PRINCESS AUGUSTA, DAUGHTER OF GEORGEIII.PRINCESS AMELIA, DAUGHTER OF GEORGEIII.(By permission of Messrs. Macmillan & Co.)
PRINCESS AUGUSTA, DAUGHTER OF GEORGEIII.
PRINCESS AMELIA, DAUGHTER OF GEORGEIII.
(By permission of Messrs. Macmillan & Co.)
One of his predecessors, HenryIII., used to carry a daintily-lined basket suspended from his neck by a silken cord. As he languidly talked with his guests or courtiers, he would at intervals, with hands delicate as a woman’s, sparkling with rings, caress the tiny, long-haired dogs which occupied the basket.
A FAVORITE AT MARLBOROUGH HOUSE.
A FAVORITE AT MARLBOROUGH HOUSE.
LouisXIV. petted himself more than any living creature; yet he had some sympathy to spare for his numerous dogs; he even had their portraits painted, at a considerable cost; and he also, presumably, had a favorite cat—if the story in Swift’s Memoirs is one to be relied upon. This story is to the effect that during the reign of Queen Anne, a Miss Nelly Bennet, a young lady who took prestige as a great beauty, visited the French court.
She traveled in the care of witty Dr. Arbuthnot, who in a letter to the Dean, describes the outbursts of admiration that greeted his fair charge.
“She had great honours done her,” he remarks, then adds, “and the hussar himself was ordered to bring her the king’s cat to kiss.”
When this important bit of news came to be reported inEngland, a wit, now unknown, wrote a poem on the event, describing how—
“... When as Nelly came to France(Invited by her cousins),Across the Tuileries each glanceKilled Frenchmen by whole dozens.The king, as he at dinner sat,Did beckon to his hussar,And bid him bring his tabby-catFor charming Nell to buss her.”
“... When as Nelly came to France(Invited by her cousins),Across the Tuileries each glanceKilled Frenchmen by whole dozens.The king, as he at dinner sat,Did beckon to his hussar,And bid him bring his tabby-catFor charming Nell to buss her.”
“... When as Nelly came to France(Invited by her cousins),Across the Tuileries each glanceKilled Frenchmen by whole dozens.The king, as he at dinner sat,Did beckon to his hussar,And bid him bring his tabby-catFor charming Nell to buss her.”
“... When as Nelly came to France
(Invited by her cousins),
Across the Tuileries each glance
Killed Frenchmen by whole dozens.
The king, as he at dinner sat,
Did beckon to his hussar,
And bid him bring his tabby-cat
For charming Nell to buss her.”
LouisXVI. had a favorite spaniel, playful and intelligent, like all its race. It accompanied him to the prison which he was only to exchange for the scaffold, and was bequeathed by him as a last remembrance to his daughter. Through four years of imprisonment it was her only friend and companion, and when upon her release “Madame Royale” went to her relatives in Austria, it was not left behind. But when, in 1801, the royal exiles were in Warsaw, the poor little favorite fell from a balcony in the Poniatowsky Palace, and was instantly killed.
The first Napoleon cared little for any animal—except his war-horses. Cats, indeed, he detested; and of Fortune (a pet dog of the Empress Josephine) he was always jealous, and could not bear to see his wife caress it. But age, they say, brings wisdom; and in his case, it certainly brought toleration—of one dog at least. Here is the story:
The seventeen-year-old Marie Louise, who was to be his second wife, had a favorite Italian greyhound which accompanied her on her way into France. Her Austrian suite was replaced at the frontier by a French one; and at Munich her last Austrian attendant was dismissed, together with the dog—a thing never intendedby Napoleon, and only effected by intrigue. We can imagine the young girl’s grief, and can readily believe, as the historian says, that “the acquisition of a colossal empire did not console her for the loss of a little dog.”
PET SPANIEL OF LOUISXVI., COMPANION OF HISDAUGHTER “MADAME ROYALE,” IN PRISON.
PET SPANIEL OF LOUISXVI., COMPANION OF HISDAUGHTER “MADAME ROYALE,” IN PRISON.
Fortunately for all concerned, the story found its way to Napoleon. At once he rubbed his Aladdin’s lamp (an article all emperors possess), and when he met his bride a few days later at Compiègne, he led her—not to a grand state-chamber, but to a cosey room, with a strangely familiar look. Her husband was a stranger; it was a new land, a new language, and new faces everywhere. But—what was that hysterical bark and scramble that greeted her on the threshold? What was that frantic little figure bounding up into her arms? What but her own little greyhound brought there with other familiar objects from her old home, by Napoleon’s thoughtful care! She welcomed her pet with a cry of delight; then turning, thanked, with wet eyes, the husband who was no longer a stranger.
