jjrincipal Arms emblazoned in Gold
and Colours. Price 6s.

Weather, How to Foretell the,

with the Pocket Spectroscope. By
F. W. CoKV, M.K.C.S. Eng., F.R.Met.
Soc, &c. With 10 Illustrations. Crown
8vo, Is, ; clolh, Is. 6d.

Westropp.— Handbook of Pot-
tery and Porcelain ; or, History of
those Arts from the Earliest Period.
By HoiiDKR M. Westropp. With nu-
iivrous llluslratioiis, and a List of
Marks. Crown 8vo, cloth limp, 48. 6(1.

Whistler v. Ruskin: Art and

Art Critics. P.y J. A. Macneill
Whistler. 7th Edition, sq. 8vo, Is.

White's Natural History of

Selborne. Edited, with Additions, by
Thomas Brown, F.L.S. Post Svo,
cloth limp, 23.

WlTliamslw. Mattieu, F.R.A.S.T,

Works by :
Science Notes. See the Gentleman's

Magazine. Is. Monthly.
Science in Short Chapters. Crown

8vo, clolh extra, 7s. 6d.
A Simple Treatise on Heat. Crow\

8vo, cloth limp, with Illusts., 2s. 6d.
The Chemistry of Cookery. Crown

8vo, cloth extra, 6s. [In the press.

Wilson (Dr. Andrew, F.R.S.E.),

Works by:

Chapters on Evolution: A Popular
History of the Darwinian and
Allied Theories of Development.
Second Edition. Crown Svo, cloth
extra, with 259 Illustrations, 7s. 6d.

Leaves from a Naturalist's Note-
book. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. Gd.

Leisure-Time Studies, chiefly Bio-
logical. Third Edition, with a New
Preface. Crown Svo, cloth extra,
with Illustrations, 63.

Winter (J. S.), Stories by:

Crov/n Svo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each.

post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. eacli'.

Cavalry Life. I Regimental Legends.

Women of the Day: A Biogra-

phical Dictionary of Notable Contein-
poraries. By Frances Hays. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 53.

Wood.— Sabina: A Novel. By
Lady Wood. Post Svo, illust. bds., 28.

Words, Facts, and Phrases:

A Dictionary of Curious, Quaint, and
Out-of-the-Way Matters. By Eliezer
Edwards. New and cheaper issue,
cr. 8vo,cl. ex., 73. 6d. ; half-bound, 98.

Wright (Thomas), Works by:

Caricature History of the Georges.

(The House of Hanover.) With 400
Pictures, Caricatures, Squibs, Broad-
sides, Window Pictures, &c. Crown
Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.
History of Caricature and of the
Grotesque in Art, Literature,
Sculpture, and Painting. Profusely
Illuslraled by F. W. Fairholt,
F.S.A. Large post Svo, cl. ex., 7s.6d.

Yates (Edmund), Novels by : ~

Post Hvo, illustrated boards, 28. each.
Castaway. | The Forlorn Hope.
Land at Last.

CHATTO &- W INDUS, PICCADILLY

iy

NOVELS BY THE

WItKIE COLLrSS'S NEW NOVEL. \

"l Say No." By Wilkie Collins.
Three Vols., crown Svo.

ilts. CA SHEL HOE Y'S NE W SO VEL

The Lover's Creed. By Mrs. Cashel

HoEY, Author of " The Biossoming of

an Aloe," &c. With 12 lUasfrations

by P. MacNab. Three Vols., cr. 8vo.

SARAH TYTLER'S NEW NOVEL.

Beauty and the Beast. By Sarah
TvTLER, Author of " The Bride's Pass,"
"Saint Mango's City," "Citoyenne
Jacqueline," &c. Three Vols., cr. Svo.

NEW NOVELS BY CHAS. GIBBON.

By Mead and Stream. By Charles
Gibbon, Author of "Robin Gray,"
"The Golden Shaft," " Queen of the
Meadow," Sec Three Vols., cr 8to.

