THE TWA DOGS

The Scotch poet Robert Burns, who died a few years before Landseer’s birth, was a kindred spirit of the painter in his love of dogs and his sense of humor. An early picture by Landseer illustrating the poem of “The Twa Dogs” fits the verses as if painter and poet had worked together. We are told that Burns once had a collie which he named Luath, after a dog in Ossian’s “Fingal.” The favorite came to an untimely end, through some one’s cruelty, and the poet was inconsolable. He determined to immortalize Luath in a poem, and this is the history of the tale of “The Twa Dogs.”

The poem relates how

“Upon a bonny day in June
When wearing through the afternoon,
Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame,
Forgather’d ance upon a time.”

Of the two dogs, one is the collie Luath, here represented as the friend and comrade of a ploughman. He is described in broad Scotch as

“A gash and faithfu’ tyke
As ever lap a sheugh or dike.
His honest, sonsie, baws’nt face,
Aye gat him friends in ilka place.
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.”

Luath’s companion was a foreign dog, from “some far place abroad, where sailors gang to fish for cod,” in short, Newfoundland. He was, moreover, a dog of “high degree,” whose “locked, letter’d, braw brass collar showed him the gentleman and scholar.” The “gentleman” is appropriately called Cæsar, a name commonly given to Newfoundland dogs.

The picture carries out faithfully the poet’s conception of both animals. Luath is here to the very life, with shaggy black back, white breast, and honest face. We only regret that his position does not allow us to see the upward curl of his bushy tail. Cæsar is a black and white Newfoundland dog with a brass collar. The model is said to have been Neptune, the dog of a certain Mr. Gosling.

Though representing opposite stations in life, The Twa Dogs were excellent friends. On this occasion, weary of their usual diversions, they sat down together on a hillock

“And there began a lang digression
About the lords o’ the creation.”

It is Cæsar who opens the conversation, expressing curiosity as to how the poor man can endure his life. Luath owns that the cotter’s lot is a hard one, but declares that in spite of poverty and hardships the poor are “maistly wonderfu’ contented.” The talk then drifts to the corruption of politics and the vices of the rich. Cæsar at last brings it to an end by describing the wearisome monotony and emptiness of the fashionable life.

By this time it was sundown, and the two friends separated, rejoicing “that they were na men, but dogs.”

The contrast between the two canine types is well brought out in our picture. Even the attitudes show their opposite temperaments. The collie is a somewhat awkward figure, sitting on his haunches, with legs far apart, nervously alert. The Newfoundland dog lies at his ease with one paw elegantly crossed over the other. They talk muzzle to muzzle, the one long and pointed, the other thick and square.

In those days the collie was chiefly the poor man’s dog, the indispensable aid of the shepherd, and the friend of the laborer. It was not until later years that, following the example of the Queen, the rich began to notice his good qualities, and he became a popular favorite. But neither Burns nor Landseer needed to be taught by the dictates of fashion to understand the collie’s fine nature. The dog they portrayed, however, was not the luxuriously reared pet we know to-day, but the unkempt companion of humble folk.

The Newfoundland dog, though of plebeian origin, and a hard worker in his native land, is generally regarded as an aristocrat. He is dignified, gentle, and kindly in nature.

Both dogs are very sagacious, and the painter and poet agreed in giving them the thoughts and feelings of human beings. In the picture Cæsar seems to be describing the fashionable revels he has witnessed, while honest Luath listens in amazement to the recital. The landscape is such as one might see in Scotland. At the foot of the hill lies a lake, beyond which is a range of low mountains.

Two years after painting the picture of The Twa Dogs, Landseer made a pilgrimage to Ayr, the birthplace of Burns, and rambled about the spots associated with the poet’s memory. That he took a peculiar interest in the subject of the poem is shown by the fact that over thirty years after he painted it a second time, with some slight variations.