Recollections of Dante Gabriel Rossetti and his Circle/Chapter 5

by Henry Treffry Dunn

CHAPTER V.

Rossetti's "pets"—The poetry-loving racoon—The disreputable armadillos—The quarrelsome kangaroos—The noisy peacock—The curious deer—The morose parrot.

An hour or two of daylight yet remained, and so we sallied out into the garden to see Rossetti's pets, or his animals rather, as it would be wrong to describe them as pets. Experience of Rossetti, and close intercourse with him, led me to the conclusion that the Poet-painter had not any great love for animals, nor knew much about their habits. It was simply a passion he had for collecting, just as he had for books, pictures and china, which impelled him to convert his house into a sort of miniature South Kensington Museum and Zoo combined. His collection of queer, outlandish creatures was mostly kept in a series of wire-woven, outhouse compartments, located in one portion of the garden. In one of them I noticed a large packing-case covered over by a heavy slab of Sicilian marble. My curiosity led me to enquire of Rossetti what it contained, when he told me there was a racoon inside. On hearing that I had never seen such a creature, he asked me to help him remove the stone, and then, to my astonishment, he put his hand in quickly, seized the "coon" by the scruff of its neck, hauled it out, and held it up, in a plunging, kicking, teeth-showing state for me to look at, remarking—"Does it not look like a devil?" to which I agreed. It seemed to me a most dangerous creature to tackle, and I would not have held it as he did upon any consideration.

This beast gave a world of trouble and annoyance by constantly escaping. At one time it suddenly disappeared, and no one knew what had become of it until there came a letter from a lady, who lived some doors away, containing a bill for eggs destroyed by the "coon," which had made its way regularly down a chimney into her henroost! With some difficulty it was captured, and once more put back into what appeared safe keeping, but ere a few weeks had elapsed it was out again on the warpath. This time no trace could be found of it, until the necessity arose of looking up a lot of Rossetti's manuscript poetry, lying in the bottom drawer of the massive Elizabethan wardrobe, when, to my surprise, I found the manuscript gnawed into little bits! The "coon" had been hiding there all the while, prowling about the house at night in search of food. This accounted for certain mysterious noises which had occurred in the dark hours of the night—sounds, as it were, of a faint, flat footfall up and down the stairs, which to the housekeeper, who had just lost her husband and was in a chronically hysterical state, seemed to be that of his ghost! Eventually the troublesome creature had to be sent back to Jamrach, the great animal importer of Liverpool, from whom it was purchased originally.

There were two other curiosities—a pair of armadillos which, under the idea that they were harmless, had the run of the garden. They, too, seemed to have caught the contagion for mischief. Now and then our neighbour's garden would be found to have large heaps of earth thrown up, and some of his choicest plants lying waste over the beds. This was the work of the armadillos. As in the racoon escapades, letters of complaint were received, and so baits were laid for the pests in the form of bits of beef saturated with prussic acid. The beef disappeared, and so, it was hoped, had the armadillos; but no—after about three months they reappeared in a sadly mangy and out-at-elbows state; they had evidently shed their scales during their absence, and new ones were forming. I suppose that after taking the dose of poison, feeling the worse for it, they must have betaken themselves to a hospital, and were just discharged as convalescent. Very soon after their return, I am sorry to say they slid back into their old mischievous habits, and at last had to be made over to the Zoological Gardens, where no doubt they were better guarded.

Amongst this curious collection of odd animals were a couple of kangaroos—mother and son. As far as my observation went, I do not think they lived on very good terms with each other. At any rate, the mother was found dead one morning, murdered by her bloodthirsty son. There must have been an unusually fierce quarrel over family matters in the night, with this as a consequence. Nemesis, however, overtook the wicked son, for he also was found dead in his cage some few days after, but whether he committed suicide through remorse, or whether the racoon, who was strongly suspected, polished him off, was an open verdict.

When I first became acquainted with Rossetti, he had a peacock, a troublesome creature, which gave great annoyance to the neighbours by its continual shrill trumpetings. The complaints received were so numerous that the bird had to be got rid of, and a clause was introduced into the leases of Lord Cadogan's property, that no peacocks should be kept in the gardens of his tenants!

Before these complaints were made, a fallow deer was added to the collection—a graceful, beautiful creature, which, from its first introduction to the garden evinced the greatest curiosity in regard to the peacock. Perhaps it was the feeling of surprise experienced by the animal at the peacock continually displaying its gorgeous tail, which induced it to follow the bird up and down the garden, and eventually to stamp out every feather the tail of the poor thing possessed.

Amongst the indoor pets was a singularly wicked and morose parrot. Its sole delight seemed to be to get visitors to stroke its head, and then, without any warning, suddenly to fasten upon their fingers and finish up with a sly, low chuckle. Now and then the parrot would utter quite apropos sentences in the most unexpected manner. One Sunday morning, I recollect, Rossetti was sitting in his lounge chair, and warming his feet. The bells from the neighbouring church of S. Luke were in full swing. For some time the parrot had been unusually silent, when all of a sudden it broke the silence with the exclamation, "You ought to be in church now!" It is possible the servants had taught it this speech, but, at any rate, it gave Rossetti great amusement, and he was never tired of relating the story to his friends.