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Yale Center for British Art and British Studies

THOMAS BEWICK^ THE
TYNESIDE ENGRAVER

BY

BASIL ANDERTON, M.A.
PuSSe Librarian, ^eHieaule-ttpm-Tjnt

RI^RINTED FROM VTHE LIBRARY,' JANUARY,. 191 6

; LONDON
ALEXANBER MORING LIMITED
' 1916

THOMAS BEWICK, THE
TYNESIDE ENGRAVER

BY

BASIL ANDERTON, M.A.
Public Librarian, 'Newcastle-upon-Tyne

REPRINTED FROM 'THE LIBRARY,' JANUARY, 1916

LONDON
ALEXANDER MORING LIMITED
1916

TO
MRS. J. W. PEASE
whose interest in the
Bewick Collection (Pease Bequest)
has never waned.

THOMAS BEWICK'S TOOL CHEST

Fronttsfuce

THOMAS BEWICK, THE TYNESIDE
ENGRAVER. jROM childhood to old age Thomas
Bewick "was a keen lover of out-of-
doors life, and especially of the out-
of-doors life of Tyneside. The occu
pations of all sorts of country-folk —
farmers, fishermen, poachers, shepherds, huntsmen
— had a perpetual fascination for him. He was a
shrewd observer and a most skilful delineator of the
picturesque or comic situations in which they often
found themselves. He loved birds and beasts, and
he studied their habits with constant , diligence.
By birth and by instinft he was a countryman,
though by the accident of his employment he lived
in the town and spent his days over the minute and
laborious indoor work of wood engraving.
I propose to illustrate his love of out-door life,
and what I may call out-door humour, by dwelling
for a little on the manner of his own life, more
particularly in his earlier years ; and by reproducing
some of the tail-pieces which serve to illustrate
the countryside memories and scenes in which he
took such delight.
Thomas Bewick was born at Cherryburn House
in the hamlet of Eltringham, in 1753. He had two
brothers and five sisters, so it was a large family.
When very young he was sent to Mickley school,

4 THOMAS BEWICK,
to keep him out of harm's way. But the master
was ignorant and harsh, and Bewick was frequently
in trouble — very often deservedly, sometimes un
deservedly. The climax came when, in order
to receive some particular beating, Bewick was
mounted on another boy, who held his hands so
that the master, as he expefted, could do the
business freely. ' In this instance, however,' says
Bewick, ' he was mistaken ; for, with a most
indignant rage, I sprawled, kicked, and flung, and
... bit the innocent boy on the neck, when he
instantly roared out, and threw me down ; and, on
my being seized again by the old man, I rebelled,
and broke his shins with my iron-hooped clogs,
and ran off. By this time the boy's mother, who
lived close by, attracted by the ferment that was
raised, flew . . . into the schoolroom, when a
fierce scold ensued between the master and her.'
Bewick's description gives an interesting glimpse
into village-school life 150 years ago. He did not
go again to that schoolmaster, but played the truant
every day, amusing himself, for instance (Cut i), by
making dams and swimming boats in a small burn
till the evening, when he returned home with his
school-fellows. When the schoolmaster died, Bewick went for
a few years to his successor, whom he liked and
respefted, and with whom he learnt as fast as the
other boys. But that master died also ; and after
an interval Bewick "was sent to school under the
Rev. Christopher Gregson. Here he made reason
able progress in his lessons, and, what is to us
more important, he began to show his propensity

P-i

a.c*i..j^si,.^=iCX

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THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 5
for drawing. His slate, the margins and blank
pages of his books, the gravestones, the floor of the
church porch — all got covered with various scenes
and devices. He was blamed by his father for mis
spending his time in such idle pursuits ; but nothing
could deter him, and many of his evenings at home
were passed in filling the flags of the floor and
the hearthstone with what he calls his ' chalky
designs.' Even in the church itself he scratched,
on the wooden ledges, caricatures of the parson
and members of the congregation. Before long a
friend gave him a supply of paper, and this ' made
a grand change,' for he now used pen and ink, and
the juice of the bramble-berry, and presently a
camel-hair pencil and shells of colours. The beasts
and birds, which enlivened the beautiful scenery
ofthe woods and wilds round Eltringham, furnished
an endless supply of subjefls ; and he studied their
habits and behaviour at the different seasons ofthe
year with the keenest interest. He gradually came
to have something more than a draughtsman's
delight in them. He gained a fellow-feeling with
them in the fright and suffering they endured
when being hunted. Two incidents in particular
confirmed this feeling of sympathy. The first was
when, in hunting, he caught the hare (Cut 2) in
his arms. ' The poor, terrified creature,' he says,
' screamed out so piteously — like a child — that I
would have given anything to have saved its life.
In this, however, I was prevented ; for a farmer
well-known to me, who stood close by, pressed
upon me, and desired I would "give her to him";
and, from his being better able (as I thought) to

6 THOMAS BEWICK,
save its life, I complied with his wish. This was
no sooner done than he proposed to those about
him " to have a bit more sport with her," and this
was to be done by first breaking one of her legs,
and then again setting the poor animal off a little
before the dogs. I wandered away to a little
distance, oppressed by my own feelings, and could
not join the crew again, but learned with pleasure
that their intended viftim had made its escape.'
Here she is, safe in her form once more (Cut 3).
The next occurrence of the kind happened with
a bird. Here, again, is Bewick's own account of
it. 'I had,' he says, 'no doubt knocked many
down -with stones before, but they had escaped
being taken. This time, how^ever, the little vidtim
dropped from the tree, and I picked it up. It was
alive, and looked me piteously in the face; and, as
I thought, could it have spoken, it would have
asked me why I had taken away its life. I felt
greatly hurt at what I had done, and did not quit
it all the afternoon. I turned it over and over,
admiring its plumage, its feet, its bill, and every
part of it. It was a bullfinch,' or little Matthew
Martin. This was the last bird Bewick killed
wantonly, though, as he acknowledges, many were
afterwards killed for him for the purposes of his art.
The hunting of foxes, otters, and badgers did
not affedt him in the same way, for they were
better able to protect themselves ; nay, not infre
quently the aggressors were themselves vanquished,
and a courageous badger might ' beat the dogs of a
whole neighbourhood, one after another, completely
off.' The ' musical din ' of the hounds, therefore,

