i a es Cornell University Library Sthaca, New Pork BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 University Libra arY1249 “inna PICTURES BY SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. W FINDEN, SCULPT SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A.PINXT Ms THE NAUGHTY BO LONDON. VIRTUE & C9 LIMITED. PICTURES BY STIR EDWIN LANDSEER ROYAL ACADEMICIAN WITH DESCRIPTIONS AND A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE PAINTER BY JAMES DAFFORNE LONDON VIRTUE & CO., LIMITED, 26, IVY LANE, PATERNOSTER ROW A CONTENTS. PAGE THE HIGHWAY TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY _. : F ; : ; , 3 THE ASSOCIATE-ACADEMICIAN . : ; > . > : ; ‘ : 8 THE ROYAL ACADEMICIAN . 3 : : . ‘ ' 3 : ; : i LANDSEER A SCULPTOR. . ... . ose . 69 ‘Hee: «. 4 «= # &§ & KR &» & Be & ww APPENDIX. PICTURES EXHIBITED AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY . .. . 79 PICTURES EXHIBITED AT THE BRITISH INSTITUTION . . . «83 LIST OF ENGRAVED WORKS . . : : ‘ : ; ‘ . . ‘ 85 LIST ‘OF PLATES. ea co PAGE 1. THE NAUGHTY BOY . ; : 7 i : ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ . Frontispiece. 2. STARTLED! . : . : : ; 3 i : : : 5 ‘ ‘ : 6 3. THE INTRUDER . ‘ : : : j : : ; 5 , & ; : 10 4. THE TWA DOGS . : ‘ : . ‘ ; : : : : : ; ; : 14 5. THE CHIEFTAIN’S FRIENDS . ; : : ‘ : ‘ ‘ ; : : 20 6. THE FRIEND IN SUSPENSE. : ‘ : é : ‘ 3 j 2 : : 22 7. HIGH LIFE . ‘ : ‘ : F i : ; ; : ‘ ‘ : ‘ 24 8. LOW LIFE ; ‘ ; ; ‘ : ; ‘ ; ‘ 4 : ; ‘ : 26 g. HIGHLAND MUSIC. ‘ : ; j i : é , : ‘ j : ; 28 10. DEATH OF THE STAG ‘ : ‘ : : 3 ‘ ; : ‘ : : ‘ 30 11. JACK IN OFFICE ‘ : : ‘ ; i ; ' ‘ F ; ‘ ‘ ‘ 34 iz. THE BREAKFAST-PARTY . j ‘ ‘ & ; : : : ; ‘ : ‘ 38 13. THE SLEEPING BLOODHOUND ; ‘ i 4 ea. : . ; : : 42 14. THE FRIENDS . : : : ; ‘ : ‘ : ‘ ; ; ; ‘ 46 15. MARMOZETTES, OR BRAZILIAN MONKEYS . 3 ‘ : : : : ; ; 48 16. THE CAVALIER’S PETS ‘ , ‘ : , : : ‘ ‘ : ‘ . 5 52 17%, PEACE . : ‘ , : ‘ i : : ‘ 3 : é : ’ : : 56 18, WAR ‘ ; : i j ‘ ‘ ; ‘ ‘ , : : 2 : : ; 58 19. THE STAG AT BAY : : : ‘ j ; : : : ’ : : 62 20. ROUT OF COMUS ; : : : : : : : : ; ; : 66 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. THE HIGHWAY TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY. CLOSE examination of the annals of painting from the very earliest record to the present time, so far as they have been handed down to us, would fail in producing any one artist who may be put in juxtaposition with Sir Edwin Landseer. Animal-painters there have been, and are, both in Eng- land and on the Continent—artists whose works are held in high estima- tion, and deservedly so; but their pictures want the peculiar charm which is characteristic of him—the elevation of the animal, and especially of the dog, into something that closely approximates to human nature in its generous sympathies. It would be difficult to point to any contemporaneous artist of our own school who, from almost the very outset of his career, has been so successful in winning the good opinion of the public; and this may be readily accounted for in the fact that his pictures, independent of their merits as works of art, appeal to the tastes of thousands of our countrymen and countrywomen : nationally, we love the race of domestic animals, and are interested in everything that relates to them, and Landseer has presented them to us in their most attractive aspects. It was his guod fortune, when quite young, to be freely and liberally encouraged, and this good fortune never forsook him. A writer some years ago remarked that, ‘had his earlier claims on the public attention been neglected, the probability is that, instead of advancing under the cheering auspices of a noble house * to the eminence he has reached, he would have struggled for a season, retrograded, and, by degrees, dwindled, like a thousand others, into obscurity.’’ Admitting the- essential and valuable aid that judicious patronage affords to a young artist, if only because it serves to encourage him in his labours, and braces him up for renewed * An allusion to the then Duke of Bedford. 4 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. efforts, none with such a genius as Landseer’s, and with the power to use it so originally as he did, could have altogether succumbed to adverse circumstances: he would set his face resolutely against difficulties and obstacles till he crushed them and forced his way into public notice. Landseer, happily for himself, was not called upon to wage this warfare: his art, from the first, accorded with public taste, and, in process of time, he endued it with such poetical imagination, such truth, feeling, and exquisite manipulation, that it became irresistible. The path he struck out is one we can scarcely expect to see followed with anything like equal success, even were it attempted. Mr. Sandby, in his “History of the Royal Academy,” gives Edwin Henry as the Christian names of Landseer, but does not state on what authority; and it is difficult to understand why he so designates him, for the catalogues of the Academy, in which the list of its members is regularly inserted, give only that by which the painter has always beeen known; nor have I ever seen the second name in any printed publication but Mr. Sandby’s. He was born in London, March 7, 1802, and was the youngest son of John Landseer, an engraver of considerable eminence in his time, and an Associate of the Academy, who died, in 1852, at a very advanced age— upwards of ninety years. There was an admirable portrait of the venerable gentleman, painted by his distinguished son, who modestly called it a ‘sketch,’ in the Academy exhibition of 1848. His two elder sons are, Thomas Landseer, A.E.R.A., who has engraved so many of his youngest brother’s finest works, and Charles Landseer, R.A. Thus the three sons have all risen to eminence in their professions. In the notice of the death of Sir Edwin Landseer which appeared in the Atheneum is the following passage :—‘‘ Edwin Landseer’s artistic descent has been traced by Mr. Stephens in ‘ Early Works of Sir E. Landseer,’ from William Byrne, with whom Landseer the jeweller ’’—grandfather of Edwin—“ placed his son John ; this Byrne was a pupil of Aliamet and Wille, Aliamet was a pupil of J. P. Le Bas, who studied under N. Tardieu; the line of pupilage continues backwards without a flaw through Le Pautre, Jean Andran, C. Andran, the uncle of Jean, to C. Bloemart, who was appren- ticed to Crispin de Poess the elder, who had for a master Theodore Cuenhert, born in 1522.’ This art-genealogical roll is, at least, curious. ! Of Edwin’s earliest years very little has been made known, except that from child- | hood he manifested peculiar inclination for that special branch of art with which his. name has been so long associated, and which has won for him a reputation over the wide world second to none of any modern painter. His father very wisely adopted the best method of cultivating his talents, by accompanying him into the fields and to Hampstead Heath to sketch the animals of various kinds that frequented the localities; thus taking him at once to nature for models. The young artist’s instincts led him towards these dumb creatures, and we may feel assured that he studied their character IN HAVPDON’S STUDIO. 5 and disposition as closely as their anatomical points; hence laying the foundation of © those various qualities which so many of his most admired pictures show as examples of mental development in the animal-world. In the South Kensington Museum may be seen examples of these very early works; some of them, it is said, done when he was but five or six years old. At the age of fourteen he entered the schools of the Royal Academy, though-in the preceding year he had exhibited there “Portrait of a Mule,”’ and ‘Portraits of a Pointer Bitch and Puppy,”’ entered in the catalogue as “‘ by Master E. Landseer, 33, Foley Street:’’ he also supplied, about the same time, similar subjects for the Sporting Magazine, which were engraved by his brother Thomas. The Elgin Marbles, then at Burlington House, but now in the British Museum, were carefully studied by Edwin at this period of his life. In the same year, 1815, he had studied under that most unfortunate painter, B. R. Haydon, or, perhaps, it should rather be said, the latter advised him as to his work. In Haydon’s Autobiography he says :— “Tn 1815, Mr. Landseer, the engraver, had brought his boys to me, and said, ‘ When do you let your beard grow, and take pupils?’ I said, ‘If my instructions are useful or valuable, now.’ ‘Will you let my boys come?’ I said, ‘Certainly.’ Charles and Thomas, it was immediately arranged, should come every Monday, when I was to give them work for the / week. Edwin took my dissections of the lion, and I advised him to dissect animals—the only / mode of acquiring their construction, as I had dissected men, and as I should make his brothers do. This very incident generated in me the desire to form a school; and as the Landseers made rapid progress, I resolved to communicate my system to other young men, and endeavour to establish a better and more regular system of instruction than even the Academy afforded.” In Haydon’s Diary under the date June 1, 1831, is the following entry :— “Since I last wrote, poor Jackson is gone.* A more amiable, inoffensive man never lived. He had a fine eye for colour, but not vast power, and could not paint women. He is the first of the three to go.t God protect him. It is curious what a set came in together under Fuseli :+ —Wilkie, Mulready, Collins, Pickersgill, Jackson, Etty, Hilton, and myself. I have produced Landseer, Eastlake, Lance, and Harvey ; Wilkie, the whole domestic school.” As an example of the young student’s power of drawing animals, the engraving, “Startled!’’ here introduced will serve. The plate bears in the imprint a date, which, however, cannot be actually verified; and I am inclined to think the original sketch, for it is little more, must have been made previously to 1819. In the composition the horse is made the chief, indeed, the only point of attraction ; but one sees in it not merely the * John Jackson, R.A., one of the best portrait-painters of his time. Haydon scarcely does him justice, for his male portraits are remarkably vigorous. + The other two were Wilkie and himself: the trio formed a friendship when students at the Academy. + Fuseli was then Keeper of the Academy. 6 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. germ of that talent which, for more than half a century, has been productive of such valuable and attractive fruits, but how soon in his career Landseer began to give some feature of character to his animal-world beyond mere portraiture. Grazing in a meadow, the horse has come suddenly upon a snake, which rears its head at him. _ With instinctive fear of the reptile the former starts and stops, involuntarily raising “one of his fore-legs; his mane hangs wildly, and his eyes are fixed on the snake as if fascinated. The action is quite truthful; and, if exception be taken to some parts of the drawing, which are certainly defective, it must be remembered that the picture is the work of a juvenile hand. In 1818, Landseer exhibited at the Gallery of the Society of Painters in Oil and Water Colours, in Spring Gardens, a picture, ‘‘ Fighting Dogs getting Wind,” which attracted much notice, and found a purchaser in Sir George Beaumont, an acknow- ledged art-connoisseur and patron. This work having been engraved by the painter’s father, made the young artist’s name widely known. The year following there appeared at the British Institution a far more important work, ‘“‘ Dogs of Mount St. Gothard discovering a Traveller in the Snow;”’ this also was engraved by the elder Landseer. It was in the possession of the late Mr. Gillott, of Birmingham. When his collection was sold last year, it realised the sum of 1,740 guineas, Mr. Addington being the purchaser. “ Pointers, so ho!’’ exhibited at the British Institution in 1821, was in the _ same sale, and became the property of Messrs. Agnew for 1,900 guineas. Acting | upon Haydon’s suggestions, he took advantage, in 1820, of the death of a lion at a | menagerie in London, to study the anatomy of the animal, and subsequently painted several pictures of the ‘‘ king of beasts;’’ as “‘ A Lion Disturbed,’’ ‘A Lion Repos- ing,’’ ‘A Lion Prowling,’’ &c. One of this class of works, ‘‘ A Dead Lion,’ was a few years since in the collection of Mr. William Russell, of Chesham Place, who was also the owner of another picture by the same hand, representing a dog with dead game and a white hare beside it. During the next three or four years Landseer exhibited at the Academy portraits of favourite dogs, and ‘Taking a Buck.’’ His ‘Larder Invaded,’’ sent to the British Institution in 1822, gained from the Directors their prize of £150. He had also found a warm friend and patron in the Duke of Bedford, of whose son, the young Lord Cosmo Russell, he painted a portrait, which was exhibited in 1825: the boy is repre- sented galloping a Highland pony in a hilly tract of country. At the sale, in 1860, of a portion of the collection of the late Mr. Wells, of Redleaf, a picture called “ Lord Alexander Russell’on a Highland Pony,’’ was sold for 825 guineas. It may be presumed that this was also painted for the duke, but how it came into the hands of Mr. Wells I have no knowledge. Small lithographic prints of both, by the late R. J. Lane, A.R.A., were published in 1832. In 1825 or 1826 Landseer paid his first visit to the Highlands of Scotland ; from this Ca LINrT oo? ANLAIA NOGNO'T iC@MILWUVLS adTNOs ‘SIMAT'O “6ISTETAUA VU 'UPASANVI NIMGH wis CHEVY CHACE. 7 ‘period dates the series of pictures associated with that portion of the kingdom. Here he soon found admirers and friends in many of the nobles and country-gentlemen whose _ estates supplied him with subjects for his pencil in the mountains and glens tenanted _ by deer-herds. The first of these works was “‘ The Hunting of Chevy Chace.’ It was ' exhibited at the Academy in 1826; the catalogue showed it to have been suggested by a verse of the old ballad Chevy Chace :-— ‘“To drive the deere with hound and horne, Erle Percy took his way ; The chiefest harts in Chevy Chace, To kill and beare away.” This picture, which hangs at Woburn Abbey, the seat of the Duke of Bedford, gained for its painter admission into the ranks of Associates of the Royal Academy at the earliest age, twenty-four, when, by the laws of the institution, a candidate for honours can be admitted. In the duke’s collection is also “‘ Stags in the Park at Woburn.”’ It is not without interest to look back to the list of artists who at that period formed the academical body, only one of whom, Mr. H. W. Pickersgill, survives to remember the election of Landseer. Among these were not a few of whom we now hear little or nothing, and whose works have left scarcely any impression on the art of the country ; but in the number of Academicians were Beechey, Callcott, Chantrey, Collins, the brothers Daniell, Flaxman, Hilton, Jackson, Lawrence—the President —Leslie, Mulready, Northcote, H. W. Pickersgill, Shee, R. Smirke, Stothard, Soane, Turner, Wilkie, James Ward, Westmacott ; and among the Associates were Washington Allston, Constable, Etty, Danby, W. Allan, and Briggs. These were the men—painters, sculptors, and architects—who, nearly half a century ago, were the leaders of the British School of Art in their respective departments. THE ASSOCIATE-ACADEMICIAN. N 1827 Landseer exhibited at the Academy five pictures, of which the principal were ‘‘Highianders Returning from Deerstalking with Dead Game,”’ and ‘‘ The Monkey who had seen the World.” Of the former of these subjects the artist painted more than one or two, but at this distant date it is difficult to identify them with the period of exhibition; yet I believe this early example is that which was painted for the late Mr. Wells, of Redleaf, and afterwards was in the possession of the late Mr. Fallows, of Marichester, whose collection was sold in 1868, when the “Deer Stalkers’? was bought by Messrs. Agnew for 1,680 guineas. A large engraving of it, by Ryall, was published many years ago by the Art-Union of Glasgow; it represents two stalwart Highlanders returning from their sport, with two ponies, a white one and a brown, across whose backs dead deer are slung. On one side of the men is a single dog, and on the other a couple of these animals leashed together, and eyeing very intently the skull of a dead stag which lies by the wayside. The landscape is a mountainous district, half shrouded in mist. The other picture is in the collection of Mr. Thomas Baring. It is a most humorous composition; the travelled monkey wears the costume of the early part of the last century, his coat being scarlet; and in this gorgeous dress he makes an appearance before his wild brethren of the forest, to one of which he offers a pinch out of his snuff-box, which is accepted, to the discomfiture of the recipient and the amazement of his companions. {n the same year the artist sent to the exhibition of the Royal Scottish Academy a picture which, from the appended quotation, I assume had for its title ‘‘ The Death of the Buck.” In that inimitable series of imaginary colloquies called ‘“‘Noctes Ambrosianz,”’ by Protessor John Wilson, published many years ago, and which gave to Blackwood’s LIHE ILLICIT WHISK¥-STILL. 9 M©agazine such wide popularity, I find the following remarks; they appeared in the magazine for March, 1827. Those who have never read the “ Noctes’’ must understand that the speakers are presumed to be Wilson himself, under his nom-de-plume of Christopher North, and James Hogg, the popular Scotch poet and writer, under the name of the ‘“‘ Shepherd ’’— at one time his occupation :— “Shepherd... . . What think you o’ the Death o’ the Buck, by that Southron, Edwin Landseer? Never saw I bloodthirsty fierceness better depicted than in the muzzles o’ thae ferocious Jowlers. Lord preserve us! was that the way, think ye, that the Spanish bloodhounds used to rug doun the Maroons in the West Indies? “North, There is a leetle, and but a leetle, something, resembling affectation in the manner of the Huntsmen. “ Shepherd. Come, sir, nane o’ your captious criticism. That black dog, wi’ the red legs, and chafts * and eebrees,; is equal to anything that was ever painted in this world; and that white deevil . . . . hinging to the Buck’s lug,t with teeth inextricable as arsenic to the coat of the stomach, is a canine leech, that if no chocked aff frae the bite, would soon let out the animal’s life, and stretch him with his spreading antlers on the heather. “‘ North. Heather, James ?—there is no heather in the picture. The scene is not peculiarly Highland—and therefore I do not feel the bonnet and tartan of the Hunter. “ Shepherd. I saw naething to fin’ fault wi’—you see it’s no a red deer—but a fallow deer— frae the spots;—and the Park, as they ca’t, ‘ll be somewhere perhaps on the borders o’ the mountainous pairts o’ Perthshire or Argyllshire ;—or wha kens that the scene’s no English— and that the painter has gien the hunter something o’ the dress o’ a Highlander, frae an imaginary feeling but half-understood by his ain mind, as maist imaginative feelings are, but nane the waur on that account either for paintin’ or poetry.” In 1828 Landseer exhibited two paintings; one, ‘‘A Portrait of a Terrier,” the other “A Scene in the Highlands, with Portraits of the Duchess of Bedford, the Duke of Gordon, and Lord Alexander Russell.”? It was painted for the late Duke of Gordon, and how it got out of the possession of his grace’s family I know not; but it found its way into that of the late Mr. T. Agnew, of Manchester, and after his death was sold by Messrs. Christie, in May, 1871, for the sum of £1,333, the purchaser being Mr. Ward. Two other pictures, painted in 1825, for the duke, were sold with it, ‘A Shooting-Pony,’’ and ‘‘ A Favourite Hack,”’ forf157 each. His principal picture in 1829 was ‘An Illicit Whisky-Still in the Highlands,” purchased by, or painted for, the late Duke of Wellington, and subsequently engraved by R. Graves. The scene is a Highland hut formed of the mountain-pine, and roofed with shingle and heather. A sportsman is tasting the new-made spirit as he half reclines on the deer he has slain; dogs of various breeds and sizes lie around him; and an old woman, painted with marvellous skill and power, is somewhat earnestly waiting his opinion of the whisky. In the background is the swarthy distiller, standing beside the fire, over which is a boiling cauldron, whence the ‘‘worm”’ extends along the floor of the rude * Jaws. t Eyebrows. } Ear. D 10 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. manufactory. A boy in the foreground holds a telescope, and carries in the other hand a moorland-bird: scattered about are the various materials for the unlawful work in progress, with a number of other objects—still-life, &c. The painter has omitted nothing needful to such a scene, and evidently laboured to portray the most minute details no less than the grander features of the composition. The very sprigs of heather and the plumage of the birds received as much attention as the faces of the figures. Were there nothing more in the picture than what has just been described, it would have lacked, however admirable as a true transcript of fact and nature, some- thing to make it valuable to all classes. A touching episode is, therefore, introduced : a ragged and shoeless young girl looks on the busy group with a sad face, for she has no sympathy with her associates; she leans back and gazes, not wistfully nor even thoughtfully, but with an instinctive foreboding of evil to come. This is the moral. The little maid is of great beauty, with an expression of loveliness and sadness mingled, perfectly in unison. The whole arrangement of the picture, the composition, and the execution, are admirable. “Canine Attachment,’’ exhibited in 1830, represents a very affecting incident, referred to in the catalogue when the picture appeared. ‘In the spring of 1803, a young gentleman of talent, and most amiable disposition, perished by falling from a precipice of the mountain Helvellyn. His remains were not discovered till three months afterwards, when they were found guarded by the faithful terrier. “ «How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber? How many long days and long nights didst thou number: Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart ?’” SCOTT. This picture was bought, when exhibited, by the late Mr. E.R. Tunno, of Wainford Park, Hampshire; and was sold, in 1863, at Christie’s, for the sum of 1,010 guineas ; and again, in 1870, at the sale of the collection of the late Mr. -W. Delafield, of Knightsbridge, for 550 guineas: bought by Messrs. Agnew. Before proceeding to notice his subsequent works, mention must be made, though out of chronological order, of two or three of his earlier pictures; for example, “The Dog and the Shadow,”’ painted in 1822, now in the Sheepshanks collection ; ‘Sancho Panza and Dapple,’”’ of the date 1824, also in the same collection. ‘The Intruder,” of which an engraving is given here, is yet earlier than these. It was painted in the year 1818, and was purchased by the then Sir O. de Malpas Grey Egerton, in whose collection, or rather, in that of his descendants, the picture, I presume, still is. Though the work of a mere youth, it has the spirit of a matured designer, and is painted with a firm yet delicate touch. The dog and the cat eye each other with anything but amicable feelings, as if disposed to contend for the body of the rat THE INTRUDER aYfYOO2 ’ CHLINIT 60-8 MNIHIA' NOUUON “UA COULNI WA i£dTN0S ‘HLIMMIad A 2 aXNId VU’ UAASACNvI NIMGA IS THE ROYAL ACADEMICIAN. N 1831 Landseer, now an Academician, exhibited five pictures in the gallery of the Society: ‘ Interior of a Highlander’s House,” “ Poachers Deer-stalking,’ ‘‘ Little Red Riding-hood,” ‘ The Poacher’s Bothy,’? and ‘ Poacher and Red Deer.’ “ Little Red Riding-hood”’ is a gem : the well-known story of childhood was never more beautifully illustrated. ‘‘ The Pets,’’ sent to the Academy in the following year, with “‘ Hawking,’”? would make an excellent companion to ‘Red Riding-hood.” It represents a little girl greeting a favourite fawn in a woody pathway. The com position is very elegant. ‘‘ Hawking” is a large picture, and is now in the possession, I believe, of Mr. Mendel, of Cressbrook, Derbyshire. In 1833 he exhibited three very attractive pictures: ‘Jack in Office,’’ ‘‘ Deer and Hounds in a Torrent,” to both of which reference will be made hereafter; and “Sir Walter Scott,’ among his favourite dogs. Sir Walter is seated at the bottom of the ‘“‘Rhymer’s Glen,” so called from having been the scene of the meetings between Thomas of Erceldoune, the ‘‘ Rhymer,’’ and the Fairy Queen, as described in the ballad of “‘Thomas the Rhymer”’ in the A@instrelsy of the Scottish Border. Scott's canine companions are ‘Maida,’ a stag-hound, presented to him by Glengarry; “Ginger,” a yellow terrier; and “Spice,” a black terrier; both descended “of Dandie Dinmont’s family of ‘‘ Pepper’”’ and ‘‘ Mustard.” There was another picture in the gallery of the Academy which must not be passed over, though Landseer was but a sharer in the honour of its production : still his share was a large one. “Harvest in the Highlands’? was the joint work of Sir A. W. Callcott and Landseer; the former painting the landscape, and the latter the figures and animals. It passed into the hands of Mr. S. Cartwright, F.R.S., who permitted 12 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER. R.A. the Art-Union of London to engrave it for their subscribers, to whom the print, excellently engraved by the late J. T. Willmore, A.R.A., was presented in 1856. More than one eminent publisher had applied to its owner for liberty to engrave the work, and had offered a very large sum for the privilege. Mr. Cartwright, however, resolutely declined all requests, keeping his treasure at his mansion near Tunbridge for many years; but at length granted to a society, whose object is to create a love of art among the thousands, what was refused to private speculations. I mention these facts to show the opinion of this beautiful picture by those capable of understand- ing and valuing its merits. Although it is now tolerably well-known, a few words of description may not be out of place here. From the left of the composition a lofty range of mountains stretches away into the extreme distance: a considerable portion of this high ground is concealed by clouds and vapours, for a heavy shower has passed over the distant landscape, now in deep shadow, except where a rain- bow appears to spring from the horizon: the long level plain between this and the foreground is more or less lighted up with gleams of sunshine. In the foreground, on the left, and leading into the centre of the sunshine, is the corn, partly in sheaves and partly standing; nor does it seem that the owner of the produce is over-anxious to have the crop garnered, for the labourers are few,—perhaps they are scarce in those regions—one elderly woman, with a kind of rake in her hand, and a young girl holding a sickle, and bearing a small sheaf under her arm; the lass is conversing with a number of boys, one of whom restrains a collie-dog whose attention is directed to a group of deer-stalkers coming up from the distance, laden with their spoils. Between the old woman and the children is a cart laden with corn; it is drawn by a rough-looking animal with a foal by its side; and to the right of the group, among a mass of granite-boulders, are a calf tethered, and a goat with its kids. It is altogether a most picturesque scene, every passage of which shows masterly yet, delicate execu- tion. The drawing, in water-colours, made by Woodman for the use of the engraver of the picture, was sold, in 1866, with the collection of the late Mr. R. H. Grundy, of Liverpool, for 130 guineas. ‘Bolton Abbey in the Olden Time”’ was his principal contribution to the Academy exhibition of the following year; and perhaps no picture Landseer ever produced has proved so universally popular and is so widely known, for it has been multiplied by engravings large and small; the principal one being that by Mr. S. Cousins, R.A., published three or four years after the appearance of the picture, and of which proof impressions are now very rare and valuable. The original painting is in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire, to whom the ruins of the grand old abbey, or rather priory, belong, with the manor on which they stand. Landseer has only introduced the entrance gateway of the edifice, as it may be supposed to have presented itself four or five cen- turies ago, when the monastic institution was flourishing in full vigour, and its ‘‘ reverend BOLTON ABBEY IN THE OLDEN TIME. 13 and grave’’ inmates wandered by the sides of the “‘ crystal Wharfe,’’ and counted their beads under the shadows of rock and noble trees. The principal figure in the composition we may assume to be a superior brother of the abbey, perhaps the prior himself, a burly, well-conditioned ecclesiastic, who is evidently more accustomed to feast than to fast. He is reading a letter which has accompanied a present of fish and game from some devoted son of the Church, anxious to stand well with his spiritual advisers. The other figures are a young girl bearing a dish of fine trout; a youth carrying pheasants and other birds; and a stout retainer stooping over a fat buck; all of which will soon be consigned to the monastic buttery for the refreshing of the brother- hood. The various materials of the composition are simply arranged; each figure stands well and prominently in its place, yet is brought into union with its companions by accessories in a manner most felicitous; the artist seems to nave been prodigal of his powers in the delineation of the numerous specimens of still-life with which the picture abounds; while it vividly carries the mind back to those olden times when devotion to the Church was considered to be the duty of