Faithful and fearless to the last

From the lifelike painting of majestic otterhound Brizo to Queen Victoria's affectionate portrait of her beloved dachshund, Waldmann, we've long turned to art to celebrate our cherished canine companions, says Matthew Dennison

- Matthew Dennison

AN irascible Samuel Pepys was unimpressed by proceedings in the Council Chamber at Whitehall in September 1667. Charles II, Pepys noted, was distracted. ‘All I observed… is the silliness of the King, playing with his dog all the while, and not minding the business, and what he said was mighty weak.’ Evidently, the pleasure-loving monarch struggled to absorb himself in Alderman Barker’s complaints about the Council of Ireland, preferring instead to stroke his spaniel as his mind wandered.

Which dog lover among us fails to sympathise with Charles? The King’s view was almost certainly akin to that of French naturalist the Comte de Buffon. In his Natural History of 1755, Buffon celebrated canine elegance and good nature: ‘The dog, independent of the beauty of his figure, his strength, vivacity, and nimbleness, possesses every internal excellence which can attract the regard of man.’

For centuries, men and women have identified ‘internal excellences’ in their dogs. At one time or another, every puppy owner has shared the young Queen Victoria’s reaction to her newest Skye terrier, Islay, whom she described on March 13, 1839, as ‘so gentle, so good-natured, and friendly and so funny’. Our dogs, we know, offer us the same sweet temper and unquestioning loyalty that a dying Argus once showed Odysseus or that Greyfriars Bobby paid to the memory of his former owner John Gray, keeping vigil on his grave: their affection is unquestioning and unflagging. ‘Faithful and Fearless’, a sumptuous new exhibition at the Wallace Collection, explores this loving relationship between owner and dog in a series of canine paintings, sculptures and even stuffed specimens. Visually magnificent and unashamedly celebratory, it offers visitors an inspiring fillip.