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 7
continued to have its charms (Cut 4), and Bewick
often joined the hunt. Other more necessary
outings, too, increased his knowledge of natural his
tory ; for 'in the vermin-hunting excursions in the
depth of winter, while the whole face of nature was
bound in frost and covered with deep snow (Cut 5),
in traversing through bogs, amidst reeds and rushes,'
the terrier dogs often flushed birds which he had
never seen or heard of before. And even sixty
years later, when his fame as a naturalist was estab
lished, he still believed that some of them had
escaped recognition as British birds.
Whilst the lad was thus learning the ways of
birds and beasts, and gaining some skill in his art
of drawing, he was also doing a good deal of out
door farm-work. He had in spring time to 'scale'
the pastures and meadows, that is to spread the
mole-hills over the surface of the ground ; he had
gardening jobs and similar work to do, and he
looked after a small flock of sheep, which, in
wintry weather when he went out on to the fell
through wreaths of snow to feed them, got to
know him, though as a rule they were very wild.
He helped also to milk the cows, and to see to the
byre. In winter he watched, from the byre door,
the appearance of the various birds as they sought
shelter from the weather — woodcock, snipe, red
wings, fieldfares, as well as the commoner kinds.
Then as early spring advanced he made ready his
fishing tackle. He was already a keen angler, and
knew the use of night lines, set gads (Cut 6)
and fishing rods, and he made the most of his
leisure all through the summer up to the frosts of

8 THOMAS BEWICK,
late autumn. His nightly wadings kept his parents
somewhat anxious, and he tells in his Memoir how
his father would go out and whistle loud and shrill
to him to summon him home.
Of his various boyish pranks, some he mentions
himself, others we may reconstruct from his later
vignettes. Notice the farmyard huntsman, for instance, the
boy riding a pig (Cut 7). He has careered in
triumph from the farmyard through the open gate.
He hears, but heeds not, the loud halloos of the
woman who has seen his departure and who runs
after him. Meanwhile the great pig scurries along,
the dog barks aloud to cheer on the chase, and all
is full of the joy and merriment of life. If the
huntsman is not Bewick himself, all one can say is
that it might have been.
Cut 8 shows us a winter scene, the building of a
snowman ; and in this case at least it is certain
that Bewick has introduced himself into the picture,
for his daughter, Jane Bewick, identifies him as the
lad standing on the stool. Bewick's brother, too,
is one of the assistants. In the foreground one of
the boys has tucked his hands under his arms and
is hugging himself against the cold ; another, in
the background, is blowing on his fingers to warm
them. You notice the Latin legend underneath,
' Esto perpetua ' — May it last for ever — quizzingly
applied to so evanescent a thing as a snowman.
The horse's neck, in the background, by the way,
looks an extraordinary length ; and Bewick's hair,
and that of the boy in the foreground, need per
haps the attention of the barber.

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THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 9
Cut 9 is a study of the merry thoughtlessness of
boyhood. You observe the overthrown tombstone
with the symbol of the skull; meanwhile the
cavalry charge goes by with trumpet blowing.
Swords are drawn, and the horses hurry along in
varied adtion — some trotting steadily, one rearing
and curvetting.'
One more scene — this time a real horse bolting
(Cut 10). A carter has stopped to refresh himself
at a wayside inn. Whilst he is inside, five lads
climb into his cart and start the horse. Excited
by their noise and by the barking of the dog, and
quite unchecked (for the boys have forgotten to
secure the reins), the horse quickly gets out of
control and bolts. The boys get frightened and
yell the louder ; one of them loses his balance and
bumps heavily to the ground on his back. Mean
while the carter has heard the rattle of the wheels
and the shouting of the boys, and comes hurrying
out whip in hand. The hostess, too, runs out in
a fright, and shrieks and throws up her hands at
the sight that meets her eyes. The boys are in an
agony of fear, and one creature only — the dog — is
thoroughly enjoying himself. Charadteristically
enough, Bewick gives no hint as to the solution of
the difficulty. He loves just to present the case,
and then leave it to the spectator's imagination.
The ingenious manner, by the way, in which the
speed of the revolving wheels is indicated, is worth
noticing ; a little blaze of light, then a blur, then
' Mr. T. M. Clague, of Newcastle, has identified the scene of
this pifture as Ovingham Churchyard. The aftual grouping of
the tombstones, however, is Bewick's own.

IO THOMAS BEWICK,
a blaze of light, then a blur. Bewick (as my
friend, Mr. W. H. Gibson, tells me) is regarded
as one of the first to use this device.
To return now to Bewick's own account of his
hare-brained doings as a boy. He and his fellows
would often, in imitation of savages such as those
described in ' Robinson Crusoe,' set off in the
morning across the fell, and run about stark naked
like mad things or escaped Bedlamites. Or they
would climb the trees at Eltringham for rook nests
(Cut ii), at the hazard of their necks or their
bones. On one occasion Bewick determined to
cure a vicious runaway horse of his father's which
no one dared to mount. He, however, took the
opportunity, when out of sight of any of the
family, to do so. Let him give his own account
of it. ' With my hands entwined in his mane,
and bare-backed, I set him a-going and let him
run over " sykes " and burns, up hill and do-wn
hill, until he was quite spent. [Then], to make
him run at all, he must be whipt to it, [and] I
swam him in the river. This and such like treat
ment made him look ill, and . . . quite tamed
him.' On another occasion he and a faithful
follower were minded to watch the headlong
plunge into the water of a couple of oxen. Bewick
had discovered them on a bit of high grazing
ground, surrounded with hazel and other bushes,
near the brink of a river. So the two made a
stealthy approach, and when all was ready, they
suddenly, with long branches in their hands, sprang
out upon the oxen from the bushes, and drove
them madly to the precipice, Down they went

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. ii
headlong, with a glorious crash sheer into the
flood. However, they were no worse for it, for
they were carried down by the rapid current and
landed safely at a distance below. But if the oxen
didn't suffer, Bewick did ; he earned a sound beat
ing, which was none the lighter that the event
took place on a Sunday morning.
Such sports and pranks were the joy of Bewick's
boyhood. Small wonder that he grew into a
vigorous youth, and that he retained to his latest
years the keenest delight in such episodes of country
life, and a chuckling, mirthful appreciation of the
perplexities in which country folk find themselves
involved. For example, the old dame in Cut 12
finds her right-of-way unexpectedly disputed.
Bewick's life at home and at school meanwhile
was, as he says, 'a life of warfare'; and punish
ments of various kinds were infliCted with appar
ently little effeCt. But his master, Mr. Gregson,
at length found a better and more effectual way of
dealing with him. He invited Bewick to dine
with him, and after showing him the greatest
kindness, followed this up with a plain, friendly
and open talk, showing him the impropriety of his
conduct, the evil tendency of it, and the pain and
trouble it had caused. The boy was quite over
powered, and fell into a flood of tears. As he
says, 'The result was, I never dared to encounter
another of these friendly meetings ; and, while I
remained at his school, he never again had occasion
to find fault with me.' He came to regard both
his father and his teacher with the greatest affeCtion
and respedt.

