318 I^fii Genius, and Personal Habits of Bewick, 



a very thick oaken cudgel, which, I afterwards learned, he cut 

 in the woods of Hawthornden. His broad, bright, and bene- 

 volent countenance at one glance bespoke powerful intellect 

 and unbounded good-will, with a very visible sparkle of merry 

 wit. The discourse at first turned on politics (for the paper 

 was in his hand), on which he at once openly avowed himself 

 a warm whig, but clearly without the slightest wish to pro- 

 voke opposition. I at length succeeded in turning the con- 

 versation into the fields of natural history, but not till after he 

 had scattered forth a profusion of the most humorous anecdotes, 

 that would baffle the most retentive memory to enumerate, 

 and defy the most witty to depict. I succeeded by mention- 

 ing an error in one of his works; for which, when I had con- 

 vinced him, he thanked me, and took the path in conversation 

 we wished. In many instances, I must remark, though fre- 

 quently succeeding to the broadest humour, his countenance 

 and conversation assumed and emitted flashes and features of 

 absolutely the highest sublimity ; indeed, to an excitement of 

 awful amazement, particularly when speaking on the works 

 of the Deity. I turned to and whispered Bowman, that in 

 Bewick's face was legibly written, " Glory to God in the 

 highest, on earth peace, and good-will towards men." 



Thus far. Sir, have I complied with your request, by throw- 

 ing off the first portion of my sketch, wherein I have been 

 confined to minute reminiscences ; to which, indeed, the daily 

 occupation of men of his genius and retirement usually con- 

 fines its even tenour. But who, when feasting on his multi- 

 farious facts and fancies, owns not a curiosity in the mere cut 

 of his coat, or the turn of his lip ? What part of biographi- 

 cal history is more eagerly quaffed than the trifles recorded by 

 Drummond and Ben Jonson of the convivial conversation and 

 gentle manners of Shakspeare? A poet so matchless has 

 imparted value to a mulberry tobacco-stopper and a crab-tree 

 snuff-box. Surely, then, may some interest be excited by 

 familiar anecdotes of an artist so absolutely inimitable, and 

 who, in the best and purest sense, has been called a painter ; 

 for that glorious art consists no more in colour and contrast, 

 than does poetry in rhyme and metre, but both alike in 

 fertility of imagination, fidelity of apprehension, and felicity 

 of expression. All else that possesses them merely is " such 

 stuff as madmen tongue, but brain not." 



I am equally aware of the disadvantage to myself'm dividing 

 my narrative, and to you of swelling your book with too heavy 

 an article. I shall, however, proceed with pleasure to my 

 next portion in due time, hoping (which is my sole and cor- 

 dial motive) through your vehicle, by somewhat extending his 



