[Illustration:
_DRAWN by JOHN BEWICK, 1781_
CHERRYBURN.
]
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A
MEMOIR
OF
THOMAS BEWICK,
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.
EMBELLISHED BY
NUMEROUS WOOD ENGRAVINGS,
DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED BY THE AUTHOR FOR A WORK ON
BRITISH FISHES, AND NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
[Illustration]
Newcastle≈on≈Tyne:
PRINTED BY ROBERT WARD, DEAN STREET,
FOR JANE BEWICK, GATESHEAD.
London:
LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMAN, AND ROBERTS,
AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.
1862.
[_The Right of Translation is Reserved._]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“While speaking of the English school, I must not omit to notice a truly
original genius, who, though not a painter, was an artist of the highest
order in his way—Thomas Bewick, the admirable designer and engraver on
wood. His works, indeed, are of the smallest dimensions, but this makes
it only the more surprising that so much interest could be comprised
within such little spaces. The wood cuts that illustrate his books of
natural history may be studied with advantage by the most ambitious
votary of the highest classes of art—filled as they are by the truest
feeling for nature, and though often representing the most ordinary
objects, yet never, in a single instance, degenerating into
common-place. The charming vignettes that ornament these books abound in
incidents from real life, diversified by genuine humour, as well as by
the truest pathos—of which the single figure of a shipwrecked sailor
saying his prayers on a rock, with the waves rising round him, is an
instance. There is often in these little things a deep meaning that
places his art on a level with styles which the world is apt to consider
as greatly above it, in proof of which I would mention the party of boys
playing at soldiers among graves, and mounted on a row of upright
tombstones for horses; while for quaint humour, extracted from a very
simple source, may be noticed a procession of geese which have just
waddled through a stream, while their line of march is continued by a
row of stepping-stones. The student of landscape can never consult the
works of Bewick without improvement. The backgrounds to the figures of
his Quadrupeds and his Birds, and his vignettes, have a charm of nature
quite his own. He gives us, in these, every season of the year; and his
trees, whether in the clothing of summer, or in the nakedness of winter,
are the trees of an artist bred in the country. He is equally true in
his little home scenes, his farm-yards and cottages, as in the wild
coast scenery, with the flocks of sea birds wheeling round the rocks. In
one of these subjects there stands a ruined church, towards which the
sea has encroached, the rising tide threatening to submerge a tombstone
raised “to perpetuate the memory,” &c. Bewick resembles Hogarth in this,
that his illustrations of the stories of others are not to be compared
with his own inventions. His feeling for the beauties of nature as they
were impressed on him directly, and not at second-hand, is akin to the
feeling of Burns, and his own designs remind me, therefore, much more of
Burns than the few which he made from the poet.”—_Leslie’s Hand Book for
Young Painters._
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[Illustration]
PREFACE.
The anxiety necessarily attendant upon the publication of this volume
being now brought to a close, it only remains to apologise for the
delay, for which many reasons might be adduced, and to express a hope
that it may be received with the same favour which has for so long a
period been kindly extended to the works of Thomas Bewick. It may be
matter of interest to many of his admirers to learn that the whole of
the wood cuts now in the hands of the family are in as good preservation
as when they left the graver.[1]
Footnote 1:
As evidence of which, it is impossible to distinguish the cuts
introduced into the last edition of “Birds” from those previously
published. This is due to the well-known fact, as mentioned at page
243, that an immense number of impressions may be taken from a wood
block; and to the system, peculiar to Thomas Bewick, of lowering all
the more delicate parts.
This volume was considerably advanced at press before it was decided to
append the cuts of the Fishes; an arrangement which it is hoped may meet
with general approbation—more particularly as, by that means, the cuts
and the vignettes[2] engraved for the History of Fishes will thus go
together. Much additional matter respecting the Fishes, which had
occupied so much time and attention, would doubtless have found a place
in the pages of the Memoir, had not the hand of Death so suddenly
arrested the labours of the Author. From the ample materials which
exist, the Appendix might have been greatly extended, but it is now felt
to be desirable to bring the publication to a termination as speedily as
possible.
J. B.
Gateshead-on-Tyne, May, 1862.
Footnote 2:
The vignette placed at page 286—a view of Cherryburn, with Mickley
Bank in the distance, and a funeral procession descending the sloping
pasture towards the boat, waiting to convey it across the Tyne to the
last resting-place of the family at Ovingham—appears, from the date
attached, to be the last vignette ever executed by Thomas Bewick.