12 THOMAS BEWICK,
When he was fourteen years of age it was thought
time to set him definitely to work. His parents,
after anxious debatings, found the opportunity they
wanted when the brothers William and Ralph
Beilby, engravers of Newcastle, happened to ride
out to Bywell to see Thomas Bewick's godmother,
who was a friend of theirs. She spoke well of the
lad to them, and they set off to Cherryburn to see
the Bewicks, and to drink tea. The result of the
interview was that Bewick was bound apprentice
to Ralph Beilby on ist October, 1767. This
eventful day, when he must leave the country for
the town, was in some ways a grievous one for
Bewick. ' I liked my master,' he says, ' I liked
the business; but to part from the country, and to
leave all its beauties behind me, with which I had
been all my life charmed in an extreme degree, —
and in a way I cannot describe — I can only say my
heart was like to break ; and, as we passed away,
I inwardly bade farewell to the whinny wilds, to
Mickley bank, to the Stob-cross hill, and even to
the large, hollow old elm . . . near the ford . . .
which had sheltered the salmon-fishers, while at
work there, from many a bitter blast.' As Austin
Dobson. says, in his work on Thomas Bewick and
his pupils, ' These things would be remembered
afterwards in the busy city ; and though, for a long
period, the link with the country was not wholly
severed, it is doubtless to those yearning recollec
tions that we owe the rural element in Bewick's
work which is its most abiding charm.'
The Newcastle to which Bewick now came,
and in or near which he lived with hardly a break

i6

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 13
for the rest of his life, was in 1767 a very different
place from the Newcastle of the present day. It
was bounded and enclosed, or praCtically enclosed,
by the old town walls; even within those walls
there were crofts, fields, gardens and trees ; and it
was, in fadt, a small provincial town of less thari
30,000 inhabitants. Here are two brief descrip
tions of it, the first being taken from the late Dr.
Spence Watson's study of Newcastle a century
ago.' 'Placed upon the northern side of a steep,
deep, and richly wooded glen ; connected with its
opposite neighbour, little Gateshead ... by a
handsome stone bridge crossing the broad, clear,
and beautiful river Tyne, the abode of lordly
salmon and delicious trout ; rejoicing in a bright
and dry atmosphere ; swept by bracing but not
unkindly breezes ; and with a variable yet, on the
whole, genial climate ; it was truly a pleasant
habitation. In 1759, John Wesley had written ot
it : "Certainly if I did not believe there was another
world, I would spend all my summers here, as I
know no place in Great Britain comparable to it
for pleasantness." '
With this aspeCt another may be combined.
Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu, a famous bluestocking,
who arrived here from London in 1758, describes
it as follows ; ^ 'The town of Newcastle is horrible,
like the ways of thrift ; it is narrow, dark, and dirty,
some of the streets so steep one is forced to put a
drag chain on the wheels: the night I came I
thought I was going to the center. The streets
' In his 'History ofthe Literary and Philosophical Society.'
2 In Climenson's < Elizabeth Montagu.'

14 THOMAS BEWICK,
are some of them so narrow that if the tallow
chandler ostentatiously hangs forth his candles, you
have a chance to sweep them into your lap as you
drive by, and I do not know how it has happened
that I have not yet caught a coach full of red
herrings, for we scrape the City wall on which
they hang in great abundance.'
It was to this town that Bewick came in 1767.
His first experience of the manners of the place
was not fortunate ; for having gone out on Sunday
afternoon to see the environs, he was met by three
blackguard apprentices. He tried to avoid them,
but they, seeing him in a strange country dress,
followed and insulted him, till at last he turned
and knocked one of them down. Then they all
three set on him and thrashed him, and sent him
home with scratched face and black eyes. This
was an abominable sight to the Beilby family,
with whom he was living ; and they obliged him
in future to go to church twice every Sunday, and
in the evening to read the Bible, or some good
book, to old Mrs. Beilby and her daughter.
For some time after beginning work he was
occupied copying Copeland's Ornaments ; and this,
he says, was the only kind of drawing on which he
ever had a lesson of any kind given to him. The
first jobs he was put to consisted in blocking out
the wood about the lines of mathematical diagrams
for Dr. Charles Hutton — which diagrams Beilby
then completed, though before long Bewick him
self was allowed to finish them. Then came the
etching of sword blades ; then a miscellaneous
variety of jobs — for Beilby undertook all sorts of

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 15
work, coarse or fine. He fitted up and tempered
his own tools, and adapted them to every purpose,
and taught Bewick to do the same. Beilby ex
celled in ornamental silver engraving, and Bewick
judged him, on the whole, to be 'an ingenious
self-taught artist.' The higher department of
engraving, such as landscape or historical plates
(and this is worth noting), was hardly ever even
thought of by Beilby — at least during Bewick's
apprenticeship. He was, however, the best master
in the world, Bewick thought, for teaching boys,
for he obliged them to put their hands to every
variety of work. From time to time the firm
received applications from printers for the execu
tion of woodcuts. Beilby himself was very defective
in such work ; so he handed the jobs over to his
new apprentice, who, needless to say, found the
opportunity of drawing the designs on the wood
extremely gratifying. Cuts to illustrate children's
books grew in demand, and Thomas Saint, the
Newcastle printer, who had made himself a name
by publishing old ballads and histories, gave the
firm frequent commissions. Bewick was therefore
soon largely occupied in cutting blocks for such
books as 'Gay's Fables,' 'The Story Teller,' 'SeleCt
Fables,' etc., and this work brought him his first suc
cess outside Newcastle. Beilby was so pleased with
some of his fable cuts, that he sent the Huntsman
and the Old Hound to the Society for the Encour
agement of Arts. The result was that Bewick re
ceived a prize of ^7 7s., and he says : ' I never in
my life felt greater pleasure than in presenting it to
my mother.' Mr, Gregson, his old schoolmaster, was

