It is to be hoped that the animal scale of morality is not so low that
when a brute acts honestly it does so only because honesty is the best
policy. There are many instances known of animals acting honestly, when
the slightest promptings of instinct would have shown that it was more
politic to act otherwise. Self-denial and self-sacrifice have been
frequently needed of animals, and in the hour of temptation they have
not succumbed. Neither fear, nor pain, nor the cravings of hunger have
sufficed to deter many noble members of the brute world from their
sense of duty. Quite recently the Canadian papers reported an anecdote
of canine fidelity which, had it been told of a Roman soldier or a
Hindu nurse, would have been bruited throughout the civilised world as
an instance of humanity’s supremest devotion to duty. The story as told
to us is, that when nearing Montreal, the engine-driver of a train saw
a great dog standing on the track and barking furiously. The driver
blew his whistle; yet the hound did not budge, but crouching low, was
struck by the locomotive and killed. Some pieces of white muslin on
the engine attracted the driver’s notice; he stopped the train and
went back. Beside the dead dog was a dead child which, it is supposed,
had wandered on to the track and had gone to sleep. The poor watchful
guardian had given its signal for the train to stop; but unheeded, had
died at its post, a victim to duty.
This is no solitary specimen of canine integrity. The author of _Salad
for the Social_ tells of a dog whose master deposited a bag in one
of the narrow streets of Southampton, and left his dog to guard it,
with strict injunctions not to leave it. The faithful creature was so
staunch in the fulfilment of duty, that rather than forsake its trust,
it actually allowed a heavy cart to drive over it and crush it to death.
It is not merely momentary impulse, nor ignorance of the effects of
this steadfastness—as some may imagine—that prompts animals to act thus
faithfully; there are numerous cases on record to prove that they will
sustain hunger, endure pain and fatigue, and withstand temptation, at
the dictates of duty, as gallantly as any human being. Youatt is the
authority for the following remarkable instance of canine integrity.
An officer returning from a day’s shooting deposited his spoil in a
certain room, in the custody of his dogs. Mechanically he locked the
door, put the key in his pocket, and departed. Soon afterwards, he was
called away upon urgent business, and during his absence of several
days, forgot all about his game and the dogs. When he returned home,
he hastened to the room, and there found both dogs dead of hunger. Not
only had they refrained from touching the game, but they had also kept
quiet, having neither barked nor cried, evidently fearing to betray the
trust they deemed their master had confided to them.
It is related by Professor Bell that when a friend of his was
travelling abroad, he one morning took out his purse to see if it
contained sufficient change for a day’s jaunt he proposed making. He
departed from his lodgings, leaving a trusted dog behind. When he
dined, he took out his purse to pay, and found that he had lost a gold
coin from it. On returning home in the evening, his servant informed
him that the dog seemed to be very ill, as they could not induce it to
eat anything. He went at once to look at his favourite; and as soon as
he entered the room, the faithful creature ran to him, deposited the
missing gold coin at his feet, and then devoured the food placed for
it with great eagerness. The truth was that this gentleman had dropped
the coin in the morning; the dog had picked it up, and kept it in its
mouth, fearing even to eat, lest it should lose its master’s property
before an opportunity offered to restore it.
Professor Bell also tells of a Newfoundland dog kept at an inn in
Dorset, which was accustomed, every morning as the clock struck eight,
to take in its mouth a basket placed for the purpose and containing
some pence, and go with it to the baker’s. The man took out the money,
replacing it by a certain number of rolls, which Neptune returned home
with. He never touched the eatables; but on one occasion when another
dog attempted to despoil the basket, master Nep put down his burden
and gave the intruder a thrashing; that accomplished, he regained his
charge, and carried it home in triumph.
In his interesting African Travels, Le Vaillant details how he missed
his favourite setter. After a fruitless search, and the repeated firing
of his gun to guide the animal, he sent an attendant back by the way
they had travelled to try and discover the lost favourite. About two
leagues back on the route the dog was found keeping guard over a chair
and basket which had been dropped unperceived from the wagon. But for
this fortunate discovery of the honest dog, it must speedily have
perished by hunger or from the beasts of prey.
In Taylor’s _General Character of the Dog_ is given an account of
one of these faithful animals which daily carried to a labourer in
Portsmouth dockyard his dinner. Trusty, as the dog was rightly named,
had to take the basket containing his master’s mid-day meal upwards of
a mile, so that he had frequently to rest on the journey. He was very
careful as to where he deposited his load, and would not allow any one
to come near it. When he reached the dock-gates, he often had to wait
until they were opened for the admission or egress of any one; but the
instant he could effect an entrance, he ran in with his charge and
carried it to his master, who, after he had partaken of his dinner,
re-delivered the empty basket to his faithful servitor to carry home
again.