noble and peasant alike. Another picture of that year is “A Highland Breakfast,’’ now in the Sheepshanks Collection at South Kensington. It shows the interior of a Shepherd’s cottage, in which is a young mother feeding her child, whom she takes out of its cradle. Ona low stool before her is a dish of porridge, and in the background is an oaten cake toasting on the girdle. Several dogs are taking their breakfast from a large bowl of skimmed milk and meal; among them, a lank sheep-dog, suckling three fat puppies. A third picture of 1834 at the Academy was “A Collie-dog rescuing a Sheep.” To the British Institution were contributed the same year ‘‘ The Eagle’s Nest,’’ also in the Sheepshanks Collection; and another, of which mention will be made hereafter. The most important painting by Landseer which, through the liberality of Mr. Sheepshanks, has become the property of the nation, and is now at South Kensington, is «The Drovers’ Departure—a Scene in the Grampians,”’ exhibited at the Academy in 1835, and engraved on a scale commensurate with the size of the canvas, by Mr. J. H. Watt, who was engaged four years on the plate—one of the finest examples of line- engraving, of its class, that has been produced within our time in this country. The composition, which is, perhaps, best known by another title, given to it by the publishers of the print, ‘‘ Highland Drovers departing for the South,” consists of a remarkably striking foreground-group in direct relation with a landscape-background; the whole presented under the effect of a clear early morning. There is no interior, yet the home of the departing herdsmen is sufficiently made out. Home is clearly the first chapter of the story; departure is the next; and the conclusion of the well-told tale is—absence. It is one of those works which can afford to dispense with the title given to it by the painter—that which is first stated above—for every circumstance of the composition speaks of the ‘‘ departure.” The group of figures comprehends every E 14 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. stage of human life from infancy to extreme old age. The artist has shown himself a keen observer of the habits of the people whom he here painted, as is evinced by the occupation in which he has busied the presiding matron—that of filling the flagon of one of the wayfarers with the accustomed ‘“ mountain-dew.’’ The eye rests upon the stalwart figure of a drover, whose bulk of thew and muscle is, in appearance, aug- mented by the national plaid he bears so stoutly athwart him: he is a donnze sample of the neatherd of the North, who so generally excites the wonder of the Southron far within the border-counties. The athletic mould of this man contrasts forcibly with the wasted and feeble grandsire, sitting absorbed in the enjoyment of his pipe, and unmoved by the bustle around him; perhaps recalling the days when he set forth on similar expedi- tions, and not unthankful that his wearisome pilgrimages have drawn to a close. Nothing in the way of painting can surpass the truth and reality of this aged man, whose eye the lustre of youth has forsaken, and to whose once active limbs an unusually protracted life has brought its inevitable rigidity. The morn, tnough clear, is chill; so a careful daughter of the c/achan is covering the shoulders of the old man, whom it becomes not to be within the cabin upon the momentous occasion of a departure with the herds. There is not a single incident in the whole composition which does not help to develop the story, from the sturdy “‘topsman,”’ who kisses his infant-child, to the ruffled hen defending her brood from the mischievous gambols of a young puppy. In the distance the ‘lowing herds’’ are already on the move, and the eye. is carried into the fading distance of the Grampian range by the extended wavy line of black cattle wending their way to be taken in exchange’ for English gold. In front of the cottage the last group of cattle and a stout pony divide the interest of the spectator with the men, women, and children, who have ‘“ forgathered’’ in associa- tion; among these will be noticed a young drover and his affianced lassie, seated a little apart from the rest, and exchanging words of endearance that must serve each to live upon for some weeks at least. A more inviting picture than this never passed from Landseer’s studio into the hands of a collector. At a sale of pictures in 1868, by Messrs. Christie and Co., was one entitled, ‘Rachel reading,’ by Landseer, and said to have been painted in the year 1835; but I cannot find that such a work was ever exhibited: it sold for 190 guineas. This work I presume to be the same as that in the late Mr. Gillott’s collection, where it was called ‘‘ Lady Rachel Russell in the Act of Reading:’’ Messrs. Agnew bought it for the sum of 285 guineas. In the Sheepshanks Collection is the ‘ Twa Dogs,” of which an engraving is intro- duced here. It is an early example of the artist’s pencil, having been painted in 1822. The picture illustrates Burns’s poetical fable, bearing the same title, in which he describes two dogs conversing about men and their manners. The animals are named respectively Cesar and Luath: the latter, a collie-dog, belonged to the poet, and was THE TWA DOGS NY A CHAS G. LEWIS, SCULPT SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A.PINXT THE TWA DOGS. LONDON, VIRTUE &C°? LIMITED THE TWA DOGS. 15 unfortunately killed by some one; Cesar, a Newfoundland, was merely a creature of Burns’s imagination. The poem opens with a description of each, as they sit down to a discussion on their respective masters, and their masters’ homes :— “‘ Twas in that place o’ Scotland’s isle That bears the name o’ auld King Coll, Upon a bonnie day in June, When wearing thro’ the afternoon, Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame, Forgathered once upon a time. “The first I name, they ca’d him Cesar, Was keepit for his honour’s pleasure ; His air, his size, his mouth, his lugs,! Show’d he was nane o’ Scotland’s dogs, But whalpit ? some place far abroad, Where sailors gang to fish for cod. “ His locked, letter’d, braw brass collar Show’d him the gentleman and scholar ; But tho’ he was o’ high degree, The feint a pride—nae pride had he; But wad hae spent an hour caressin’, E’en wi’ a tinkler—gipsey’s messin’. At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,* Nae tawked tyke,> though ere so duddie,° But he wad stan’t, as glad to see him. * * * * “The tither was a ploughman’s collie, A rhyming, ranting, raving billie,” Wha for his friend an’ comrade had him, And in his freaks had Luath ca’d him, After some dog in Highland lang,® Was made lang syne. ~ ¢ “ He was a gash ® an’ faithful tyke, As ever lap a sleugh ” or dyke; His honest, sonsie,!! baws’nt ¥ face, Ay gat him friend in ilka place. ! Bars. 7 Fellow. Burns evidently alludes here to himself. 2 Whelped, or born. 8 Cuchullin’s dog in Ossian’s /ingad. 5 A little dog. | ® Wise, sagacious. 4 A smith’s forge. © Ditch. 5 Tawked tyke. A dog with matted hair. Jolly. * Ragged. ” Having a white stripe down the face. ~ 16 SIR EDWIN. LANDSEER, R.A: His breast was white, his touzie ! back, Weel clad wi’ coat o’ glossy black ; His gaucie* tail, wi’ upward curl, Hung o’er his hurdies © wi’ a swirl. “Nae doubt but they were fain o’ ither, An’ unco pack an’ thick thegither ; Wi?’ social nose whyles snuffd an’ snowkit,!® ‘Whiles mice and moudieworts " they howkit. Whiles scour’d awa in lang excursion, An’ worry’d ither in diversion ; Until wi’ daffin * weary grown, Upon a knowe ® they sat them down, And there began a lang digression About the lords o’ the creation.” Burns’s inimitably humorous poem need not to be further quoted; but thus much seemed necessary to describe the animals sitting in judgment on the “lords o’ the creation,’ and which the artist has represented with such truth and spirit. The debate, if it may be so called, has become lively ; the head of each dog shows remark- able animation as they warm up in the discussion—one, as the rest of the poem shows, in no way complimentary to those who are the subjects of this canine debate, but who are not “‘ in court” to justify themselves either in person or by counsel. The principal contributions to the Academy in 1836 were ‘“*A Scene in Chil- lingham Park,”’ with a group of the famous wild cattle found there; a portrait of the Marchioness of Abercorn in a masquerade dress, entitled ‘‘ Twelfth Night, or, What you will’’—a picture which was engraved very finely by Mr. J. H. Robinson ; and “Portraits of Ladies Harriet and Beatrice Hamilton,”’ children of the Marquis and Marchioness of Abercorn. In these, as in almost every portrait-picture by Landseer, we find the usual accompaniments of horses, or dogs, or both. In the year following he sent to the Academy as many works as the rules of the institution permit any artist to exhibit in one year—namely, eight. Of these was one which, for poetic feeling and for pathos, must always take precedence of any Landseer ever placed on canvas. This is ‘“‘The Old Shepherd’s Chief Mourner,’’ now in the Sheepshanks Collection, and I know of nothing in the whole range of Art, whatever its character, more simply yet more deeply affecting, though a single dog is the only living creature that is visible. The picture is small in size, but immeasurably great in conception. The scene is the interior of a Highland shepherd’s hut, for it can scarcely be called a cottage 8 Shaggy. " Moles, % Plump. '8 Merriment. '5 Loins. "© Knoll. '® Scented. THE OLD SHEPHERD'S CHIEF MOURNER. 17 Resting on some roughly-hewn pieces of wood, serving as trestles, is a heavy coffin, also roughly put together, and of very primitive manufacture, whereon some friendly hand has placed branches of laurel: over it, and trailing on the floor, is stretched a thick plaid shawl, which has helped to screen its late owner from many a pitiless storm of rain and snow, and a heavy blanket; the latter intended to take the place of a pall. Seated on this blanket, which appears to have been partially dragged off, carrying with it some of the laurel-branches, is the ‘‘ Chief Mourner’’ of the dead man whose body waits to be carried away to its last resting-place. It is the collie-dog of the “Old Shepherd ;”’ for years the friend and companion of his master through summer-heat and winter cold; the creature which has walked by his. side, or kept watch and ward for him by day and by night; which followed him up the mountain-side and by the sparkling burn as he tended the flocks, and oft-times restored with unfailing Sagacity the wanderers from the fold. The devoted animal knows well what that coffin contains; we may be certain he never quitted the death-bed of his master, and that he will never leave his grave. Even there : “ Fis faithful dog will bear him company ;” ay, and lie down and die on the grassy mound that covers the sleeping shepherd. With his nose firmly resting on the coffin-lid, what a picture of real, almost human, grief does he present to us! his attitude and his countenance are as indicative of bitter sorrow and of anguish as imagination can suggest. All the accessories of the composition, moreover, are in perfect harmony with its leading features, and aid powerfully in sustaining them, and to complete the idea of death and desolation— the low settle, or stool, on which are the shepherd’s spectacles, and Bible clasped for the last time by his own hands; on the floor are his bonnet and walking-stick, both laid aside for ever; the empty drinking-horn, the vacant chair, the dim twilight, are each and all passages, eloquent and truthful, of an exquisitely beautiful and touching poem on canvas, which, it cannot be doubted, has caused many a stout heart to “‘ play the woman,”’ by moving it to tears.* * Some considerable time after this was written, I chanced to meet with Mr. Ruskin’s comments cn the picture ; they are subjoined, and are occasionally expressive of ideas so similar to my own, that I might justly be charged with plagiarism without this explanation. The professor’s eloquent analysis of the merits of the painting speaks for itself. Writing of “Greatness in Art,” he says,—“ Take, for instance, one of the most perfect poems or pictures (I use the words as synonymous) which modem times have seen—the ‘ Old Shepherd's Chief Mourner.’ Here the exquisite execution of the glossy and crisp hair of the dog, the bright sharp touching of the green bough beside it, the clear painting of the wood of the coffin, and the folds of the blanket are language—language clear and expressive in the highest degree. But the close pressure of the dog’s breast against the wood, the convulsive clinging of the paws, which has dragged the blanket off the trestle, the total powerlessness of the head, laid, close and motionless, upon its folds, the fixed and tearful F 18 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. Two other important pictures of the same year were entitled respectively ‘‘ The Highlands,”’ and “ Return from Hawking.” ; The year 1838 produced several most excellent works; ‘‘ The Life’s in the Old Dog yet,” representing a fine hound which has fallen down a rocky precipice, where he is found by its owner: it is a large picture, admirably painted throughout. Another was “ Portraits of the Marquis of Stafford and the Lady Evelyn Gower — Dunrobin Castle in the distance.” The two children appear under the shadow of a noble tree in the park of Dunrobin, the seat of their father, the Duke of Sutherland. Lady Evelyn is petting a favourite fawn, and her little lap-dog is evidently jealous of the caresses bestowed upon the gentle creature. In the rear of this group is a magnificent hound, looking, like his small canine companion, somewhat annoyed at the preference shown to the fawn. The picture, which is in the Duke’s collection at Stafford House, is engraved by Mr. S. Cousins. ‘‘ None but the Brave deserve the Fair,”’ is the title of a third picture of the year; it shows a stately stag in the midst of a herd of deer. Another was ‘‘ A Distinguished Member of the Humane Society ;’’— so well-known by the engraving—a noble Newfoundland dog lying with his fore-feet over the stonework of a pier, as if on the look-out for an opportunity of saving some life from the peril of drowning. And yet one more, “ Portraits of the Queen’s favourite Dogs and Parrot,’’ also engraved. ‘‘The Naughty Boy,’’ of which an engraving is here introduced, was exhibited at the British Institution in 1834, and is now in the Sheepshanks Collection. There is a story associated with the origin of this serio-comic picture: it is this. A lady having brought her son to the artist to have his portrait painted, the boy became unruly, sulked, and refused to remain in the position in which he had been placed for the operation; whereupon his mother, after striving in vain to command obedience, put the recusant into the corner of the room as a punishment. Here his resolute air, and sturdy, rebellious attitude so struck Landseer, that he sketched him on the spot, and subsequently painted the picture as it now is; retaining the features, &c., of the refractory model, but putting him into a dress somewhat more characteristic of a ‘‘naughty boy,’ and supplementing him with such appropriate emblems of idleness and perversity of temper as a broken slate, and a book lying on a form with its cover turned upwards. The painter’s idea was evidently to represent a boy idle and contumacious in the school-room. ' fall of the eye in its utter hopelessness, the rigidity of repose which marks that there has been no motion nor change in the trance of agony since the last blow was struck on the coffin-lid ; the quietness and gloom of the chamber, the spectacles marking the place where the Bible was last closed, indicating how lonely has been the life—how unwatched the departure of him who is now laid solitary in his sleep ;—these are all thoughts— thoughts by which the picture is separated at once from hundreds of equal-merit, as far as mere painting goes, by which it ranks as a work of high merit, and stamps its author, not as the neat imitator of the texture of a skin, or the fold of a drapery, but as the Man of Mind."