1 6 THOMAS BEWICK,
hardly less delighted, and he hurried over to Eltring
ham to congratulate Bewick's parents. Bewick's
attention being thus turned to wood-engraving,
his skill and mastery grew steadily greater.
At first, as mentioned, he lived in the Beilbys'
house. But when the time came for him to
receive 4s. 6d. a week, he began to cater for him
self upon that sum. In this he was helped by an
aunt (a Blackett) who, as a freeman's widow, could
keep her cow on the Newcastle Town Moor ; and
the milk helped to solve the food problem.
Bewick had few friends at this time ; but instead
of them he took to reading books. Over these he
spent his leisure, mornings and evenings, late and
early. Naturally it was very few books that he
could afford to buy; but Gilbert Gray, a bookbinder
friend, lent him some, and afterwards Gilbert's
son, William Gray, also a bookbinder, whose shop
was often filled with works of the best authors,
gave him access to them whilst in his hands.
Gradually, at the Grays' home or elsewhere, he
made interesting acquaintances. He met, for in
stance, Thomas Spence, a warm-hearted enthusiast
and reformer. He met also William Bulmer, who
afterwards issued some charming books, with
Bewick's illustrations, from the Shakespeare Print
ing Office in London.
At last the ' seven long years were up ' ; the
apprenticeship came to an end, and on ist OCtober,
1774, Bewick was once more at liberty. After
working a few weeks longer with Beilby, he set
off home to Cherryburn, There he stayed for
about eighteen months, employed by Thomas

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER, 17
Angus, a Newcastle printer, and others, who gave
him commissions for various wood engravings.
He spent his leisure in rambling about, or in
hunting and fishing. After a while, however, he
found that even the delights of angling began to
pall, when he could indulge in them as much as
he pleased. So one June day he laid down his rod,
and resolved to go off on a walking tour, so as to
see more of the world. He made his way first to
Haydon Bridge, where he renewed his friendship
with Thomas Spence. One sees him, in Cut 13,
drinking at a wayside spring out of the ' flipe ' of
his hat. So he got on to Haltwhistle, Naworth
Castle, Penrith, and Carlisle. From there he
worked round to Hawick, Selkirk, and Edinburgh.
He was greatly charmed with the border scenery ;
the roads twining about the valley bottoms ; the
-green, velvety hills, spotted over with white sheep ;
the peaceful shepherds and their dogs. From
Edinburgh he went to Glasgow, Dumbarton, and
the Highlands. In the Highlands he went zig
zagging to and fro, by the side of lakes and moun
tains. The serenity of the lakes and the grandeur
of the mountains charmed him to ecstasy. He
was hospitably received by the farmers and graziers
and herdsmen, who, with simple kindliness, would
take no payment for the welcome they gave him.
Sometimes, through having stopped too long on
his way, in admiration of the varied prospeCts he
met with, he was benighted, and was obliged to
take shelter under some rocky projection, or to lay
himself down amongst the heather, till dayhght.
He at last turned his face homewards. He made

1 8 THOMAS BEWICK,
his way to Edinburgh, and from Leith got a passage
to Newcastle, A most wretched passage it was,
what with a heavy swell, a violent gale, sails torn
to shivers, passengers overcrowded, and many of
them sick. It took four nights and three days to
reach Shields, His walking tour had been one
of nearly 400 miles. In Newcastle he merely
stayed long enough to earn money to carry him to
London, and then took passage in a collier bound to
the great city, where he arrived in OCtober, 1776,
being at that time just over twenty-three years of
age. He quickly came across several old friends,
who welcomed him cordially and showed him the
sights. He also was fortunate in getting plenty of
wood-engraving work, notably from Isaac Taylor,
and from Thomas Hodgson, who had served his
apprenticeship as a printer in Newcastle. But
although he was among friends, and was greatly
interested in the painting, engraving, carving, etc.,
which he saw, still he did not take to London.
The ignorant and often impudent cockneys offended
him. Then, too, everything seemed to be in the
extreme^ — extreme riches, extreme poverty, extreme
grandeur, and extreme wretchedness. So he made
up his mind to return home. 'The country,' he
says, ' of my old friends — the manners of the people
of that day — the scenery of Tyneside — seemed
altogether to form a paradise for me and I longed
to see it again.' Isaac Taylor, his warm friend and
patron, urged him to stay, holding out prospeCts
of much profitable employment ; but he urged in
vain. Bewick told him he would rather enlist for
a soldier, or go and herd sheep at 5s. a week as

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 19
long as he lived, than be tied to live in London.
' I was,' he said, ' quite overpowered by the cold
ness and selfishness of everything I witnessed. In
every direction there was a hurry-scurry, , , , I
was nothing in the great mass of moving humanity.
... I never saw a single recognition of acquaint
anceship or friendship in the streets. . . . How
different from what I had all my life been accus
tomed to ! Why, in Newcastle, I could not get
from my own door to Mr. Charnley's shop in Bigg
Market without having twenty enquiries made by
friends in . . . my route, about my health and
comfort of my household.' Thomas Hodgson
likewise tried his best to keep him. When, how
ever, he saw it was useless, he offered to furnish
him with plenty of work to do in Newcastle —
enough to occupy him, to begin with, for two
years. This was very pleasing to Bewick, who
did not like the idea of starting business in opposi
tion to his old master, Ralph Beilby. He felt it
was like the proverb, ' Bring up chickens to pick
out your eyes.' After eight or nine months, then,
Bewick left London for good, and after a quick
passage reached Newcastle again in June, 1777.
Thus Bewick's year of wandering came to a
close. He was now twenty-four, and was ready
tp settle down definitely to work at engraving —
especially wood-engraving, A partnership with
Beilby, which lasted for over twenty years, was
shortly arranged, and Bewick took his brother John
as his apprentice. Every week he tramped out to
Cherryburn, being drawn thither partly by the
pleasure of seeing his father and mother, and partly