[Illustration]
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It is at this period when the full value of a well-spent life will shine
with full effulgence upon the mind, and spread over it a
self-approbation of more worth than all the riches of the world. An
ill-spent life, on the contrary, will bring forward its recollections,
and send the guilty and polluted body unregretted to the grave, and the
degraded soul to the Giver of it, to be disposed of, in the justice and
mercy it will be found to deserve.—_Loose Note._
T. B.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory—Parentage—Birth, 1753—Mickley School—Ovingham 1–13
School—First attempts at drawing—Hunting
parties—Sheep—Shelter for sheep in snow
storms—Birds—Border songs and laments—Earl of
Derwentwater—Whins food for cattle
CHAPTER II.
Employments in spring—Angling—Mischievous pranks—Floggings 14–31
at school—Ghosts and Boggles—Change in the
mind—Man-fights, dog-fights, cock-fights—Fear of ghosts
entertained by the bulk of the people—Meet the Devil going
a-guising—Miss Gregson’s reproof—Mr. Gregson’s
lecture—Birds and their nests—Ants—Bees
CHAPTER III.
Description of Cherryburn—The surrounding common—The 32–49
peasantry—Will Bewick—Anthony Liddell—Thos. Forster—John
Chapman—Their peculiarities and way of life—The very old
men—Their avidity for news—Old Soldiers—John Cowie—Ben
Garlick—Their enthusiastic description of the battles they
had fought—The Borderers—Their propensity for war and
rapine—Their names—The farmers of Tyneside—The lairds—The
gentry—Plan of the late Duke of Northumberland for raising
the character of the peasantry—Parish relief
degrading—Proposed iron works at Eltringham—Failure of the
scheme
CHAPTER IV.
Sent on trial to Ralph Beilby, engraver—Day of the binding 50–61
arrives—Grief on leaving the country—Call at the
parsonage, Ovingham—Assembling of the villagers at the
church-yard gates—Betty Kell’s luck penny—Journey to
Newcastle, accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Gregson and his
son—Lecture—Christopher Gregson bound on the same
day—Scrape at King Jamie’s Well—New master and his
discipline—Sketch of the Family—Copy Copeland’s
Ornaments—Block out the diagrams for Charles Hutton’s
work—Etch sword-blades for W. and N. Oley, of Shotley
Bridge—Coarse work of the shop—Silversmiths’ work—Wood cut
of George and the Dragon—Cuts for Children’s books—Story
Teller—Gay’s Fables—Select Fables—Obtain a premium for the
cut of the old hound—Mr. Gregson’s congratulations
thereupon
CHAPTER V.
Lodge with Mrs. Blackett—Gilbert Gray—His excellent 62–79
character—Lodge at Hatfields—Scamps and tramps—Rise early
and obtain access to my master’s books, and to those at
the workshop of Wm. Gray—Religious books—Become unwell—Dr.
Bailes prescribes—Recommends temperance and exercise—Walks
to Elswick Whey-house—Bread and milk diet—Walks to
Cherryburn after shop hours—Reflections on getting into
debt—William Bulmer, printer—Robert Pollard,
engraver—Thomas Spence—His vagaries—George Gray—His worthy
character—Engrave cuts for Dr. Hutton’s Mathematical
Works, 1773, and for Dr. Horsley’s edition of Sir Isaac
Newton’s works, 1778—Bird catchers and bird
dealers—Profligate men—Serjeant Hymers—Whittaker
Shadforth—Practise the manual exercise—Miss Beilby—Her
death
CHAPTER VI.
Expiration of apprenticeship, 1774—Return to 80–93
Cherryburn—Employed on wood cuts for printers—Remain at
Cherryburn till 1776—Beauty of
Tyneside—Hunting—Angling—Northumberland pipes—Pedestrian
tour to Cumberland—Carlisle—Langholm—Hawick—
Selkirk—Dalkeith—Edinburgh—Border scenery—Auld Reekie—Walk
to Glasgow—To Dumbarton—Smollett’s monument on the side of
the Leven—Walk through the Highlands of Scotland—Grandeur
of the scenery—Admiration of the people—Their
dwellings—Their loyalty to Prince Charles—Their
hospitality—Fairs and trysts—Scotch music and
dancing—Leave the Highlands with regret—Walk to
Stirling—Thence by Linlithgow to Edinburgh—Return to
Newcastle by sea
CHAPTER VII.
