Chapter 52

THE DOMESTIC DOG.[92]

We have now to consider an animal which has more interest for us than any member of the animal kingdom, with the single exception ofHomo sapiens; indeed, many people, if asked to name the creature which feels for them the most disinterested friendship, the most devoted love, and whichshows the most constant and untiring kindness and attention, would without hesitation name the humble Carnivore rather than the arrogant and self-asserting Primate. It was not his servants who recognised Ulysses on his return from his long voyage; it was not even his faithful Penelope; it was the old Dog Argus, who

“—— —— soon as he perceivedLong-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his earsClapp’d close, and with his tail glad sign he gaveOf gratulation, impotent to riseAnd to approach his master as of old.”

“—— —— soon as he perceived

Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears

Clapp’d close, and with his tail glad sign he gave

Of gratulation, impotent to rise

And to approach his master as of old.”

Where shall we find an instance of human devotion, unaltered and unalterable by death, greater than that recorded by our great Lake poet of the Dog whose ill-fated master was killed in passing Helvellyn?—

“The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,Repeating the same timid cry,This Dog had been through three months’ space,A dweller in that savage place.Yes, proof was plain, that since the dayOn which the traveller thus had died,The Dog had watched about the spot,Or by his master’s side.How nourished here through such long time,He knows who gave that love sublime,And gave that strength of feeling, greatAbove all human estimate.”

“The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,

Repeating the same timid cry,

This Dog had been through three months’ space,

A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain, that since the day

On which the traveller thus had died,

The Dog had watched about the spot,

Or by his master’s side.

How nourished here through such long time,

He knows who gave that love sublime,

And gave that strength of feeling, great

Above all human estimate.”

No animal has been so universally or so thoroughly domesticated as the Dog; in none have the moral and intellectual faculties been so largely developed; and there is certainly none which the human race could so ill spare. We might possibly, with a proper amount of practice, become vegetarians, and so do without our sheep and cattle, our pigs and poultry. The Cat we might easily dispense with, for she is, after all, a very passive sort of creature, and rarely condescends to express either emotion or affection, whatever her feelings may be; but to lose the Dog would be to lose a friend, and a friend so faithful and true that his loss would be a veritable plucking out of the right eye and a cutting off of the right hand. As Mr. Darwin observes: “It is scarcely possible to doubt that the love of man has become instinctive in the dog,” which it can hardly be said to have done, as yet, in man!

Wherever man of any degree of civilisation is found, there the Dog is to be found too—everywhere invaluable, though often grossly and brutally ill-treated. In all probability, too, Dogs occur as true natives in all parts of the world, except in the Australian region—Australia, New Zealand, and the surrounding islands; in these places he has, in all probability, been introduced by man.

The likeness of the domestic Dog to his more immediate relatives is very close. Except in the want of obliquity in the eyes, and in the curling of the tail, so different to the straight “brush” of a Wolf or wild Dog, there is really no definite character which can be given as separatingCanis familiarisfrom the wild species of the genus. Moreover, the difference between the varieties of the Dog itself is so great, that it is impossible to frame anything like a good definition which will include the Bulldog, the Greyhound, the Newfoundland, and the Terrier, and, at the same time, exclude the Dingo and the Búansú. The one constant difference is the habit of barking, “which is almost universal with domesticated Dogs, and which does not characterise a single natural species of the family.”

The Dog certainly took its origin at a very remote period, for we find undoubted evidence of his existence and regular domestication in the very earliest records. Among the early Hebrews, he seems to have been unknown, or rather, despised; and it strikes one as a most remarkable circumstance that this astute nation of shepherds should never have domesticated so useful an assistant. Possibly this is partly owing to the prejudice the grand old Theists of Palestine must have felt against an animal held in great veneration as an emblem of the Divine Being by the idolatrous Egyptians; and yet this objection can hardly have had much weight, as the Hebrews kept Oxen, animals which were regularly worshipped by the Egyptians. Throughout the Old and New Testaments the Dog is spoken of with scorn and contempt as “an unclean beast,” so that probably the Israelites hadthe misfortune only to know this friend of man in the character in which he now appears in Constantinople—as the common scavenger of the neighbourhood. The only instance in the Bible in which the Dog is mentioned as a domesticated animal is in that magnificent drama, the Book of Job, a poem of great antiquity, and very possibly not of Hebrew origin. The suffering patriarch, after recounting to his “friends” the greatness of his former prosperity, says: “But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.” This passage is extremely remarkable, as showing at what an early period of the world’s history the Dog was sufficiently domesticated to be capable of the arduous task of guarding Sheep—a task, the proper performance of which necessitates the total suspension of the true canine instinct, which is not to guard and protect the Sheep, but to worry and devour them.

The prejudice of the Jews against the Dog is shown at the present day by the Hindoos and by the Mahometans, with whom “Dog” is the greatest possible term of reproach, and who never think of the animal as anything but a semi-useful, degraded beast, good for nothing but to clear off the offal of the streets. Among many ancient nations, however, the Dog was held in great veneration, and was even worshipped as a god. In the passage—“Howbeit every nation made gods of their own ... and the Avites made Nibhaz,”[93]the wordNibhazis supposed to signify abarker, and it is thought that this idol had the form of a Dog. “The Egyptians had several breeds of Dogs, some solely used for the chase, others admitted into the parlour, or selected as the companions of their walks; and some, as at the present day, selected for their peculiar ugliness. All were looked upon with veneration, and the death of a Dog was not only lamented as a misfortune, but was mourned by every member of the house in which it occurred.”