20 THOMAS BEWICK,
by his delight in the weekly changes of the country
side. ' To be placed in the midst of a wood in the
night,' he says, ' in whirlwinds of snow, while the
tempest howled above my head, was sublimity
itself, and drew forth aspirations . . . such as had
not warmed my imagination . . . before,' Then,
in summer, he would stop beside the woods to
admire the dangling woodbine and roses, and the
grass spangled with pearly drops of dew. Or again,
when he had been fishing, he would return from his
happy, hungry, stream- wading rambles with his
creel well filled with fish. Thus he watched the
pageant of the year, and time sped swiftly on.
In 1784 Thomas Saint issued the first of Bewick's
more distinctive works, viz. the second edition ot
' Select Fables.' The first edition had contained a
much inferior set of cuts. This work (which had
a number of vignettes) was published by T. Saint,
the Newcastle printer. So far, things had on the
whole gone well and happily with Bewick. But
in 1785 he suffered three heavy afflictions, for first
his mother died (and Cut 14 shows Bewick's record
of the date), then his sister, and lastly his father.
These sad events naturally caused the weekly expe
ditions to Eltringham to cease. There is an inter
esting faCt connected with the day of his father's
death (Cut 15) — one that has perhaps some human
significance —
For men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead selves to higher things.
Bewick himself mentions that that was the day on
which he began cutting the first of the blocks for

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 21
his ' History of Quadrupeds ' — the earliest of his
really famous works. The ' History of Quad
rupeds ' was considered by Bewick to be his ' com
mencement of wood engraving worthy of attention.'
He describes his mode of procedure as follows :
' Such animals as I knew, I drew from memory on
the wood ; others which I did not know were
copied from Dr. SmelHe's Abridgement of Buffon,
and other naturalists, and also from the animals
which were from time to time exhibited in itinerant
collections. Of these last I made sketches first
from memory, and then corrected and finished the
drawings upon the wood from a second examina
tion. , , , I then proceeded in copying such figures
as above named as I did not hope to see alive.
While I was busied in drawing and cutting the
figures of animals, and also in designing and
engraving the vignettes, Mr. Beilby, being of a
bookish or reading turn, proposed in his evenings
at home, to write or compile the descriptions.
With this I had little more to do than furnishing
him, in many conversations and by written
memoranda, with what I knew of animals, and
blotting out in his manuscript what was not truth.
In this way we proceeded till the book was pub
lished in 1790.' Its issue had been delayed some
what by other work — for example, by the drawing
and engraving in 1789 of the famous Chillingham
Bull (Cut 16), But when the book was at last
published, it rapidly became famous. A little
later came the cuts which Bewick undertook for
his old friend William Bulmer, of the Shakespeare
Printing Press, to illustrate Parnell's ' Hermit ' and

22 THOMAS BEWICK,
Goldsmith's ' Deserted Village,' The volume con
taining these was issued in 1795. One of the
pictures is here reproduced (Cut 17J, It was
drawn by Robert Johnson, but engraved by Bewick
— the picture of ' Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village
of the plain,' Goldsmith, ' as every schoolboy
knows,' describes the decay of Auburn's prosperity,
and the drifting away of the population until the
once thriving village became deserted. This par
ticular picture is called the Departure, and we see
one of the last of the melancholy bands leaving the
happy homes of their youth to seek a living
elsewhere ; leaving
Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom,
Those calm desires that ask'd but little room,
Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful scene,
Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green ;
These, far departing, seek a kinder shore,
And rural mirth and manners are no more,
Bewick's brother John died in the same year that
this book was published, viz, 1795.
While the sale of edition after edition of the
' History of Quadrupeds ' was going on, Bewick
turned his thoughts to a 'History of British Birds,'
He had long paid great attention to the subjeCt,
and had studied many books on ornithology. In
the work he now projected, he resolved not to
copy other people's pictures, as he had often been
obliged to do in the ' Quadrupeds,' but to work
from nature. To this end he visited Matthew
Tunstall's collection at Wycliffe,' and spent two
' The colleftion is now in the Natural History Society's
Museum, Newcastle.

f. 22

r.^^-

19

kA4*

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER, 23
months there making drawings. These specimens,
however, though useful, were still not all that he
could wish, for at that time, as he says, no regard
was paid to fixing them in their proper attitudes,
nor to placing the different series of feathers so as
to fall properly upon each other. He was there
fore driven to waiting for birds newly shot by his
sporting friends, or brought to him alive ; and in
these intervals of waiting he got forward with the
delightful vignettes with which the book is every
where adorned. By 1797 the first volume (that
on Land Birds) was ready ; and the second volume
(on Water Birds) followed in 1804, His 'History
of Birds ' proved to be Bewick's most important
work. As Mr. Croal Thomson (in his 'Life and
Works of Bewick ') says, ' It is not . , , in the
mere arrangement, or even in the engraving, that
the ' Quadrupeds ' is excelled. It is also in the
gallery of tail-pieces scattered profusely throughout
the volume ; the stories of humanity told in a few
square inches, the satires of life coveyed with un
failing certainty and with no apparent exertion,
and the beauties of nature exhibited in the little
landscapes, . . . No one has given us the true
living bird, as has been done in these volumes by
Thomas Bewick.'
Charlotte Bronte, the novelist, was an ardent
admirer of this work, and in 'Jane Eyre'' she
' It will be remembered that, at the beginning, the book which
Jane was quietly reading, just before the occurrence of a small
domestic tragedy, was Bewick's ' British Birds.' Charlotte Bronte
also, in 1832, when she was sixteen, wrote a poem on Bewick,
which was reproduced in 'The Times Literary Supplement' of
4th January, 1907.

24 THOMAS BEWICK,
refers to the pages which treat of the haunts of sea
fowl, and of the soHtary rocks and promontories
by them only inhabited. In particular she speaks
of two or three of the vignettes — the rock standing
up alone in a sea of billow and spray (Cut 1 8) ;
the broken boat stranded on a desolute coast (Cut
19) ; the cold and ghastly moon glancing through
bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking. She goes
on : 'I cannot tell what sentiment haunted the
quite solitary churchyard (Cut 20), with its in
scribed headstone, its gate, its two trees, its low
horizon, girdled by a broken wall, and its newly
risen crescent, attesting the hour of eventide. . . .
Each picture told a story, mysterious often to my
undeveloped understanding and imperfeCt feelings,
but ever profoundly interesting.'
The text of the first volume was written by
Beilby, though with important alterations and
additions by Bewick. That of the second volume
was by Bewick himself, with some assistance from
the Rev. H. Cotes, of Bedlington ; for the partner
ship with Beilby had come to an end.
In the opinion of many people the two works
I have especially mentioned — the ' Quadrupeds,'
and more particularly the ' Birds '—show Bewick
at his best. The ' History of Birds ' was finished
when he was fifty-one years of age ; and although
after that time he continued, right to the end of his
life, to do charming work, yet it is probably true
that he did not surpass the high level he had
reached in the ' Birds.' Several new editions of
this book were issued — expanded and enriched
with new birds and vignettes. He also projected