Visit London, 1776—Meeting with friends and 94–104
schoolfellows—Execute wood cuts for Isaac Taylor—Meet with
Serjeant Hymers—Wood cuts for Thomas Hodgson—Work for Mr.
Carnan and Mr. Newberry—Fallen women and their
misery—Reverse of the picture—Celebrated
preachers—Religions of different sects—Preference for the
Church of England—Offer of procuring employment with Mr.
Pingo of the Mint—Surplus cash, how disposed of—Dislike to
London—Determine to leave it—Mr. Taylor remonstrates on
the subject—Mr. Hodgson’s kind offer to furnish
employment—His legacy—Leave London by sea—Arrive at
Newcastle, 1777
CHAPTER VIII.
Fit up a work bench at Hatfields—Offer of partnership with 105–114
Mr. Beilby—Reflections thereon—Brother John Bewick—His
amiable disposition—His talent—Visits to Cherryburn with
him—His early death, 1795—Angling—River-side
scenery—Change of the seasons—Reflections—Hardy
constitution
CHAPTER IX.
Presentiment of a change at Cherryburn—Death of father, 115–123
mother, and sister, 1785—Sketches of their
characters—Visits to Cherryburn cease—George
Parkin—Diabolical attempt on his life
CHAPTER X.
Isaac Hymen—Mr. Langlands—Matthew Prior—American war—Alfred 124–134
the Great—Become acquainted with a society of literary
young men—Their dinners—Their songs—Northumberland pipes
introduced at the Theatre—Peacock—Cant—John Bowman—His
skill on the fife
CHAPTER XI.
Thomas Lawson—Walk to York with Philip Gregson—Return by 135–143
Borough Bridge—Darlington—Westward by Bowes—Over
Stainmore—To Penrith and Ainstable—To Cherryburn and
Newcastle—Perambulation to Berwick—Stop at Elwick—Nearly
swept away by the tide in crossing to Holy Island—Speeches
delivered at Alnwick—Swarley’s Club—Wood cuts for
Hutchinson’s History of Durham—For Walker, of Hereford—For
Nicholson, of Ludlow—For Bulmer’s publications of
Parnell’s Hermit and Goldsmith’s Deserted Village—Copper
plates for Sir Harry Liddell’s tour to Lapland—Canal
plates, 1796
CHAPTER XII.
Commence the History of Quadrupeds with the wood cut of the 144–152
Dromedary, 1785—Rev. R. Oliphant—Rev. T. Hornby—Marriage
with Miss Elliot—Her death, 1826—Visit to Chillingham,
1789—Large wood cut of the Chillingham Bull—Visit John
Bell at Eslington—Make a drawing there of a Newfoundland
dog—Illness of Rev. C. Gregson—His death, 1790—His
estimable character
CHAPTER XIII.
Commence first volume of the History of Birds—Charmed with 153–165
the subject—Ornithological works of that
day—Correspondence with friends and amateurs on the
subject—Visit Mr. Tunstal’s museum at Wycliffe, 1791—Make
drawings of birds there—Lodge with John Goundry—Rev. Dr.
Zouch—His hospitality—His liberality of
sentiment—Christians and Christianity—Thoughts on the
Deity—Man in Society—Genus homo—Canine race—Their
instincts—Return from Wycliffe—Visit an old
schoolfellow—Preserved birds superseded by birds newly
shot—Birds sent by General Dalbiac, Lieutenant-Colonel
Dalton, Major Shore, Major H. F. Gibson, and from all
parts of the kingdom—First volume of History of Birds
finished at press, 1797—Mr. Beilby retires—Gratitude a
rare virtue—Carelessness in money matters—Second volume of
the Birds published, 1804—Additions to the first
volume—Severe confinement and application—Motives for
labours—Encouraged by amateurs
CHAPTER XIV.
Natural History retarded by the work of the shop—Writing 166–171
engraving—Plates for bank notes—Prevention of
forgery—Carlisle bank note—King George III. approves of
this note—Correspondence with S. Thornton, Esq., 1801—Ends
in nothing—Commission appointed to investigate the subject
of forgery, 1818—Engrave plates for the Berwick Bank—The
Northumberland Bank—Gave in a plan to the
commissioners—The leading objects permanency,
&c.—Correspondence with Sir Joseph Banks on the
subject—Fairman, Perkins, and Heath—Their
specimens—Opinions of the commissioners delivered in the
House of Commons by Mr. Pierce—Sir William Congreve a
commissioner—His successful operations
CHAPTER XV.
