[1] An Edition de luxe, containing 14 extra plates from rare engravings in the British Museum, and bound in Roxburgh style, may be had, price 10s. 6d.

[2] According to another and generally excellent authority that event occurred in Lincoln eight years later.

[3] It is interesting to trace what may be called the technical descent of these artists. Thus, Aliamet was a pupil of J. P. Le Bas, who studied under Nicholas Tardieu, who learnt his art from Le Pautre and Jean Audran. The master of the last was his uncle Gerard of the same name, who, again, was instructed by his own father Claude and his uncle, Charles Audran, all of them men in the foremost ranks of the engravers. Charles, the first of the great family of “graveurs” named Audran, formed his style upon that of Cornelius Bloemaert, a member of another famous line of artists on metal, well known by his superb plate of Guercino’s “St. Peter raising Tabitha from the Dead,” and transcripts of Raphael’s, Titian’s, Parmigiano’s and his own father’s (Abraham Bloemaert’s) pictures. Now, to trace the stream of skill a little farther, and, it must be admitted, to find it getting shallow at this point, let us add that Cornelius Bloemaert’s master was Crispin de Pass, the younger, about whom centres the third family of engravers to whom we have occasion to refer in this long line of tutorage. This De Pass had a brother, William, who came to England, as also did a third brother, Simon, the reproducer of so many “Van Dycks” and “Van Somers.” Crispin de Pass the younger studied his craft under his father, Crispin the elder, who had for a master Theodore Cuernhert, beyond whom, as he was born in 1522, it is needless to carry our recollections, or trace the art-genealogy of the instructor of John Landseer—who, almost three hundred years after the line is first brought into sight here, taught his sons Edwin, Charles, and Thomas.

[4] Boydell and Macklin maintained so close a rivalry that they contended not only as publishers but by means of picture exhibitions, the former as promoter of the “Shakespeare Gallery,” the latter as proprietor of the “Gallery of the British Poets.” These exhibitions contained originals of the engravings which both “patrons” published.

[5] A relation, probably, of the distinguished surgeon, one of whose benevolent labours was that of trying to revive the hanged Dr. Dodd. See Wraxall’s “Posthumous Memoirs,” 1836, ii. 28.

[6] This picture is now in the possession, says Mr. Tom Taylor in “Life and Times of Sir Joshua Reynolds,” of Mr. Gosling, of Portland Place.

[7] Queen Anne Street East was the thoroughfare now called Langham Street and Foley Street, and distinct from Queen Anne Street West, where Turner lived, which retains its name. When Portland Place was extended to Oxford Street, and the new thoroughfare became part of the freshly made Regent Street, Foley House, which till then closed the southern end of Portland Place, was removed. The gardens of this house had separated Queen Anne Street West from Queen Anne Street East; the latter extended to Cleveland Street, and when the changes in question were complete, received the name of Foley Street, which it now bears with the addition of Langham Street. The numbers have been altered. At the back of the present 33, Langham Street is a fine large room with a north light, used as a studio by Mr. Eyre Crowe, A.R.A. In regard to Landseer’s birthplace see a note to Chapter II., below.

[8] This defect was the more remarkable because the French Academy, on which the English one relied for some of its rules, as well as the Academies of Milan, Venice, Florence and Rome, admitted engravers to the highest grades. The effect of British narrowness was to drive Woollett, Sharp, and Strange from the ranks of the Royal Academy, and to evoke from the last of these noteworthy artists an important criminatory tract called “An Inquiry into the Rise,” &c., “of the Royal Academy of Arts,” 1775.

[9] “Diary,” &c., of H. C. Robinson, 1869, i. 505-6.

[10] Evidence before the Select Committee of the House of Commons on Arts, &c., 1836. Question and Reply, No. 2046.

[11] “The Literary Gazette,” No. 1834.

[12] For this locality, see above. The number, 83 for 33, may or may not be a misprint. On this point the testimony of Mrs. Mackenzie is all-important, as conveyed thus to the author:—“The house in which my brothers were born stands in the bend of Foley Street, not far from Portland Street; and at the time my father lived in it there was a long garden where the dog was kept. Among some old letters of my mother’s I found the enclosed little note, showing that before my father’s marriage he lived in Queen Ann Street, altered to Foley Street afterwards, but not the same house, but a smaller one nearer Cleveland Street, which house, when my father left, was occupied by Mr. F. Lewis, father of John Lewis, who was born there.—Yours truly, Emma Mackenzie.”