21

23

P-H

24

25

27

^•r- « *

28

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 25
a ' History of Fishes,' and did some very beautiful
cuts to illustrate it ; he brought out his famous
edition of ' iEsop's Fables' (1818), which is
acknowledged to be well worthy of his name ;
and for these he was constantly busy designing
fresh supplies of his delightful vignettes — ' little
whimsies ' as he called them. Before returning to
the tail-pieces, we will glance at a few of the other
typical cuts he made, taking them chiefly from
the ' Birds,' though also from the ' Quadrupeds,'
the 'Fishes,' and other sources. Cut 21, for
instance, shows a bird that particularly pleased
Bewick himself. He thought it indeed the best
of all his cuts. It it is our familiar friend the
Yellow Yowley, or Yellow Hammer, or Yellow
Bunting, You will notice now naturally the bird
itself is half merged in the background of leaves
and grass and branches.
The Swallow (Cut 22) is a pretty cut, too. It
was drawn from a bird that had been slightly
wounded in the wing. ' It sat on the bench while
the cut was engraved, and from its having been
fed by the hand with flies, when sitting for its
portrait, watched every motion, and at every look
of the eye, when pointedly direCted towards it, ran
close up to the graver, in expectation of a fresh
supply of food.'
Cut 23 shows a single feather of a bird — a very
delicate piece of detailed work. Cut 24, again,
is a marvellous combination of detailed feathers,
forming the rich deep plumage of a stately peacock.
But we will leave the ' Birds ' themselves, as our
main concern is with the tail-piece vignettes.

26 THOMAS BEWICK,
Suffice it to say, with Austin Dobson, that ' these
birds of Bewick — those especially that he had seen
and studied in their sylvan haunts — are alive. They
swing on boughs, they light on wayside stones ;
they flit rapidly through the air ; they seem almost
to utter their continuous or intermittent cries.; they
are glossy with health and freedom ; they are alert,
bright-eyed, watchful of the unfamiliar spectator,
and ready to dart off if he so much as stir a finger.'
By way of contrast, this specimen (Cut 25) from
the ' Quadrupeds ' is rather a favourite of mine !
It is a male hippopotamus. He would be a charm
ing beast to have chasing you at one of those night
mare times when you want to run, but your legs
will hardly stir.
Next, to compare great beasts with small, we will
turn from the hippopotamus to this frog (Cut 26),
and admire its beautiful drawing. One can almost
see him moving and breathing.
Lastly, let us take a couple of Bewick's fishes.
The cuts for these fish (Cuts 27 and 28J, by the way,
are given at the end of Bewick's autobiography.
They are the John Dory and the Lump Sucker.
We will now turn once more to the other
vignettes. We have already seen several con
cerned with boy-life. Cut 29 is another, in which
boys are flying a kite. Unfortunately the string
has caught against the hat of a man on horseback
who is fording a river. The man clutches his hat
tight to save it, but forgets to stop the horse ; the
horse plods on steadily ; the boy pulls at the string
to save his kite ; the string begins to rasp and saw
the hat. How will it end?

.M.^

29

30

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER, 27
Cut 30 shows a mischievous youngster who
wants to watch a bhnd man splashing and stum
bling about in the water. You observe the notice
' Keep on this side,' You also observe that the
dog, the truer guide, whom the false guide has
artfully supplanted, is full of hesitation and alarm
at the unusual route his master is taking.
In Cut 31 we have another mischievous episode,
in which some boys have tied a tin pot to a dog's
tail, and are enjoying their victim's terror. The
scene is Hexham, and in the background the Abbey
and Moot Hall are sketched in. In the foreground,
the idle spectator of the dog's trouble is a currier,
Hexham used to be famous for its tanning and glove-
making. My friend Mr, Clague, of Newcastle,
tells me that Bewick, when busy with this drawing,
went out three or four times into Newgate Street,
in Newcastle, where leather-workers were to be
found, in order to see how they fastened their gaiters.
The faCt shows Bewick's carefulness about detail.
Let us now turn again to riverside scenes, more
especially those exhibiting anglers at work.
In the distance, in Cut 32, we see two fishermen,
one of them wading. The river winds quietly out
from amongst the trees, and comes in a broad
curve round the great rock in the foreground. In
the shelter of the rock, on the left, a heron is
standing ; beyond that, quite in the background,
is a water-mill. On the face of the rock Bewick
has cut the verse, ' Flumina amem sylyasque
inglorius ' — I'll 'love
The woods and streams without a thought of fame.'

28 THOMAS BEWICK,
Bewick had a great liking for this cut. At one
time it was used as a book-plate by John Murray,
a surgeon of Newcastle, his name being placed
on the other face of the rock.
Cut 33 is another fishing scene. Of such scenes
as this Bewick wrote with delight ; for example,
in this passage : ' Well do I remember mounting
the stile which gave the first peep of the curling
or rapid stream, over the intervening, dewy, daisy-
covered holme . , , [the] festoons of the wild rose,
the tangling woodbine, and the bramble , , . the
enchanting music of the lark, the blackbird, the
throstle, and the black cap , . . the march to the
brink of the scene of aCtion, with its willows, its
alders, or its sallows — where early I commenced
the day's patient campaign. The pleasing excite
ments of the angler still follow him, whether he is
engaged in his pursuits amidst scenery such as I
have attempted to describe, or on the heathery
moor, or (Cut 34) by burns guttered out by the
mountain torrents, and boundered by rocks or grey
moss-covered stones, which form the rapids and
the pools in which is concealed his beautiful yellow
and spotted prey. Here, when tired and alone, I
used to open my wallet and dine on cold meat
and coarse rye bread ; . . . the only music in
attendance was perhaps the murmuring burn,
the whistling cry of the curlew, the solitary
water-ouzel, or the whirring wing of the moor-
game.' Small wonder that many anglers have loved
Thomas Bewick ! One of them — the late Mr.
John William Pease, of Newcastle — so greatly

33

34

t 2»