It is certain that the Egyptians selected their Dogs in such a manner as to produce well-marked varieties, for, as Mr. Youatt states, “there are to be seen on the Egyptian temples representations of Dogs with long ears and broad muzzle, not unlike the old Talbot Hound.” This is extremely interesting as showing at what an early period the Dog had been completely differentiated from otherCanidæ, by acquiring definite characters, quite distinct from those of his wild relations. The Assyrians, too, had advanced considerably in the art of seizing upon important varieties in the structure of their Dogs, and perpetuating them as Hounds. Mr. Darwin informs us that an undoubted Mastiff of enormous size is figured on the tomb of Esar Haddon, about 640B.C., and he goes on to say, “I have looked through the magnificent works of Lepsius and Rosellini, and on the monuments from the fourth to the twelfth dynasties (i.e., from about 3400B.C.to 2101B.C.) several varieties of the Dog are represented; most of them are allied to Greyhounds. At the later of these periods a Dog resembling a Hound is figured, with drooping ears, but with a large back, and more pointed head than in our Hounds. There is, also, a Turnspit, with short and crooked legs, closely resembling the existing variety.”[94]

GREYHOUNDS. (From an Egyptian Monument.)

Both the Greeks and Romans made much of the Dog, and among the latter, Greyhounds, Hounds, House Dogs, and Lap Dogs existed. Some of them are preserved in sculpture. The Greeks had a Dog closely resembling our Newfoundland, as is made certain from a piece of sculpture, “said to have been the favourite Dog of Alcibiades, and to have been the production of Myron, one of the most skilful artists of ancient times.” Dogs “were sacrificed at certain periods by the Greeks and Romans to almost all their deities, and particularly to Mars, Pluto, and Pan, to Minerva, Proserpine, and Lucina, and also to the moon, because the Dog by his barking disturbed all charms and spells,and frightened away all spectres and apparitions. The Greeks immolated many Dogs in honour of Hecate, because by their baying the phantoms of the lower world were disturbed. A great number of Dogs were also destroyed in Samothrace in honour of the same goddess. Dogs were periodically sacrificed in February, and also in April and in May; also to the goddess Rubigo, who presided over the corn, and the Bona Dea, whose mysterious rites were performed on Mount Aventine. The Dog Cerberus was supposed to be watching at the feet of Pluto, and a Dog and a youth were periodically sacrificed to that deity. The night when the capital had nearly been destroyed was annually celebrated by the cruel scourging of a Dog in the principal public places, even to the death of the animal.”[95]

Homer, like the modern English, frequently uses the word “Dog” as an epithet of contempt—“thou Dog in forehead;” but the Dog was man’s companion everywhere amongst those old Greeks. When the “God of the silver bow” strikes beasts and men with pestilence, it is said—

“Mules first and Dogs he struck, but at themselves,Dispatching soon his bitter arrows keen,Smote them.”

“Mules first and Dogs he struck, but at themselves,

Dispatching soon his bitter arrows keen,

Smote them.”

Yet, mixed with these friendly Dogs there were evidently Pariah Dogs; cowards are threatened thus:—

“The Vulture’s mawShall have his carcase, and the Dogs his bones.”

“The Vulture’s maw

Shall have his carcase, and the Dogs his bones.”

Two nobler breeds are also indicated, viz., Shepherd Dogs and Hounds:—

“As Dogs that careful watch the fold by night,Hearing some wild beast in the woods, which HoundsAnd hunters with tumultuous clamour driveDown from the mountain-top, all sleep forego.”

“As Dogs that careful watch the fold by night,

Hearing some wild beast in the woods, which Hounds

And hunters with tumultuous clamour drive

Down from the mountain-top, all sleep forego.”

Homer also makes indubitable reference to another breed, viz., the Boarhound:—

“As when Dogs and swainsIn prime of manhood, from all quarters rushAround a Boar, he from his thicket bolts,The bright tusk whetting in his crooked jaws;They press him on all sides, and from beneathLoud gnashings hear, yet firm, his threats defy.”

“As when Dogs and swains

In prime of manhood, from all quarters rush

Around a Boar, he from his thicket bolts,

The bright tusk whetting in his crooked jaws;

They press him on all sides, and from beneath

Loud gnashings hear, yet firm, his threats defy.”

But more ancient than any of these records are the evidences which prove the existence of the domestic Dog among the pre-historic savages of Northern Europe. In the Danish “kitchen-middens,” or heaps of household refuse, piled up by the men of the newer stone period—a time when our Scandinavian forefathers used chipped or polished flints instead of metal for their weapons—are found bone-cuttings belonging to some species of the genusCanis. Along with these remains are some of the long bones of birds, all the other bones of the said birds being absent. Now it is known that the bird-bones here found are the very ones which Dogs cannot devour, while the absent ones are such as they can bolt with ease, and it has been ingeniously argued from this that the remains in question did really belong to a domestic Dog, as, if the animals to which they appertained had been Wolves, they would have made short work of the long bones as well as of the others. Other Dog-bones are found in Denmark in later periods. At the time when the flint knives were succeeded by bronze a large Dog existed, and at the time when iron was used one larger still. In Switzerland, during the newer stone period, a Dog existed, which is probably the oldest of which we have any record. It “partook of the character of our Hounds and Setters or Spaniels,” and, in the matter of its skull, “was about equally remote from the Wolf and Jackal.” This Dog, too, like its Danish contemporary, was succeeded in the bronze period by a larger variety. Thus we see that, at a time when our ancestors were living “in dens and caves of the earth,” in a state of civilisation about equal to that of the African or Australian aborigines of the present day, the Dog was already systematically kept, and “selected,” that is, any good varieties which appeared were taken note of, and kept up.