[13] Mrs. Mackenzie (born Emma Landseer) has a capital drawing, made in these fields, of a hollow oak, with horses gathered about it, and standing gaunt and branchless in a field, which was doubtless executed at the time in question, and from this tree, which still remains (1880).

[14] At South Kensington is a very interesting collection of early drawings and etchings, of various dates, by Edwin Landseer. These were, for the most part, presented to the nation with the Sheepshanks Gift of Pictures and Drawings. Some of them, we believe, came with the Vernon Gift, and many were undoubtedly for a considerable time in the possession of Mr. Vernon before they passed into the hands of Mr. Sheepshanks. In the Exhibition of Landseer’s works, held at the Royal Academy in 1874, were several sketches executed when he was ten years old. See No. 133, likewise Nos. 136, 139.

[15] It ought to be noted here that the Queen has a considerable number of drawings by Sir E. Landseer, which, with examples from other collections, have been carefully described by Mr. Cosmo Monkhouse, in a richly illustrated work called “The Studies of Sir E. Landseer,” n. d.

[16] Mr. Algernon Graves’s excellent catalogue of the works of Sir E. Landseer enumerates, under “Etchings,” p. 40, a class of examples of this nature, the earliest instance of which is dated 1809, and appears to be that named at the beginning of the next paragraph of our text as “Heads of a Lion and Tiger.”

[17] The author is indebted to Sir Edward Cust for a correction of statements on this head, made in a former edition of this work. As Sir Edward’s letter is interesting on its own account, the reader will accept it entire:—

[18] At Landseer’s sale, 1874, lot 316, “Old Brutus” realized 630l. It must not be forgotten that there are many pictures and studies which bear the names of this dog, and that of his son, another “Brutus.” See below.

[19] In 1874 “A French Hog,” 1814, belonged to the late Mr. J. Hogarth, who then owned another early picture of Sir Edwin’s, called “British Boar,” 1814, which is doubtless the same as the “English Hog” of the text; the animal belonged to Squire Western. As these works were painted in 1814 and etched by E. Landseer in 1818, we have but to remember the national circumstances of that period in order to recognize them as political satires.

[20] The “H.” is always understood as indicating an Honorary Exhibitor, in which capacity the young artist is thrice represented in the catalogue of this the Academy Exhibition for 1815. See below. “Queen Anne Street East” had become “Foley Street” between 1802 and 1815. Landseer, as his sisters tell me, was accepted as an “Honorary Exhibitor” on account of his youth, which was supposed to preclude him from being considered an artist in full.

[21] See “Autobiographical Recollections of the late C. R. Leslie, R.A.” 1860, vol. ii. p. 44.

[22] At the Academy Exhibition, Winter, 1874, No. 144. was “Sir E. Landseer when a Boy.” Drawn by J. Hayter, Esq. Pencil, J. Hayter, Esq.

[23] There appear to be doubts of the extent of E. Landseer’s obligations to Haydon, and the terms employed by the former on this subject (see his “Correspondence,” 1876, ii., p. 288) affirm that the writer had been serviceable to Landseer in making him known, rather than by direct teaching:—“I lent him my dissections from the lion, which he copied, and when he began to show real powers, I took a portfolio of his drawings to Sir George Beaumont’s one day at a grand dinner, and showed them all round to the nobility when we retired to coffee. When he painted his “Dogs,” I wrote to Sir George and advised him to buy it.” “In short, I was altogether the means of bringing him so early into notice. These things may be trifles, but when I see a youth strutting about and denying his obligations to me, I may as well note them down.” “His genius was guided by me.” Again, p. 318 of the same volume, Haydon averred:—“My influence upon English art has certainly been radical. Edwin Landseer dissected animals under my eye, copied my anatomical drawings, and carried my principles of study into animal painting. His genius, thus tutored, has produced sound and satisfactory results.” P. 472 of the same repeats the same claims, and discriminates between the degree of instruction said to have been given to the Landseers generally:—“This was the principle I explained to my pupils; to Eastlake first, and to the Landseers and others afterwards. To Edwin I lent my anatomical studies of the Lion, which guided him to depict dogs and monkeys. Charles and Thomas, Bewick, Harvey, Prentice, Lance, were all instructed in the same principle.” We may add that Mrs. Mackenzie (born Landseer) still owns a human skeleton which was prepared and articulated by her brothers, Thomas and Charles, who occupied a studio at Blenheim Steps, Oxford Street, where they dissected a “subject.”