35

37

39

+0

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 29
appreciated the beauty and truth of Bewick's work
at its best, that during forty years he was an ardent
collector of Bewickiana. He got together a collec
tion that is perhaps unique in its all-round repre
sentation of the different aspeCts of Bewick's
activities ; and this collection he bequeathed to
the Newcastle Public Library, where one and all
may come and see it.
For those living in a countryside such as Bewick
delighted in drawing, the ways of crossing the
various rivers and intersecting streams are an im
portant matter. Now there are several ways of
doing this. One is by going over a bridge, as they
are doing in the background of Cut 35. But
bridges are not always available just where they
are wanted ; and besides, folk often like to save
the money for the toll. So in the foreground is
shown another method of getting across, namely,
by driving your cow into the water, and holding
on to her tail for support, while she swims. You
mustn't mind getting rather wet, however, and if it
is windy you must press your hat firmly on to your
head — or you may only save your toll at the cost
of losing your hat. In Cut 36 we have another
method of crossing a stream. You tie wooden
floats on to your feet, and punt yourself across
with a long-handled hay-fork. It has the advan
tage of not being so wet, provided you don't sit
down suddenly ; for it probably requires a certain
amount of praCtice, In the method shown in the
next Cut (37) no apparatus whatever is required.
You just toss your bag and your stick across the
water, and then scramble along a conveniently

30 THOMAS BEWICK,
overhanging branch. As to your dog, well, he
certainly presents difficulties. The rock may be
too high for him to jump, and he is not accustomed
to scrambling along tree-trunks. If in this case he
makes the attempt, I'm afraid he is in for a ducking.
In Cut 38 he has disappeared, though the man is
nearly over. In Cut 39, however, it is the dog's
turn to get across dry and comfortable, and it is the
man who is to get the ducking. Trunks lie at
such awkward angles, that it is quite likely your
feet will slip as you walk across.
Cut 40 shows a fifth way of getting over — by
means of a jumping-pole. You throw your pos
sessions across, take a little run, plant your pole in
the bed of the stream, and fly over like a bird.
First, though, it is as well to make sure that the
bottom of the stream has no treacherous boulders
and stones on which your jumping-pole can slip,
or else — well, things will happen !
A ladder, too, is a handy means of transit for
a man (Cut 41), though it is not so good for a
dog. However, it is not always convenient to
carry a ladder about with you in your country
rambles. Stilt-walking, or rather the combined use of stilts
and crutches (as in Cut 42), is another useful
means of transit for the huntsman who wants to
keep his powder dry. With the four supports he
is less likely to slip on a shifting stone than if he
had stilts only. In all these pictures, by the way,
it is needless to point out the charming back
grounds that Bewick gives his principal figures.
If you are a family man, and are returning from

41

^.^S.

P-i°

+3

44

45

46

¦ atj^'o-

^

•:^-

..•.5%, •¦ ^ ' ¦')K^i

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 31
market with all your impedimenta, it is best not to
trust to stilts or ladders or jumping-poles, etc.
Fording is the only thing. Your wife (Cut 43)
fastens the baby on her back, and balances the
well-filled market basket on her head. Then you
take the whole pile of them on your back, and
stagger out into the water on the passage perilous.
What happens when you make a stumble may be
better imagined than expressed.
Let us now turn to a somewhat different kind
of vignette, and see how Bewick represented
country scenes in winter time. In Cut 44 snow
is lying everywhere, and the birds are hard put to
it to find something to eat. Taking advantage
of their hunger, some boys have set a bird-trap, in
which food is displayed ; and they are eagerly
waiting and watching in the background. This
picture and the next are good examples of another
point : they show how close Bewick got, in plain
black and white engraving, to what he well calls
the representation of colour. He lowered down
that part of the wood which had to represent dis
tances ; and every figure where different shades of
colour were desired was similarly treated. Part
of the surface of the block he would leave without
being pared down at all, ' relying only on the lines
being left thicker or smaller for producing the
requisite depth of shade.' The surface thus left
aCted as a support to the more delicate lines which
were engraved on the lower part of the cut. With
' the delicate lines thus lowered, so as to print pale
or distant parts, and thus protected by the stronger
lines left on the surface — a wood cut, with care.

32 THOMAS BEWICK,
will print an incredible number' of impressions.
As an example of this, he tells us that a little
delicate cut (a view of Newcastle) had printed for
a newspaper 900,000 impressions — and it was still
in use years after this calculation had been made.
This particular cut had a strong black line or
border surrounding it, which aCted as a further
protection, I do not propose, however, to go into the tech
nical aspects of Bewick's craftsmanship, I simply,
in passing, draw attention to what has doubtless
been already noticed — the wonderful effeCts of
distance, and the varieties of tone, which Bewick
was able to achieve.
Cut 45 gives us another wintry scene. A poacher
and his dog are after a hare, which has doubled to
the right, and which you may see in the second
field. In the third field, however, the owner
suddenly makes his appearance, and with out
stretched arm disconcerts our sportsman, and stops
the pursuit.
In Cut 46 we have still another snow scene, full
ofthe silence and desolation of winter for the most
part, though in the foreground there are signs of
life ; the birds are looking for food, which, appar
ently, has again been set for them, as in Cut 44,
in a bird-trap, A couple of men are on the watch,
and their spade is resting against the wall.
But let us leave the winter behind us and return
to warmer weather. Here (Cut 47) is a charming
little vignette of two cows drinking in a quiet
stream, whilst the sun shines brightly and the birds
are flying overhead. Here, on the other hand

49

^32

5°

5'

K2

53

54

7 v''''S^5^, -

56

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER, 33
(Cut 48), is a scene of rain and wind. An old,
wretched-looking fellow is coming home from
market, riding on his tumble-down horse. What
with himself, his basket, his two panniers, and the
bundle strapped over his shoulder, he is far too
heavy a load for the poor broken beast. Look at
the horse's knees and feet, and dull, hopeless eyes.
The wind and the rain are driving in their faces,
and at last the beast gives it up and stops. The
man thrashes him with his stick, and even breaks
it over him, in vain. The effort only loosens his
hat, which a gust of wind at once whips off and
sets spinning down the hill. Bewick had keen
sympathy with the hard fate which so many old
horses endure ; and this picture is one amongst a
considerable number in which their miseries are
shown. In another picture Bewick shows a horse
wickedly overloaded, struggling up over a stony
road until the wheel stops dead against a bigger
stone than usual. The stupid driver doesn't look
to see what is wrong, but concludes that the horse
is jibbing, and at once proceeds to thrash him
mercilessly about the head. One of Bewick's
latest and largest pictures (Cut 49), which was not
even finished, is by way of being an appeal for the
better treatment of horses ; it is called ' Waiting
for Death,' and Bewick himself wrote a description
to go with it.
Cut 50 is in a lighter vein. An old farm-woman
has brought her washing out and is hanging it up
to dry. Two sturdy beggars come, whining for
alms. When she refuses and turns again to her
work, they go off, it is true ; but in revenge they