We have mentioned above the common practice amongst the Greeks and Romans of offering Dogs as sacrifices to the numerous deities. The same custom was prevalent in early times in Scandinavia, where the Dog was often used as a sacrificial victim. Mr. Youatt says:—“Before Christianity was established among the Danes, on every ninth year, at the winter solstice, a monstrous sacrifice of ninety-nine Dogs was effected. In Sweden the sacrifice was still worse. On each of nine successive days ninety-nine Dogs were destroyed. This sacrifice of the Dog, however, gave way to one as numerous and as horrible. On every ninth year ninety-nine human victims were immolated, and the sons of the reigning tyrant among the rest, in order that the life of the monarch might be prolonged.

“On the other hand, the Dog was frequently the executioner; and, from an early period, whether in the course of war, or the mock administration of justice, thousands of poor wretches were torn to pieces by animals trained to that horrible purpose.

“As a counterpart to much of this, the ancient Hyrcanians may be mentioned, who lived near the Caspian sea, and who deemed it one of the strongest expressions of respect to leave the corpse of their deceased friends to be torn and devoured by Dogs. Every man was provided with a certain number of these animals, as a living tomb for himself at some future period, and these Dogs were remarkable for their fierceness.”

In the New World, the Dog is, or was, held as an object of adoration by many of the natives; and dog-worship seems to have been a more ancientcultethan the sun-worship practised by the Mexicans. Humboldt informs us that “when the Inca Pachacutec, in his religious wars, conquered the Indians of Xanxa and Huanca (the present valley of Huancayo and Juuja), and compelled them by force to submit to the worship of the sun, he found that Dogs were made the objects of their adoration, and that the priests used the skulls of these animals as wind instruments. It would also appear that the flesh of this canine divinity was eaten by the believers. The veneration of Dogs in the valley of the Huancaya is probably the reason why the skulls, and even whole mummies, of these animals are sometimes found in the Huacas, or Peruvian graves of the most ancient period. Von Tschudi, the author of an admirable treatise on theFauna Peruana, has examined these skulls, and believes them to belong to a peculiar species, which he callsCanis ingæ, and which is different from the European Dog. The Huancas are still, in derision, called ‘dog-eaters’ by the inhabitants of other provinces.” Humboldt also tells us that “the Peruvian Dogs were made to play a singular part during eclipses of the moon, being beaten as long as the darkness continued.” But he says nothing about the origin of so curious a custom.

An animal of such intelligence as the Dog, one so necessary to the welfare of man, and devoted to him by so many ties, is certain to have a number of curious superstitions current regarding him. An excellent account of some of the most curious of them is given by the Rev. J. Gardner.

“Among the Hyperborean tribes, with whom the Dog is reckoned a very valuable animal, it occupies a conspicuous place in their traditions, being considered—as, for instance, among the Eskimo, according to the accounts given by Franklin and Parry, and other Arctic navigators—as the father of the human family. The Chippewayan Indians had a tradition that they were sprung from a Dog; and hence they neither ate the flesh of that animal themselves, nor could they look with any other feeling than horror upon those nations who fed upon it. In all these cases, probably, the Dog is the symbol of the sun. A strange notion prevails among the Greenlanders that an eclipse is caused by the sun being pursued by his brother the moon. Accordingly, when this phenomenon takes place, the women take the Dogs by the ears, believing that, as these animals existed before man was created, they must have a more certain presentiment of the future than he has; and therefore, if they do not cry when their ears are pulled, it is an infallible sign that the world is about to be destroyed.

“The inhabitants of Japan have a superstitious regard for Dogs. Thus, we learn from Picart, in his ‘Religious Ceremonies of all Nations,’ ‘The emperor who sat on the throne when Kaempfer resided in Japan was so extravagantly fond of them, that there has been a greater number of them in that kingdom ever since his reign (if we may depend on the veracity of this traveller) than in any other nation in the whole world. Every street is obliged to maintain a fixed and determinate number of them. They are quartered upon the inhabitants, and in case of sickness they are obliged to nurse and attend them. When they die, they are obliged to inter them in a decent manner in themountains and hills peculiarly appropriated for the interment of the people. It is looked upon as a capital crime not only to kill them, but barely to insult and treat them ill; and no one but the legal proprietor is allowed so much as to correct any of them. All this reverence and respect are owing to a celestial constellation which the Japanese call the Dog, under the influence whereof the aforesaid Emperor of Japan was born.’”

By most people the Dog is valued only during his life; his skin is not particularly valuable, and his flesh is little esteemed. This is by no means, however, the case everywhere. It is well known that the Chinese use the Dog as a regular article of food. Many of the North American tribes look upon anentréeof Dog as the greatest possiblebonne bouchethey can set before a stranger. Sir Leopold McClintock relates that, in the Sandwich Islands, he had most profuse apologies offered to him because there was no puppy to be had for a feast to which he was invited. The Eskimo, too, look upon a dish of young Dog as a great treat; and it is related that a Danish captain provided his friends with a feast of this kind, and when theypraised his mutton, sent for the skin of the beast, and exhibited it to them! The Greeks and Romans also used the Dog as an article of diet, and many ancient writers, such as Galen and Hippocrates, represent Dog-meat as a highly desirable dish.

SKULL OF DOMESTIC DOG.

It is a remarkable circumstance, when we come to consider the probable origin of the Dog, that there is evidence of his domestication at such early periods, and by so many savage tribes in different parts of the world. As we have already seen, tame Dogs were possessed by savages in the neolithic, or newer stone period, by the Assyrians, Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, and the ancient inhabitants of North and South America, to say nothing of the numerous savage tribes at the present day, such as the Australians and the inhabitants of Guiana. Now the important question arises, had all these Dogs a common origin? Did the great neolithic Dog, the Sheep-dog of Job’s time, the Greyhounds, Turnspits, and Hounds of the Assyrians and Greeks, the divinely-honoured animals of Peru, and the supposed ancestors of the Eskimo and the Chippeways, spring from a single pair? or have various wild species ofCanidæbeen tamed and converted into true domestic Dogs, by different people in different parts of the world, these various species having since been crossed and re-crossed with one another and with their parent forms, until a species has been produced as complex in its origin as the English nation, which has flowing in its veins the blood of ancient Briton, Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Dane, Norman, and Fleming?

