THE SLEEPING BLOODHOUND
If a universal dog-lover like Landseer
could be said to have a preference for any particular
kind, it was certainly for the bloodhound. This
noble animal is of very ancient origin, known apparently
to the Romans, and introduced early in English history
into Great Britain. Apparently many gentlemen
of Landseer’s acquaintance were possessors of
fine specimens. One of these we have already seen
in the picture of Suspense, where the dog’s senses
are all in intense concentration. Here, by contrast,
the Sleeping Bloodhound is seen in complete relaxation.
We might almost fancy the picture
a sequel to Suspense, and carry on our story to another
chapter, in which, the knight’s wounds being
stanched, the door is opened and the dog admitted to
his master’s presence. Quiet having fallen
on the household, the hound retires to a corner for
a well-deserved nap. He lies on a fur rug spread
in front of an ottoman, beside which stands his master’s
helmet. His forelegs are stretched out straight
before him, his body curled around, his head pushed
forward in a position which from a dog’s point
of view represents solid comfort.
Though asleep he is still on guard;
the painter has conveyed the impression of the dog’s
latent power, even in repose. Like Rab, in Dr.
John Brown’s famous story, he is “a sort
of compressed Hercules of a dog.” As he
lies at his ease, we note the characteristics of his
kind, the loose skin, the long soft ears,
the long thick tail. Of his most striking quality
there is no visible evidence, namely, his exquisite
sense of smell. It is this which has made him
so valuable to man, both as a companion of his sports
and a protector of life and property.
In former times when the resources
of government were limited, bloodhounds often served
in the useful capacity of a detective force.
In the border country between England and Scotland,
before the union of the kingdoms, these dogs were
kept to maintain safety, and to track criminals.
In Cuba they were put on the pursuit of outlaws and
fugitives from justice. This explains why the
dog has sometimes been called a sleuthhound; that
is, a dog set upon a sleuth, or trail.
In our own Southern States bloodhounds
were once used to recover runaway slaves, as we may
read in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
There have been times, too, when the dog’s unique
gift of scent has enabled him to find lost children
and exhausted travellers, and thus be a benefactor
to humanity.
Whatever the task set him, whether
for good or ignoble ends, the bloodhound has always
fulfilled it with unflagging perseverance and devotion.
He is a dog to command both fear and admiration, and
we count ourselves fortunate if we win his good opinion.
The original of the portrait was Countess,
the bloodhound of Mr. Jacob Bell, of whom we have
also heard as the owner of the bay mare Betty.
The dog had long been waiting for a portrait sitting,
but the busy painter seemed to have no time for the
work. Finally occurred a strange accident which
was the immediate cause of the picture. Poor
Countess fell one night from a parapet at Mr. Bell’s
residence, in some unknown way losing her balance,
or missing her footing. The distance was between
twenty and thirty feet, and the dog was killed.
Mr. Bell immediately took the animal to Landseer’s
studio, and there in an incredibly short time was
produced this portrait.
The story explains why the painter
chose the unusual theme of a sleeping dog. Ordinarily
he delighted in showing the expressiveness of a dog’s
eye. This being here impossible on account of
the model’s condition, we have instead a picture
which we would not exchange even for Suspense or Dignity
and Impudence. If we have here less of those
higher qualities which are brought out in the dog’s
human relationships, we see the better the purely
animal side of his nature.
The union of power with repose is
a rare combination in art, and one we associate with
Greek sculpture. The picture of the Sleeping
Bloodhound has what we call plastic qualities.
We have a sense of the massive solidity of the dog’s
body, as if he were modelled in clay. In this
respect the picture should be compared with the Newfoundland
dog called the Distinguished Member of the Humane Society,
and with the lion of the Nelson monument.
The helmet beside the dog is one of
those picturesque accessories which Landseer enjoyed
putting into his works. Like the gauntlets in
the picture of Suspense, it suggests the knightly deeds
of chivalry with which the bloodhound seems appropriately
associated. The reflection of light from the
polished surface of the metal makes an effective touch
in the picture.
It is by no accident that the helmet
occupies the place it does; it is an essential part
of the composition, serving precisely the same purpose
which the cavalier’s hat does in the picture
of the King Charles Spaniels. Both compositions
gain by this device the necessary height to balance
their horizontal lines.