< Abnormal Spectres of Wolves, Dogs and Other Animals (continued from page 5-65) >
Another still stranger story was related to me last year by a Russian lady, the Princess * * *, and corroborated by her confidential maid, an old Englishwoman, Jane, who has now been staying with her for more than twenty years. I have no doubt whatever of the truth of their assertions. Some twelve or fifteen years ago, during a visit to Paris, the Princess, who was then a young, beautiful, and very elegant woman, had made a deep impression on a French gentleman, with whom she in the end fell desperately in love. Very soon, however, they were forced to part, the Princess being suddenly obliged to start for Russia. She arrived at Moscow in great despondency, followed only by her faithful Jane, who tried in vain to soothe her. On the first day of her arrival, having paid some visits, the Princess returned home, and found lying, on one of her pelisses in the anteroom, a nice little Havanese dog, which jumped at her in a wild paroxysm of joy, whimpering, coaxing, and following her step by step, without allowing any one else to approach. She had at first tried to turn it out, but it kept on barking, howling, and scratching at the door, until finally it was let in again. From that day it became its mistress’s inseparable companion, showing her a matchless affection, and growling and gnashing its teeth at anybody else, except Jane. Both she and the Princess swore to me that from the very first moment they had been struck—nearly awed—by a vague resemblance between the dog’s face and that of the French gentleman, whom I will call X—. The eyes especially, of an exceptional blue colour, seemed strangely identical, and had the same fond, thoughtful look. Relata refero.
Fearing the gossip and comments of her nearer acquaintances and relations, the Princess had given to X— an address away from her house, where his letters and telegrams were to be sent, and where Jane regularly went to fetch them. Every time a new missive arrived, the dog gave great signs of disturbance and rapture, jumping about, barking, and seeming to read in the eyes of his mistress the impression produced. Once she was driving in her sledge in the direction of the aforesaid private post-office, without supposing anything to be waiting for her there, as she had already received one letter that morning. As they approached the house, the dog, which had been quietly asleep in her pelisse, began to fidget about, and to try to escape, till at last, on passing the spot, it barked so furiously and made such desperate efforts to jump at the coachman, as if to stop him, that the Princess at last ordered him to turn back and wait before the house, where, to her amazement, she found a telegram just arrived.
Several months passed. X—’s letters became rarer and cooler. At last she accidentally heard that he was very busy in Paris paying court to a rich heiress. She went to bed that night in a great fit of sadness and anger. Being afraid to sleep alone, she always had Jane with her, in a bed close to her own. The doors were always locked, like those of a fortress. Neither of them could go to sleep under so painful an impression. They kept on talking, the Princess abusing X—, and Jane trying to soothe her by speaking in his defence, The discussion grew warmer, until the Princess, losing her temper, exclaimed, “I will hear nothing more of him! Devil take him!” At that instant the dog, which had been lying seemingly asleep on his mistress’s bed, gave a dismal howl, jumped to the floor, and was never seen more, notwithstanding that they, after having searched the locked room, even in its most hidden recesses, had, on the following morning, caused the whole house to be turned upside down in the endeavour to find the animal. The police were set in motion, rewards were offered in the newspapers, but all in vain—the dog seemed to have evaporated! Unfortunately, the Princess finished by consoling herself, so has never since met X—, whom she has quite lost sight of. Thus it has been impossible for me to ascertain whether or not he knew anything about this strange matter, and whether some mysterious link really existed between him and his canine double.
Explain all this who may, I am no match for the problem, I only regret that I do not possess Mr. Reimers’ Sympathetic and amusing pen, which would have rendered this strange story much more interesting to your readers than my foreign one has been able to do.
At all events, I suppose that if spirits can—as we know they can—momentarily assume the palpable and visible shapes of human beings, they may also, by congregating seme of the floating atoms from the animal organisms which perhaps surround us in even greater profusion than those from men, give the appearance of life also to animal shapes.
And with this, my dear Mr. Harrison, believe me, truly yours,
Vevey, Switzerland, June 1st, 1876.
The Grasshopper and the Ant
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Editor's notes