Note 39 — Chapter V · A.D. 1834 TO A.D. 1842.

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.