Found Out. By Charles Gibbok.

Three Vols., crown Svo. [Shortly,

NEW NOVEL BY CECIL POWER.

Philistia. By Cecii, Power. Three
Vols., crown Svo.

BEST AUTHORS.

ROBT. BUCHANAN'S NEW NOVEL.

Foxglove Manor. ByRoBX. Buchanan-,
Authorof "The Shadow of the Sword,"
" God and the Man," &c. Three Vols.,
Crown Svo.

NEW NOVEL BY THE AUTHOR
OF "VALENTIN A."
Gepa!d. By Eleanor C. Price. Three
Vols., crown Svo.

BASILS NEW NOVEL.
"The Wearing of the Green." By
Basil, .Author of " Love the Debt,"
" A Drawn Game," &c. Three Vols.,
crown Svo.

NEW NOVEL BY J. T. TROW-
BRIDGE.
Farnell's Folly. Two Vols., crown Svo,
12s.

HALL CAINE'S NEW NOVEL.
The Shadow of a Crime. By Hall
C.MNE. Three Vols., crown 8 vo.

[Immedialtly

THE PICCADILLY NOVELS.

Popular Stories by the Best Authors. Library Editions, many Dlostrated,
crown Svo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each.

BY ilRS. H. LOVETT CAMERON.

BY MRS. ALEXANDER.
Maid, Wife, op Widow ?
BY W. BESANT & JAMES RICE.
Ready Money Mortiboy.
My Little Gipl.
The Case of Mr. Lucpaft.
This Son of Vulcan.
With Harp and Cpown.
The Golden Butterfly.
By Celia's Arbour.
The Monks of Thelema.
•Twas In Trafalgar's Bay.
The Seamy Side.
The Ten Years' Tenant.
The Chaplain of the Fleet.

BY WALTER BESANT.
AM Sorts and Conditions of Men.
The Captains' Room.
All in a Garden Fair.
Dorothy Forster.

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.
A Child of Nature.
God and the Man.
The Shadow of the Sword.
The Martyrdom of Madeline.
Love Me for Evep.
Annan Water.
The Nev/ Abelard.
Matt.

Deceiver* Evep. ! Juliet's Guardian.

BY MORTIMER COLLINS.
Sweet Anne Page.
Transmigration
From Midnight to Midnight.
MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS.
Blacksmith and Scholar.
The Village Comedy.
You Play me False.

BY WILKIE COLLINS.

Antonina.
Basil.

Hide and Seek.
The Dead Secret.
Queen of Hearts.
My Miscella-nies.
Woman In White.
The Moonstone.
Man and Wife.
Poop Miss Finch.
Miss OP Mrs.? •

BY DUTTON COOK.
Paul Foster's Daughter

BY WILLIAM CYPLES.
Hearts of Gold.

BY ALPHONSE DAVDET.
Port Salvatioa

BY JAMES DE MILLE.
A Castle in Spain.

' New Magdalen.
I The Frozen De«p.
i The Law and the
I Lady.

j TheTwo Destinies
: Haunted Hotel.

The Fallen Leaves
\ Jezebal'sDaughter
I The Black Robe.
I Heart and Science

28

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Piccadilly Novels, contimted —
BY J. LEITH DERWENT.
Our Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers.

BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS.
Felicia. I Kitty.

BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES.
Archie LovelL

BY R. E. FRANCILLON.
Olympla. I One by One.

Queen Cophetua. I A Real Queen,
Prefaced by Sir BARTLE FRERE.
Pandurang Harl.

BY EDWARD GARRETT.
The Cape! Girls.

BY CHARLES GIBBON.
Robin Gray.
Fop Lack of Gold.
In Love and War.
What will the World Say?
For the King.
In Honour Bound.
Queen of the Meadow.
In Pastures Green.
The Flower of the Forest.
A Heart's Problem.
The Braes of Yarrow.
The Golden Shaft.
Of High Degree.
Fancy Free.
Loving a Dream.

