On May 21, 1846, three Highland dwarfs performed their national dances, and sang at Buckingham Palace before the Queen, Prince Albert, and the Duchess of Kent; and in 1848 a dwarf, called Admiral Van Tromp, was patronised by her Majesty, Prince Albert, the Duchess of Kent, the Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, the Prince and Princess of Parma, the Prince of Orange, and the King and Queen of Holland. And lastly, in 1853, the two Aztec children appeared before the Queen, Prince Albert, and the Prince of Wales at Buckingham Palace; and subsequently before the Emperor Napoleon and his family at the Tuileries, the Emperors of Austria and Russia, the Kings and Queens of Prussia, Bavaria, Holland, Hanover, and Denmark, and other illustrious personages.
CHAPTER XV
ROYAL PETS
It has often been remarked that persons of the most rough and unfeeling disposition have displayed extraordinary tenderness towards their favourite animals, illustrations of which are of frequent occurrence in the pages of history. And perhaps one of the most touching pictures of animal love is that given by Homer, who tells how, unrecognised by his wife, the way-worn monarch Ulysses, though disguised in squalid rags, is at once remembered by his noble hound, even in the last moments of existence. Cautioned by his guide at the palace entrance of the wrong and insult he might encounter, Ulysses pauses at the door, but only to see his faithful dog perishing in want, misery, and neglect, yet still remembering his long-lost master, and making one final effort of expiring nature to give a sign of joy at his return:—
“The dog, whom Fate had granted to behold
His lord, when twenty tedious years had rolled,
Takes a last look, and having seen him—dies;
So clos’d for ever faithful Argus’ eyes.”
It has been remarked that dogs, like men, have their different ranks, and that “Fortune showers her gifts among them with just as uneven a hand as she uses when busying herself with their masters:—
“Some wake to the world’s wine, honey, and corn,
Whilst others, like Colchester natives, are born
To its vinegar only, and pepper.”
Thus, during the middle ages the greyhound came in for such stars and blue ribands as are to be enjoyed in the canine world. A certain breed of them had the privilege of appearing with their masters whenever they pleased in the presence of the Emperor Charlemagne; and as a mark of this privilege the hound’s right paw was closely shaven, “a less oppressive distinction,” it has been remarked,[111] “than the richly damasked corselets and back-plates which were fastened about the best greyhounds when about to take part in the boar-hunt.”
In this country animals have in many cases shared the fame of their royal owners, and many an interesting anecdote has been handed down of pets that, through their associations with the Court, have gained a place in history.
Henry I.’s love of animals induced him to form an extensive menagerie at Woodstock during the life of his first queen, Matilda of Scotland, who was in all probability well acquainted with natural history. It was the first zoological collection ever seen in this country, and it is thus described by Stowe: “The King craved from other kinges lions, leopards, lynxes, and camels, and other curious beasts of which England hath none. Among others there was a strange animal called a stryx or porcupine, sent him by William of Montpelier, which beast,” he adds, “is among the Africans counted as a kind of hedgehog, covered with pricking bristles, which they shoot out naturally on the dogs that pursue them.” But Henry’s second wife, Adelicia of Louvaine, evidently knew nothing of zoology previous to her marriage; but in order to adapt herself to his pursuits, she turned her attention to that study, for Philippe de Thuan wrote a work on the nature of animals for her special edification, thus alluding to the personal charms of his royal patroness in his dedication:—