The Dog | Page 9

at the celestial forge.
Pliny states that a dog of enormous magnitude was sent as a present by the king of Albania to Alexander the Great when on his march to India; and "that this monarch being delighted at the sight of so huge and fair a dog, let loose unto him first bears, then wild boars, and lastly fallow deer, all of which animals he took no notice of, but remained perfectly unconcerned. This great warrior being a man of high spirit and wonderful courage, was greatly displeased at the apparent cowardice and want of energy in so powerful an animal, and ordered him to be slain. This news was speedily carried to the king of Albania, who thereupon sent unto him a second dog, stating that he should not make trial of his courage with such insignificant animals, but rather with a lion or elephant, and if he destroyed this one also, he need not expect to obtain any other of this breed, as these two were all he possessed.
Tanta: suis petiere ultra fera semina sylvis, Dat Venus accessus, et blando foedere jungit. Tunc et mansuetis tuto ferus erat adulter In stabulis, ultroque gravis succedere tigrim Ausa canis, majore tulit de sanguine foetum.
'Gratii Falisci Cyneget.,' liv. 1. v. 160.
Alexander being much surprised, made immediate preparations for a trial, and soon saw the lion prostrate, with his back broken, and his body torn in pieces by the noble dog. Then he ordered an elephant to be produced; and in no fight did he take more pleasure than in this. For the dog, with his long, rough, shaggy hair, that covered his whole body, rushed with open mouth, barking terribly, and thundering, as it were, upon the elephant. Soon after he leaps and flies upon him, advancing and retreating, now on one side, now on the other, maintaining an ingenious combat; at one time assailing him with all vigour, at another shunning him. So actively did he continue this artificial warfare, causing the huge beast to turn around so frequently on every side to avoid his attacks, that he ultimately came down with a crash that "made the earth tremble with his fall". Book viii. chap. 40.
The Molossian dogs were at a later period much esteemed by the Romans as watch dogs, not only of their dwellings, but also to guard their flocks against the incursions of wild animals. Horace, in the following lines, passes a just tribute to the worth of this animal, when referring to his watchfulness, and the ardour with which he pursues those wild animals, even 'per altas nives,' that threaten the flocks entrusted to his care.
"Quid immerentes, hospites vexas canis, Ignarus adversum lupos? Quin huc inanes, si potes, vertis minas, Et me remorsurum petis? Nam, qualis aut Molossus, aut fulvus Lacon, Amica vis pastoribus, Agam per altas aure sublata nives, Quaecunpue praecedet fera."
'Epode' vi.--L.]
?lian relates that one of them, and his owner, so much distinguished themselves at the battle of Marathon, that the effigy of the dog was placed on the same tablet with that of his master.
Soon after Britain was discovered, the 'pugnaces' of Epirus were pitted against those of our island, and, according to the testimony of Gratius, completely beaten. A variety of this class, but as large and as ferocious, was employed to guard the sheep and cattle, or to watch at the door of the house, or to follow the owner on any excursion of business or of pleasure. Gratius says of these dogs, that they have no pretensions to the deceitful commendation of form; but, at the time of need, when courage is required of them, most excellent mastiffs are not to be preferred to them.
The account of the British 'pugnaces' of former times, and also of the 'sagaces' and 'celeres', will be best given when treating of their present state and comparative value. In describing the different breeds of dogs, some anecdotes will be related of their sagacity and fidelity; a few previous remarks, however, may be admissible.
A young man lost his life by falling from one of the precipices of the Helvellyn mountains. Three months afterwards his remains were discovered at the bottom of a ravine, and his faithful dog, almost a skeleton, still guarding them. Sir Walter Scott beautifully describes the scene:
Dark-green was the spot, 'mid the brown mountain heather, Where the pilgrim of nature lay stretched in decay; Like the corpse of an outcast, abandoned to weather, Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless clay; Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended, For, faithful in death, his mute favourite attended, The much loved remains of her master defended, And chased the hill-fox and the raven away. How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber? When the wind waved his garments, how oft didst thou start?