Until recently it was thought that all the evidence which could be brought to bear on the matter pointed to a separate origin of the Dog. It was argued, for instance, that as we have evidences of distinct breeds existing in far-back periods of the world’s history, there was actually no time, prior to those periods, for him to have diverged from a savage ancestor, such as a Wolf or a Jackal. It was also thought highly unlikely that a number of primitive races of man should have separately tamed different wildCanidæ. Mr. Youatt, one of our best authorities on the Dog, writing in 1845, says: “This power of tracing back the Dog to the very earliest periods of history, and the fact that he then seemed to be as sagacious, as faithful and as valuable as at the present day, strongly favours the opinion that he descended from no inferior and comparatively worthless animal; that he was not the progeny of the Wolf, the Jackal, or the Fox; but he was originally created, somewhat as we now find him, the associate and friend of man.”

SKULL OF YOUNG DOG.

A few years ago there was no gainsaying arguments such as these, for then nearly everybody believed that the world was literally only six thousand years old, and that species were absolutely unchangeable. But Sir Charles Lyell and Mr. Darwin have “changé tout cela.” The argument from time fails utterly, and other facts have to be taken into consideration.

There is, first of all, the fact of identity of structure. There is absolutely no definition framable which will include all the varieties of the domestic Dog, and exclude all the wild species—none even which will include all the Dogs properly so called, both wild and tame, and at the same time exclude the Wolf and Jackal. It is the same as regards habits, instincts, mental endowments, &c. Wolves and Jackals can be and have been tamed. Domestic Dogs can become, and have again and again become, wild, and in no way better than true aborigines; and to assert that the Dog is not descended from a Jackal because his manners and customs are better, his tail more curly, and his voice a bark instead of a howl, is about as just as to assert that Englishmen cannot possibly be descended from ancient Britons, because they wear clothes instead of a coating of blue paint.

HARE INDIAN DOG.

With regard to the opinion that many races of men are not likely independently to have tamed wildCanidæ, there are certain facts which show that the exact contrary is the case. Savages in all parts of the world are fond of making pets of various kinds, and would have been certain to come across Wolf or Jackal pups in their wanderings through the woods. Then, again, as Mr. Darwin remarks, “At an extremely ancient period, when man first entered any country, the animals living there would have felt no instinctive or inherited fear of him, and would consequently have been tamed far more easily than at present. For instance, when the Falkland Islands were first visited by man, the large Wolf-like Dog (Canis antarcticus) fearlessly came to meet Byron’s sailors, who, mistaking this ignorant curiosity for ferocity, ran into the water to avoid them. Even recently a man, by holding a piece of meat in one hand and a knife in the other, could sometimes stick them at night.” Another important point is the readiness with which many wild species ofCanidæbreed in confinement, so that the difficulty of perpetuating the newly-acquired characteristics of the tamed animal is, in this case, obviated. Furthermore, it is perfectly well known that savages at the present day do actually tame, and make useful to themselves, the wild Dogs of their particular countries:“the savages of Guiana catch, and partially tame and use the whelps of the wild species ofCanis, as do the savages of Australia those of the Dingo.”

ESKIMO DOGS.

These statements certainly tend to show that there is no actual improbability in supposing that many wild species ofCanidæhave at different times, and by different nations, been tamed and gradually modified into true domestic Dogs. But the most significant fact bearing upon the multiple origin of the Dog is the often-occurring close resemblance between the domestic Dog of a savage tribe and the wild species ofCanisinhabiting the same district. Of this most important circumstance there are fartoo many instances to allow of its being looked upon as a mere coincidence. Sir John Richardson says: “The resemblance between the Wolves and the Dogs of those Indian nations who still preserve their ancient mode of life continues to be very remarkable, and it is nowhere more so than at the northern extremities of the Continent, the Eskimo Dogs being not only extremely like the Grey Wolves of the Arctic circle in form and colour, but also nearly equalling them in size. The Dog has generally a shorter tail than the Wolf, and carries it more frequently curled over the hip, but the latter practice is not totally unknown to the Wolf, although that animal, when under the observation of man, being generally apprehensive of danger or on the watch, seldom displays this mark of satisfaction.” And again, “The resemblance between the northern Wolves and the domestic Dog of the Indians is so great, that the size and strength of the Wolf seem to be the only difference. I have more than once mistaken a band of Wolves for the Dogs of a party of Indians; and the howl of the animals of both species is prolonged so exactly in the same key, that even the practised ear of an Indian fails at times to discriminate them.”

As the Eskimo and Indian Dogs resemble the North American Wolf (C. lupus), so the Dog of the Hare Indians, a very distinct breed (see below), resembles the Prairie Wolf (C. latrans). So great is this resemblance that Richardson says, “I could detect no marked difference in form except the smallness of its [the Dog’s] cranium, nor in the fineness of its fur, and arrangement of its spots of colour. The length of the fur on the neck, back part of the cheeks, and top of the head, was the same in both species. It, in fact, bears the same resemblance to the Prairie Wolf that the Eskimo Dog does to the great Grey Wolf.” Another observer remarks that, except in the matter of barking, there is no difference whatever between the black Wolf-dog of the Indians of Florida and the Wolves of the same country. The Dogs also breed readily with the wild animals they so closely resemble. The Indians often cross their Dogs with Wolves to improve the breed, and in South America the same process is resorted to between the domesticated and the wild Dogs.