Illness, 1812—Æsop’s Fables commenced—An arduous 172–184
undertaking—Published, 1818—Remarks on the French
Revolution, 1789—Causes of it—War declared by England,
1793—Waste of life and treasure—Apathy of country
gentlemen—Remarks on the loyalty of that day—Valour of
British seamen—Rise in the value of land—Incites to
agricultural improvements—Messrs. Bailey and Culley—Their
agricultural reports—Mr. Smith’s Cheviot sheep—Make a
drawing of a ram—Sagacity of the shepherd’s dog—Fat cattle
for Durham report
CHAPTER XVI.
Further remarks on the measures and supporters of Mr. 185–189
Pitt—Witches—Their treatment—Consequences of ignorance—Mr.
Pitt’s motives—General Bonaparte’s victories—His ambition
and consequent ruin—Reflections on war and its
horrors—What might have been done with the men and the
money—The moss-troopers—Their ferocity
CHAPTER XVII.
Gifts of Omnipotence to the human race—Duty of man to 190–199
cultivate these gifts—Consequences of neglecting these
duties—Education to be given to every one—An imperative
duty upon the community—To check the reasoning power a
crime—Masters and servants—Equality impossible—Patriotism
a first duty—Alfred the Great—Foundation of England’s
glory laid by him—Free discussion should be
encouraged—Review of past transactions—Foreign despots and
demi-oligarchs—Loans wrung from the people—Jacobins,
Levellers, and Radicals—Fears for the safety of Great
Britain—The King can settle this question, and entitle
himself to the gratitude of posterity
CHAPTER XVIII.
Major Cartwright—Disapprove of his scheme of universal 200–207
suffrage—Elections may be simplified—Wasteful expenditure
to be avoided—Holy Alliance—Spain and
Italy—Superstition—Society for the Suppression of
Vice—Constitutional Association—Its object—Betrayers of
innocence, robbers of widows—Tattoo their
backs—Criminals—Plan to redeem their characters—Laws of
England—Need of revision—The learned
professions—Preference for medical men
CHAPTER XIX.
Remarks on the education of children—Their health and 208–217
pursuits—Education of girls—Horticulture and Floriculture
recommended to ladies—Freeholders—Their
duties—Oaths—Immorality—Profligacy—Thoughts on
marriage—Education of boys
CHAPTER XX.
The game laws—Riflemen—The fisheries—Grants in feudal 218–230
times—A change necessary—The way to effect
this—Remuneration to the present owners—Salmon formerly
abundant in the Tyne—Spawning places—Weirs and dams—Impure
water—Appointment of vigilant guards—Destruction of Salmon
by the porpoise—Suggestions for catching the porpoise—Uses
to which they may be applied—Necessity of protecting the
parent fishes—Incredible number of the fry—The
angler—Angling ought to be unchecked—Preserved waters
debar the angler—Formation of Waltonian Societies
recommended—Their duties—Constant beating of the streams
to be discountenanced—Pought nets—Catching the fry in
mill-races, and liming the burns, to be prohibited—Angling
and its delights—Beautiful scenery—Permanent pools may be
stocked with eels—Further reflections on the subject
CHAPTER XXI.
Visit Edinburgh, 1823—Kind attentions shown—Morning walks to 231–236
Elswick Lane—Contemplations in church-yards—Thoughts on
monuments—Inscriptions on rocks—Erection of pillars over
copious springs
CHAPTER XXII.
First efforts in engraving on wood—Progress—Difficulties to 237–244
contend with—Albert Durer—His cross-hatching and drawings
on the wood—Printing from two or three blocks—Artists of
the present day—Improved methods of Printing wood
blocks—Attempt at colour on the wood—Lowering the
back-ground—Stronger lines left to protect the cut—A
delicate _fac_ known to have printed above 900,000
impressions
CHAPTER XXIII.
Prints from large blocks formerly in use in cottages—Great 245–250
variety of the subjects—Blocks printed in colours—Gubitz
of Berlin—Impressions from duplicate and triplicate
blocks, by J. B. Jackson—Stroke engraving—Its capabilities
in landscape—William Woollett—His unequalled landscapes on
copper—His probable excellence as a wood engraver, so as
to rival copper—Further notice of John Bewick and R. E.
