THE OLD SHEPHERD'S CHIEF MOURNER. jy 



Resting on some roughly-hewn pieces of wood, serving as trestles, is a heavy coffin, 

 also roughly put together, and of very primitive manufacture, whereon some' 

 friendly hand has placed branches of laurel : over it, and trailing on the floor, 

 is stretched a thick plaid shawl, which has helped to screen its late owner 

 from many a pitiless storm of rain and snow, and a heavy blanket; the latter 

 intended to take the place of a pall. Seated on this blanket, which appears to 

 have been partially dragged off, carrying with it some of the laurel-branches, is 

 the " Chief Mourner " of the dead man whose body waits to be carried away to' its 

 last resting-place. It is the collie-dog of the " Old Shepherd;" for years the friend 

 and companion of his master through summer-heat and winter cold ; the creature 

 which has walked by his . side, or kept watch and ward for him^ by day and by 

 night; which followed him up the mountain-side and by the sparkling burn as he 

 tended the flocks, and oft-times restored with unfailing sagacity the wanderers from 

 the fold. The devoted animal knows well what that coffin contains ; we may be 

 certain he iiever quitted the death-bed of his master, and that he will never leave 

 his grave. Even there 



" His faithful dog will bear him company ; " 



ay, and lie down and die on the grassy mound that covers the sleeping shepherd. 

 With his nose firmly resting on the coffin-lid, what a picture of real, almost human, 

 grief does he present to us ! his attitude and his countenance are as indicative of bitter 

 sorrow and of anguish as imagination can suggest. All the accessories of the 

 composition, moreover, are in perfect harmony with Its leading features, and aid 

 powerfully in sustaining them, aijd to complete the idea of death and desolation— 

 the low settle, or stool, on which are the shepherd's spectacles, and Bible clasped 

 for the last time by his own hands ; on the floor are his bonnet and walking-stick, 

 both laid aside for ever; the empty drinking-horn, the vacant chair, the dim twilight, 

 are each and all passages, eloquent and truthful, of an exquisitely beautiful and 

 touching poem on canvas, which, it cannot be doubted, has caused many a stout 

 heart to " play the woman," by moving it to tears.* 



* Some considerable time after this was written, I chanced to meet with Mr. Ruskin's comments on the 

 picture ; they are subjoined, and are occasionally expressive of ideas so similar to my own, that I might 

 justly be charged with plagiarism without this explanation. The professor's eloquent analysis of the merits of 

 the painting speaks for itself. Writing of " Greatness in Art," he says, — " Take, for instance, one of the 

 most perfect poems or pictures (I use the words as synonymous) which modem times have seen — the ' Old 

 Shepherd's Chief Mourner.' Here the exquisite execution of the glossy and crisp hair of the dog, the bright 

 sharp touching 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 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 



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