The same phenomenon is seen in many kinds of Dog in the Old World. The Shepherd Dog of the plains of Hungary is white or reddish-brown, has a sharp nose, short erect ears, shaggy coat, and bushy tail, and so much resembles a Wolf, that Mr. Paget, who gives the description, says he has known a Hungarian mistake a Wolf for one of his own Dogs. There is also a close resemblance between some of the Indian Pariah Dogs and the Indian Wolf. Some of the domestic Dogs of Egypt, both at the present day and in the condition of mummies, closely resemble the Wolf of that country; “whereas the domestic Dogs of Nubia, and certain other mummied Dogs, have the closest relation to a wild species of the same country ... which is only a form of the common Jackal.” Dogs have, moreover, been known to cross with Jackals as well as with Wolves. Lastly, in Africa, some of the natives assert that their half-tamed Dogs are derived from Foxes; and the Dogs of the Bosjesman have a striking resemblance to the black-backed Jackal (C. mesomelas), which, as we shall see, is a South African variety.

These facts are so significant and so important that they in reality leave only one difficulty to be settled, and that is the question of voice. As we stated above, all domestic Dogs bark, while all wildCanidæexpress their feelings only by howls. But the difficulty here is not so great as it seems. Some domestic Dogs left on the island of Juan Fernandez entirely lost the habit of barking in thirty-three years, and a few individuals removed after that period only re-acquired it very slowly; thus, domestic Dogs allowed to run wild forget how to bark. On the other hand, Jackals, wild Dogs, and Wolf-pups reared by bitches, readily acquire the habit. Thus the last stumbling-block in the argument disappears, and we are forced to agree with Mr. Darwin, from whom many of the above facts are taken,[96]that “it is highly probable that the domestic Dogs of the world have descended from two good species of Wolf (C. lupusandC. latrans), and from two or three other doubtful species of Wolves (namely, the European, Indian, and North African forms); from at least one or two South American Canine species; from several races or species of the Jackal; and perhaps from one or more extinct species;” and that the blood of these, “in some cases mingled together, flows in the veins of our domestic breeds.”

There is no animal so interesting as the Dog for the study of the relation between man and the lower animals in the matter of instinct, reason, conscience, and the like. As no animal has been sothoroughly domesticated, and so systematically trained and educated, so none has developed in the same degree those higher endowments which are often considered as the exclusive attributes of humanity, such as reasoning power, a sense of right and wrong, of property, and of number.

For the study of instinct, it is impossible to find an animal in any way approaching to him for interest, for not only does he exhibit, to a wonderful degree, the instincts common to all the higher animals, but almost every kind of Dog possesses some special instinct, imparted from a remote ancestor, and absent, or nearly so, in other varieties. We may instance the mode of “pointing” game peculiar to the Pointer, the marvellous power of following scent of the Bloodhound or Foxhound, and the acute generalship of the Shepherd’s Dog, who, with comparatively little teaching, guards, drives, and keeps together a whole flock of foolish animals, which, to the Dog mind, must seem intended by Providence to be worried and eaten. These special instincts we shall consider when we come to speak of the various breeds; but we must now say a few words on those instincts which are common to the whole species.

Unlike the Lion and Tiger, the male Dog takes no interest whatever in his offspring, who are taken care of during the weeks of their helplessness entirely by the mother. She, however, quite makes up for paternal neglect by the assiduity with which she tends and cares for her feeble offspring. It is one of the most touching, and, at the same time, almost amusing sights, to see a bitch with her first litter; how jealously she watches the blind, fat, slug-like little creatures. At first she will growl and snap even at her beloved master, if he approaches too near her treasures. When they have grown a little, how fussy she becomes when they are noticed; she will even drag them by the leg, one by one, upstairs, to exhibit their perfections! For several weeks this care continues, but by the time the pups have grown half as big as their mother, and can see and run about, her solicitude diminishes. She begins to quarrel with them over bones and other titbits, and, before long, takes no more notice of them than if they were the commonest stray Dogs in the street. It is this evaporation of mother-love which so distinguishes a Dog-parent from, at any rate, a great number of human parents.

Like most animals, the female Dog, if deprived of the natural objects of her affection, will lavish her care on almost any young and helpless thing with which she may be brought in contact.

Dr. Sclater,[97]whilst visiting the Zoological Gardens at Antwerp, in 1875, noticed a curious instance of the blindness of maternal love in a Dog. Among other objects of attraction were “three young Tiger-cubs, born in the Gardens on the 14th of October, 1873,” that had been “most successfully foster-mothered by a large bitch.”

We have stated that the male Dog is perfectly oblivious of his paternal duties; we have, however, met with one instance of a Dog, who, whatever may have been his qualities as a parent, discharged with great fidelity the part of guardian, and that, too, not to one of his own species, but to one of an alien and hostile race. This curious instance of canine affection was exhibited by a small male pet Spaniel, belonging to some friends of ours, who brought up a kitten. Thefood, certainly, was supplied by the family, but the brooding and tendance were done most faithfully. On warm days, the Dog would carry the kitten and lay it in the sun, choosing some snug place out of the wind, in the garden. The kitten, a female, lived to become a very beautiful Cat; but her unsuspecting innocence led to her death. Not fearing any of the Dog-kind, she made no attempts to escape from them, and was worried to death by a strange stray Dog.