Bewick
CHAPTER XXIV.
Advice to artists—Difficulties of choosing a 251–257
profession—Study of nature to be preferred—Old
masters—Their varied excellences—Poetry and
painting—Musical talent—Beauty of wild
scenery—Thompson—Allan Ramsay
CHAPTER XXV.
The Bible—The sublime precepts it contains—The 258–264
Israelites—Intentions of Omnipotence—Wonders of the
universe—The deluge—Early history of mankind—The Bible the
first instrument of knowledge—A future state
CHAPTER XXVI.
Interpretation of the Scriptures—The mind, the soul, and the 265–270
reasoning powers of man—Religion natural and necessary to
man—The inspired Author of Christianity—His pure and
perfect doctrines
CHAPTER XXVII.
The miracle of creation—Adoration due to the great Author of 271–277
the whole—Paganism and succeeding errors—Evils of
intolerance—Good effected by monks of old—The
Reformation—American institutions—Established clergy—Their
learning and acquirements—Fanaticism—Ravings of Ranters
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Religion and philosophy conjoined necessary to human 278–285
happiness—Selection of clergymen—Wonders of the
universe—Intended for the contemplation of every human
being—Revenues of the clergy—More equal division
recommended—Ireland and the Irish-Catholic
emancipation—Absentees—Protestants and
Catholics—Reflections on the value of religious
education—Colleges for the purpose—No limit to the
improvement of the human mind—Nor to the capabilities of
the human frame
FINAL 286
APPENDIX 289–344
[Illustration]
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MEMOIR OF THOMAS BEWICK.
-------
CHAPTER I.
Tynemouth, November, 1822.
MY DEAR JANE,
It is in compliance with your wish that I have, after much hesitation
and delay, made up my mind to give you some account of my life, as it
may at a future day amuse you and your brother and sisters in your
passage through the crooked as well as the pleasant paths of the world.
I will commence by giving you some account of your pedigree as far back
as I can.
My grandfather, Thomas Bewick, farmed the lands of Painshaw Field and
Birches Nook, near Bywell, and also the Colliery on Mickley Bank, or
Mickley Common—how long since I know not, but it might probably be about
the year 1700. He had the character of being one of the most
intelligent, active, and best farmers on Tyneside, and it was said that,
by his good management and great industry, he became very rich; but,
except his being an expert angler, I know little more about him. My
grandmother’s maiden name was Agnes Arthur, the daughter of a laird of
that name at Kirkheaton, at which place my father was born in the year
1715, while his mother was there (I believe) on a visit to her friends.
My maternal grandfather, Thomas Wilson, and my grandmother, whose maiden
name was Hannah Thompson, lived at Ainstable, in Cumberland; but whether
he was curate of the parish of that place, or parish clerk, I do not
know. It is certain, however, that he was one or the other, and that he
taught a school there; and, from the circumstance of his teaching his
sons, and some of his daughters, Latin, I conclude he taught some of his
scholars the same language. When he died, his eldest son, Christopher,
became possessed of his freehold property, consisting of a house, &c.,
and a few fields adjoining. The rest of his family were left little
beside a good education, and were spread abroad in the world to do the
best they could for themselves. In this state of their affairs, my
mother, Jane, and her youngest sister, Hannah, were taken by a distant
relation, a Mrs. Gregson, of Appleby, to remain with her until she could
get them places to live at. About this time, the Rev. Christopher
Gregson had been appointed to the curacy of Ovingham, and wanted a
housekeeper; and my mother, though young, was thought able to undertake
that office, and accordingly engaged to perform it.
Your maternal grandfather’s name was Robert Elliot, and your
grandmother’s Jane Forster. He farmed the land of Woodgate, near Bill
Quay, where your mother was born. He afterwards removed to a farm at
Ovingham, where he died in 1777, leaving the character of a sensible,
honest, and industrious man.
How long my mother lived with Mr. Gregson, before her marriage, I know
not; but from him I afterwards learned that she was a valuable servant
to him, both with respect to his house-keeping concerns, and for the
occasional assistance she afforded him in hearing his pupils their Latin
tasks. From Ovingham, in the year 1752, she married my father, and went
to live with him at Cherryburn House, near the small village or Hamlet
of Eltringham, where all their family, of which I was the eldest, were
born. The family consisted of myself and brothers, John and William; and
my sisters Hannah, Agnes, Ann, Sarah, and Jane. Sarah died at the age of
16; the rest were reared to maturity, and were sent off, one way or
another, into the world.