In his _Essay on Instinct_, Hancock tells of a dog belonging to a
Glasgow taproom keeper that was accustomed to carry its master’s
breakfast to him in a tin can between its teeth. When the family
removed, the dog changed his route, and never went wrong. It could
not be induced to accept a favour when on its master’s errands, and
carefully avoided any of its own species. This incorruptible servant,
which by the way understood Gaelic as well as English, often carried
home meat to the weight of half a stone, but never attempted to touch
it. Dogs, indeed, rarely attempt to touch food belonging to their
owners. One very remarkable instance is recorded by Jesse of a dog that
accompanied its mistress when returning from market with a basket of
provisions. They were overwhelmed by a snowstorm, and not discovered
for three days; the woman was found to be dead; but the dog, which was
lying by her side, was alive. The honest creature, however, had not
touched the eatables in his mistress’s basket, but, as neighbouring
villagers remembered when too late, had been endeavouring, on the
evening of the storm, by whinings and sighs they could not comprehend,
to induce them to follow it to where its mistress was.
In his _Anecdotes of Dogs_, Captain Brown speaks of a mastiff that was
locked up by mistake an entire day in a pantry where milk, butter,
and meat were within reach. The hungry dog did not touch any of these
things, although it ate voraciously as soon as food was given to it.
Colonel Hamilton Smith is our authority for the anecdote of a dog that
followed its owner, who was on horseback, and who contrived to drop
some cakes from his basket as he cantered home. On his arrival, he
found that his trusty follower had gathered up some of the lost cakes
and carried them home and had gone for the remainder, which it duly
returned with untasted.
‘Dogs,’ says Colonel Smith, ‘have an instinctive comprehension of the
nature of property;’ and it is really most remarkable, considering that
they have not human speech, how frequently, and how well, they make
us understand their views on this point. The colonel alludes to the
case of a lady at Bath who was somewhat alarmed by the behaviour of a
strange mastiff that seemed anxious to prevent her going on. Finding
she had lost her veil, she turned back, the dog going before her until
she came to the missing article and picked it up. As soon as the dog
saw she had regained her property, it scampered off to its master.
Anecdotes of this character are innumerable, as are also those of
dogs reclaiming property belonging, or which has belonged, to their
owners. Sir Patrick Walker furnishes a most valuable instance of this
propensity in our canine cousins. A farmer having sold a flock of
sheep to a dealer, lent him his dog to drive them home, a distance of
thirty miles, desiring him to give the dog a meal at the journey’s end
and tell it to go home. The drover found the dog so useful, that he
resolved to steal it, and instead of sending it back, locked it up. The
collie grew sulky, and at last effected its escape. Evidently deeming
the drover had no more right to detain the sheep than he had to detain
itself, the honest creature went into the field, collected all the
sheep that had belonged to its master, and, to that person’s intense
astonishment, drove the whole flock home again!
Dogs are not only honest in themselves, but will not permit others to
be dishonest. The late Grantley Berkeley was wont to tell of his two
deerhounds ‘Smoker’ and Smoker’s son ‘Shark,’ a curiously suggestive
instance of parental discipline. The two dogs were left alone in a room
where luncheon was laid out. Smoker’s integrity was invincible; but his
son had not yet learned to resist temptation. Through the window, Mr
Berkeley noticed Shark, anxiously watched by its father, steal a cold
tongue and drag it to the floor. ‘No sooner had he done so,’ says his
master, ‘than the offended sire rushed upon him, rolled over him, beat
him, and took away the tongue;’ after which Smoker retired gravely to
the fireside.
Mr Blaine, among many similar records, tells of a spaniel he had which
protected the dinner-table, during its master’s absence, from the
attempts of a cat which sought to make too intimate an acquaintance
with the leg of mutton. Both the animals belonged to Mr Blaine, and
were on friendly terms with each other; but one was honest, and the
other was not.
Hitherto, specimens of canine integrity have alone been cited; but
it must not be supposed that dogs are the only animals which exhibit
honest traits. Captain Gordon Stables, in his book on _Cats_, proves
by several tales of real life that pussy is often as trustworthy as
any dog. His own cat ‘Muffie’ is allowed her place on the table at
meals, and never attempts to touch the viands, even when left alone,
nor, what is more suggestive, never allows any one else to touch them.
The present writer’s family had a white cat which for nearly twenty
years was trusted with anything, until one luckless day, in its old
age, its appetite overcame its reason; it broke the eighth commandment,
and stole a piece of steak. The distress and shamefacedness of the
poor animal after the crime were quite pathetic; she hid herself in
dark corners; turned her back on observers, and for several days was
so ashamed of herself, that she could not look any one in the face,
although, poor old favourite, not a person reproached her for her first
known offence against the laws of property.