drawer suspended by a string to his companions in the street. This story, however, is wholly unfounded; for Morland had no companions.

So just was the eye of our young artist, and so remarkable the facility of execution, that he began his chalk drawings from plaster casts, without previous sketching, and seldom had occasion to make alterations. During his residence with his father, he painted little from nature; but from a daily practice of copying the best masters, he acquired the power of imitating them. Mr. Dawe says he was so complete a master in the executive part of his art, that it might be called his native language, in which he could express whatever he conceived. That Morland, however, did not always rely upon the accuracy of his conceptions, is evident from several anecdotes which occur in this volume.

"When surrounded by companions, that would have entirely impeded the progress of other men, he might be said to be in an academy, in the midst of models. He would get one to stand for a hand, another for a head, an attitude, or a figure, according as their countenance or character suited; or to put on any dress he might want to copy; and the pictures which he painted about this time, contain the portraits of his companions, as well as of the children in the neighbourhood where he lived. Morland's wife and sisters were almost his only female models: hence arose his want of variety in this respect.

"When painting his juvenile subjects, he would invite the children of the neighbourhood to play about in his room, and made sketches of them whenever any interesting situations occurred; justly observing, that to take them thus, in their unconscious moments, is the best mode of studying their peculiar attitudes, and to catch a thousand various graces, of which it is impossible to conceive a perfect idea in any other way. Grown persons may be placed in appropriate postures; but with children this is not practicable. The writer has in his possession one of Morland's sketch books, containing several of these studies from children. They are touched with wonted spirit, and form a sort of middle style, between his laboured minuteness while with his father, and the looseness of his latter drawings.

"He copied as much as possible immediately from nature. When he painted the Cherry Girl, he had an ass and panniers into his parlour; and while employed on stable scenes, he often scattered straw about his room. If he wished to introduce a red cloak, or any other garment of that sort, he would place a person at the window to watch till some one passed that appeared likely to suit his purpose; on which he sent for the passenger to come in, while he made a sketch, and mixed his tints, and he seldom failed to reward the person thus called upon liberally. What he could not copy immediately from nature, was supplied by a retentive memory, and acute observation of the scenes in which he mingled."

Morland never let slip an opportunity which he could turn to his professional advantage. Just as he was about to begin his four pictures of the Deserter, a serjeant, drummer, and soldier, on their way to Dover in pursuit of deserters, came in for a billet. Morland seeing that these men would answer his purpose, treated them plentifully, while he was making inquiries on the different modes of recruiting, with every particular attendant on the trial of deserters by court-martial, and on their punishment. He then took them to his house, where he gave them plenty of ale, wine, and tobacco, and caroused with them all night, employing himself busily in sketching and noting down whatever was likely to serve his purpose.

The Dutch and Flemish artists were those from whom Morland principally copied whilst at his father's house. He was however, by no means neglectful of modern masters of the British school. Of Gainsborough's celebrated picture of Pigs, he took many copies, as well as of Sir Joshua Reynolds's Garrick between tragedy and comedy. He likewise copied Fuseli's Night-mare, and in later life made an excellent burlesque of it.

Whilst confined to the roof of his father, almost the only recreation which Morland enjoyed, was a Sunday walk with Mr. Philip Dawe. On these occasions he fully enjoyed his short-lived liberty. These were the

sweetest days of his life, and he often surveyed them in retrospect, says his biographer, with melancholy pleasure. Free from restraint, he was wild, and bounded like the roebuck. His appetites were easily satisfied; he was gay and independent, and withal so frugal, that a pennyworth of gingerbread would suffice him a whole day, through a walk of twenty miles, during which few things escaped his observation, and nothing that he observed was forgotten. He never drew upon the spot; but so strong and accurate was his memory concerning objects which related to his art, that he would delineate them almost to identity, after an interval of some months. Immediately after Morland became his own master, he launched into that vortex from which his parents had so sedulously endeavoured to withhold him. In his intercourse with the world, not immediately finding those dangers with which he had been threatened, he concluded they had no existence, and the more he could throw off his juvenile fears, the more he thought himself a man. Unrestrained by timidity or by virtue, he frequented the lowest haunts of vice at all hours of the night, and without any associate; fearlessly getting into scrapes, and dexterously getting out of them. He had at this time several advantageous proposals; but his aversion to all regular application made him reject them, observing on one of these occasions, that the slavery of one apprenticeship was quite sufficient for a man's life. Several of his mad frolicks are related in these memoirs, to which we must refer those who desire to read them.

Morland's first employer was an Irishman in Drury-lane, who kept him constantly at his easel, by being constantly at his elbow. His meals were carried up to him by the shop boy; and when his dinner was brought, which generally consisted of sixpennyworth of meat from a cook's shop, and a pint of beer, he would sometimes venture to ask if he might have a pennyworth of pudding. If he asked for five shillings, the Hibernian would reply, "d'ye think I'm made of money?" and gave him half a crown. Morland, however, painted pictures enough for this man to fill a room, and the price of admittance to it was half a crown.