In August, 1753, I was born, and was mostly entrusted to the care of my
aunt Hannah, (my mother’s sister), and my grandmother, Agnes Bewick; and
the first thing I can remember was, that the latter indulged me in every
thing I had a wish for; or, in other words, made me a great “pet.” I was
not to be “snubbed” (as it was called), do what I would; and, in
consequence of my being thus suffered to have my own way, I was often
scalded and burnt, or put in danger of breaking my bones by falls from
heights I had clambered up to.
The next circumstance, which I well remember, was that of my being sent
to Mickley School when very young; and this was not done so much with a
view to my learning, as to keep me out of “harm’s way.” I was some time
at this school without making much progress in learning my letters or
spelling small words; the master, perhaps, was instructed not to keep me
very close at my book; but, in process of time, he began to be more and
more severe upon me; and I see clearly at this day, that he frequently
beat me when faultless, and also for not learning what it was not in my
power to comprehend. Others suffered in the same way. He was looked upon
as a severe, or “cross,” man, and did not spare his rod. He was tall and
thin; and, with a countenance severe and grim, he walked about the
school-room, with the tawse or a switch in his hand. He, no doubt,
thought he was keeping the boys to their lessons, while the gabbering
and noise they made, was enough to stun any one, and impressed the
people passing by with the idea that Bedlam was let loose. How long he
went on in this way, I do not recollect; but, like many others of his
profession, who were at that time appointed to fill the most important
office of a teacher, no pains had been taken to enquire whether he
possessed the requisite qualifications befitting him for it. He went on
with a senseless system of severity, where ignorance and arrogance were
equally conspicuous. Conduct like this, sours the minds of some boys,
renders others stupid, and serves to make all more or less disgusted
with learning. Upon some occasion or other, he ordered me to be flogged;
and this was to be done by what was called “hugging,” that is, by
mounting me upon the back of a stout boy, who kept hold of my hands over
his shoulders while the posteriors were laid bare, where he supposed he
could do the business freely. In this instance, however, he was
mistaken; for, with a most indignant rage, I sprawled, kicked, and
flung, and, I was told, 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 was a spirited
woman, and lived close by, attracted by the ferment that was raised,
flew (I understood) into the school-room, when a fierce scold ensued
between the master and her. After this I went no more to his school, but
played the truant every day, and amused myself by making dams and
swimming boats, in a small burn, which ran through a place then called
the “Colliers Close Wood,” till the evening, when I returned home with
my more fortunate or more obedient school-fellows.
How long it was before my absence from school was discovered, I know
not, but I got many severe beatings from my father and mother, in the
interval between my leaving the school and the old master’s death. As
soon as another schoolmaster (James Burn) was appointed, I was sent to
him; and he happened to be of a directly opposite character to the late
one. With him I was quite happy, and learned as fast as any other of the
boys, and with as great pleasure. After the death of this much respected
young man, who lived only a very few years after his appointment, my
learning any more at Mickley school was at an end.
Some time after this, my father put me to school under the care of the
Rev. C. Gregson, of Ovingham; and well do I remember the conversation
that passed between them on the occasion. It was little to my credit;
for my father began by telling him that I was so very unguidable that he
could not manage me, and he begged of my new master that he would
undertake that task, and they both agreed that “to spare the rod was to
spoil the child.” This precept was, I think, too severely acted upon,
sometimes upon trivial occasions and sometimes otherwise.
