Daniel Maclise.He was here a year or twa ago, just before his death, doing some commission, and often had his tea in my bit place.I told him Bobby's story, and he made the sketch for me as a souvenir of his veesit.""I am sure you prize it, Mr.Traill.Mr.Maclise was a talented artist, but he was not especially an animal painter.There really is no one since Landseer paints no more.""I would advise you, Baroness, not to make that remark at an Edinburgh dinner-table." Glenormiston was smiling."The pride of Auld Reekie just now is Mr.Gourlay Stelle, who was lately commanded to Balmoral Castle to paint the Queen's dogs.""The very person! I have seen his beautiful canvas--'Burns and the Field Mouse.' Is he not a younger brother of Sir John Stelle, the sculptor of the statue and character figures in the Scott monument?" Her eyes sparkled as she added: "You have so much talent of the right, sorts here that it would be wicked not to employ it in the good cause."What "the good cause" was came out presently, in the church, where she startled even Glenormiston and Mr.Traill by saying quietly to the minister and the church officers of Greyfriars auld kirk: "When Bobby dies I want him laid in the grave with his master."Every member of both congregations knew Bobby and was proud of his fame, but no official notice had ever been taken of the little dog's presence in the churchyard.The elders and deacons were, in truth, surprised that such distinguished attention should be directed to him now, and they were embarrassed by it.It was not easy for any body of men in the United Kingdom to refuse anything to Lady Burdett-Coutts, because she could always count upon having the sympathy of the public.But this, they declared, could not be considered.To propose to bury a dog in the historic churchyard would scandalize the city.To this objection Glenormiston said, seriously: "The feeling about Bobby is quite exceptional.I would be willing to put the matter to the test of heading a petition."At that the church officers threw up their hands.They preferred to sound public sentiment themselves, and would consider it.But if Bobby was permitted to be buried with his master there must be no notice taken of it.Well, the Heriot laddies might line up along the wall, and the tenement bairns look down from the windows.Would that satisfy her ladyship?
"As far as it goes." The Grand Leddy was smiling, but a little tremulous about the mouth.
That was a day when women had little to say in public, and she meant to make a speech, and to ask to be allowed to do an unheard-of thing.
"I want to put up a monument to the nameless man who inspired such love, and to the little dog that was capable of giving it.Ah gentlemen, do not refuse, now." She sketched her idea of the classic fireplace bier, the dead shepherd of the Pentlands, and the little prostrate terrier."Immemorial man and his faithful dog.Our society for the prevention of cruelty to animals is finding it so hard to get people even to admit the sacredness of life in dumb creatures, the brutalizing effects of abuse of them on human beings, and the moral and practical worth to us of kindness.To insist that a dog feels, that he loves devotedly and with less calculation than men, that he grieves at a master's death and remembers him long years, brings a smile of amusement.Ah yes! Here in Scotland, too, where your own great Lord Erskine was a pioneer of pity two generations ago, and with Sir Walter's dogs beloved of the literary, and Doctor Brown's immortal 'Rab,' we find it uphill work.
"The story of Greyfriars Bobby is quite the most complete and remarkable ever recorded in dog annals.His lifetime of devotion has been witnessed by thousands, and honored publicly, by your own Lord Provost, with the ******* of the city, a thing that, I believe, has no precedent.All the endearing qualities of the dog reach their height in this loyal and lovable Highland terrier; and he seems to have brought out the best qualities of the people who have known him.Indeed, for fourteen years hundreds of disinherited children have been made kinder and happier by knowing Bobby's story and having that little dog to love."She stopped in some embarrassment, seeing how she had let herself go, in this warm championship, and then she added:
"Bobby does not need a monument, but I think we need one of him, that future generations may never forget what the love of a dog may mean, to himself and to us."The Grand Leddy must have won her plea, then and there, but for the fact that the matter of erecting a monument of a public character anywhere in the city had to come up before the Burgh council.In that body the stubborn opposition of a few members unexpectedly developed, and, in spite of popular sympathy with the proposal, the plan was rejected.Permission was given, however, for Lady Burdett-Coutts to put up a suitable memorial to Bobby at the end of George IV Bridge, and opposite the main gateway to the kirkyard.
For such a public place a tomb was unsuitable.What form the memorial was to take was not decided upon until, because of two chance happenings of one morning, the form of it bloomed like a flower in the soul of the Grand Leddy.
She had come down to the kirkyard to watch the artist at work.Morning after morning he had sketched there.He had drawn Bobby lying down, his nose on his paws, asleep on the grave.He had drawn him sitting upon the table-tomb, and standing in the begging attitude in which he was so irresistible.But with every sketch he was dissatisfied.
Bobby was a trying and deceptive subject.He had the air of curiosity and gaiety of other terriers.He saw no sense at all in keeping still, with his muzzle tipped up or down, and his tail held just so.He brushed all that unreasonable man's suggestions aside as quite unworthy of consideration.