34 THOMAS BEWICK,
fling the gate wide open, and so admit the fowls
and the pigs, which are just outside, into the
garden. Alas for those clean shirts lying on the
ground !
Cut 51 is another farmyard picture — of a hen
that hatched ducks. Her nervous terror, as first
one, then another, all hurry down into the water,
is admirably depicted.
In Cut 52 we see a reveller going home. He
stops at a gateway to examine a phenomenon that
puzzles him :
Last night there was but one moon,
But to-night two moons there be !
Cut 53 shows another curious moonlight effeCt !
This time there is only one moon, so that is all right.
But what is far worse, there are three horrible
devils lying in wait and stretching out long arms
that are eager for clutching. Whether these devils
are due simply to effeCts of light and shade on fan
tastic tree-trunks, or are caused as before, or are the
result of a thief's conscience — his thieving will
evidently bring him at last to the gallows in the
distance — may be decided ' according to taste.'
The light, by the way, is rather badly managed in
this picture : the moonlight could hardly get round
the corner like that.
In Cut 54 the terrors of the haunted wood are
enhanced by the weird gleam of a goblin head,
which is really, to the outsider's view, a turnip-
lantern. Both man and dog are horribly scared.
This notion of the possibilities of dead tree-
trunks evidently caught Bewick's fancy. Cut cc

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 35
is another of his ' little whimsies.' This time it is
a teetotal, water-drinking dog that is startled, and
no invidious interpretations are possible. It is
interesting to remember that Bewick was at work
on this cut when the great Canadian naturalist
Audubon came to Newcastle and visited him in
1827. Bewick had asked him to take tea with
him, and Audubon describes the visit thus : ' We
reached the dwelling of the engraver, and I was at
once shown to his workshop. There I met the
old man, who, coming towards me, welcomed me
with a hearty shake of the hand, and for a moment
took offa cotton night-cap, somewhat soiled by the
smoke of the place. He was a tall stout man, with
a large head, and with eyes placed further apart
than those of any man that I have ever seen : a
perfect old Englishman, full of life, although
seventy-four years of age, aCtive and prompt in
his labours. Presently he proposed showing me
the work he was at, and went on with his tools.
It was a small vignette, cut on a block of boxwood
not more than three by two inches in surface, and
represented a dog frightened at night by what he
fancied to be living objeCts, but which were aCtually
roots and branches of trees, rocks, and other objeCts
bearing ihe semblance of men. This curious piece
of art, like all his works, was exquisite, and more
than once was I strongly tempted to ask a rejeCted
bit, but was prevented by his inviting me upstairs.'
Let me, before concluding, quote just a few words
from two sources on Bewick's manner of work —
not the technical manner, but the habit of mind
that underlay his technical work. As Austin

36 THOMAS BEWICK,
Dobson says, 'those who admire his draughtsman
ship have often asked themselves how he obtained
his proficiency as an artist.' The only answer
given by his family is that ' he used to go out and
look at things, and then come home and draw
them.' Again, an illuminating criticism of Bewick's
water-colour drawings is given by F. G. Stephens,
and the criticism applies with equal force to the
woodcuts we have been examining. ' The ruling
element of Bewick's art, technical and inventive, is
sincerity. His extreme simplicity, or to be more
precise, his straightforwardness, is but one of the
manifestations of this ever-dominant inspiration.
He always drew what he saw, and I think it pro
bable that he never drew, or, what is similar,
he never painted, anything he had not seen and
thoroughly understood. The fund of knowledge
thus secured and displayed . . . was employed at
all times and with the utmost fidelity. He seems
to have had so much reverence for his work, and
so much humility in the face of nature, that he
became the counterpart of another English master
in small, William Hunt, the water-colour painter,
who, although one of the first men in the world in
that peculiar class, was frequently heard to say, " I
almost tremble when I sit down to paint a flower."
But, so far as design goes, and nothing in art is
higher, Bewick far surpassed Hunt in the abun
dance, as well as in the quality, scope, richness,
and depth of his invention.'
I mentioned a little while ago several ways of
crossing the streams and rivers that one finds
during a life-time in the country. One method

THE TYNESIDE ENGRAVER. 37
of crossing I did not mention — I mean the method
of crossing a greater river than all — the last great
river. This final crossing is illustrated in the
vignette here shown (Cut 56). It was the last
vignette Bewick ever did. Speaking literally, it
represents the Tyne at Mickley Bank. The funeral
procession comes winding down the hill, and is
ferried across the river in a boat to Ovingham.
I said when I began that Bewick was all his life
a lover of the country. Here are a few words from
a letter which he wrote in 1808, when he was
fifty-five years old. He was hoping that some day
he would have enough money to live at ease, and
he says, ' I may then, indeed, have it in my power
to attain to the summit of my wishes, in retiring
to a cottage, by a burn side, surrounded with
woods and wilds, such as I was dragged from
when young to exhibit myself 'upon the stage of
the busy world. To such a place as this I hope to
retire ; and, if I am enabled to show kindness to
old friends, and to be a good neighbour to those
around me, and at the same time to fill up my
leisure in contemplation, and in the amusements
of fishing and gardening, then I shall think that
Providence has been pleased to single me out to be
one ofthe happiest of men.'
In 1 8 1 2 he had a severe illness, which he thought
would prove fatal to him. As he lay in bed, ' all
mind and memory,' as he says, he fixed upon
Ovingham as the place where he should be buried;
and, when this was settled, ' became quite resigned
to the will of Omnipotence, and felt happy.' Well,
fortunately, he recovered, and it was not for another

38 THOMAS BEWICK.
sixteen years (in 1828) that the final call came.
Then he was buried at Ovingham (Cut ^y) in the
grave within those iron railings. I, like many others,
have been there, more than once, to see the place.
On one occasion, as I was walking past the church
wall with a friend, the noise of our steps frightened
a little bird from behind that tablet above the grave.
It had built its nest there, sheltered by the name of
that life-long lover of birds, Thomas Bewick,

The illustrations are reproduced through the generosity of
Mrs, J. W, Pease, whose late husband bequeathed his fine
colleftion of Bewickiana to the Newcastle-upon-Tyne Public
Library.

OVINGHAM CHURCH
THE BURIAL PLACE OF THE BEWICKS

f .vS

THE DE LA MORE PRESS LTD. 32 GEORGE
STREET HANOVER SQUARE LONDON W.

'2978

i.' .'