BY THOMAS HARDY,
Under the Greenwood Tree.

BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
Garth.

Ellice Quentin.
Sebastian Strome.
Prince Saronl's Wife.
Dust. I Fortune's Fool.

Beatrix Randolph.
Miss Cadogna.

BY SIR A. HELPS.
Ivan de Biron.

BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT.
Thornlcroft's Model.
The Leaden Casket.
Self-Condemned.

By JEAN INGELOW.
Fated to bo Free.

BY HARRIETT JAY.
The Queen of Connaujilit
The Dark Colleen.

BY HENRY KINCSLEY.
Number Seventeen.
Cakshott Castle.

Piccadilly Novels, centinued —
BY E. LYNN LINTON.

Patricia Kemball.

Atonement of Learn Dundas.

The World Well Lost.

Under which Lord?

V/ith a Silken Thread.

The Rebel of the Family

" My Love !" | lone.

BY HENRY W. LUCY.

Gideon Fleyce.

BY JUSTIN McCarthy, m.p.

The Waterdale Neighbours.
My Esicmy's Daughter.
Linley Rochford. | A Fair Saxon.
Dear Lady Disdain.
Miss Misanthrope.
Donna Quixote.
The Comet of a Season.
Maid of Athens.
BY GEORGE MAC DONALD, LL.D-
Paul Faber, Surgeon.
Thomas WIngfold, Curate.

BY MRS. MACDONELL.
Quaker Cousins.

BY KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.
Lost Rose. I The Evil Eye.

BY FLORENCE MARRY AT.
Open ! Sesame ! | Written In Fire.

BY JEAN MIDDLEMASS.
Touch and Go.
BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
Life's Atonement. Coals of Fire.
Joseph's Coat. Val Strange.

A Model Father. Hearts.

By the Gate of the Sea
The Way of the World.
A Bit of Human Nature.

BY MRS. OLIPHANT
Whiteladies.

BY MARGARET A. PAUL.
Gentle and Simple.

BY JAMES PAYN.
Lost Sir Massing- ' Carlyon's Year.

^^'^'^- . . ^ A Confldentlar

Best of Husbands Agent.

Fallen Fortunes, ppom Exile.

Halves. a Grape from a

Walter's Word. Thorn.

What He Cost Her For Cash Only.
Lees Black than ' Some Private

Wo're Painted. Views.

By Proxy. Kit : A Memory.

High Spirits. The Canon's

Under One Roof. Ward.

CHATTO S- WIN BUS, PICCADILLY.

39

Piccadilly Novels, continued —
BY E. C. PRICE.
Valentlna. | The Foreigners.

Mrs, Lancaster's Rival.

BY CHARLES READE, D.C.L.
It is Never Too Late to Mend.
Hard Cash. | Peg V/offlngton.
Christie Johnstone.
Griffith Gaunt. | Foul Play.
The Double Marriage.
Lcve Me Little, Love Me Long.
The Cloister and the Hearth.
The Course of True Love.
The Autobiography of a Thief.
Put Yourself in His Place.
A Terrible Temptation.
The Wandering Heir. | A Simpleton.
A Woman-Hater. | Readiana.

BY ilRS. J. H. RIDDELL.
Hep Mother's Darling.
Prince of Wales's Garden-Party.
Weird Stories.

BY F. W. ROBINSOS.
Women are Strange.
The Hands of Justice.

BY JOHN SAUNDERS.
Bound to the Wheel.
Guy Waterman. | Two Dreamers.
One Against the World.
The Lion In the Path.

BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS.
Joan Merryweather.
Margaret and Elizabeth.
Gideon's Rocl<. ! The High Mills.

Piccadilly Novels, continued —
BY T. W. SPEIGHT.
The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.

BY R. A. STERN DALE.
The Afghan Knife.

BY BERTHA THOMAS.
Proud Maisie. | Cressida.
The Violin-Player.