One of the most striking circumstances with regard both to the general and the special instincts of the Dog, namely, those instincts common to the whole species, and those possessed by particular breeds, is the way in which they are transmitted from parent to child. The Pointer points the first time he is taken out; the Shepherd’s Dog learns his duties with astonishingly little teaching. Not only are instincts transmitted in pure breeds, but in cross-breeds the special characteristics of both parents come out with the most marvellous accuracy. “... It is known that a cross with a Bull-dog has affected for many generations the courage and obstinacy of Greyhounds; and a cross with a Greyhound has given a whole family of Shepherd-dogs a tendency to hunt Hares. Le Roy describes a Dog, whose great grandfather was a Wolf, and this Dog showed a trace of its wild parentage only in one way—by not coming in a straight line to his master when called.” The tendency to attack Poultry, Sheep, &c.,“has been found incurable in Dogs which have been brought home as puppies from countries, such as Tierra del Fuego and Australia, where the savages do not keep these domestic animals. How rarely, on the other hand, do our civilised Dogs, even when quite young, require to be taught not to attack Poultry, Sheep, and Pigs!”[98]

A most astonishing account of an inherited mental peculiarity—an instinctive dislike—is related by Dr. Huggins, to whose researches the science of astronomy owes so much. He writes:—

“I possess an English Mastiff, by name Kepler, a son of the celebrated Turk, out of Venus. I brought the Dog, when six weeks old, from the stable in which he was born. The first time I took him out, he started back in alarm at the first butcher’s shop he had ever seen. I soon found that he had a violent antipathy to butchers and butchers’ shops. When six months old, a servant took him with her on an errand. At a short distance before coming to the house she had to pass a butcher’s shop. The Dog threw himself down (being led with a string), and neither coaxing nor threats would make him pass the shop. The Dog was too heavy to be carried; and as a crowd collected, the servant had to return with the Dog more than a mile, and then go without him. This occurred about two years ago. The antipathy still continues, but the Dog will pass nearer to a shop than he formerly would. About two months ago, in a little book on Dogs published by Dean, I discovered that the same strange antipathy was shown by his father, Turk. I then wrote to Mr. Nicholls, the former owner of Turk, to ask him for any information he may have on the point. He replied—‘I can say that the same antipathy exists in King (the sire of Turk), in Punch (son of Turk, out of Meg), and in Paris (son of Turk, out of Juno). Paris has the greatest antipathy, as he would hardly go into a street where a butcher’s shop was, and would run away after passing it. When a cart with a butcher’s man came into the place where the Dogs were kept, although they could not see him, they all were ready to break their chains. A master-butcher, dressed privately, called one evening on Paris’s master to see the Dog. He had hardly entered the house before the Dog (though shut in) was so excited that he had to be put into a shed, and the butcher was forced to leave without seeing the Dog. The same Dog, at Hastings, made a spring at a gentleman who came into the hotel. The owner caught the Dog and apologised, and said he never knew him to do so before, except when a butcher came to his house. The gentleman at once said that was his business. So you see that they inherit these antipathies, and show a great deal of breed.’”[99]

A gentleman on reading this account of Dr. Huggins’s Dog, wrote to say that he possessed a son of Sybil, daughter of Turk, who possessed the family antipathy in a marked degree, and another stated that he also possessed a grandson of the redoubted Mastiff, in whom the same peculiarity was developed. Thus we see that this most remarkable instinctive dread, arising no one knows how, existed not only in Dr. Huggins’s Dog, but in his father, grandfather, brothers, and nephews! It was suggested, and it seems highly probable, that the feeling in this case first arose from the fact of some ancestor of the Turk family being ill-treated by a butcher; but it is quite possible that it may have arisen spontaneously. Boswell, in his life of Johnson, quotes the “Great Lexicographer” as attributing a similar dislike to butchers noticed in the Dogs of some savage countries, where the animal was used for food, not to horror at the butcher’s cruelty, but merely to the smell of carnage.

A very remarkabletraitin the Dog’s character, which has undoubtedly become instinctive, and is consequently transmitted from generation to generation, is his love of human society. A well cared-for Dog will always prefer his master’s company to that of his own kind, and will take any amount of trouble, and give up any amount of personal ease, that he may not be parted from him.

MASTIFF.❏LARGER IMAGE

MASTIFF.

❏LARGER IMAGE

But, undoubtedly, the most wonderful canine instinct is the sense of direction, the power possessed by so many Dogs of finding their way back to an old and well-loved home, after being forcibly removed from it to a new place of abode. Instances are numerous in which Dogs, taken from their usual habitation, shut up in a basket, or by night, or in a swift railway train, have unerringly found their way back, greatly to the surprise of both their new and their old masters. Mr. Wallace has suggested that this was not a true case of instinct, but that the Dog, in all probability, found his way back by smell; that he, as it were, takes a note of every smell he passes—a stagnant pool here, a haystack there, a wayside inn, a stable, &c. &c.—and, remembering not only the smells, but the order in which hesmelt them, he follows the scent until he arrives at his destination. There is no doubt that the Dog’s olfactory sense is wonderfully acute, but this is certainly carrying it too far. Moreover, as has been remarked, the direction of the wind was quite likely to change between the Dog’s two journeys, and if one of his odoriferous landmarks happened to be movable, like a flock of Sheep, where would he be? But the one fact which completely disposes of the smell theory of the phenomenon is, that there is no evidence of a Dog’s ever returning to his old home by the way he was taken from it; he invariably takes a different route, usually a short cut. For instance: “A Hound was sent by Charles Cobbe, Esq., from Newbridge, county Dublin, to Maynalty, county Meath, and thence, long afterwards, conveyed to Dublin. The Hound broke loose in Dublin, and the same morning made his way back to his old kennel at Newbridge, thus completing the third side of a triangle by a road he had never travelled in his life.” Again, Mr. Romanes narrates the case of a Dog who, when taken by his master from Oban to Greenock, by sea, was grievously sea-sick. The next time the journey had to be made, the Dog, remembering his former trouble, jumped off the boat and disappeared. His master continued his voyage, and was greatly surprised, when he arrived at Greenock, to find the Dog waiting for him on the wharf! The distance from Oban to Greenock is fifty miles in a straight line, and this straight course the Dog is not likely to have taken, as his way would then have lain across mountains, a lake, and an arm of the sea. Thus it would seem that the Dog must have some sort of notion of direction, must possess, as it were, a special sense of the nature of a mariner’s compass, and that, so far from his sense of locality being due in any way to power of smell, it is perhaps the most striking example of a pure instinct which it is possible to conceive.

