Fatted calves and porky pigs
I’ve always wondered about those paintings you used to see in English country pubs of some behemoth of a horse standing under a tree on a hill overlooking a farmscape, or a mighty steer being held by a tiny little man in breeches.
Who paints these things, I thought, and why? Clearly there was something proprietary about them, indicative of the animal’s proud owner, but in my meagre existence I only came across ribbon-bedecked farmers at harvest fairs posing for a photo for the local newspaper alongside their beloved re-creations of the Fatted Calf. To commission a full-scale painting seemed rather over the top, but I looked ‘er up on the Innernut, and lo and beholy smokes …
As England entered the late 18th century, says the website AntiquesAndTheArts.com, a fashion for breeding farm animals swept the country. Royalty, nobility and commoners alike competed side by side for livestock prizes at agricultural shows. The goal? Breed the largest animal on the least amount of food, in the shortest period of time.
It wasn’t just a contest, though. The population was increasing rapidly, and people were moving off the land into towns and cities. That caused an increase in the demand for meats, and farm animal owners rose to the challenge … Pigs were bred so fat they could not stand on their own, and cows weighing some 2,800 pounds toured the country on exhibition.
Today the demand for lean meat results in our livestock looking much different, so it is hard for us to believe these grotesquely large animals ever existed. But they did …
The superstar of the day – that is, the most famous animal in all the land because of its size – was the “Durham Ox”. A print of this giant beast, done in 1802 by John Boultbee, sold 2,000 within a year and was hung in homes, inns and coaching houses …
There are conflicting accounts as to the weight of the Durham Ox because the stone, the measuring unit of the time, was not standardised. The ox probably tipped the scales around 2,400 pounds and stood five feet, five inches at the shoulders. Records of its size exist because they were measured by artist George Garrard for his 1802 “A Fat Holderness Ox called the Wonderful Ox (The Durham Ox)”.
And in this corner, weighing many tons, “The Famous Linconshire Ox” by J Barenger, 1823. Not a little bull involved.
Despite its size, the Durham Ox appears to have been in good health and would have lived a long life – he was a show animal and not meant for the dinner table – except for an untimely accident. In 1807, the ox dislocated a hip bone and had to be slaughtered.
One painting, “The Cup Pen of Pigs”, by E Hacker, shows three prize-winning pigs that apparently were so fat they could not sleep without suffocating in their own fat folds. To prevent their nocturnal demise, they are given wooden “pillows” to keep their heads raised.
Contender: “Portrait of TW Coke”, by WH Davis, 1835. Coke is the one on the right. That’s his cown on the left. What the other man in the picture is up to is not quite clear, but he refused to move out of the way.
Why so big? In the 19th century, a farmer might feed his cattle for seven years so they could attain their largest size. Today cattle destined for the butcher are slaughtered within 18 months to provide leaner, more tender cuts.
These breeding experiments may seem cruel to modern sensibilities, but they did help solve the problem of feeding England’s hungry masses and led to more advanced breeding methods.
It was about this same time that James Ward, who I stumbled across while scrabbling up Gordale Scar in search of Turner, was making quite a spectacle of himself in art galleries that started smelling like barns.
Ward’s career was based on a love for grand landscapes, but also for grand commissions, so there were lots of animals, and largely livestock. But at least he didn’t go in for the exceedingly gravity-challenged variety. In 1794 he was appointed painter and engraver to the Prince of Wales, but his “big break,” the art historian Alistair Highet has written, “came when he was engaged by the president of the Agricultural Society to paint the portrait of his favorite cow. The painting was a success, and Ward was retained to travel the whole country to illustrate all the British breeds, producing more that 200 cow portraits.”
Many horses followed, as horses will, plus the “warmly rendered” pig painting “Gloucestershire Old Spot”. In 1820 Ward exhibited the huge “Allegorical Painting of the Triumph of Waterloo”, not shyly described thus: “The Genius of Wellington on the Car of War, supported by Britannia and attended by the Seven Cardinal Virtues, commanding away the Demons, Anarchy, Rebellion and Discord, with the Horrors of War”. The Morning Herald scorned its “grotesque conceits” and “unbounded extravagances, horror and loathsomeness”.
No one knows where the painting is now. Ward headed back to the barn, or more correctly to the pasture, where Wellington’s Copenhagen and Napoleon’s Morengo were grazing. He’s actually listed as “draughtsman” for this 1826 rendering of “Adonis, Favourite Charger of King George III”.
Hey, somebody get Picasso’s nag outta there. Okay, yes, I ballooned the beast with Photoshop. What fun, I admit.
But I would submit that the Web serves up Ward’s true career nadir, with a bowl of drool on the side, thus: James Ward – “The Death of a Boar in India”, 1816, $15.00 $11.99 On Sale! Customize & Order this print. Customize? Yes, the missus would like the boar a little chubbier, please.
Intriguingly, James Ward may well have taken eagerly to doing portraits of future banquet entrees if his sketch below, from 1801, indicates his pre-fame state of finances. Poor fellow was starving!
If you’re hungry too, there’s much more animal obesity here.
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