Among sundry conventional decorations after the old German fashion
in the first edition of the "Quadrupeds," there are a fair number of
those famous tail-pieces which, to a good many people, constitute
Bewick's chief claim to immortality. That it is not easy to imitate
them is plain from the failure of Branston's attempts, and from the
inferior character of those by John Thompson in Yarrell's "Fishes."
The genius of Bewick was, in fact, entirely individual and
particular. He had the humour of a Hogarth in little, as well as
some of his special characteristics,--notably his faculty of telling
a story by suggestive detail. An instance may be taken at random
from vol. I. of the "Birds." A man, whose wig and hat have fallen
off, lies asleep with open mouth under some bushes. He is
manifestly drunk, and the date "4 June," on a neighbouring stone,
gives us the reason and occasion of his catastrophe. He has been
too loyally celebrating the birthday of his majesty King George III.
Another of Bewick's gifts is his wonderful skill in foreshadowing a
tragedy. Take as an example, this truly appalling incident from the
"Quadrupeds." The tottering child, whose nurse is seen in the
background, has strayed into the meadow, and is pulling at the tail
of a vicious-looking colt, with back-turned eye and lifted heel.
Down the garden-steps the mother hurries headlong; but she can
hardly be in time. And of all this--sufficient, one would say, for
a fairly-sized canvas--the artist has managed to give a vivid
impression in a block of three inches by two! Then, again, like
Hogarth once more, he rejoices in multiplications of dilemma. What,
for instance, can be more comically pathetic than the head-piece to
the "Contents" in vol. I. of the "Birds"? The old horse has been
seized with an invincible fit of stubbornness. The day is both
windy and rainy. The rider has broken his stick and lost his hat;
but he is too much encumbered with his cackling and excited stock to