In Switzerland, c1875 a very special little dog had his photograph taken. His name was Minos and he belonged to Madame Hager. I could write at length about this little dog, but he is best summed up by detailed descriptions of him that appeared is newspapers of the time - from
Spectator in London to as far afield as Christchurch, New Zealand's
Star.
"Minos" is
like a Skye of the long-haired, silky kind, only that he turns his
little feathered fore-paws out in an odd way, which reminds one of the
hands of certain lecturers when they are emphatic ; his large brown eyes
are inquiring, serious, and closely attentive ; his little black nose
twitches with a variety of expressions very curious to observe, as the
several problems of his arithmetical examination are presented to him ;
and to see him lift his head with a sharp air of questioning, and
slightly shake it when be has been answered to his satisfaction, is the
prettiest and quaintest sight possible.
He was deposited on a large
table by his mistress, and mildly regarded so many of the company as
were within easy reach, but he betrayed no vulgar curiosity, while he
waited until Madame Hager's preparations were complete. She conversed
with him cheerfully, as she arranged a number of cards bearing the
numerals 1, 2, 3, and so on, and several double figures. With a gentle
shake of one paw, the little creature began his "exercises." He picked
out a dozen cards in succession, named by various persons among the
audience, the number being distinctly repeated to him by his mistress,
and then she asked any one present to name a sum in addition which
"Minos," who had just brought the card marked 6 in his mouth to her,
should work. A lady said, "Let him add 12 to it." " Ajoute dome,
'Minos,' cherche, apporte !" He gave his mistress a long look, twitched
his nose, ambled gently over the spread cards, without displacing them,
and presently returned, carrying in his mouth the card marked 18.
Every one wanted to know "how it was done," few were
contented to receive Madame Hager's assurance that the feat is
entirely one of memory, when "Minos" picks out an individual among the
royal and princely personages of Europe (he even crosses the Line in
favour of the Seyyid of Zanzibar) at the re- quest of any member of the
audience. A favourite theory was that Madame Hager conveyed an
indication to him by changes of voice in repeating the name after the
chance nominator. But even if it were so, that would be a more
surprising exercise of memory, because it would require its employment
on count- less inflexions of one voice, and the connection of them with
the pictures, of which he is said to recognise four hundred. He picked
out twenty-five without any difficulty, and when the titles of the Queen
of England and the Princess of Wales were changed to "the august mama"
and the "august wife" of the Prince of Wales (who is a special patron of
"Minos ;" indeed, he came to London at the express invitation of His
Royal Highness), he found the portraits just as readily. The spectacle
was a charming one, not only because of the extraordinary sagacity and
memory of the little performer, but because of something exquisitely
gentle, trustful, and loving in his look and movements which went to
people's hearts.
Minos was born in Vienna in 1870, the weakest of three pups he was adopted by Madame Hager's only daughter Marie. She had a strong affinity for
animals, and a peculiar talent for teaching dogs.
He first tecnique was to perpetually talk to them, and she adopted it at once with Minos. From the very moment Marie took Minos under her wing it is said "she had no companion except the dog ; he was her doll, her play- fellow,
her confidant ; she talked to him incessantly, and about everything ;
she showed him everything, she took him everywhere ; her friends were
his friends ; she educated him to his present pitch of erudition, and
taught him one accomplishment which he has since lost, or perhaps
declines to practise (who can tell the mystery of the doggish heart?)"
Sadly Marie died of consumption. The despair of
the dog when the girl's coffin was removed was terrible. He had not left
her side for a moment, and no one had the heart to take him away, when,
after desperate efforts to warm and waken her, he lay down by her,
moaning, and cried himself to sleep.
After a while, he came to love the girl's mother with something
of the same intensity ; but it is an added, not a transferred,
affection.
Let us sum up Minos with the words of Madame Hager:
So many people ask me, What is your secret?' I have no secret, except that I love dogs, and they love me. Minos' never leaves me ; I tell him
everything I think and feel, all joys and all troubles ; he knows my
thoughts ; we are only two, in England, and I never hurt him by keeping
silence. He never rehearses ; it is needless. He has no fear of any one
or anything, for he never had a harsh word spoken or a finger raised to
him in his life. There's no secret, except the truth that men will not
see ; that you can do anything with a dog, if you only make him the
friend and companion he wants to be.
The reverse of the photograph mount
Sources:
