Coco's Last Ration, Dying Horse Antique Print ~ Pierre-Marie Beyle

Antique Goupil & Cie. photogravure print from the picture by Pierre-Marie Beyle.

Printed on mid-weight ivory colored stock. Reverse side is blank.

Title: Coco's Last Ration

Publication: The Masterpieces of French Art

Publication Year: 1883

Approximate Page Size (in inches): 14 x 11

Approximate Image Size (in inches): 9½ x 7½

Condition: Good overall condition. Light foxing in margin area. Image area is in nice clean condition. Atticpaper.com watermark does not appear on actual print.

"A most poor" family "made tame by Fortune's blows;
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Are pregnant to good pity."

All that they have in the world is with them on this bleak spot. Evidently their humble peddler's trade has not thriven of late ; and driven to this journey in mid-winter, their faithful beast, faint with toil and age and scanty nourishment, has fallen on the icy road. The wagon-shaft is broken : but no one thinks of that. The poor horse claims their anxious attention. He tries in vain to rise, and after a few faint struggles and convulsive gasps, he lies dead at their feet. This is a heavy blow, paculiarly oppressive from their isolated position, far from the haunts of men, amidst ice and snow, and under a frowning sky that threatens momently to break in storm upon their heads.

We are very sure, however, from the attitude and expression of these unfortunate people, that they feel a sorrow deeper than the sense of pecuniary loss and physical inconvenience, though surely that were enough to weigh them down. This dead animal, over which they grieve, was something more than a beast of burden. For long years the sharer of their exposures and vicissitudes, he became in effect one of themselves; and their bereaved feeling, as they behold him dead, will be readily appreciated by any one who has lost a pet animal or bird. What pathos in the attitude of the kneeling woman! Her clasped hands and the pained, though submissive expression of a face furrowed by many cares, are more eloquent than words. And the man, coarse and rude though he be, has a heart deeply touched by this affliction. Even the thoughtless boy is infected with the sorrow. And the dog! Perhaps, after all, he is the chief mourner. Between the two dumb creatures the closest intimacy, the most intelligible fellowship, subsisted. What despondency is in the look and posture of the dog as he leans over his fallen comrade!

Ah well I this is altogether a sad picture, but a typical one; for the prevailing chords in life's great symphony are in a minor key.