I was for some time kept at reading, writing, and figures,—how long, I
know not, but I know that as soon as my question was done upon my slate,
I spent as much time as I could find in filling with my pencil all the
unoccupied spaces, with representations of such objects as struck my
fancy; and these were rubbed out, for fear of a beating, before my
question was given in. As soon as I reached Fractions, Decimals, &c., I
was put to learn Latin, and in this I was for some time complimented by
my master for the great progress I was making; but, as I never knew for
what purpose I had to learn it, and was wearied out with getting off
long tasks, I rather flagged in this department of my education, and the
margins of my books, and every space of spare and blank paper, became
filled with various kinds of devices or scenes I had met with; and these
were accompanied with wretched rhymes explanatory of them. As soon as I
filled all the blank spaces in my books, I had recourse, at all spare
times, to the gravestones and the floor of the church porch, with a bit
of chalk, to give vent to this propensity of mind of figuring whatever I
had seen. At that time I had never heard of the word “drawing;” nor did
I know of any other paintings besides the king’s arms in the church, and
the signs in Ovingham of the Black Bull, the White Hare, the Salmon, and
the Hounds and Hare. I always thought I could make a far better hunting
scene than the latter: the others were beyond my hand. I remember once
of my master overlooking me while I was very busy with my chalk in the
porch, and of his putting me very greatly to the blush by ridiculing and
calling me a conjurer. My father, also, found a deal of fault for
“mispending my time in such idle pursuits;” but my propensity for
drawing was so rooted that nothing could deter me from persevering in
it; and many of my evenings at home were spent in filling the flags of
the floor and the hearth-stone with my chalky designs.
After I had long scorched my face in this way, a friend, in compassion,
furnished me with some paper upon which to execute my designs. Here I
had more scope. Pen and ink, and the juice of the brambleberry, made a
grand change. These were succeeded by a camel-hair pencil and shells of
colours; and, thus supplied, I became completely set up; but of
patterns, or drawings, I had none. The beasts and birds, which enlivened
the beautiful scenery of woods and wilds surrounding my native hamlet,
furnished me with an endless supply of subjects. I now, in the
estimation of my rustic neighbours, became an eminent painter, and the
walls of their houses were ornamented with an abundance of my rude
productions, _at a very cheap rate_. These chiefly consisted of
particular hunting scenes, in which the portraits of the hunters, the
horses, and of every dog in the pack, were, in their opinion, _as well
as my own_, faithfully delineated. But while I was proceeding in this
way, I was at the same time deeply engaged in matters nearly allied to
this propensity for drawing; for I early became acquainted, not only
with the history and the character of the domestic animals, but also
with those which roamed at large.
The conversations of the Nimrods of that day, in which the instincts and
peculiar properties of the various wild animals were described in
glowing terms, attracted my keenest attention; and to their rude and
lengthened narratives I listened with extreme delight. With me they made
a winter’s evening fly fast away. At holiday times,—and at other times
when prevented by the floods of the Tyne from getting across to
school,—I was sure, with the most ardent glee, to make one of the number
in the hunting parties which frequently took place at that time; whether
it might be in the chase of the fox or the hare, or in tracing the
foumart in the snow, or hunting the badger at midnight. The pursuing,
bating, or killing, these animals, never at that time struck me as being
cruel. The mind had not as yet been impressed with the feelings of
humanity. This, however, came upon me at last; and the first time I felt
the change happened by my having (in hunting) caught the hare in my
arms, while surrounded by the dogs and the hunters, when the poor,
terrified creature 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 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 its 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 victim had made its escape.
The “musical din” of the hounds still continued to have its charms, and
I still continued to follow them; but from that day forward, I have ever
wished that this poor, persecuted, innocent creature might escape with
its life. The worrying of foxes, the baiting of foumarts, otters,
badgers, &c., did not awaken in me similar feelings; for in the fierce
conflicts between them and the dogs, there was something like an
exchange of retaliation, and not unfrequently the aggressors were
beaten; and I have with pleasure seen that wonderfully courageous
animal, the badger (with fair play), beat the dogs of a whole
neighbourhood, one after another, completely off.
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, in
traversing through bogs, amidst reeds and rushes, I have often felt
charmed with the sight of birds,—flushed, and sometimes caught, by the
terrier dogs,—which I had never seen or heard of before; and I am still
in doubt whether some of them have not escaped being noticed as British
birds.
These were the diversions of the winter months, which I enjoyed in an
extreme degree, amidst the storm and the tempest. In that season I was
also sometimes better employed in looking after a small flock of sheep
on the fell, a part of which was my own.[3] The extremity of the weather
had taught them to seek a place of shelter under a steep but low “brae,”
overhung with whins, under which, in such weather, I was almost certain
to find them and their associates all huddled together. To this place,
through wreaths of snow, I early bent my way, with a bundle of hay on my
back, and my pockets sometimes filled with oats, which I distributed
amongst them. Upon these occasions, though at other times extremely
wild, they were quite tame, and seemed to know me.
Footnote 3:
They were of the long-legged, black-faced kind, which were almost the
only sort at that time kept in this part of the country. The _improved
breed_, with their fatting qualities, were then not known. The mutton
of the former eats like dark, juicy venison, while that of the latter
puts one in mind of blubber.