—MModern Painters, vol. i. p. 8. DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE. 19 To the exhibition at the British Institution in 1839 Landseer contributed a picture then simply called ‘‘ Two Dogs,”’ but which has long since become well-known by the appropriate title of ‘Dignity and Impudence.’’ It shows in a striking manner the power of contrast, though we see little more than the heads of the animals peering out of the front of the kennel. One is that of a splendid old bloodhound of the Duke of Grafton’s breed, which has flung its paw, massive and strong, across the ledge of the doorway It is impossible to imagine anything finer than the perfect repose and dignity of the magnificent creature, which does not condescend to notice a small white Scotch terrier that has had the audacity to venture into the abode of his gigantic companion, and, placing himself by his side, peers out of the opening with brilliant restless eyes, as if on the watch to spring upon anything that comes within reach. In ordinary hands the subject would have been commonplace and comparatively insignificant; but the genius of the artist has elevated it into a work of great interest. The picture was painted for the late Mr. Jacob Bell, who bequeathed it to the nation; and it is now in Trafalgar Square. An exquisite little cabinet-picture, ‘‘ A Milkmaid and Cow,” also hung in the British Institution at the same time. In the Academy exhibition of that year Landseer showed seven works, among which were the following :—‘The Princess Mary of Cambridge, and a favourite Newfoundland Dog, the property of Prince George of Cambridge.’”’ The princess, then a child, is ‘‘ giving lessons’? to the huge animal: the picture is finely and carefully painted. ‘‘Tethered Rams,’ now in the Sheepshanks Collection: two rams, guarded by two sheep-dogs, are fastened to the trunk of a tree which lies on the ground; in the middle distance is a flock of sheep under the care of the shepherd, who 1s ‘talking to a girl: the background landscape shows a lake and mountains. ‘Corsican, Russian, and Fallow Deer,” admirably grouped, and herding together quite in harmony, though it may be questioned whether animals whose habits are so opposite ever meet on such amicable terms. ‘Portrait of Miss Eliza Peel with Fido,’ a gem of a picture, yet nothing more than a pretty child fondling her pet-dog. ‘Van Amburgh and his Animals,” a commission from the Queen. Landseer repeated this subject on a much larger scale, in 1847, for the late Duke of Wellington; the picture is now at Apsley House. The two compositions are somewhat dissimilar; in the first, a lion is the prominent animal, “while the great brute-tamer exhibits the bloody wounds upon his neck and arms with evident pride and satisfaction as so many honourable scars: numerous figures are looking through the iron-grating with wonder and delight.” The second version was entitled “Portrait of Mr. Van Amburgh, as he appeared with his Animals at the London Theatres.” Here, as in the other, Van Amburgh is seen in the cage, a lion, lioness, &c., being on his left hand, and on his right a tiger and other animals: he holds in his hand a whip. The lion has raised himself against 20 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. the bar of the cage, with his huge mouth wide open; the lioness is crouched at his feet, her eyes fixed upon the man with the utmost intensity of expression. All the beasts are painted with wonderful truthfulness, but the lioness is the triumph of the whole. Van Amburgh’s figure is forced and theatrical. In 1840 Landseer sent to the British Institution a small picture, ‘‘ Young Roebuck and Rough Hounds,” now in the Sheepshanks Gallery; the wonted skill and accuracy of the artist are here self-evident; but the subject is far from agreeable, for the roebuck lies dead among some rocks, and one of the four dogs which surround it is licking up the blood that flows from a wound in the neck. A far more agreeable spectacle, in several pictures, awaited the visitor to the Royal Academy that year. First, there was ‘‘ Horses taken in to Bait’’—the interior of a stable, having some- thing of the aspect of an old baronial hall; horses and stable-requisites excellently composed and painted. A second was ‘‘ Macaw, Love-birds, Terrier, and Spaniel- puppies, belonging to Her Majesty,’ all grouped into a very pleasing picture, but rather cold and raw in colour. Then followed ‘‘ Lion Dog (from Malta, the last of the Tribe) the property of H.R.H. the Duchess of Kent;’’ interesting not less for the peculiarity of the dog than for its admirable execution. A fourth work was “ Lion and Dash, the property of the Duke of Beaufort ;’’ the former animal a dog of the finest and most noble character; the latter a tiny spaniel, scarcely bigger than the head of its companion: the huge fellow evidently considers itself the natural protector of the other, and that it is his duty to keep watch and ward over him. The last of the year’s exhibited pictures was one of Landseer’s most humorous compositions, ‘ Laying down the Law’’—in a canine court of justice: the presiding judge is a large white and shaggy poodle, looking as solemn as if the case before him were a question of life and death; the learned counsel on both sides are represented by dogs of various kinds; one of them, a sharp, crabbed kind of terrier, that seems equal to any amount of blustering in the cross-examination of a witness, appears to be arguing some disputed point with the judge in a way that will probably bring upon him the rebuke of the bench, if not a committal for ‘‘ contempt of court.’”” One may almost feel surprised that the painter himself was not brought up for judgment for thus caricaturing the majesty of the law. The picture is in the Duke of Devonshire’s collection at Chatsworth. I have been unable to ascertain when ‘“‘ The Chieftain’s Friends,’’ here engraved, was produced ; but it is certainly one of the artist’s early works, and was painted for the late Duke of Devonshire: the picture is at Chatsworth. The ‘Chieftain’ is Lord Richard Cavendish, second brother of the present duke; his ‘friends’’ are the dogs and the falcon, with whom he has evidently just been having some sport, for a dead bird, which has fallen a victim to the falcon, lies on the dwarf stone wall that surrounds the pond, overgrown with water-lilies. The picture is a felicitous attempt to combine, in costume and circumstance, modern portraiture with the customs ‘ ULPt ‘AGE, 3G ARMYTA ere a SIR EDWIN LANDSEER. R.A PINX? Tatts dnt 9 CHUEFTAINS FRIENDS. HUE sD. LONDON, VIRTUE &C?LIMt OTTERS AND SALMON. 21 of ages long since passed away. The action and life-like expression of the large Italian greyhound are especially to be noted. In 1841 Landseer contributed to none of the exhibitions; an attack of illness in the autumn of the preceding year compelling him to forego all labour. By way of recruiting his health he paid a visit to Germany, residing principally in Vienna, and returned to England at the close of the year, better for his trip, yet not thoroughly established in health. He was soon, however, at his easel again, as the records of the following year’s pictures show. In the British Institution (1842) appeared another of the pictures, which, by the munificence of Mr. Sheepshanks, has become the property of the country, and is now at South Kensington,—‘“ Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like Home,’’ a work rendered popular by the durin of the late B. P. Gibbon. A little rough terrier, the tenant of a barrel that has been transformed into a kennel, returns to his humble home after a temporary absence, only to find his dinner eaten up by some wandering ‘‘snapper up of trifles,’’ the platter broken, and a snail crawling over the fragments, indicating the utter hopelessness of the hungry dog’s position. It is difficult to describe the expression of the poor animal’s eyes, as with his head upraised, he seems to be preparing a howl for the loss of his meal, though glad to get back again to his old quarters. To the Academy he sent the same year seven pictures, one of which was called “Otters and Salmon,’’ subsequently engraved by J. R. Jackson. The scene is a view of a broad, rocky river, such as every experienced angler would naturally assume to be the haunt of salmon and trout. A large otter, painted life-size, has seized a fine grilse, which he is about to devour on a diminutive islet midway in the rushing stream, when he is interrupted, ere he begins his meal, by the appearance of another of his species, desirous of sharing the dainty with him, and upon which he turns, still holding the fish, with an emphatic menace as a caution against interference. The mouth of the animal, and its ferocious, defiant expression, are the triumph of the picture; though both the otters and the fish are painted with such truth as to approach reality as nearly as art can ever do. Another, ‘‘ The Highland Shepherd’s Home,”’ passed into the possession of Mr. Sheepshanks: when this gentleman parted with it I do not | know, but it got into the hands of the late Mr. Bullock, at the sale of whose collection, | in 1870, by Messrs. Christie, it was bought by Messrs. Agnew for 1000 guineas. | The subject is merely the room of a Highland cottage, in which a young husband and his wife are watching with loving eyes their infant asleep in a rudely-constructed cradle. The tranquil joy of the pair seems to be shared by the old sheep lying at the side of a dog, and by a hen with her brood of chicks. It is a strange domestic scene for a Southron to contemplate—the hut and its variety of occupants; yet it is a very pleasant picture in itself, independently of the fidelity and carefulness with which it is painted throughout. % 22 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, &.A. Of a third picture of this year (1842), ‘A Pair of Brazilian Monkeys,” I shall speak hereafter. Another was “ Ziva,’”’ a badger-dog, belonging to the Hereditary Prince of Saxe Coburg-Gotha, not a beauty in itself, though of a glossy black colour: he has for a companion a monkey holding in his paw an apple, which he rapidly devours with unmistakeable relish ; the dog fixes his eye with intense meaning on the monkey, as if he felt half-disposed to ‘“‘draw’’ him, after the manner of a badger. The fourth work that merits special note was ‘“ The Sanctuary,” suggested by the following passage in a poem entitled ‘‘ Loch Maree,” but by whom written is not stated :— “ See where the startled wild-fowl screaming rise, And seek in marshalled flight those golden skies. Yon weary swimmer scarce can win the land, His limbs yet falter on the watery strand. Poor hunted hart! The painful struggle o’er, How blest the shelter of that island shore! There, whilst he sobs his panting heart to rest, Nor hound nor hunter shall his lair molest.” . The picture, as a critic truly remarked at the time when it was exhibited, “ illustrates ’ The immediate the power of a great mind over the simplest materials in composition.’ objects are a stag, and a flock of wild ducks scared by the former from their retreat ; but the poetry of the whole is such as never can be excelled in art of this kind. The scene is in the Highlands, and the eye of the spectator is carried across a broad expanse of lake, on the opposite shore of which the rising backs of hills come out in deep shadow against the subdued light, for the sun has set behind the ridge. To escape his pursuers the hunted stag has taken to the water, and has just gained footing, after a lengthened swim, on an islet in the lake—‘‘ The Sanctuary.’’ The waters of the lake are smooth as glass, so that the course of the wearied animal is marked by the track he has left on its surface; while the solitude and security of the spot are shown by the alarm of the stranger’s appearance among the fowls, which have risen from their sheltered home, and are winging their flight to the nearest point of the mainland. Their departure it is which alone breaks the perfect serenity and repose pervading the entire composition. The picture was painted for the late Prince Consort. In the Sheepshanks collection is a work that was exhibited at the British Institution in 1834, and is here engraved under the title of ‘“The Friend in Suspense.”’ -One can scarcely examine it without feeling commiseration for the noble animal ‘waiting the re-appearance of his master, who has been carried wounded, perhaps dead, into an apartment of some old baronial hall. How piercingly his eyes are fixed upon the closed door, as if they would penetrate the stout oaken panels: there is something quite painful in the earnest, anxious look of the dog, that indicates a feeling deeper than that of ‘‘ suspense ;”’ it is one of extreme distress ; and a clue to it may be offered TSMR THE FRIEND IN SUSPENSE as C.LEWIS, SCULPT USPENSE. NDON, VIRTUE &C° LIMITED Qn Z ei a Za A = — fe a 4 a THE RETURN FROM THE WARREN. 23 in the suggestion, that he has seen his master borne into the room, or has traced him there by the drops of blood scattered in a line on the floor. On a table lie the gauntlets of the wounded man; and in the immediate foreground is an eagle’s feather. Few as the materials of this picture are, they are worked up most expressively and touchingly. The two pictures exhibited by Landseer at the Academy in 1843 were less notable as regards subject than was usual with him. One, “Portrait of the Hon. Ashley Ponsonby,’’ was subsequently engraved by Mr. T. Landseer, and published under the title of ‘‘The Return from the Warren.’’ The figure, that of a handsome youth, bareheaded, and dressed in crimson velvet, is mounted on a beautiful bay pony, which is cantering homewards with sundry rabbits slung over its back: their companions are two dogs, a terrier and a beagle, one of which carries his young master’s cap in its. mouth. The composition of the subject is very simple, yet most effective from the wonderful animation with which the animals are portrayed: the head of the pony is really a fine study; it shows a sagacity almost amounting to intelligence. Landseer’s manner in dealing with portraiture was always most fascinating; while keeping the individual as the most prominent object in the composition, he accompanied it with such accessories as to render the whole a scene of surpassing interest. In his other picture of the year, ‘‘ Horses—the property of William Wigram, Esq.,”’ we notice the same inventive power displayed in the portraiture of the animals. Two horses are seen in the foreground preparing to drink from a large iron pot. By their side are a pair of magpies, one of which thrusts his beak into a huge marrow-bone. It is evident that the horse nearest to the bird considers it a thing of ill omen, for while his nose dips into the pot, his ears are thrown back, and his eye is turned significantly towards the intruder. There were two engravings published this year from the works of Landseer, but I have been unable to ascertain when and where the pictures were exhibited, or if they ever were seen in public at all. One was called “ Lassie herding Sheep,’’ engraved in mezzotinto, by John Burnet, from the painting then in the possession of Mr. Wells, of Redleaf. In a far-away nook among the heathery hills of Scotland, a ‘“‘lassie”’ stands leaning against the broken acclivity, in the act of knitting. There is extreme ease in the position of the figure, and the limbs are, as usual with this artist, admirably rounded. Near her are scattered about numerous sheep, and a black-face ram, tethered by the horns, is struggling to release himself. Her dog, a meagre lank-boned animal, crouches by her side, with his ears pricked up, alive to every sound and movement., : ' . we The other print, engraved by T. Landseer, is called - Children with Rabbits. The former are the son and daughter, orphan-children, of the Hon. Seymour Bathurst. The boy stands holding a live rabbit, which is carefully covered with a cloth, while his 24 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. sister stoops to fondle another pet, closely hugging it to her bosom. The little maiden’s hands are almost buried in the luxuriant fur of the animal, which accepts the caresses very contentedly, as if accustomed to them. It is interesting to note the keen observation of the artist, who always managed to endow the most simple incident with the language of truthful representation. For instance, here the pressure of the hands on the rabbit is described by the partial closing of the eyelids. In addition to the two animals serving as “ principals,’’ several younger rabbits are seen whimsically arranged in a brown dish. In the Vernon collection are the two small pictures ‘‘ High Life’’ and ‘‘ Low Life,”’ of which engravings are introduced into this volume; they were exhibited in the British Institution in 1831. The former title is given to a splendid stag-hound, seated in an apartment of a lordly castle; the room, judging from its furniture and general contents, appears to be that ordinarily used by the animal’s master—probably a baron or knight of the olden time, for “ Helmet and sword, breastplate and glove, are there,” with other objects of a more peaceful nature, and showing their owner to be a bookman and scribe as well as a warrior; implements of writing lie on the table, interspersed with heavily-bound volumes. But there are two objects which seem to be quite out of place in a composition that carries the mind back to a comparatively remote age: these are the candle set up in a modern candlestick, and the cord and tassel serving, as it must be considered, for a bell-pull; both introductions destroy the otherwise medizval character of the whole scene. The hound is a right worthy specimen of canine ‘‘high life’’—well bred, well cared-for, graceful in form, and most intelligent in expression. ‘‘Low Life’’ is the exact counterpart of all this, having no claim to higher rank than that assigned to him by the artist, either by birth, education, or ownership. It must be admitted, however, that there is a class of men—aristocratic men too—who patronise dogs of this kind, and esteem them beautiful : and this fellow assumes such an air of dignity, as he sits basking in the sunshine in the doorway of: a butcher’s out- house, as would warrant the supposition that he, too, were of royal race, and fit com- pany for any one. But he is a dog evidently not to be played with by a stranger: that broad chest and deep jowl, those short, strong, and muscular legs, would render him a formidable opponent if roused into action, and a valuable ally to his master, whether engaged in deeds good or evil. The true character of a thorough fighting-dog has never been more faithfully portrayed, and whatever the duties required of him, there can be no doubt of his faithfully and vigorously performing them. The accessories of the picture typify the owner of the ill-favoured animal—what mischief lurks in that half-closed eye; it will open widely enough should any hostile foot, whether of biped HIGH LIFE aCfyoO> YHA: 5 YY ey CY PPD[(]R MU EE a is Zs LEE IE Os CO AY Yh XX ea oe Z = = SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A.PINXT H BECKWITH, SCULPT HIGH LIFE. LONDON. VIRTUE &C° LIMITED A BATTLE O DOWGS. 25 or quadruped, approach: the empty porter-pots, in one of which a tobacco-pipe has been placed; the large and heavy top-boots; the hat, the neckcloth, the bottle and knife, all on the block; the rope and oil-horn hanging up ;—all are as significant of a ‘‘low”’ calling, though one perfectly honest and necessary, as is the animal himself among the canine species. It must have been a dog of this fighting character that Professor Wilson, in his ‘Recreations of Christopher North,’ refers to as engaged in a terrific encounter with another—assumed to be, or perhaps really, his own, and which he calls ‘‘ Fro : m2 of this latter animal he says— “Never yet saw we a fighter like thee. Up on thy hind legs in a moment, like a growling Polar monster, with thy fore-paws round thy foeman’s neck—bull-dog, collie, mastiff, or greyhound—and down with him in a moment, with as much ease as Cass,* in the wrestling- ring at Carlisle, would throw a Bagman; and then woe to the throat of the downfallen, for thy jaws were shark-like as they opened and shut with their terrific tusks, grinding through skin and sinew to the spine. “Once, and once only—bullied out of all endurance by a half-drunken carrier—did we consent to let thee engage in a pitched battle with a mastiff victorious in fifty fights—a famous shanker, and a throttler beyond all compare. It was indeed a bloody business: now growling along the glaurt+ of the road—a hairy hurricane; now snorting in the suffocating ditch; now fair play on the clear and clean crown of the causey; now rolling over and over through a chance open white little gate, into a cottage garden; now separated by choking them both with a cord; now brought out again with savage and fiery eyes to the scratch on a green plot round the signboard-swinging tree in the middle of the village; auld women in their mutches + crying out ‘Shame! where’s the minister?’ young women, with combs in their pretty heads, blinking with pale and almost weeping faces from low-lintelled doors; children crowding for sight and safety on the louping-on-stane ;§ and loud cries ever and anon at each turn and eddy of the fight of ‘ Well done, Fro! well done, Fro!’ for Fro was the delight and glory of the whole parish ; and the honour of all its inhabitants, male and female, was felt to be staked on the issue,” &c., &c. More to the point, perhaps, as regards Landseer’s specimen of ‘‘ Low Life,’’ is the same writer’s description of a dog-fight in Edinburgh. It is found in Wilson’s ‘“*Noctes Ambrosianz.’’ “Shepherd. Down anither close, and a battle o’ dowgs! A bull-dowg and a mastiff! The great big brown mastiff mouthin the bull-dowg by the verra hainches, as if to crunch his back, and the wee white bull-dowg never seemin to fash his thoomb, but stickin by the regular set teeth o’ his underhung jaw to the throat o’ the mastiff, close to the jugular, and no to be drawn aff the grip by twa strong baker-boys pu’in at the tail o’ the tane, and twa strong butcher-boys pu’in at the tail o’ the tither; for the mastiff’s maister begins to fear that the veeper at his throat will kill him outright, and offers to pay a’ betts (szc.) and confess his dowg * A famous Cumberland wrestler of that day. | { Caps. + Mud. § A stone or step to aid in mounting on horseback. H 26 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. has lost the battle. But the crood wush to see the fecht out, and harl the dowgs that are noo worryin ither without ony growlin—baith silent, except a sort o’ snortin through the nostrils, and a kind o’ guller in their gullets—I say, the crood harl them out o’ the midden ontil the stanes again; and ‘ Weel dune, Cesar!’ ‘Better dune, Veeper!’ ‘A mutchkin toa gill on whitey!’ ‘The muckle ane canna fecht!’ ‘See how the wee bich is worryin him now, by a new spat on the thrapple!’ ‘He wud rin away gin she wud let him loose!’ ‘ She’s just like her mither that belanged to the caravan o’ wild beasts!’” A ‘battle o’ dowgs’’ is a brutalising and disgusting sight, which we never remember to have seen delineated by the pencil of Landseer; yet what can be said of his ‘Otter speared?’’ painted for the late Earl of Aberdeen, exhibited at the Academy in 1844, and now in the possession of Mr. S. Mendel, of Manchester. The picture is a large one, and has been engraved by C. Lewis. I perfectly remember the impression it made on my mind at the time, and on the minds of many others—a feeling of regret that the genius of the painter should have been employed on a subject so revolting, and from which one gladly turns away. What can be much more painful to look upon than the wretched animal held aloft and writhing on the huntsman’s spear, with a pyramid of hounds about him; some in the stream of water at the man’s feet, others on the high bank above him, and others climbing and leaping around him ; but all vociferating and struggling, to get at the victim? The dogs are said to have been portraits of Lord Aberdeen’s otter-hounds, and certainly they are here painted with a living, active expression that is marvellous: in colour the picture throughout is rich and brilliant. ‘“‘ Disappointment ”’ is the title given to a small and rather- sketchy, yet masterly, work exhibited with the preceding. It represents a lady wearing a scarlet mantle, trimmed with minever. She is seated, and her features wear a look of sadness, as if disappointed at the non-arrival of some loved one: hence the title. A favourite dog is near her, with his large dark eyes fixed on her face, and appearing to be sensible of her grief and to share it with her. “The Challenge—Coming Events cast their Shadows before,’’ was the third exhibited picture of the same year. The conception. of this work is really grand—as much so as a fragment of some Homeric description of a Greek or Trojan chief going out to meet his enemy in single combat. On the border of a wide lake, and under a moonlit sky—though the moon is not seen—stands a noble stag, waiting the approach of his opponent, gallantly swimming through the water towards him. It is impossible to look upon the former of the two animals—which, amid the depth of a snow-scene and the semi-darkness of night, bells forth the challenge to his rival,—without feeling deep interest in the combat about to follow, and a fear as to the result: it must be ‘death to one of them. At one moment we believe the challenger must have. the advantage, inasmuch as he is not fatigued by a passage through the water; and then again we are disposed to back the on-comer, whose strong head and antlers rise LOW LIFE LOW LIFE. LONDON, VIRTUE & CO LIMITED. H BECKWITH, Sc ULP® THE SHEPHERD'S PRAVER. 27 pravely and menacingly above the surface of the lake, through whose depths he rapidly ploughs his way, with the thickly-clustered stars twinkling above him. It is, in put a painted poem; and the episode of the two pine-trees fallen in the snow— typifying the prostration of the two combatants—the branches of one tree standing up and out like the antlers of the stag, whose shadow seems moving over the sheeted ground, is very fine. The idea of the pair of forest-chieftains meeting alone in the twilight and silence of the night is grand; and the manner in which it is carried out is as fine as the conception. The picture is engraved by H. F. Walker. Landseer’s fourth and last exhibited picture of 1844 was ‘ Shoein g,’’ bequeathed to the nation by the late Mr. Jacob Bell, and now in the National Gallery. The scene is the interior of a farrier’s shop, in which a man is putting a shoe on the hind foot of a bay horse, which is most beautifully painted as to texture of skin. The animal is the portrait of ‘Old Betty,”’ a favourite of its owner; and she stands in a way that was peculiar to it when undergoing this operation, and without a halter, for it would not permit itself to be fastened up. The farrier, the donkey, and the bloodhound, are also portraits. There is a fine engraving, by C. Lewis, from the picture. Four small works were contributed by Landseer to the British Institution in 1845 :— ‘** Decoy-man’s Dog and Ducks.” Here the dog is left in charge of the birds, which lie around him: the ducks are skilfully drawn, and their plumage is exquisite in colour and texture; it seems as if a breath of air would ruffle the lightest feather. ‘‘ King Charles’s Spaniels,’’ will be referred to hereafter. ‘‘ A Sussex Spaniel,’’ waiting by a dead pheasant till it is picked up by the sportsman. The fourth, ‘‘ A Retriever,’’ shows only the head and shoulders of the dog, which carries a woodcock in its mouth. The perfect training of the animal is seen in the way he holds the bird, without displacing a feather. It is by such minute attention to details that the painter proves himself thoroughly acquainted with field-sports. The only picture he exhibited at the Academy in that year bore no title, but it might appropriately have been called ‘‘ The Shepherd’s Prayer.” The canvas is some- what large, and the composition remarkable for being constituted of small objects. It represents a shepherd kneeling devoutly before a “ Calvary,” or figure of the Saviour crucified, erected by the side of a road leading over a wide tract of common with a few trees growing on it. Around the man is a very numerous flock of sheep, many of which are straggling into the distance. The sentiment of the work is of a character more elevated than one is accustomed to see in the pictures of this artist: a hallowed tranquillity at once reaches the senses, and maintains there increasing influence so long as the eye rests on the canvas, for there is nothing to disturb the spiritual repose. Even the trees are mannered into reverential eloquence consonant with the main purpose. The “Calvary” is unusually large, so much