How Landseer Worked

1904

The man who can accomplish work at a dash is probably the one who has spent patient years in preparation for it. An enthusiastic English sportsman, Mr. Wells, of Redleaf, Penshurst, had engaged Landseer to paint the portrait of his favorite dog. But the artist was one of those who put off their duties as long as possible, and one day Wells, who had been growing more and more impatient, showed his feeling by some sharp expression.

"I know I have behaved shamefully," said Landseer, "but I will come down next Thursday and stay till Monday, and the picture shall be done before I leave."

On Thursday he arrived, just in time to dress for dinner, and his first remark was, "Oh, your man tells me you are going to drag the great pond to-morrow! Hurrah! I am just in time. That is a subject I have often meant to paint, and I shall get any number of sketches done."

This was an unpleasing announcement; but the host bore it. Landseer did a capital day's work for himself, and the next morning, when he came down to breakfast, he said:

"Mr. Wells, I hear you are going to shoot to-day, I've been looking forward to that for a year or two." So it went on until Sunday morning, and then Wells, who was very particular about seeing his guests at the early service, said to Landseer:

"I suppose you are going to church?"

"I don't feel like going," said Landseer. "I think you must excuse me."

"Oh," said Wells, in a blaze, "do just as you think best! You know well enough that this is liberty hall — for you, at all events."

"Thank you," said Landseer. "And I am going to ask you to let me keep Charles Mathews with me, to amuse me."

Wells vouchsafed no answer, and away the people went, leaving these two to their own devices. The minute the house was clear they hurried to another room, which Landseer had specially arranged for the purpose. The head gamekeeper was there, holding the dog, and Mathews assisted when there was need, at the same time amusing Landseer. When the party returned from church the picture was painted, finished, and framed on the wall. Written on the trunk of a tree in the background were the words: "Painted at Redleaf in two hours and a half."

Joys of a Collector

1907

Picking Up a Valuable Painting at an Auction Sale

Collecting will always have its romances. I know of one that occurred at the sale at Christie's of the effects of the late Sir Henry Irving. Some one I knew had been to see the collection before the sale. He came across a portrait with which he was familiar because he had seen it thirty years before.

On consulting his catalogue he discovered that the portrait was described as being that of a man unknown, and, further, the artist was also unknown. Now, he knew that the portrait was that of a famous actor by a famous English painter. He longed to buy it, but decided that it would go at too high a price. He went to the auction with very little hope. The Whistler and the Sargent were sold, and then it was the turn of this picture. Nobody recognized it. Finally he had to start the bidding himself, and this he did. Only one man bid against him, but he soon stopped, discouraged, and then the picture was knocked down to the man who had never expected to get it.

He hurried to the desk to pay the small amount and to carry off his prize. "Do you happen to know anything about that portrait?" the auctioneer asked him as a porter took it down to a cab. "I know it very well," said the new owner, conscious that it was now safely his property. "It is a portrait of Buckstone, the actor, by Daniel Maclise. There is an engraving of it in the Maclise portrait gallery." — Mrs. John Lane in Pearson's Magazine.

Examining Great Paintings, Finding the Artist's Signature

1916

Difficult to Find Sometimes and Not Always Reliable

Many of the works of the old masters are not signed. Experts rarely rely on signatures alone in determining the authenticity of an old work, but trust rather to their knowledge of the painter's technique.

False signatures can be easily detected. Spirits of wine or turpentine will usually remove a name of later date than the painting. In the course of time signatures often become very difficult to find. Painted originally in a shade slightly lighter than the ground, perhaps, they sink in, darken and merge into the ground color or they are almost rubbed away by successive cleanings. Recognizable one day in a specially favorable light, they may not be visible again for weeks.

Experts speak of "will-o'-the-wisp" signatures, and many collectors have encountered accidental strokes and cracks that tantalizingly suggest a signature, though it can never be made definite. On the other hand, there have been remarkable cases of such marks, after careful study, resolving themselves into a famous name. Sometimes the painter's name is most conspicuous — as, for instance, in Raphael's "Sposalizio" at Milan. Proud of having surpassed his master, the youthful genius wrote on a frieze in the very center of the canvas "Raphael Urbinas."

Reynolds hardly ever signed his work. But upon the completion of the portrait of Mrs. Siddons as the "Tragic Muse" he wrote his name large on the gold embroidery of her dress. He was unable, he said, "to resist the temptation of sending my name to posterity on the hem of your garment."

With reference to unsigned paintings there is told in Germany an amusing story. Achenbach. the German artist, enjoyed a vogue about ten years ago. A certain collector had bought from an art dealer a marine represented as a genuine Achenbach. Afterward it was pronounced to be a copy. The buyer brought an action against the dealer, who turned the tables by declaring that his picture was genuine and the other was a copy.

Achenbach himself was summoned by the court to tell which was which. Amazed at the similarity of the two paintings, the artist gazed at them for a long time, inspected them closely front and back and then frankly admitted that he could not tell which was the original and which the copy.— Harper's Weekly.

—Stevens Point Daily Journal, Stevens Point, Wisconsin, July 29, 1916, page 7.