BY ANTHONY TROLLOPS.
The Way we Live Now.
The American Senator
Frau Frohmann. [ Marion Fay.
Kept in the Dark.
Mr. Scarborough's Family.
The Land-Leaguers.

BY FRANCES E. TROLLOPE.
Like Ships upon the Sea.
Anna Fumesa.
Mabel's Progress.

BY T. A. TROLLOPE.
Diamond Cut Diamond
By IVAN TURGENIEFF and Others.
Stories from Foreign Novelists.

BY SARAH TYTLER.
What She Came Through.
The Bride's Pass.
Saint Mungo's City.

BY C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.
Mistress udith.

BY J. S. WINTER.
Cavalry Life.
Regimental Legends.

CHEAP EDITIONS OF

Post 8vo, illastrated
BY EDilOND ABOUT. 1

The Fellah. ^ I

BY HAMILTON a'i'dE. j

Carr of Carrlyon. I Confidences.

BY MRS. ALEXANDER. \

Maid, Wife, or Widow ?
BY SH ELS LEY BEAUCHAUP.
Grantley Grange.

BY W. BBS ANT & JAMES RICE.
Ready Money Mortibcy.
With Har-p and Crown.
This Son of Vulcan. | My Little Girl
The Case of Mr. Lucraft.
The Golrien Butterfly.
By Ceiia's Arbour.

POPULAR NOVELS.

, boards, 23. each.
By Besjint and Rice, continued —
The Monks of Thelema.
■Twas in Trafalgar's Bay.
The Seamy Side.
The Ten Years' Tenant.
The Chaplain of the Fleet.

BY WALTER BESANT.
All Sorts and Conditions of
The Captains' Room.

BY FREDERICK BOYLE.
Camp Notes. | Savage Life.

BY BRET HARTE.
An Heiress of Red Dog.
The Luck of Roaring Camp.
Californian Stories.
Gabriel Conroy. I Fllpu

30

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.
The Shadow of the Sword.
A Child of Nature.
God and the Man.
The Martyrdom of Madeline.
Love Me for Ever.

BY MRS. BURNETT.
Surly Tim.

BY MRS. LOVETT CAMERON.
Deceivers Ever. | Juliet's Guardian.

BY M ACL A REN COBBAN.
The Cure of Souls.

BY C. ALLSTON COLLINS.
The Bar Sinister.

BY WILKIE COLLINS.

Antonina.

Basil.

Hide and Seel<.

Miss or Mrs. P
The New Magda-
len.

The Dead Secret. ; The Frozen Deep,

Queen of Hearts.
My Miscellanies.
Woman in White.
The Moonstone.
Man and Wife.
Poor Miss Finch.

Law and the Lady.
TheTwo Destinies
Haunted Hotel.
The Fallen Leaves.
Jezebel'sDaughter
The Black Robe.

BY MORTIMER COLLINS.
Sweet Anne Page.
Transmigration.
From Midnight to Midnight.
A Fight witii Fortune.

MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS.
Sweet and Twenty. | Frances.
Blacksmith and Scholar.
The Village Comedy.
You Play me False.

BY BUTTON COOK.
Leo. I Paul Foster's Daughter.

BY J. LEITH DERWENT.
Oup Lady of Tears.

BY CHARLES DICKENS,
Sketches by Boz.
The Pickwick Papers.
Oliver Twist.
Nicholas NIckleby.
BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES.
A Point of Honour. I Archie Loveii.

BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS.
Felicia. I Kitty.

BY EDWARD EGGLESTON.
Boxy.

Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
BY PERCY FITZGERALD.
Bella Donna. | Never Forgotten.
The Second Mrs. Tiliotson.
Polly.

Seventy Ave Brooks Street.
The Lady of Brantome.
BY ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE.
Filthy Lucre.

BY R. E. FRANCILLON.
Olympia. | Queen Cophetua.

One by One.
Prefaced by Sir H. BARTLE FRERE.
Pandurang Harl.

