Landseer Part 6

XIII

JACK IN OFFICE

In the time of Landseer a familiar figure about the streets of London was the itinerant dealer in dog's meat. His outfit consisted of a square covered wheelbarrow in which he carried the meat, a basket, a pair of scales, knives, skewers, and similar tools of his trade. His a.s.sistant was a dog, whose duty was to guard the meat barrow while the butcher called for orders or delivered his goods. In this capacity a dog would serve even better than a boy, in keeping hungry animals from his master's property. There is a quaint old saying that "it takes a rogue to catch a rogue." The dog's wages were all the meat he could eat, and having satisfied himself to the point of gluttony, there would be no danger of any inroads on the meat from him.

In our picture a butcher has left his barrow standing on the cobble-stone pavement at the corner of the narrow entrance to a square. His dog Jack controls the situation in his absence, and rules with undisputed authority.

Such is the master's confidence in the dog's ability to manage, that he has taken no pains to put the meat away in the barrow. A large cut is left in the scale pan, and a basket on the pavement contains some choice bits. Naturally the tempting odor has drawn a number of stray street dogs to the place.

From his elevated position Jack surveys them as a monarch receiving a throng of obsequious courtiers. As a matter of fact he is himself a low mongrel cur, vastly inferior in origin to some of the surrounding dogs. Circ.u.mstances having raised him to a position of authority he regards them all with supercilious disdain. A miserable, half starved hound approaches the basket with eyes fixed hungrily on the contents, the tail drooping between the shaking legs, the att.i.tude expressing the most abject wretchedness. He is a canine Uriah Heep professing himself "so 'umble." Behind is a retriever, uplifting a begging paw, and farther away are other eager dogs. A puppy in front has just finished eating, and, still gnawing the skewer, looks up to ask for more.

Not one of them all dares touch the meat, though Jack moves not a muscle to prevent them. It is a question whether an overfed, tight-skinned animal like this would prove a very redoubtable enemy in a fight. Jack's influence, however, is due in no small measure to his sagacious air of importance. Seated on his haunches, he holds between his fore legs the handle of the scales as the insignia of office. A broad collar and a small leather harness show he has to take his own turn in serving another. Ignoring the appeal of the puppy, he turns to the group of larger dogs, regarding them with a contemptuous expression of his half-closed eyes. He has been a keen observer of dog nature, and knows what value to place upon the professions of these fawning creatures.

[Ill.u.s.tration: John Andrew & Son, Sc.

JACK IN OFFICE _South Kensington Museum, London_]

The situation inevitably suggests corresponding relations in human life. It often happens that a man of inferior qualities is raised to some position of authority which he holds with arrogant a.s.sumption.

Himself the servant of another, he delights in the exercise of a petty tyranny. He is forthwith surrounded by a throng of flatterers seeking the benefits he has to bestow. It is pitiable to see how some who were originally his superiors humiliate themselves before him. Like the sycophant hound and the imploring retriever, they seem to lose all sense of self-respect.

One can see how easily the picture of Jack in Office could be converted into a caricature, and it is not surprising to learn that it has been used in England as a political cartoon. American politics might also produce many a parallel situation. The party boss in a munic.i.p.al government holding petty appointments in his control is a veritable Jack in Office surrounded by his followers.

The humor of the picture is, as we see, a trifle keener than in Dignity and Impudence. Arrogance and sycophancy are such despicable qualities, whether in dog or man, that they are held up not only for our laughter but for our contempt.

As may be inferred from our previous ill.u.s.trations, the greater number of Landseer's dog subjects were drawn from animals of the finer breeds. Jack in Office is unique in our collection as dealing with the commoner animals of the street. Even here, however, the painter found material for his favorite theme of the dog's fidelity to his master.

Jack is, as it were, the butcher's business partner, sharing alike in his labors and his gains. As we are to see again in our next picture, the dog which is made the companion of daily labor is even more to his master than one which is merely a playmate.

It is instructive to examine one by one the details of the composition, which the painter has rendered with much technical skill.

The vista of the square at the end of the alley is a pleasant feature of the composition, giving a more s.p.a.cious background to the group.

XIV

THE HIGHLAND SHEPHERD'S CHIEF MOURNER

While the mountains of the Scottish Highlands are haunted by deer, the valleys are the pasture ground for large flocks of sheep. Here our painter, Landseer, made the acquaintance of two unique characters, the Highland shepherd and his dog. In former times the shepherds of Scotland were no ordinary men. The loneliness of the life in these wilds left an impress upon their nature, making it stern and serious.

Not infrequently great readers were found among them, and even poets.

The Ettrick shepherd James Hogg was one of Scotland's first men of letters.

The poet Wordsworth, whose boyhood was pa.s.sed in the north of England, describes in "The Prelude" his admiration for the shepherds of that region:--

"There, 't is the shepherd's task the winter long To wait upon the storms: of their approach Sagacious, into sheltering coves he drives His flock, and thither from the homestead bears A toilsome burden up the craggy ways, And deals it out, their regular nourishment Strewn on the frozen snow. And when the spring Looks out, and all the pastures dance with lambs, And when the flock, with warmer weather, climbs Higher and higher, him his office leads To watch their goings, whatsoever track The wanderers choose.

A rambling schoolboy, thus I felt his presence in his own domain, As of a lord and master, or a power, Or genius, under Nature, under G.o.d, Presiding; and severest solitude Had more commanding looks when he was there."