[24] Forty years before these recollections of ours begin, Foley Street, of the history of which we have already written, was comparatively splendid, and inhabited by persons of distinction. Fuseli had lived in Queen Ann Street East. The neighbourhood was much affected by artists. Mulready had lodged in Cleveland Street, not far off; Newman Street, always artistic, but now so dull and grimy, was then thronged with painters and sculptors; Benjamin West had built himself a gallery there; Stothard (at No. 28) and Banks were numbered among its past, and then present inhabitants. A. E. Chalon was living at No. 71 in Great Titchfield Street; Shee was in Cavendish Square, in the house which had been occupied by F. Cotes and G. Romney; Collins, who was born in Great Titchfield Street, was then at 118, Great Portland Street, and had a house in New Cavendish Street in 1815; Northcote still worked in his gloomy den, 39, Argyll Street; and Edridge, then a fashionable miniature-painter, was at 64, Margaret Street, Cavendish Square; Constable at 63, Upper Charlotte Street, now 76, Charlotte Street, next house on the north side to the church; W. Daniell resided in Cleveland Street, No. 9. Thompson was at No. 11; James Ward at 6, Jackson at 7, Dawe at 22, and Howard at No. 5, in Newman Street; Leslie, as well as Flaxman, in Buckingham Street, Fitzroy Square; the former, with Allston, was at No. 8, the latter at No. 7; Hilton was not remote, at 10, Percy Street; De Wint in the same house; James Heath in Russell Place, Fitzroy Square, No. 15; Hazlitt, then painting portraits in considerable numbers, lived at 109, Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury. Even so early in the century as the period of which we now write, some painters had flown to the then far west region of Kensington; thus, Wilkie sought the quiet of Phillimore Gardens; and Mulready had settled in the Gravel Pits on the Bayswater Road.

[25] See, on a later page of this volume, Mr. Ruskin’s criticism on “Shoeing,” quoted with the account of the pictures painted in 1846.

[26] It has been stated, and probably with truth, that Edwin Landseer obtained a medal, or a silver palette, from the Society of Arts, and at an earlier date than that in question here. But as artists rarely set much store on lay awards of similar kinds to this, it is only necessary to mention this matter. Contributing a work in a competition like that in view can hardly be classed with the act of exhibiting pictures in the Royal Academy.

[27] It is amusing to see how Wilkie puts the Scotchman first in this note, and of a piece with that story of his having, when a “hanger” of one of the Royal Academy exhibitions, actually filled the “line,” or best part of the whole wall-space in the best room, with pictures by Scotch artists. This piece of injustice was too shameless to be allowed to stand, so when Wilkie’s fellow “hangers” discovered the attempted trick, he was told, “This will never do, we must change all this;” and that was done. At another time Wilkie was observed to be carrying a picture through the rooms, and trying to fix it into one place after another, always proceeding from a good to a better position, until attention was attracted by his earnestness, and the question asked, why he was so anxious to promote the work in question. “Oh,” he replied, with exquisite sang-froid, “It’s Geddes’s!”

[28] Etty’s pictures of this year were, 59, “The Blue Beetle; Portraits:” 232, “Portrait of the Rev. W. Jay of Bath;” 320, “Ajax Telamon;” and, 375, “A Study.”

[29] The “Elymas” was not one of the Cartoons exhibited in 1818, the two shown in that year being “The Beautiful Gate” and “Christ’s Charge to Peter.” “Elymas” appeared in 1817.

[30] At a later date, when appointments were given to Dyce and others to superintend the Schools of Design, Haydon—who believed himself not only the originator of all modern English movements for promoting the Fine Arts, but the one competent authority respecting them—was bitterly indignant that he was not invited to accept the directorship of the new institution. He asserted the peculiar incompetence of Dyce, and spoke very frankly of his colleagues. See Haydon’s “Correspondence,” 1876, ii., p. 475. No doubt Haydon rightly estimated his own powers in this respect; his real vocation was teaching, which was at that time a faculty rarer than it is now, when we are by no means overstocked with good teachers, practical or literary, in art. He was never so happy as when giving technical counsel, or in lecturing; his published “Lectures” are probably the most practical and potent of their class.

[31] On Mr. Charles Christmas, Sir Edwin’s brother-in-law, see “Notes and Queries,” 5th series, XII. 383. By this it appears that he was an animal painter, who, discovering the superiority of E. Landseer in that line, gave up the race. There were two brothers of this name, Thomas and Charles, (see before). The latter was not a painter, but, we believe, an architect.