We have not given many instances of instinct in the Dog, for it is a faculty of which no one denies the existence, but of reasoning power it is necessary to treat more fully, as many persons are disposed wholly to deny the presence of that faculty in all the lower animals, and to make it the exclusive prerogative of man. Every one who has kept a Dog must have seen it perform actions which, in a human being, would unhesitatingly be put down to reason; every one must have heard of cases in which a choice of two or more courses was presented to a Dog, and in which he has, after due reflection, chosen the best.

We are indebted to Mr. Hugh Miller, F.G.S., for a good instance of reasoning power in a Dog belonging to his brother, Captain Miller. This Dog, “Tara” by name, a Greyhound with a dash of Pointer, was one day taken out with a carriage for a run of forty miles. Now, it is estimated that a Dog, by his uncontrollable habit of “meandering,” usually goes over about three times, the ground of the horse or man he accompanies, so that on this occasion Tara must have run considerably over a hundred miles, and was in consequence rather done up when she reached home. She usually slept in the dining-room, whence she was always ejected at 7A.M.by the housemaid who cleaned the room. On this occasion, however, no amount of persuasion could induce Tara to occupy her accustomed sleeping-place; she positively insisted upon following her master upstairs to his bedroom, where she evidently expected she could remain undisturbed for a good long rest, and where she did actually remain till 2P.M.on the following day.

Another and more striking instance of the exercise of reasoning power is given in theQuarterly Journal of Sciencefor April, 1876. It is there stated that a Newfoundland Dog was “sent across a stream to fetch a couple of hats, whilst his master and friend had gone on some distance. The Dog went after them, and the gentlemen saw him attempt to carry both hats, and fail, for the two were too much for him. Presently he paused in his endeavour, took a careful survey of the hats, discovered that one was larger than the other, put the small one in the larger, and took the latter in his teeth by the brim!”

In the face of facts such as these, the question as to whether Dogs possess the power of reasoning becomes merely one of words. No one would say that a human being who did as this Dog did acted from blind instinct. One can easily call to mind several persons of one’s acquaintance, to whom it would be the height of presumption to deny the possession of reason, and who yet would never have thought of putting the hats one inside the other. It is related that the great Newton made, in his study door, a big hole for his Cat and a little one for the kitten. In doing this he showed far less exercise of reason than the Dog; and it is quite conceivable that if he had been sent to fetch the hats he would have brought them over separately! We shall give other instances of reason in the Dog when wecome to speak of conscience, cunning, revenge, &c., as exhibited by him. Any book of Dog-anecdotes will furnish the reader with many more, so that, on the whole, one is forced to the conclusion that, to prove the absence of reason in the Dog, one must argue something after this fashion:—Dogs often perform actions which, in man, would undoubtedly be attributed to reason. But man is the only member of the animal creation which possesses the reasoning faculty. Therefore, all actions in the Dog which simulate reason are, in reality, due to blind instinct. Therefore, Dogs do not possess the reasoning faculty. Which was to be demonstrated.

One of the most interesting points in the Dog’s character, and one in which many of his human masters would do well to imitate him, is his teachableness. A good Dog may be taught almost anything, no matter how difficult or distasteful, or how foreign to his nature. And not only will he learn to do anything, but to understand anything, for there can be no doubt whatever that Dogs actually do understand what is said to them, in many cases, quite irrespectively of tone or gesture. Of course, with an ordinary Dog who has received no special and systematic training, it is the tone of his master’s voice or his gestures which convey meanings to him, far more than the actual words; but with many Dogs, whose intelligence is great, and whose education has been thorough, thisacmeof culture is attained, and the animal does, undoubtedly, understand the actual words said to him. As an instance, we may mention the well-known case of “Sirrah,” the Ettrick Shepherd’s Dog, who wanted only the words “Sirrah, my man, they’re a’ awa’!” to proceed immediately in search of the missing flock. It is a matter of the commonest observation how soon even ordinary Dogs learn to understand certain words or phrases, such as “Rats!” “Cats!” “Set them off!” “Beg!” “Trust!” and so forth; and, although certainly in many of these cases tone and gesture have a great deal to do with the animal’s comprehension, yet there can be no sort of doubt that a Dog of fair intelligence learns, after a time, to recognise the words, if spoken in the most ordinary tone of voice. The following account—a truly marvellous one—illustrates not only the most perfect understanding of words, but capacity for a high degree of education, great intelligence, extensive memory, and reasoning faculties of no mean order:—

“Two fine Dogs, of the Spanish breed, were introduced by M. Léonard, with the customary Frenchpolitesse, the largest by the name of M. Philax, the other as M. Brac (or Spot). The former had been in training three, the latter two, years. They were in vigorous health, and having bowed very gracefully, seated themselves on the hearth-rug side by side. M. Léonard then gave a lively description of the means he had employed to develop the cerebral system in these animals—how, from having been fond of the chase, and ambitious of possessing the best trained Dogs, he had employed the usual course of training—how the conviction had been impressed on his mind that by gentle usage, and steady perseverance in inducing the animal to repeat again and again what was required, not only would the Dog be capable of performing that specific act, but that part of the brain which was brought into activity by the mental effort would become more largely developed, and hence a permanent increase of mental power be obtained.

“After this introduction, M. Léonard spoke to his Dogs in French, in his usual tone, and ordered one of them to walk, the other to lie down, to run, to gallop, halt, crouch, &c., which they performed as promptly and correctly as the most docile children. Then he directed them to go through the usual exercises of themanège, which they performed as well as the best trained ponies at Astley’s.