A few years later, and the wheel of fortune suddenly turned. Napoleon was an exile, and LouisXVIII. (uncle to the Prisoners of the Temple) was king. About the time when his royal brother was guillotined, there also perished a M. de Vieux Pont, whose only crime was the possession of a parrot which saidVive le roi!The bird came very near sharing the fate of its master, butcitizeness Lebon promised, if its life was spared, to teach it better sentiments, and was allowed to take it home. This happened in the Reign of Terror; but now when the Fat King reigned, a worse fate, through him, befell a parrot of Napoleonic sympathies. A dog had comforted Madame Royale in her prison; but neither she nor her uncle, when they arrived at power, had any pity for Napoleonists.
PET ITALIAN GREYHOUND OF MARIE LOUISE.
PET ITALIAN GREYHOUND OF MARIE LOUISE.
The parrot’s mistress had fled from her home in Ecouen on the approach of the Royalists, leaving the bird locked up in the closet of her room, with plenty of food and water. Now it so chanced that LouisXVIII. spent the night in Ecouen, on his way to Paris, and was lodged in this very room. In the midst of his slumbers, he was suddenly startled by a shrill cry, close to his ear, ofVive l’empereur!Nothing could be seen, yet again and again was the cry repeated. At last the poor, insulted, gouty king managed to pull the bell-rope and summon his attendants. After considerable search, they found a door behind the tapestry, and forced it open. There sat the criminal, chuckling to herself, and still shouting at intervals,Vive l’empereur!Poor Polly! her triumph was short. It wasA bas!with Napoleonists now; in a moment her neck was wrung, and a limp little feathered body bore silent witness that the Bourbons had returned.
CARLO ALBERTO AND HIS FAVORITE HORSE.(After the painting by Vernet.)
CARLO ALBERTO AND HIS FAVORITE HORSE.
(After the painting by Vernet.)
Far, far more pleasant is a story told of the young Duchesse de Berri. On the day of her marriage to Louis’ nephew, she retired to her room after the ceremony, and was supposed to be resting. After a while her husband entered. Fancy the surprise, the amusement with which he witnessed his pretty bride’s diversion. She yet wore her magnificent marriage robes—a white brocade heavily embroidered with silver, and a diamond coronet surmounted by white ostrich plumes; but the enormous train—six yards long—she had twisted several times over her arm. Thus disencumbered, she was singing blithely, and dancing to her song with a pet spaniel she had brought from Naples, and which she held by the forepaws.
VICTOR EMMANUEL AND HIS DOG.(From life photograph.)
VICTOR EMMANUEL AND HIS DOG.
(From life photograph.)
Another turn of the wheel, a few years later, seated a third Napoleon and Eugénie upon the throne. The latter was particularly fond of a Mexican parrot called Montezuma. When, in 1870, the Empire came to an end, and she fled to England, all her possessions were left behind in her hurried flight from the Tuileries. It was not until the imperial family was settled at Chiselhurst, that, remembering Montezuma, she sent a trusty attendant to France, to search for him. Almost a year passed by before he was found, exposed for sale in a shop! Then he was re-bought; he crossed the Channel in safety; a few hours more, and the ex-empresswas petting him as of old. But not as of old did he respond to her endearments, nibble the sweetmeats she offered, and say with flattering approval,Vive l’impératrice!No, all was changed. Sullenly he declined sugar, pineapple, sweet biscuit; sullenly he withdrew from her caressing touch; and sullenly at last he spoke:Vive la république!Truly the empire had passed away.
The princes of Savoy have always entertained a soldierly liking for horse and hound; and with war for their occupation, and hunting for diversion, they have had abundant opportunity to test the good qualities and friendship of these animals. There is a museum in Turin where many of their favorite horses—stuffed and mounted—are preserved. Especially interesting is the “Favorito Cavallo” of Carlo Alberto, which, according to the inscription, was his chosen mount in peace, and which bore him safely through the campaign of 1848-49. It accompanied him into exile, and finally (1866) died in Turin, at the age of thirty years.
Several horses in the museum belonged to Victor Emmanuel. This patriotic and jolly king was “innamorato dei cani,” especially of four hounds, the companions of his hunting trips. He was never so happy as when off on one of these expeditions. Often he would dismount and stretch himself on the ground beneath a tree, his horse and dogs grouped around him. Then, with a sigh of luxurious comfort, he would say: “Ouf! how happy am I here, and thus! What a beastly trade, what a pig-occupation, is this of being a king!” (Che porco mestiero è quello di fare il Re!)
And again: “How well off should I be if I only always could live quietly, at ease among these friends!” patting, as he spoke, first one dog, then another. Poor king! he had given a United Italy to his people; to himself he could grant few hours of ease.