so as to reduce the importance of the living figure, who is habited in the ordinary blue blouse of the French peasant; but, for the 28 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. sake of the picturesque, it may be presumed, or because French sheep are not con- sidered so symmetrical as our own, the flock of which he is guardian are some of Scotch breed, and others, those wild black-faced tups that will dispute with a stranger the narrow path in their mountain-pastures. The picture is an attractive one in every way, but worthy of special commendation are the fleeces of the animals—real wool they must be. It was reported when exhibited that it was painted for, or purchased by, the late Sir Robert Peel, but I do not find it included in any list of the pictures in the possession of that statesman. ‘“‘ Highland Music,’’ engraved here, was painted in 1832 for the late Mr. Vernon, and is now at South Kensington; it was never exhibited, though a subject with a similar title appeared at the British Institution in 1830. The picture is among those triumphs of objective truthfulness of representation of which no painter, or any age or country, has afforded more skilful examples than Sir Edwin Landseer. We have here all the fidelity of imitation of the best Dutch masters combined with a thorough under- standing of the contingent varieties depending on local and incidental causes. To this, few only of the Dutch painters have ever. attained; and the sentiment of the subject does not yield to the execution of it. A picturesque old Highland piper appears to have designedly and mischievously interrupted the frugal meal of a group of hungry dogs by a vigorous and sudden appeal to his bag-pipes. The varied effects of “‘ High- land Music” on the different animals are as striking as ludicrous. One blind-eyed little terrier to the left seems disposed to expel the noisy intruder; another near him has set up an accompaniment of its own; two fine hounds sit quietly, as if their aristo- cratic blood and breeding were proof against emotion of any kind that would betray strong feelings—they would witness a tragedy without shedding a tear, and a comedy without exhibiting a smile. The fifth dog, crouched at the feet of the musician, turns up his eyes to the old Highlander with an intensity of expression, which, though not human, expresses effectually the animal’s true sympathetic appreciation of the stirring strains. Here we have strong sentiment and forcible imitation. This is very observable in the accessories of the picture; in the wooden chair on the left, with the plaid hanging over the back ; and in the various utensils about the room, among which the man’s short tobacco-pipe is not the least characteristic, The old piper himself stands out with great boldness, through the relief given to his head by the dark recess immediately behind him ; and the effect of space in the small apartment is very cleverly produced’ by the introduction of a partial glimpse of light in the extreme background. The peculiarly subdued character of colour pervading the picture is worthy of remark: a warm tertiary tone prevails throughout; the only positive colour being the touch of red of the High- lander’s stocking. This wholesome subjection of colour admits of the duly prominent display of the sentiment of the composition, so admirably expressed in the animals. SM Sarrs HIGHLAND MUSIC “CHIINTT 399 SALYIA’ NOCNOT “OISAN CNWIHXIN ituXNId VU YUAASANVI NIMAA MIS SSS SS REFRESHMENT—A SCENE IN BELGIUM. 29 This small, but most valuable, picture is painted on panel, and measures about two feet by one foot and a half. It is a striking example of the clean and _ solid execution of the artist: the textures are rendered with marvellous truth, especially the coats of the dogs, which even the painter himself has never surpassed. In the head of the old Gael there is no indecision; the healthy hues of his features are laid in with a full pencil, and the chiar’ -oscuro yields an effect that could not possibly be improved by any other arrangement. Passing from this chronological digression in the order of the appearance of Landseer’s pictures, I now come to the year 1846, when he exhibited at the Academy four works—all of them specially notable; three of these, ‘‘ Time of Peace,” “Time of War,”’ and ‘‘ The Stag at Bay,’’ will be referred to hereafter: the fourth picture, ‘‘ Refreshment,” a truly fine and a most interesting work, was painted for, or sold to, Mr. Nieuwenhuys, a well-known Belgian picture-dealer. The work has been very effectively engraved by H. Cousins; the print is called ‘‘ Refreshment—a Scene in Belgium.’ In front of a wide ancient doorway, that appears to be the entrance to an old Norman chateau, stands a white draught-horse, still caparisoned in the heavy harness peculiar to that part of the Continent, though he has evidently just come off a journey. His head-gear hangs about his stout neck, and he is refreshing himself with a meal of carrots, turnips, and other vegetables placed on a large tub turned upside down. Leaning against the side of the archway, with his legs bare and one foot slipped out of his sadof, a boy rests lazily a knee against the edge of the tub; and just inside the archway is a buxom, pleasant-looking lass ; both watching the animal at his feast; his sleepy eye and negligée posture intimate his weariness. In addition to these, two large and handsome dogs, one of which certainly knows what it is to work in harness, are lying down to rest themselves ; one close to the tub, the other under the shadow of a mass of woodwork, the flat top of which serves as a kind of table for a bottle of green glass containing red wine, an apple, and sundry other objects. In the middle distance is visible a man tending some goats; he half reclines on the ground, with his head turned towards the group in the foreground; and beyond all is a glimpse of hilly ground, the tender and airy hues of which are beautifully rarified by the opposition of the bottle and its contents standing out in brilliant relief against it. The artist seems to have painted the picture with a view to show his power of delineating those objects in which he most excels. There are the dogs, drawn with his accustomed truth—the horse admirably characterised—a portion of a fleece, unexceptionable sheep- skin—and a boy and young female; many of these are the elements of his best works. It was publicly stated at the time these four pictures were exhibited, that Landseer received for them nearly £7,000: namely, £2,400 for the paintings themselves, and £4,450 for the copyrights. The late Sir Francis G. Moon gave £2,650 for the copyright of “Peace”? and ‘“ War”: Messrs. Graves and Co., £1,000 for that of I 30 STR EDWIN LANDSEER. R.A. “Refreshment,” and Mr. McLean £800, with a share of the profits arising out of the sale of the engraving, for the copyright of ‘‘ The Stag at Bay.”’ The only picture exhibited by Landseer in 1847, besides the ‘Van Amburgh with his Animals’’—the large vepiica for the Duke of Wellington—which has been already spoken of, was ‘‘ The Drive—Shooting Deer on the Pass—Scene in the Black Mount, Glen Urchy Forest.’’ It is a picture of considerable dimensions, showing an extent of wild and rugged mountainous scenery, with two figures crouched in a rocky nook in the foreground: they are accompanied by two deerhounds, which a brawny Highlander is holding back with a vigorous hand. On the precipitous side of one of the mountains a herd of deer, ‘‘on the pass,”’ is scattered, for the rifle of the sportsman has already brought down a noble stag and has carried alarm among the rest. A dense Scotch mist veils the mountain on the right of the composition ; and beneath is a break, showing a beautiful play of light on and oposite mountain. The picture is generally low in tone and colour, but it everywhere manifests the hand of the skilful painter. The work has been engraved on a large scale. In 1855 a small study made for this picture was sold, with a portion of the collection of Mr. Birch, of Birmingham, for 780 guineas. In 1846 was published an engraving, by J. Burnet, of “‘The Hawk-Trainer.”’ I cannot ascertain whether the picture was ever exhibited, but it was the property of the then Dowager Countess of Essex, The subject is a charming reminiscence of the olden time; a saddled horse, a couple of dogs, a boy holding the latter, and a mounted falconer with a hawk on his hand make up the composition. ‘“‘ The Death of the Stag,”’ of which an engraving is introduced here, was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1833, under the title of ‘‘ Deer and Hounds in a Torrent.’’ It belongs to the Vernon collection, and is in the National Gallery under the title of ‘The Hunted Stag.”” Were one inclined to write a homily upon the sufferings of animals which man makes subservient to his pastime, a more appropriate text could scarcely be found than is supplied by this picture, beautiful though it is as a work of art; and however unwilling one may be to introduce any remark that savours of over-sensi- bility, or that would cast a shadow over the colouring of a fine painting, it is utterly impossible to comment upon a work of such a character as this without some allusion to its subject-matter, and the feeling to which it must naturally give rise. The very first idea it suggests to the mind is that of sympathy with the noble creature borne headlong over the foaming waters and amid sharp-edged rocks by the strength of the torrent, and the fierce, firm grip of his assailants. We should admire the animal could we see him with head erect and his limbs in full stretch, bounding from crag to crag, or away over the level moorland, even though we know the hounds are hurrying onwards, and may possibly soon fasten on his broad haunches. There is still, however, in such a situation some chance of escape for him in the actual chase, some probability J.COUSEN, SCULPT WIN LANDSEER.R A PINX™ OQ et TAG. Qe ‘ THE DEATH OF THE CUMi TL J ON DO. DEATH OF THE STAG. 31 that his swift legs will carry him beyond the reach of his pursuers, or hide him in deep covert, where even canine sagacity cannot track him. But from Landseer’s picture there is no such hope to be sustained, no pause in the struggle between life and death, no drawing back from sudden destruction: had the stag only the element of water to contend against, that breast might stem the torrent, and those delicate but muscular limbs might bear him safely over the mimic cataract to the shores of the lake. He is held down, however, by one of his powerful adversaries, and is wearied perhaps by a hard day’s run; his tongue protrudes from exhaustion and pain; the eye is already half-glazed in the anguish of death; and though he still holds his head proudly upwards, and stretches out his body bravely over the crest of the waters, it is only like the last effort “Of some strong swimmer in his agony :” he has struggled hard and nobly for life, and falls with his face to the enemy. It may well be asked, Why then do painters select such subjects as these, when the animal-world in its innocence and joyousness, the whole creation in all its beauty and serenity, lie open before them, from which they may unreservedly make choice? The question is more easily put than answered ; but they may have an object other than that of merely exhibiting power to illustrate a special scene; they may possibly desire to ‘point a moral,’ and to do this effectually they would necessarily make the strongest appeal to reason and sensibility that imagination could suggest. They would seize the most striking incidents the subject admits of, and impart to them the most vivid colouring, just as an orator often reserves his loftiest flights of eloquence for the peroration, that he may leave the more lasting impression on his audience, or as a tragedian throws all his energies into the death-scene that he may expire amid the plaudits of the spectators. In all these cases efect is sought after; such an effect as will best suit the purpose of him who performs it, by making the act to be, at one and the same time, its own commentator, and the interpreter of the genius of him who presents it. There is a fine poetical feeling, of tragic character, thrown into the composition of this work, which only a painter of high genius could have imagined; the landscape harmonises with the deed of death; it is solitary, rugged, and barren; the hard granite rocks, abrupt and shadowy, seem to look on, pitiless spectators of what is taking place beneath them; and the only echo which fancy hears is that of the howl of the drowning dog as the sound rolls along the gloomy amphitheatre of hills until lost in the distant gorge. The last rays of the evening sun are fast disappearing, but they Still throw a strong light over the foreground of the composition, and sparkle on the white foam of the waters, and on the wet green moss which covers the huge boulders of stone. Although this is one of the artist’s comparatively early pictures, it is painted with 32 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. consummate skill and power; indeed it may be questioned whether he ever produced a finer work of art in what constitutes sound and substantial painting; certainly he never studied nature more closely than we find it here represented. This is especially recognisable in the head of the stag, which is delineated with a truthfulness not to be surpassed; neither Rubens nor Snyders ever exhibited ‘‘a hunt”’ with greater spirit than Landseer has here shown; but there are other pictures by him which produce far more unmingled gratification than ‘‘ The Death of the Stag.”’ In 1848 he sent to the Academy five works, conspicuous among which was ‘Alexander and Diogenes,”’ one of the pictures bequeathed by Mr. Jacob Bell, and now in the National Gallery. It is agreeable to turn from the contemplation of the work just described to this very humorous and truly happy conception. History relates that Diogenes, the famous Greek cynic philosopher, in order to show his contempt for wealth and display, at one time made a large tub his place of abode; and the story goes on to say that Alexander the Great, accompanied by numerous courtiers, once paid him a visit in this singular home, and announced himself by saying, “I am Alexander the Great.’’ “And I am Diogenes the Cynic,” replied the philoso pher ‘What can I do for you?’”’ asked the monarch. ‘Stand out of the sunshine,’’ was the rude answer. Struck with the remark, and to reprove his attendants, who were surprised and indignant at such an insult to their sovereign, the king turned to them and said, ‘If I were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes.’’ Landseer has turned this traditional incident to good account. The hero of the Granicus, Alexander, appears in the form of a stout-built white mastiff, standing before a tub, wherein lies a ragged- coated black dog, which, with upcast eyes, deprecates the shadow of his royal visitor, in whose attitude and expression are seen pride, conscious power, and even swaggering insolence. On the right of the canine philosopher is the lighted lantern, with which, as we read in history, the real Diogenes went, in broad daylight, to search for an honest man. By the side of the lantern lie a hammer and some nails, supposed to have been used in the construction of his dwelling. Behind Alexander is his train of courtiers—sleek, well-favoured dogs, adorned with handsome collars and bells. Mr. Bell, the late owner of this picture, made the following comment upon it :— ‘‘ Politicians, and persons having a lively imagination, may see in Alexander the type of a successful bully, who has fought his way in the world by Physical force, and has a sovereign contempt for moral influence. His motto is ‘ v7 e¢ armis,’ in support of which propensity he has obtained a few scars. Nevertheless he is quite ready at any moment, ‘To fight his battles o’er again, And thrice to slay the slain.’ Among his followers may be traced the portraits of a numerous class of persons, who A RANDOM SHOT. 33 are always to be found in the wake of lucky adventurers, looking out for any share of the spoil which chance or flattery may bring within their grasp.”’ Another picture of that year was Sir Edwin’s portrait of his venerable father, to which allusion has already been made. Of the three remaining subjects, by far the most important was ‘‘ A Random Shot,’’ which bore as its motto the following lines :— “Full many a shot, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant ; And many a word at random spoken May hurt or heal a heart that’s broken.” The impression conveyed to the mind of the spectator who examines this picture is unmitigated pain—all the greater because of the consummate skill with which the artist has wrought out the subject, adding horror to horror. A dead hind lying in the rich purple heather would be a sad sight to witness; but, as we find it here, lying in the deep snow, is an aggravation of suffering, especially in conjunction with what else the canvas shows. A writer in one of the public journals of the date of its exhibition made these remarks :—‘‘ Landseer is the Sterne of his art; he moves us towards his poor dead hind as Sterne did towards his dead ass. The fables, in which animals are actors, pronouncing human sentiments, whence are deduced ethic lessons, are dwelt upon only by the head, apart from every emotion. To move the soul something more than fable is necessary ; it is that truth which touches the heart through a community of feeling with the animal. The ‘Random Shot’ has stricken a hind, which has by her side a sucking fawn; the scene is in the Highlands; it is winter, and the hills are covered with snow. The wounded deer has ascended the mountain-side until she has fallen dead, her footmarks being printed in the snow with the blood that has trickled down her fore-leg from the wound. The fawn, as shown on the snow, has walked many times round her dead mother, and is now seen attempting to suck. Of the two animals, all that can be said of them is, they are painted in the very best style of the artist. The tongue protrudes from the mouth of the deer, and we just see her eye, having on it the dull glaze of death. The snow is coloured with the beautiful pink and purple hues it assumes on the mountains at sunset; indeed, in every most minute circumstance, the narrative is most scrupulous. The picture is, however, liable to the very serious objection of causing intense pain to the beholder: real life has sorrows enough in store for even the most fortunate, without giving to us those arising from fiction. It is not in paintings as it is in books: the sufferings we endure from the one are transient, while those which result from the other must be continuous; for a picture must be continually in sight.”’ It is no morbid sensibility that would turn away from this picture; whoever is its owner cannot, it may fairly be presumed, find any real pleasure in contemplating it, K 34 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. apart from its merits as a work of art; and these can scarcely outweigh the feeling of pain such a scene must or ought to produce in the mind. ‘Jack in Office,’’ engraved here, shows himself quite equal to the position to which he has been elevated. The picture, which is at South Kensington, is one of Landseer’s comparatively early works, dating as far back as 1833, when it was hung at the Academy; but we may search the entire catalogue of his subsequent productions to show anything more characteristic of dogofogy than this most humorous and eloquent composition, for every animal discourses in its own appropriate language as Nature, in accordance with her necessities or demands, prompts. First of all, there is the ‘“*man in possession’’—the ‘“ Jack in Office’”—a strong-built, ill-tempered mastiff, whose personal appearance evidences that he never knows the want of a meal ; though his master possibly feeds him well, as much to prevent his robbing the barrows as to get all the work out of him he can; on the principle which an Italian writer of about a quarter of a century ago ascribes to Englishmen, when he asserted that we fed our servants and labourers on the best to enable them to work the more. The owner of the dog has left his subordinate in charge of the meat-barrow while he delivers some pennyworths of horseflesh to his customers; or, perhaps, has betaken himself to a public-house close at hand for refreshment. The over-fed creature appears alive to his duty, and quite as ready to perform it. He sits and watches the group around him with supreme contempt and indifference to their wants, like a pampered menial ; and with manifest determination to repel any attack which might be made on the savoury viands. The selfish and spoiled animal is but a type of a certain class of human beings, who care little or nothing for others so long as they prosper and have their own wants amply satisfied. There is a wholesome moral to be learned from this representative dog. Any one who notices in the streets a vendor of cats’ and dogs’ meat will almost invariably see him accompanied on his rounds by a train of followers, enticed by the luxuries he has for sale. Here is a group, diverse in character as in kind; but all hungry, or pretending to be so. Foremost is a miserable, lank, half-starved hound, a fitting candidate for some ‘home for the homeless,’’ yet it is clear she has an owner, one, possibly, as wretched and hungry as herself, for the broken cord round her neck tells of her escape from some kind of domicile; and no wonder, when you look at her condition. She scans eagerly the tempting morsel in the plate, and would fain make an attack upon it did not fear and weakness prevent. Behind is a sort of French poodle ; he does not seem to be an object of commiseration, and yet his appeal is an argumentum ad misericordiam ; as if any argument short of brute force could move to pity any “« Jack in Office,”’ much less such a specimen as that enthroned on the barrow. There is, however, a dog at a little distance from the others whose erect head and tail indicate that he is rather disposed to try conclusions with the latter: he is a perky, JACK IN OFFICE aCABYDOs CHAS G LEWIS, SCULP? LONDON. VIRTUE & C°LIMITED. | oO = By i 9 , FH ta So RS A.PINX! Rorcke THE FORESTER’S FAMILY. 35 bold fellow, whose incipient growl has perhaps caught the ear of the meat-seller’s locum tenens, and is recognised as a sort of battle-cry. In front is a little ‘dog which has succeeded in filching a skewer, probably flavoured with meat; this he crunches with the most barefaced impertinence before'the face of the canine Dogberry. At the entrance of the gateway, and in the far distance, is yet another animal, too timid, probably, to approach nearer to a possible scene of conflict, yet ready to take his share of the spoil if, happily, any came in his way, and he could enjoy it in safety: with him ‘discretion is the better part of valour.”’ Not only are the animals painted to the life, but all the accessories, principal and secondary, are delineated with marvellous truth ; the barrow, with its necessary imple- ments of trade, such as the scales and weights, the cloth, the knife, the bag of skewers, the basket and the plate it contains, &c., were evidently ‘‘ copied from nature.”’ Five pictures were contributed by Landseer to the Academy exhibition of 1849. One, called ‘‘ The Desert,’’ represents a dead lion, said to have been sketched from one that had recently died at the Zoological Gardens. The scene fully supports the title given to the work, being a drear and rocky solitude, veritably ‘‘ the place of a skull :’’ the subject is gloomy enough, yet it is most impressively painted, both the animal and the landscape. Another, ‘‘ The Forester’s Family,”’ is one of the artist’s most charming and attractive compositions: there is nothing in it to cast a shadow of sadness over its serenity—no strife of combatants, no mutilated victims, no death ; but, instead, such an entire absence of all which reminds one of the curse pronounced upon man and beast, that Eden could not have exhibited a more harmonious union of the superior and inferior created animals, except that there is something suggestive of labouring ‘in the sweat of the brow,’’ and of the penalty to be paid by the living, in a pair of huge antlers, once belonging to a creature that had life, and to which is attached a piece of the stag’s skin, thereby showing that the horns were not dropped in the natural process of shedding. The “ Forester’s Family’”’ consists of a young barefooted female, who has been cutting long grasses or ferns, a truss of which she bears on her shoulders; it attracts to her a herd of fawns, which follow her closely, while others are hastening towards her. They form a most picturesque assemblage, - standing on ground that rises up from a lake backed by a range of lofty hills, where, on the right, a long rustic bridge crosses a deep ravine. The principal group, pyramidal in form—including the young boy carrying the gigantic antlers—occupies the centre of the canvas, and reaches almost to its extreme height; but it is judiciously balanced by the nearest hills, which, being in shadow, have sufficient sub- stance and strength to “carry off’’ the height of the figures. “The Free Church”’’ also belongs to the same year. It represents a Highland family worshipping in their kirk. Included in the domestic circle are the aged herdsman and his wife, and their daughter, who have been accompanied to the sacred edifice by the 36 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. rest of the family—two sheep-dogs and a terrier, to which the church is rendered as ‘free’? as to the human members of the congregation; and, certainly, the deco- rous conduct of the animals affords a lesson to many bipeds who are accustomed to attend regularly the services of the church. It must, however, be admitted that the expression of one of the dogs suggests a rather lengthy sermon, producing a tendency to drowsiness; this head is admirably painted; so also is the old man, which has a character quite Rembrandtesque. There is a pleasant sentiment in another of the year’s pictures, “ Collie Dogs,”’ lying on a heather-bank, from which their master has but recently risen, leaving behind him his bonnet and Bible. The fifth and last work of 1849 was called ‘Evening Scene in the Highlands,” a subject very similar to one the artist had previously painted in 1844, and which has already been described under the title of “Coming Events cast their Shadows before.’”” In the immediate fore- ground is a fine stag, on the bank of a broad lake, watching another on the opposite shore, and which, as he stands in the water, is evidently meditating a rencontre. With the exception of the summits of the distant mountains, the entire scene is in deep shade, and is most poetically treated. At the sale, in 1849, of the works bequeathed to the nation by Mr. Vernon, but which the Trustees of the National Gallery declined to take, on account of their being but of minor importance, were two examples of Landseer—‘‘ Catherine Seyton,” a small picture, marked “ Unfinished, E. L.,’’ which sold for 70 guineas ; and “* Heads of Deer and Game in a Pan on a Table,’’ which realized 166 guineas. The former painting was a few years ago, and probably still is, in the possession of Mr. R. Newsham, of Preston. It has been engraved. One of the largest pictures, if not the largest, Landseer had hitherto painted, appeared in the Academy in the following year; it bore the title, ““ A Dialogue at Waterloo,” the principal figures being the hero of that famous victory, and his daughter-in-law, the Marchioness of Douro, now the Duchess of Wellington, both mounted on horseback, and standing on the field of battle, where the Duke is assumed to be pointing out to the lady the relative positions of the two great contending armies. He is the nearer of the two to the spectator of the picture, and his face is seen in profile, while that of the Marchioness is turned full to the front, with an expression of earnest attention, very different, it may be presumed, from that of “Little Peterkin ’’ in Southey’s poem, on a similar victory, the Battle of Blenheim :— “<«And everybody praised the Duke, Who such a fight.did win.’ “But what good came of it at last?’ Quoth little Peterkin. ‘Why that I cannot tell,’ said he, * But ’twas a famous victory.’ ” RESCUING FROM THE SNOW-DRIFT. 37 This last line was attached to the title of the picture in the Academy catalogue. On the left of the principal figures, are some Belgian peasants at their dinner, a Belgian farmer, and girls with guide-books and Waterloo relics, or what are assumed to be the latter, for sale. The picture was a commission from the late Mr. Vernon, and is now in the National Gallery. It has been engraved by T. L. Atkinson. At the same time was exhibited a painting which, in lieu of a title, was accom- panied by the following passage from the Gospel by St. Luke :—‘‘ What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?’? The quotation is only applicable to Landseer’s picture as suggesting the idea, for the scene is a hill- pasture in the Highlands, and some sheep having been buried in a heavy fall of snow, the shepherd, with three of his dogs, is busy in search of them. A fine ram, appa- rently all but dead, has already been rescued, and the fleeces of others, its companions in misfortune, are visible; but the dogs constitute the feature of the composition. “‘Good Doggie! ’?