“He next placed six cards of different colours on the floor, and, sitting with his back to the Dogs, directed one to pick up the blue card, and the other the white, &c., varying his orders rapidly, and speaking in such a manner that it was impossible the Dogs could have executed his commands if they had not had a perfect knowledge of the words. For instance, M. Léonard said, ‘Philax, take the red card and give it to Brac, and, Brac, take the white card and give it to Philax.’ The Dogs instantly did this, and exchanged cards with each other. He then said, ‘Philax, put your card on the green, and Brac, put yours on the blue;’ and this was instantly performed. Pieces of bread and meat were placed on the floor, with figured cards, and a variety of directions were given to the Dogs, so as to put their intelligence and obedience to a severe test. They brought the meat, bread, or cards, as commanded, but did not attempt to eat or to touch unless ordered. Philax was then ordered to bring a piece of meat and give it to Brac, and then Brac was told to give it back to Philax, who was to return it to itsplace. Philax was next told he might bring a piece of bread and eat it; but, before he had time to swallow it, his master forbade him, and directed him to show that he had not disobeyed, and the Dog instantly protruded the crust between his lips.

“While many of the feats were being performed, M. Léonard snapped a whip violently, to prove that the animals were so completely under discipline, that they would not heed any interruption. After many other performances, M. Léonard invited a gentleman to play a game of dominoes with one of them. The younger and slighter Dog then seated himself on a chair at the table, and the writer and M. Léonard seated themselves opposite. Six dominoes were placed on their edges in the usual manner before the Dog, and a like number before the writer. The Dog, having a double number, took one up in his mouth, and put it in the middle of the table; the writer placed a corresponding piece on one side; the Dog immediately played another correctly, and so on until all the pieces were engaged. Other six dominoes were then given to each, and the writer intentionally played a wrong number. The Dog looked surprised, stared very earnestly at the writer, growled, and finally barked angrily. Finding that no notice was taken of his remonstrances, he pushed away the wrong domino with his nose, and took up a suitable one from his own pieces and placed it in its stead. The writer then played correctly; the Dog followed, and won the game. Not the slightest intimation could have been given by M. Léonard to the Dog. This mode of play must have been entirely the result of his own observation and judgment. It should be added that the performances were strictly private. The owner of the Dogs was a gentleman of independent fortune, and the instruction of his Dogs had been taken up merely as a curious and amusing investigation.”[100]

To give another instance of a Dog understanding actual words:—A woman expressed aloud a wish that a certain Cat, who plagued her greatly, was dead. Her favourite Dog went out of the house, found the Cat in the garden, and immediately slew it! This is quite a parallel case to the story of Henry II. and Thomas à Becket.

Another very unequivocal instance is given us by Mr. Hugh Miller. Pompey, a black Retriever, belonging to a lady at Morningside, Edinburgh, could not be kept because he was perpetually damaging the neighbours’ gardens. He was, therefore, sent to lodge with the family of an old servant, but there, too, he made his position untenable by fighting with the servant’s own Dog. At last, it was agreed that there was no use in trying to cure Pompey of his bad habits; he was condemned to death, and the butcher was ordered to hang him on a certain day. The children, who loved the poor beast, despite his crimes, kept throwing their arms round his neck and saying, “Oh, poor Pompey, you’re going to be hanged!” On the morning fixed for the execution Pompey disappeared, and kept clear until he imagined the storm had blown over. Another day was, therefore, fixed, but before that time the servant at whose house he was stopping mentioned Pompey’s case to a lady, who obtained a reprieve, and adopted him herself. He behaved very well with his new mistress for some time, although for a full year after his rescue he was much depressed in spirits, and wore quite a hang-dog look. But after some years, there was a general change of servants in the house, and Pompey, who disliked strangers, bit one of the new-comers. His mistress—without meaning a threat—said to him, “Oh, Pompey, you’ll be hanged after all!” whereupon Pompey decamped, and could by no means be heard of. At length, an advertisement in theScotsmanwas answered by a gentleman, who stated that an ownerless Dog, of the description given, had been caughtchanging trainsat Layton, Cumberland. Here he was detained, and, although at home rather averse to strangers, displayed at once extraordinary urbanity, and was soon a prime favourite. Evidently it was his intention to ingratiate himself with his new friends, that he might not be sent home and hanged. Subsequently, he was identified by a friend of his mistress’s who was travelling in Cumberland, and sent home. Besides illustrating a Dog’s knowledge of words, this anecdote furnishes a wonderful instance of acuteness, for this Dog knew nothing of the railway by which he travelled to Layton, except from having a short time before accompanied the cook to the station to see her off on a journey.

After finding that the Dog can understand what is said to him, one is always tempted to wish he could go one step further, and answer again, for to hear from a Dog’s own lips his opinion on “men and things” would be an entertainment of no small interest. Attempts have been made to teach Dogsto speak, but as one might imagine with very partial success. A curious account of an attempt of this kind was communicated by the great philosopher Leibnitz to the French Academy.

“A little boy, a peasant’s son, imagined that he perceived in the Dog’s voice an indistinct resemblance to certain words, and therefore took it into his head to teach him to speak. For this purpose he spared neither time nor pains with his pupil, who was about three years old when his learned education commenced, and in process of time he was able to articulate no fewer than thirty distinct words. He was, however, somewhat of a truant, and did not very willingly exert his talent, and was rather pressed than otherwise into the service of literature. It was necessary that the words should be pronounced to him each time, and then he repeated them after his preceptor. Leibnitz attests that he heard the animal talk in this way, and the French Academicians add, that unless they had received the testimony of so celebrated a person they would scarcely have dared to report the circumstance. It took place in Mesnia, in Saxony.”[101]

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