The shepherd would be helpless without his dog, the collie, whose astuteness and skill can hardly be overstated. The trained sheep dog learns to know every individual member of the flock, so that if a straggler goes beyond bounds, he will reclaim it; if an intruder enters he will drive it out. When the flock is to be led home, he gathers the scattered portions into a compact body and keeps them in the way. A sagacious dog belonging to Hogg once amazed his master by gathering together a flock of seven hundred lambs which had broken up at midnight and scattered in three directions.

The collie is fitted by nature with special qualifications for his peculiar work. His neck is long and arched, that he may put his nose well to the ground and stretch it when running. His half p.r.i.c.ked ears are the best possible for distinguishing sounds at a distance, and the part that falls over protects the inner ear from the rain. His thick coat is proof against rain, snow, or wind, and the heavy mane shields the most vulnerable part of his chest, like a natural lung protector.

With bare hind legs, long and springy, he can make his way easily in the heather. The long, tapering muzzle gives a peculiarly intelligent look to the face. An authority on dogs says, "There is, if the expression may be used, a philosophic look about him which shows thought, patience, energy, and vigilance."

[Ill.u.s.tration: John Andrew & Son, Sc.

THE HIGHLAND SHEPHERD'S CHIEF MOURNER _South Kensington Museum, London_]

The shepherd and his dog are constant companions from dawn to sunset, sharing the responsibilities of their charge. Common hardships seem to knit the friendship, and the tie between them is unusually close. We can easily understand that a faithful dog deprived of his master would mourn him deeply. Such grief is the subject of our picture, The Highland Shepherd's Chief Mourner.

An old shepherd living alone in his rude cottage has thrown down his hat and staff for the last time. His neighbors have prepared his body for decent burial, the coffin has been closed and nailed, and now stands on the trestles ready for removal. The shepherd's plaid has been laid over it as a sort of pall, and a bit of green is added by some reverent hand. For the moment the house is deserted, and the dog is left alone with all that represents his master's life to him. His mute grief is intensely pathetic; speech could not express more plainly his utter despair.

A beautiful description by Ruskin suggests the important points to notice in the picture,--"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 fall of the eye in its utter hopelessness, the rigidity of repose which marks that there has been no motion or 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."

The critic shows that the skill with which the painting is executed, remarkable as it is, is not so great a thing to praise the painter for as the imagination which could conceive so pathetic a scene. The picture is, he says, "one of the most perfect poems which modern times have seen."

The incident which Landseer imagined has doubtless many a parallel in actual life. There is a story of a traveller who was killed by a fall from a precipice near Mt. Helvellyn. Three months later his remains were discovered, watched over by the faithful dog. Scott's poem "Helvellyn" commemorates the incident,[21] and the line telling how--

"Faithful in death, his mute favorite attended,"

expresses well the spirit of our picture.

[Footnote 21: Wordsworth's verses on Fidelity apparently refer to the same story.]

XV

A LION OF THE NELSON MONUMENT

Our conception of the range of Landseer's art would be quite inadequate if we failed to notice his studies of the lion. Though his works on this subject were not numerous, he was all his life greatly interested in the n.o.ble animal called the king of beasts. As a boy, he used to visit a certain menagerie called Exeter Change, and make drawings of the beasts there. A drawing of a Senegal lion, made here at the age of nine, is very creditable. The same menagerie furnished, many years later, the material for his first serious lion study. One of the animals having died, Landseer obtained the body for dissection.

His methods of work were always thorough. He believed that it was only by mastering an animal's anatomy that a painter could faithfully reproduce its motions and att.i.tudes. The result of his studies on this occasion was an interesting series of pictures,--A Lion disturbed at his Repast, A Lion enjoying his Repast, and A Prowling Lion.

Naturally opportunities for dissecting lions were not frequent, and the painter had to bide his time for further studies. A friend who could help him in this respect was Mr. Mitch.e.l.l, secretary of the Zoological Society. Whenever the secretary happened to have a dead lion on his hands, he offered Landseer the first chance to obtain it.

An amusing story is told of one of Mr. Mitch.e.l.l's efforts in his friend's behalf. A company of guests was gathered one evening at Landseer's house, when suddenly a man servant appeared at the drawing-room door, and quietly asked, "Did you order a lion, sir?" The inquiry was made in a matter-of-fact tone, precisely as if ordering lions were an every-day affair, like ordering a rib of beef, or a leg of mutton. There was a sensation among the guests, and much merriment was caused by their pretended alarm. Tradition says that Charles d.i.c.kens was of the party, and it was he who often told the story afterwards. As it proved, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l had sent the painter a lion which had died that day in the Zoological Garden of Regent's Park.

In 1859 Landseer received an important commission from the English government requiring all his knowledge of the lion. His task was to model some lions to ornament the Nelson monument in Trafalgar Square, London. This monument had been erected more than fifteen years before (1843), in memory of the admiral under whose leadership the English fleet had won their victory off Cape Trafalgar, October 21, 1805. It consisted of a tall granite column surmounted by a statue of Nelson.

To make the base of the column more imposing, it now seemed desirable to place colossal bronze figures of lions at the four corners.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fr. Hanfstaengl, photo. John Andrew & Son, Sc.

A LION OF THE NELSON MONUMENT _Trafalgar Square, London_]

With characteristic thoroughness, the artist made his preparatory studies. Two of these are rough sketches on canvas in the National Gallery of London, and show distinctly the original data for his final conception. Apparently they are studies from menagerie animals. One is in profile, showing the beast as he creeps in snarling discontent within the limited area of his cage. The other sketch has caught the att.i.tude of the animal lifting his head to scan an approaching visitor. In these two studies, Landseer obtained the proper proportions of the side face, from nosetip to ear, and the length of the front face, from the crest of the mane to the lower jaw. They also show completely the manner in which the mane grows, both along the back and on each side the face.