—the property of Lady Murchison, was the last of the five pictures of 1850; it is a little gem of art, after its kind. ‘Doggie’ animal, in the act of begging, with its two paws up, resting against the arm of a sofa. The head, with its open mouth and intelligent expression, is inimitable. In this year Landseer received the honour of knighthood; he had for some time been honoured, beyond any other painter living, by the personal notice of the Queen and the Prince Consort, and was not an unfrequent guest at the banquet-table > is a handsome fox-headed of royalty. The love of animals which her Majesty and the Prince always evinced, and the interest the latter ever took in Highland field-sports, could scarcely fail to attract towards them an artist so successful in his representation of such subjects—one, more- over, whose general qualifications of mind and person befitted him to move in the upper ranks of society. Landseer no doubt owed his dignity as much to private favour as to his public reputation in art. In 1850 the collection of pictures formed by Mr. Charles Meigh of Shelton, Staffordshire, was sold: it included two early examples of Landseer’s pencils; one, a small sketch, entitled ‘‘ Landscape—Sunset,”’ realising 35 guineas; the other, ‘A Dog in a Stable,”’ for which the purchaser paid 215 guineas. “When first the day-star’s clear cool light, Chasing night’s shadows grey, With silver touched each rocky height That girded wild Glenstrae, -Up rose the monarch of the glen, Majestic from his lair, Surveyed the scene with piercing ken, And suiffed the fragrant air.”—Legends of Glenorchy: a Poem. L 38 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. These lines stood in the place of a title to a picture exhibited at the Academy in 1851: it has been made popular, by means of Mr. T. Landseer’s fine engraving, under the name of ‘The Monarch of the Glen,” a magnificent stag which, according to the verse that suggested the subject, appears to be testing the quality of the mountain-air, lifting his head aloft with the proud and graceful bearing natural to the animal. If ‘looks have language’’ his nobility of countenance, and bold independent carriage speak as forcibly of the dominion he holds in glen and forest, as does the sway of a powerful ruler whose sceptre stretches over millions of the human family. And yet we detect nought of the tyrant here, only the majesty with which nature has endowed him to give pre- eminence among his fellows. This is one of those subjects which specially bear out the oft-repeated remark that Sir Edwin was not a mere clever painter of animals, but an artist who imparted to his representations that peculiar feeling and expression which often tempt us to regard them only as a step lower than ourselves in character and intelligence. And how much of poetry and appropriate idea is displayed in that solemn, misty background; grand and solemn as if the foot of man had never trodden its rugged mountainous heights to dispute possession with its antlered monarch, whose round and well-conditioned body stands in strong relief against a sky quiet with ‘‘night’s shadows grey!” . The engraving of ‘‘ The Breakfast Party,”’ here introduced, is from a picture painted many years ago—the exact date I cannot asccrtain but it must have been early in Land- seer’s career—for the late Lord Dover. A bare-kneed young Highlander is performing the office of preceptor to a group of dogs in the matter of behaving at their morning-meal, which has been dished-up from the neighbouring cauldron. He appears to be giving them a spoonful all round by way of disciplining them to obedience, chacun a son tour; the elder dogs wait patiently enough, like “grave and reverend signiors,”’ but the younger members of the fraternity have yet to learn the virtue of submission, and the trial to which they are subject is almost beyond canine endurance: one of them is inclined to make a dart at the well-filled spoon, but is checked by the up-lifted finger of the boy. It is a most attractive picture, full of humour, and wonderfully expressive of character in the animals: there is not a single head which is not a study; while the entire composition, including the “ master of the ceremonies,” is so skilfully arranged that all the points are seen to good advantage. Landseer was strong in the Academy in 1851; for in addition to “The Monarch of the Glen,’ he exhibited five other works. ‘Group—Geneva’’ is a large composition, showing prominently the heads of a circle of animals feeding en famille from one common crib. They are the size of life, and are congregated under an archway, where are mules, an ox in harness, and a pony: a dog is dozing a little apart from them, for the feast is not adapted to his palate. The grouping is original, unlike anything Landseer had ever previously attempted ; the THE BREAKFAST PARTY ‘ ‘CULINIT oD 8 HALYIA NOGNOT "ALUVd LSVAMVAMeE ALL iXNID VU’ UAASANVI NIMCH MIS SESS SESS SCS SS SS Se Fane awe z == SSS Se SSeS Raa i SCENE FROM “ MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM.’ 39 colour has all the sweetness, and the execution all the firmness, which characterise his best works. Widely different from this is the “‘ Scene from Midsummer Night’s Dream. Titania and Bottom; Fairies attending—Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Mustardseed, Moth,”’ &c., introduced by the following quotation :— “Tf we shadows have offended, Think but this (and all is mended), That you have but slumber’d here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend : If you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearnéd luck Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue, We will make amends ere long ; Else the Puck a liar call: So good-night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.” — Epilogue. Admitting the exquisite colouring and charming execution of this picture, I confess it never gave me any pleasure to look at it. The idea of a beautiful female fondling what seems to be a non-descript animal is repugnant to the feelings: take away the head of the ass, and the objection is gone; but then the poet’s concep- tion would go with it. Peaseblossom, seated on a delicate white rabbit, is a sweet little “ bit.’ The work is finely engraved by Mr. S. Cousins. Another picture of the year was “A Highlander,’ a sportsman in Highland costume advancing ever the crest of a rock, which raises him in relief against a sky covered with clouds that forebode a heavy fall of snow: in his hand he carries an eagle he has recently shot. The figure has marked character. A not unsuitable companion to this was “Lassie,” a Scotch girl standing at the edge of a brook, which she seems preparing to cross; by her side are two fawns. The background shows a most attractive passage of landscape—a glimpse of verdant hill-side broken by incidental objects. The sixth picture, ‘‘ The Last Run of the Season,” is enhanced in painfulness by its truth of representation: a fox lies on the ground in a state of utter exhaustion, too plainly indicating that it, at least, has had its “last run”’ for the season, present and future: the dogs must be at his heels. In 1852 Landseer was absent from the Academy exhibition; but to the British 40 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER. R.A. Institution he contributed ‘‘The Deer Pass,”’ subsequently engraved by Mr. T. Landseer. The picture was painted for, or purchased by, Mr. Frederick Peel. There certainly is always a magic charm in the Highland scenes of this painter which overcomes all opposition one might feel to their frequent occurrence: there are the snow-capped mountains, the “ancient, everlasting hills,’’ purple with heather, the rocky ravines, the deep glens, “Peopled with deer, their old inhabitants,” thick, palpable mists rolling between the gorges, and dense clouds through which the sun appears scarcely able to penetrate—all these one knows well, having seen them year after year; yet such is the skill of the painter in diversifying his materials, and such the poetical feeling with which his pencil delineates them, that we sometimes forget the reiteration in the variety and beauty of his expressions. It is no inadequate proof of the genius of the artist that he produced something ‘“‘ ever changing, ever new,” out of what may be called his “‘ old stock in trade.’’ In this ‘“‘ Deer Pass”’ we recognise some familiar faces; our old friend ‘the monarch of the glen” greets us conspicuously in the foreground of the composition; and the stag which once was “at bay,”’ having baffled his pursuers, now stands boldly, but watchfully, amid the solitude of the rocks: these are friends one always welcomes gladly in Landseer’s pictures. The scenery of the ‘‘ Deer Pass’’ is incomparably grand; the centre is occupied by a disjointed mass of rocky mountain, whose rugged forms show that time and tempest have been at work upon them. To the right is a deep ravine, through which a streamlet trickles—nothing more; so narrow is it as only to show itself in sudden gleams of light reflected from the sky; we could fancy what a torrent would flow over the bed when the wintry snows have melted, and the rains are pouring their floods from mountain and hill-side. To the left of the composition are gigantic and shapely masses of granite reflected in deep pools of water. Between these and the centre is the ‘“ Pass,’’ in the foreground of which stands a stag, looking out of the picture, as if to challenge the attention of the spectator. He is surrounded by a bevy of sleek hinds, that survey him as if proud of their lordly protector, and conscious of safety under the guardianship of his mighty antlers. Further up the pass are others © of the herd, and on a mass of table-rock at its extremity are many more browsing on the heather, here partially lit up with sunshine. Unlike most of Landseer’s compositions, the animals in this seem to hold only a secondary place; and yet the picture would have been an awful solitude without them: with them it is beautiful even in its almost savage wildness. But the treatment of the landscape may be classed among the painter’s triumphs. The grand forms of the mountains, the solid heaved-up masses of granite, the shadowy glen receding from NIGHT—MORNING. 41 the spectator till nearly lost to the eye, the line of light coming from behind the centre and radiating the crests of the hills and other portions of the landscape, serve to show that as much thought as executive skill was exercised on this really beautiful and most suggestive work. At the sale, in 1852, of a portion of the English pictures of the late Mr. William Wells, of Redleaf, were two of Landseer’s paintings :—‘‘ Fallow Deer,’’ which sold for 700 guineas, and ‘‘ Red Deer,”’ for 650 guineas. I believe the latter is now in the possession of Mr. W. Bashall, Farington, Lancashire. Four fine pictures, all indicative of the Scottish Highlands, formed his contributions to the Academy in 1853. ‘‘Night’’ and ‘‘ Morning’’ are companion-works. The former had as its descriptive motto the following anonymous verse :— ‘“‘The moon, clear witness of the fierce affray, Her wakeful lamp held o’er that lonely place, Fringing with light the wild lake’s fitful spray, Whilst madly glanced ‘ the Borealis race.’” The latter was thus introduced :— “ Lock’d in the close embrace of death they lay, Those mighty heroes of the mountain-side— Contending champions for the kingly sway, In strength and spirit match’d, they fought—and died.” “Night” presents to the spectator two stags engaged in mortal combat— “ Battle’s magnificently stern array,” so far as the deadly encounter of these heroes of the mountain and the glen bear out the line of the poet; ‘‘ Morning,” the combatants stretched out on the heather, dead, and their antlers locked together as they fell in the fearful struggle for power and dominion. How much of poetic feeling, painful, most painful, as the subjects are, do these compositions exhibit! The combat is by moonlight, and yet not amid the stillness of “ star-gemmed heavens”’ and the peaceful uprising of the queen of night ; but beneath thick mists, veiling her beauty, and rain-torrents sweeping over mountain and over loch, whose waters are lashed into fury, and a general war of elements almost as fierce as that which the animals are waging. There is just light enough in the picture to show the strife that is going on in the dreary solitude. In its companion, “‘ Morning ”’ has broken over the landscape; the same hills and lake and beds of heather, which before were enveloped in mists and shadows, are now lit up with the loveliest and brightest tints of a glorious sunrise, and the waters of the lake have subsided into a voiceless calm; but death mars all its beauty, and the feeling which this produces outweighs all other. How, indeed, could it be otherwise when it is the sentiment the M 42 SIR EDWIN LANDSEER, R.A. artist intended to convey? Then, too, there is the ignoble presence of a prowling fox stealthily approaching; it has “sniffed the battle from afar,’’ and comes to feast on the bodies of the dead. The scene is one of impressive solemnity, though its leading features only represent the beasts that perish; but there is an application of the moral taught by these two pictures which it is impossible not to note; and it is, that if pride and ambition, anger and wrath, strife and bitterness, prevail in the brute world, these tendencies to evil are no less characteristics of all who have been set over the beasts of the field, and were made in the likeness of their Creator. Hence the earth, almost from its foundation, has been filled with mourning, and men have gained an immortality of fame, not so much by the good they have done, as by the injuries they have inflicted upon their fellows. And so the painter of a deer-fight becomes a great moral teacher, if only he be interpreted rightly, and his lessons are profitably read. These two pictures were painted for the late Lord Hardinge. They have been engraved by Mr. T. Landseer. ‘Children of the Mist,” the third work exhibited in the same year, represents a group of deer on a mountain-top, enveloped in the mist so common in such regions : it is an original and striking picture. ‘‘Twins’’ was the title given to the fourth subject, two young lambkins lying by the side of their mother, a fine black-faced ewe, on a verdant shelf of the mountain-side. A couple of collie-dogs are their companions, but keeping at a respectful distance. Both dogs and sheep have all the truth and power of the artist, though some portions of the work look thin in colour. In that year a few capital pictures belonging to the late Duchess of Bedford were sold by auction at her grace’s residence in Kensington. They included the following examples of Landseer:—‘‘ The Hermit,’? which sold for 100 guineas; “A River View in Scotland,” 198 guineas; “The Three Dogs,” 225 guineas; ‘“‘ The Highland Cabin,’ 770 guineas; and ‘‘Dead Game,’’ for which the late Mr. Agnew, of Manchester, gave the enormous sum of 1,200 guineas, though it is a small work. I can find no record of the date of these pictures, nor if they ever were exhibited; at least under these titles. It is most probable they were painted expressly for the duchess, with whom Landseer was on terms of friendship. “The Sleeping Bloodhound,”’ of which an engraving is here introduced, was exhibited at the British Institution in 1835, and is now in the National Gallery, being one of the pictures bequeathed to the nation by the late Mr. Jacob Bell. In the. catalogue of the collection it is thus referred to:— ‘“