BY HA IN FRISWELL.
One of Two.

BY EDWARD GARRETT
The Capel Girls.

BY CHARLES GIBBON.

Queen of the Mea-
dow,
in Pastures Green
The Flower of the

Forest.
A Heart's Problem
The Braes of Yar-
row.

Robin Gray.
For Lack of Gold.
What will the

World Say ?
in Honour Bound.
The Dead Heart,
in Love and War.
For the King.

BY WILLIAM GILBERT.
Dr. Austin's Guests.
The Wizard of the Mountain.
James Duke.

BY JAMES GREENWOOD.
Dick Temple.

BY ANDREW HALLWAY.
EveryDay Papers.

BY LADY DUFFUS HARDY.
Paul Wynter's Sacrifice.

BY THOMAS HARDY.
Under the Greenwood Tree.
BY JULIAN HA WTHORNE.
Garth. I Sebastian Strome

ElMca Qusntln. | Dust.
Prince Saroni's Wife.

BY SIR ARTHUR HELPS.
Ivan de BIron.

BY TOM HOOD.
A Golden Heart.

BY MRS. GEORGE HOOPER.
The House of Raby.

BY VICTOR HUGO.
The Hunchback of Notre Oame.

CHATTO &■ WINDUS. PICCADILLY.

31

Cheap Popular Novels, continued—

BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT.
Thorn icroft's Model.
The Leaden Casket.
Seif -Condemned.

BY JEAS ISGELOW.
Fated to be Free.

BY HARRIETT JAY.
The Dark Colleen.
The Queen of Connaught.
BY HE\RY KhSGSLEY.
Oakshott Castle. | Number Seventeen

BY E. LYNN LINTOff.
Patricia Kemball.
The Atonement of Learn Dundas.
The World Well Lost.
Under which Lord?
V^ith a Silken Thread.
The Rebel of the Family.
"My Love!"

BY HENRY W. LUCY.
Gideon Fleyce.

BY JUSTIN McCarthy, mj>.

Deal Lady Disdain.

The Waterdale Neighbours.

My Enemy's Daughter.

A Fair Saxon.

Linley Rochford.

Miss Misanthrope.

Donna Quixote.

The Comet of a Season.

BY GEORGE MACDONALD.
Paul Faber, Surgeon.
Thomas Wingfold, Curate.

BY MRS. MACDONELL.
Quaker Cousins.

BY KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.
Tlie Evil Eye. | Lost Rose.

BY W. H. MALLOCK.
The New Republic.

BY FLORENCE MARRY AT.

Open! Sesame! I A Little Stepson.

A Harvest of Wild Fighting the Air.

Oats. I Written in Fire.

BY J. MASTERMAN.
Half-a-dozen Daughters.

BY JEAN MWDLEMASS.
Touch and Go. | Mr. Oorllllon.

Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
A Life's Atonement.
A Model Father.
Joseph's Coat.
Coals of Fire.
By the Gate of the Sea.

BY MRS. OLIPHANT.
Whiteladles.
BY MRS. ROBERT O'REILLY.
Phoebe's Fortunes.

BY 0
Held in Bondage.
Strathmore.
Chandos.
Under Two Flags.
Idalia.
Cecil Castle-

maine.
Tricotrin.
Puck.

Foile Farine.
A Dog of Flanders.
Pascarel.

UID

TwoLittleWooden
Shoes.

Signa.

In a Winter City.

Ariadne.

Friendship.

Moths.

Plpistrella

A Village Com-
mune.

BImbi.

In Maremma.

BY MARGARET AGNES PAUL.
Gentle and Simple.

BY JAMES PAYN.
Lost Sir Massing- Like Father, Like

Trea-

berd.
A Perfect

sure.
Bentinck's Tutor.
Murphy"s Master, j
A County Family. \
At Her Mercy. j
A Woman's Ven-
geance, j
Cecil's Tryst.
Clyffards of CiyflTe

Son.

A Marine Resi-
dence.

