Voices for the Speechless Part 32

CUVIER ON THE DOG.

"The domestic dog," says Cuvier, "is the most complete, the most singular, and the most useful conquest that man has gained in the animal world. The whole species has become our property; each individual belongs entirely to his master, acquires his disposition, knows and defends his property, and remains attached to him until death; and all this, not through constraint or necessity, but purely by the influences of grat.i.tude and real attachment. The swiftness, the strength, the sharp scent of the dog, have rendered him a powerful ally to man against the lower tribes; and were, perhaps, necessary for the establishment of the dominion of mankind over the whole animal creation. The dog is the only animal which has followed man over the whole earth."

A HINDOO LEGEND.

In the Mahabharata, one of the two great Hindoo poems, and of unknown antiquity, there is a recognition of the obligation of man to a dependent creature not surpa.s.sed in pathos in all literature.

We copy only such portions of the legend as bear upon this point.

The hero, Yudhistthira, leaves his home to go to Mount Meru, among the Himalayas, to find Indra's heaven and the rest he so much desired; and with him,

"The five brothers set forth, and Draupadi, and the seventh was a dog that followed them."

On the way the Princess Draupadi perished, and, after her, one brother after another, until all had died, and the hero reached his journey's end accompanied only by his dog.

Lo! suddenly, with a sound which rang through heaven and earth, Indra came riding on his chariot, and he cried to the king, "Ascend!"

_Then_, indeed, did the lord of justice look back to his fallen brothers, And thus unto Indra he spoke, with a sorrowful heart: "Let my brothers, who yonder lie fallen, go with me; Not even unto thy heaven would I enter, if they were not there.

And yon fair-faced daughter of a king, Draupadi the all-deserving, Let _her_ too enter with us! O Indra, approve my prayer!"

INDRA.

In heaven thou shalt find thy brothers,--they are already there before thee; There are they all, with Draupadi; weep not, then, O son of Bharata!

Thither have they entered, prince, having thrown away their mortal weeds; But thou alone shalt enter still wearing thy body of flesh.

YUDHISTTHIRA.

O Indra, and what of this dog? It hath faithfully followed me through; Let it go with me into heaven, for my soul is full of compa.s.sion.

INDRA.

Immortality and fellows.h.i.+p with me, and the height of joy and felicity, All these hast thou reached to-day; leave, then, the dog behind thee.

YUDHISTTHIRA.

The good may oft act an evil part, but never a part like this; Away, then, with that felicity whose price is to abandon the faithful!

INDRA.

My heaven hath no place for dogs; they steal away our offerings on earth: Leave, then, thy dog behind thee, nor think in thy heart that it is cruel.

YUDHISTTHIRA.

To abandon the faithful and devoted is an endless crime, like the murder of a Brahmin; Never, therefore, come weal or woe, will I abandon yon faithful dog.

_Yon poor creature, in fear and distress, hath trusted in my power to save it: Not, therefore, for e'en life itself will I break my plighted word._

INDRA.

If a dog but beholds a sacrifice, men esteem it unholy and void; Forsake, then, the dog, O hero, and heaven is thine own as a reward.

Already thou hast borne to forsake thy fondly loved brothers, and Draupadi; Why, then, forsakest thou not the dog? Wherefore now fails thy heart?

YUDHISTTHIRA.

Mortals, when they are dead, are dead to love or hate,--so runs the world's belief; I could not bring them back to life, but while they lived I never left them.

To oppress the suppliant, to kill a wife, to rob a Brahmin, and to betray one's friend, These are the four great crimes; and _to forsake a dependent I count equal to them_.

ALGER'S _Oriental Poetry_.

ULYSSES AND ARGUS.

This story, from the Odyssey, is also of an unknown antiquity. Ulysses, after many years of absence, returns to his home to find himself unrecognized by his family. With Eumaeus Ulysses walked about the familiar grounds:

Thus near the gates conferring as they drew, Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew; He, not unconscious of the voice and tread, Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head; Bred by Ulysses, nourished at his board, But, ah! not fated long to please his lord!

To him, his swiftness and his strength were vain; The voice of glory called him o'er the main.

Till then, in every sylvan chase renowned, With Argus, Argus, rung the woods around: With him the youth pursued the goat or fawn, Or traced the mazy leveret o'er the lawn; Now left to man's ingrat.i.tude he lay, Unhoused, neglected in the public way.

He knew his lord: he knew, and strove to meet; In vain he strove to crawl, and kiss his feet; Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes.

Salute his master, and confess his joys.

Soft pity touched the mighty master's soul; Adown his cheek a tear unhidden stole, Stole unperceived: he turned his head and dried The drop humane: then thus impa.s.sioned cried:

"What n.o.ble beast in this abandoned state Lies here all helpless at Ulysses' gate?

His bulk and beauty speak no vulgar praise: If, as he seems, he was in better days, Some care his age deserves; or was he prized For worthless beauty? therefore now despised: Such dogs and men there are, mere things of state, And always cherished by their friends the great."

Not Argus so (Eumaeus thus rejoined), But served a master of a n.o.bler kind, Who never, never, shall behold him more!

Long, long since perished on a distant sh.o.r.e!

Oh, had you seen him, vigorous, bold, and young, Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong: Him no fell savage on the plain withstood, None 'scaped him bosomed in the gloomy wood; His eye how piercing, and his scent how true, To wind the vapor in the tainted dew!

Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast: Now years unnerve him, and his lord is lost.

_Odyssey, Pope's translation._

TOM.