Gilpin's Love of the Picturesque carried out.—A Reason for keeping Three Cows.
Lord Sidmouth told the Rev. C. Smith Bird that he was partly educated at Cheam, by Mr Gilpin, the author of many volumes on "Picturesque Scenery." He was but a poor scholar, but seems to have been loved by his pupils. He carried out his regard for the picturesque, as would appear by the following anecdote[275]—
"In visiting the Rev. Mr Gilpin at his house in the New Forest on one occasion, his lordship observed three cows feeding in a small paddock, which he knew to be all that Mr Gilpin had to feed them in. He asked Mr Gilpin how he came to have so many cows when he had so little land? 'The truth is,' said he, 'I found one cow would not do—she went dry.'—'Well,' said Lord Sidmouth, 'but why not be content with another? Two, by good management, might be made to supply you constantly with milk.'—'Oh, yes,' said the old gentleman, 'but two would not group.'"
King James on a Cow getting over the Border.
In the "Life of Bernard Gilpin," his biographer refers to the inhabitants of the Borders being such great adepts in the art of thieving, that they could twist a cow's horn, or mark a horse, so as its owners could not know it, and so subtle that no vigilance could watch against them. A person telling King James a surprising story of a cow that had been driven from the north of Scotland into the south of England, and escaping from the herd had found her way home; "The most surprising part of the story," the king replied, "you lay least stress on—that she passed unstolen through the debateable land."[276]
Duke of Montague and his Hospital for old Cows and Horses.
The Rev. Joseph Spence[277] records that "the Duke of Montague has an hospital for old cows and horses; none of his tenants near Boughton dare kill a broken-winded horse; they must bring them all to the reservoir. The duke keeps a lap-dog, the ugliest creature he could meet with; he is always fond of the most hideous, and says he was at first kind to them, because nobody else would be."
Philip IV. of Spain in the Bull-ring.
This king, whose form and features are so well known from the pictures of Velasquez, was entertained magnificently by his great favourite Olivares, in 1631. At this festival, which was in honour of the birthday of the heir apparent, the sports of ancient Rome were renewed in the bull-ring of Spain. In his life by Mr Stirling,[278] it is recorded that "a lion, a tiger, a bear, a camel—in fact, a specimen of every procurable wild animal, or, as Quevedo expressed it in a poetical account of the spectacle, 'the whole ark of Noah, and all the fables of Æsop,' were turned loose into the spacious Plaza del Parque, to fight for the mastery of the arena. To the great delight of his Castilian countrymen, a bull of Xarama vanquished all his antagonists. The 'bull of Marathon, which ravaged the country of Tetrapolis,' says the historian of the day, 'was not more valiant; nor did Theseus, who slew and sacrificed him, gain greater glory than did our most potent sovereign. Unwilling that a beast which had behaved so bravely should go unrewarded, his majesty determined to do him the greatest favour that the animal himself could have possibly desired, had he been gifted with reason—to wit, to slay him with his own royal hand! Calling for his fowling-piece, he brought it instantly to his shoulder, and the flash and report were scarcely seen and heard ere the mighty monster lay a bleeding corpse before the transported lieges. Yet not a moment,' continues the chronicler, 'did his majesty lose his wonted serenity, his composure of countenance, and becoming gravity of aspect; and but for the presence of so great a concourse of witnesses, it was difficult to believe that he had really fired the noble and successful shot.'"