Married Beneath
Him.

Mirk Abbey.

Not Wooed, but
Won.

£200 Reward.

Less Black than
Were Painted.

The Fam ily Scape- i ^^ '''■°''>'

grace.
Foster Brothers.
Found Dead.
Best of Husbands
Walters Word.
Halves.

Fallen Fortunes,
What He Cost Her
Humorous Stories
Gwendoline's Har-
vest.

Under One Roof.
High Spirits.
Carlyon's Year.
A Confidential

Agent.
Some Private

Views.
From Exile.
A Grape from a

Thorn.
For Cash Only.

BY EDSAR A. POE.
The Mystery of Marie Roget.

32

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CHATTO &> WINDUS.

Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
BY E. C. PRICE.
Valentina.

BY CHARLES READE.
It Is Never Too Late to P^lend.
Hard Cash.
Peg Woffington.
Christie Johnstone.
Griffith Gaunt.
Put Yourself In His Place.
The Double Marriage.
Love Me Little, Love Me Long.
Foul Play.

The Cloister and tlie Hearth.
The Course of True Love.
Autobiography of a Thief.
A Terrible Temptation.
The Wandering Heir.
A Simpleton.
A WomanHater.
Readiana.

BY MRS. J. II. RIDDELL.
Her Mother's Darling.
Prince of Wales's Garden Party.

BY F. W. ROBINSON.
Women are Strange.

BY BAYLE ST. JOHN.
A Levantine Family.
BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.
Gaslight and Daylight.

BY JOHN SAUNDERS.
Bound to the Wheel.
One Against the World.
Guy Waterman.
The Lion in the Path.
Two Dreamers.

BY ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.
A Match in the Dark.

BY T. W. SPEIGHT.
The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.

BY R. A. STERNDALE.
The Afghan Knife.

BY R. LOUIS STEVENSON.
New Arabian Nights.

BY BERTHA THOMAS.
Cressida. | Proud Malsle.

The Violin Player.

BY n\ MOY THOMAS.
A Fight for Life.

Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
BY WALTER THORN BURY.

Tales for the Marines.

BY T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPS.

Diamond Cut Diamond.

BY ANTHONY TROLLOPS.

The Way We Live Now.

The American Senator.

Frau Frohmann.

Marion Fay.

Kept In the Dark.
By FRANCES ELEANORTROLLOPE

Like Ships upon the Sea.

BY MARK TWAIN.
Tom Sawyer.
An Idle Excursion.
A Pleasure Trip on the Continent

of Europe.
A Tramp Abroad.
The Stolen White Elephant.
BY SARAH TYTLER.
What She Came Through.
The Bride's Pass.

BY y. S. WINTER.
Cavalry Life. | Regimental Legends

BY LADY WOOD.
Sablna.

BY EDMUND YATES.
Castaway. | The Forlorn Hope.
Land at Last.

ANONYMOUS.
Paul Ferroll.
Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.

Fcap. 8vo, picture covers, Is. each.
Jeff Eriggs's Love Story. By Bret

Haute.
The Twins of Table Mountain. By

Bret IIarte,
Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds. By

Julian Hawthorne.
Kathleen Mavourneen. By Author

of " That Lass o' Lowrie's.*'
Lindsay's Luck. By the Author of

" That Lass o' Lowrie's."
Pretty Polly Pemberton. By tl.o

Author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's."
Trooping with Crows. By Mrs.

FiRKIS.

The Professor's Wife. By Leonard

Graham.
A Double Bond. By Linda Villari.
Esther's Glove. ByR. K. Francii.lon.
The Garden that Paid the Rent.

By Tom Jerrold.

]. OCDEN AND CO., PRINTERS, 173, ST. JOHN STREET, E,C.

. rrif'fik p '

^A'^i - i/'i^'/^^^^S^i :

VICTORIA UNIVERSITY
PRATT LIBRARY

585-4470

PN
56

A6MRBM
1885
C.l
ROBA