“Bolton Abbey in the olden Time,” engraved by Mr. S. Cousins, has been interpreted in many ways.[38] It is, perhaps, the most popular of the painter’s productions, and yet, except “Windsor Castle,” it is that which least satisfies the critic. Primarily, the difficulty of fairly and naturally interpreting it, the lack of imagination it evinces, and the artificial posing of the figures, are defects which the analytical mind hardly overcomes; secondly, it has the air of a collection of portraits of modern folks, and so belies its title. The dogs and game pertain to another category, and deserve differing judgment. The work belongs to the Duke of Devonshire. Of this our artist said that it was the first picture for which he got £400. It looks as if it had been “done on purpose,” is really only less spontaneous than the deplorable “Windsor Castle.” The monk was a portrait of Sir A. W. Callcott; Mrs. Mackenzie sat for the girl with the fish; the falconer’s boy was one Sidney Smith, a frequent model of Sir Edwin’s—not the Canon of St. Paul’s. The picture has been engraved three times, and, separately, more than one of its elements.
In the Sheepshanks Gift is a picture exhibited in 1834, the humorous and characteristic “Highland Breakfast,” showing several sheep dogs and terriers anxiously waiting the cooling of a mess of hot milk, which has been put before them in a pan. That impatient beast whose back is towards us risks his nose and vainly demurs to the delay; the next, a canine mother, yields a meal to her puppies, but gets none herself; another, longing but prudent, sniffs, and feeding in imagination, licks his mouth; beyond, a staid, experienced, and dignified retriever is content to bide his time, knowing that he, at least, will get a lion’s share; a little white terrier, toady to the last, vainly imitates his self-command. The mistress of the shieling, a fair young mother, nourishes her babe in the most approved fashion.
“The Drover’s Departure, Scene in the Grampians,” was at the Royal Academy in 1835; a picture arising out of the departure of herds from the Highlands. In the foreground the grandfather has his horn filled with “mountain dew” by his daughter, whose husband, just behind, caresses their youngest child. The plighted lovers in the background discuss probabilities. The droves are assembled, the old dog suckles her puppies for the last time, the old white pony has lost his front teeth, therefore bites sideways the last meal of home grass, the hen defends her chickens against an aggressive and hilarious puppy, the boy promotes the strife, the old woman “fidgets” every one about her. Note the position of the lovers’ hands. For the old shepherd on our left of the foreground of the composition, Mr. John Landseer was the model, Mr. R. Leslie, the marine painter, son of the first R.A. of that name, sat for the boy, who, in front, is engaged with the puppies. This picture is at South Kensington, part of the Sheepshanks Gift; “The tethered Rams” is a study for part of it. The last-named work was at the Royal Academy in 1839, is now part of the Sheepshanks Gift, and may be referred to here. The official description is the best, “Two rams are tethered to an old and fallen tree, and watched by two sheep dogs; in the mid-distance the flock is feeding under the care of a shepherd, who is talking with a Scottish lassie near him. A loch and mountains form the background.”
We have remarked that Landseer contributed some of the most popular as well as some of the best pictures to the British Institution; an instance, which has a very interesting anecdote attached to it, occurred in respect to “A sleeping Bloodhound” (“Countess”), sent to Pall Mall in 1835, a date to which our remarks have reference. This work is now in the National Gallery, bequeathed by Mr. Jacob Bell, Landseer’s constant friend and zealous “man of business.” It represents “Countess,” a dog of the kind indicated by the title, lying as if asleep, with the body slightly curved, the jowl resting on the floor and the forepaws extended. The picture has been admirably engraved by Mr. T. Landseer. The following is its history:—The hound whilst lying on a parapet at the Clock-House, West-hill, Wandsworth, Mr. Jacob Bell’s house, overbalanced herself, and falling between twenty and thirty feet, died during the night, and was taken on the following morning (Monday) to St. John’s Wood, in hopes of securing a sketch of his old favourite, who had long been waiting for a sitting. Speaking of Sir Edwin, Mr. Bell said:—“The sight of the unfortunate hound suddenly changed an expression of something approaching vexation (at the interruption during his work) into one of sorrow and sympathy, and after the first expression of regret at the misfortune, the verdict was laconic and characteristic—‘This is an opportunity not to be lost; go away; come on Thursday, at two o’clock.’ It was then about midday, Monday. On Thursday, two o’clock, there was ‘Countess’ as large as life, asleep, as she is now.” Another authority states that she knew Mr. Jacob Bell, and lived in the house at Wandsworth, from the balcony of which the dog fell. She had often heard Mr. Bell give the following version of the circumstances:—“The hound was, one dark night, anxiously watching her master’s return from London. She heard the wheels of his gig and his voice, but in leaping from the balcony where she watched, she missed her footing and fell all but dead at her master’s feet. Mr. Bell placed the hound in his gig and returned to London, called Sir Edwin Landseer from his bed, and had a sketch made then and there of the dying animal.”
The rapidity with which this picture was produced is another illustration of the facility of Sir Edwin’s brush; the canvas is no little one, it measures three feet three inches high, by four feet one inch wide.
“Comical Dogs,” now at South Kensington, shows two large, rough terriers, who have been decorated by their master, the one with an old woman’s cap, and a pipe in its mouth, the other with a great Scotch bonnet. There is a good deal of humour in this picture, but it is not one of the artist’s best paintings.
“Odin,” engraved by Mr. W. H. Simmons, a fine picture of a famous dog, and others, were exhibited in 1836. “Odin” belongs to Mr. W. Russell. We have already related an anecdote of its execution. “Odin” was a smooth mastiff, the property of Mr. Russell. In 1836 was published
Donkey and Foal.