From my sheep thus drawing into shelter, gave rise to an opinion I
formed, and which has been confirmed by long reflection, that much may
yet be done to protect the larger flocks from being over-blown and lost
on the bleak moors, in great snow storms. Were long avenues made by
double rows of whin hedges, planted parallel to each other at about six
feet asunder, and continued in the form of two sides of a square, with
the whins of each side drawn together, and to grow interplatted at the
tops, so as to form an arched kind of roof, the sheep would, on
instinctively seeing the coming storm, immediately avail themselves of
such asylums, and particularly in the lambing season. In the corner of
the angle of this square, the shepherd might have his hovel, thatched
with heather and ling, and his beds for himself and his dogs, made of
the same materials; and the whole of this “bield” might be rendered so
snug as greatly to defy the severity of the winter’s drifting blasts and
wreaths of snow.
At that time of life, every season had its charms; and I recollect well
of listening with delight, from the little window at my bed-head, to the
murmuring of the flooded burn which passed my father’s house, and
sometimes roused me from my bed, to see what it was like. After this, my
first and common employment was to “muck” the byer; and, when the
servant girl did not come soon enough, I frequently tried my hand at
milking the cows; and I was always particularly keen of being there in
snow storms. When this was the case, within the byer door, I snugly
watched the appearance of various birds, which passed the little dean
below, and which the severity of the weather drove from place to place,
in search of shelter. With the sight of my intimate acquaintances, the
robins, wrens, blackbirds, sparrows, a solitary crow, and some others, I
was not much attracted, but always felt an extreme pleasure and
curiosity in seeing the more rare visitants,—such as the woodcock, the
snipe, and other waders, with the red wings, fieldfares, &c.,—make their
appearance.
The winter evenings were often spent in listening to the traditionary
tales and songs, relating to men who had been eminent for their prowess
and bravery in the border wars, and of others who had been esteemed for
better and milder qualities, such as their having been good landlords,
kind neighbours, and otherwise in every respect bold, independent, and
honest men. I used to be particularly affected with the warlike music,
and with the songs relative to the former description of characters; but
with the songs regarding the latter, a different kind of feeling was
drawn forth, and I was greatly distressed, and often gave vent to it in
tears. These songs and “laments” were commemorative of many worthies;
but the most particular ones that I now remember were those respecting
the Earl of Derwentwater, who was beheaded in the year 1715, and was
looked upon as having been a victim to the cruelty of the reigning
family, and who was venerated as a saint upon earth. It was said that
the light from Heaven attended his corpse to the vault at Dilston Hall,
and that prosperity would shine no more upon Tyneside. Then followed the
sorrowful remembrances of those that were dead and gone. To sigh over
them was unavailing; they had filled the space allotted to them on this
side of Time, and the winds had blown over their silent graves for ages
past. The predictions that the mansions of those that remained would
soon, for want of heirs, become desolate—these and such like melancholy
reflections made a deep impression on my mind; and I have often since,
with feelings of extreme regret, beheld these mansions, once the seats
of hospitality, dilapidated, and the families which once occupied them
extinct and forgotten.
When the winter began somewhat to abate of its rigours, or in the early
spring, it was a common job for me, before setting off to school, to
rise betimes in the morning,—as indeed I was always accustomed to
do,—and equipt with an apron, an old dyking mitten, and a sharpened
broken sickle, to set off amongst the whin bushes, which were near at
hand, to cut off their last year’s sprouts. These were laid into a
corner till the evening, when I stript, and fell to work to “cree” them
with a wooden “mell,” in a stone trough, till the tops of the whins were
beaten to the consistency of soft, wet grass; and, with this mess, I fed
the horses before I went to bed, or in the morning as occasion might
require. They were shy about eating this kind of provender at first, and
I was obliged to mix oats with it; but they soon became so fond of it,
alone, that there was no need of any mixture. I know not whether a
scarcity of fodder first gave rise to the suggestion of using this
expedient, or it was tried as an experiment; but certain it is that this
kind of food agreed so well with the horses that they became soon very
sleek, and cast their winter coats of hair long before other horses that
were fed in the common way. Cows would not eat the whin tops thus
prepared, but, in a winter of scarcity, I have known all hands at work
in cutting ivy from the trees, and even small ash twigs, to be given to
the cattle as fodder.
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