[32] The phrase, “lay-element” is already, 1880, passing out of recognition; when this book was formerly published it was in vogue, and understood to refer to those gentlemen who were willing to share the honours of the Royal Academicians; conferring, in return, the prestige which was due to their “distinguished social position and love of art.” These persons were the “lay-element” of the Commission of the Royal Academy. See “Report,” 1864.

[33] Our readers will recollect that, owing to the protest of Sir Edwin Landseer and others, the idiotic practice has abated of cropping from dogs’ ears those flaps which kindly nature placed to keep earth from the organs of earth-burrowing creatures.

[34] Since Landseer’s death this house and studio have been occupied by Mr. H. W. B. Davis, R.A.

[35] This example of extraordinary facility in artistic work may be paralleled, if not surpassed, by the feat which Smith, in his “Nollekens,” ii. p. 143 relates of Sherwin, who engraved, in four days (!), the fine plate from the portrait of the Earl of Carlisle, now at Castle Howard, by Romney. Sherwin engraved Mrs. (“Perdita”) Robinson’s portrait at once upon the copper, without a drawing.

[36] “Art Journal,” where the picture is represented by an engraving.

[37] Mr. William Russell was Accountant-General of the Court of Chancery, fourth son of Lord William Russell, who, May 6, 1840, was murdered by B. E. Courvoisier, his valet.

[38] It has been said that many years ago the Queen and her Consort made etchings after Landseer’s designs, especially from parts of “Bolton Abbey.” Her Majesty and her Consort made at least a dozen etchings from other works of Landseer’s. (See Mr. Algernon Graves’s Catalogue, p. 41.) Speaking of copies of engravings from pictures by our artist, it may be mentioned that many of foreign origin, including a large proportion of piracies, have appeared; among these are, repeatedly, “Bolton Abbey;” “Favourites” (1835), ponies belonging to the Duke of Cambridge; “Dogs of the Great St. Bernard;” “Dignity and Impudence;” “The Return from Hawking;” “Laying down the Law;” “The Lion Dog of Malta;” “A distinguished Member of the Humane Society,” and “A Jack in Office.”

[39] One of the finest and most pathetic of Mr. Ruskin’s criticisms applies to this picture so happily that we ought to quote it here:—“Take, for instance, one of the most perfect poems or pictures (I use the words as synonymous) which modern times have seen—the ‘Highland Shepherd’s Chief Mourner.’ Here the exquisite execution of the crisp and glossy hair of the dog, the bright sharp touch 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 paw 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 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 art, and stamps its author not as a neat imitator of the texture of a skin, or the fold of a drapery, but as the man of mind.”—“Modern Painters,” ii., 1851, p. 8.

[40] On this picture Mr. Ruskin delivered an admirable criticism:—“Again, there is capability of representing the essential character, form, and colour of an object, without external texture. On this point much has been said by Reynolds and others; and it is, indeed, perhaps, the most unfailing characteristic of a great manner of painting. Compare a dog of Edwin Landseer with a dog of Paul Veronese. In the first, the outward texture is wrought out with exquisite dexterity of handling, and minute attention to all the accidents of curl and gloss which can give appearance of reality, while the hue and power of the sunshine, and the truth of the shadow on all these forms is necessarily neglected, and the larger relations of the animal as a mass of colour to the sky or ground, or other parts of the picture, utterly lost. This is Realism at the expense of Ideality, it is treatment essentially unimaginative.” In a note to this paper the critic added:—“I do not mean to withdraw the praise I have given, and shall always be willing to give, such pictures as the ‘Highland Shepherd’s Chief Mourner,’ and to all in which the character and inner life of the animals are developed. But all lovers of art must regret to find Mr. Landseer wasting his energies on such inanities as the ‘Shoeing,’ and sacrificing colour, expression, and action to an imitation of a glossy hide,”—“Modern Painters,” ii., 1846, p. 194. There is a grain of fallacy mixed with the noble truth of this—it did not follow that the sacrifices here enumerated were due to love for painting the horse’s glossy hide. The picture was defective as stated here, but not because of the realism it exhibited. The defects were inherent, not due to the imitation. Lacking the nobler qualities, the meaner ones became unworthily and ungracefully prominent. The superb tour de force in the painting of the feathers of “Spaniels of King Charles Breed” (see above) does not appear mean, although it is at least equal in successful imitation to the hide in question.

[41] His name “in the world” was “Neptune;” “in society” his female companion’s name was “Venus.”

[42] Several of the descriptions here given have been adapted from fuller ones made by the author before the pictures, and for previous publication in the AthenÆum journal, during a long series of years. They thus partake of the character of studies from nature.