From this state of bondage he was released by an invitation of Mrs. Hill, a lady of fortune then at Margate, to paint portraits there for the season. Morland stole away from his employer, went to Margate, and was introduced to the first connexions there. He fell in love with Mrs. Hill's maid, whom he was on the brink of marrying, and went to France with his patroness. In a very lively and characteristick letter written from St. Omers, he mentions the pressing invitations he has to stay and paint portraits; intimates his intention of going to Lisle; afterwards of paying a visit to London, and lastly, of returning to take up his residence in a country which had so many charms for him as France. Morland could not long exist, however, without his customary companions. He went no further than St. Omers, where he staid only a few days, and returned to spend the winter at Margate. At length he came back to London, without any fixed abode or employment. He was now rising so much in repute, however, that the prints engraved from his pictures had an unparalleled sale, both at home and abroad. In France so great was the demand for them, that they were frequently reengraved there, and he received advantageous proposals either to go thither and paint, or send over his pictures.

The two great cronies of Morland, after his marriage with Mr. Ward's sister, and when he resided at Camden Town, were a young man of genteel manners, named Irwin, and one Brooks, a shoe-maker, brought up in the lowest scenes of dissipation. Irwin often obtained him money on

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account, from his brother, who was a man of fortune; and it became a frequent practice with Morland to procure money in advance for his pictures, which were then laid aside, as no principle of honesty could induce him to work for money which he had already spent. Morland would never offer his own works for sale, and would rather take a fourth of their value than submit to that necessity. Irwin used to sell his pictures for him, and receive a large share of the produce. Like several of Mer land's companions, this young man sunk under his debaucheries. There was scarcely any kind of depravity with which Brooks was unacquainted. He used to assist Morland in escaping from his creditors; accompanied him in his country excursions; and was generally intrusted with the place of his retreat Morland introduced most of his companions into his pictures. In that of the "Sportsman's Return," Brooks is represented leaning out of his stall. Morland's easel was always surrounded with his lowlived associates of horse-dealers, boxers, butchers, shoe-makers, &c. He had a wooden frame placed across his room, similar to that in a police office, with a bar that lifted up, allowing those to pass with whom he had business. In this manner he painted some of his best pictures, while his companions were carousing on gin and red herrings around him. He is said to have been eager of money: possibly; for duns and necessity follow close upon the heels of profusion. Two or three anecdotes, however, are recorded of his generosity. It is impossible, for any one to be more careless of money than Morland. He was in the constant habit of giving bills of credit; and when they became due, he rarely had the cash ready to discharge them; although in the zenith of fame and power, he would earn from seventy to a hundred guineas a week. In order to have a note of twenty pounds renewed for a fortnight he has been known to give a painting that has been immediately sold in his presence for ten guineas.

Serjeant Cockell had been very friendly to Morland, and offered his professional assistance, should he ever want it. The serjeant was in posses. sion of one of his pictures which, by some accident, had been injured. It was with difficulty that Morland was prevailed on to go to his house and retouch it, nor would he go till he had stipulated with Mr. Wedd, that he should not be obliged to receive any money. Morland went, finished the picture, and Mr. Cockell presented him with a purse of guineas. This no persuasion could induce him to accept, but so much did he mistrust his resolution, that he whispered his friend Mr. Wedd not to leave him, lest in his absence he should be overcome by the temptation. There is something very honourable to Morland's feelings in this anecdote. Mr. Dawe, who has no partialities for the subject of his biography, puts an unworthy construction upon it, without the slightest probability or shadow of reason. Morland clearly felt himself to be unfit company for gentlemen. He could not submit to the decent restraints of civilized and polished society, and latterly seems to have felt quite abashed in the presence of a gentleman. Various kinds of wine and refreshments were placed for him upon the sideboard, which Morland would not taste while either serjeant Cockell or his lady was present; but whenever they happened to leave the room, he would ask his brother, who was with him, to make haste and give him some burgundy and cake. If ladies were present he could not utter a word, while his extreme confusion, and the awkwardness of his behaviour, were truly ludicrous. On the death of his father, Morland was advised to claim the dormant title of baronet, which had been conferred on one of his lineal ancestors by Charles II. finding, however, that there was no emolument attached to it, but on the contrary that much expense would

attend the process of assuming it, he relinquished the distinction, observing that plain George Morland would always sell his pictures, and there was more honour in being a fine painter than a titled gentleman; that he would have born the disgrace of a title, had there been any income to accompany it; but as matters stood, he swore he would wear none of the fooleries of his ancestors.

Morland cannot be said to have had any domestick habits, and his irregularities are sufficiently known. He took his meals whenever he was hungry-beef steaks and onions, with purl and gin for breakfast at 7 o'clock in the morning. He would dine at eleven or twelve, or three or four o'clock as it happened: cooked his own food, eat off a chair by the side of his easel, while in the same apartment were to be seen dogs of various kinds, pidgeons flying, and pigs running about. The person of Morland is thus described. "His forehead was high, with the frontal veins singularly apparent, when under the influence of passion or intense thought; his eyes were dark hazel, full, and somewhat piercing; his nose was rather aquiline, and his mouth intelligent, producing altogether a penetrating and expressive countenance. The portrait prefixed to this work is esteemed an excellent likeness at the time it was painted." He had some knowledge of musick, a good bass voice, an excellent ear, practised a little on the piano forte and hautboy, and could play in concert on the violin.

A few of the concluding pages of this work are devoted to a critique on the works of Morland. The judgment here pronounced by a brother artist, is a severe one. Professional men are the best qualified to appreciate its justness. When young, Morland paid some attention to the anatomy of the human figure, and executed many drawings, both of the skeleton and muscles; he also drew from small casts of several antique statues. In copying the Dutch and Flemish masters, his earliest productions were hard, formal, and laboured. He nevertheless was not inattentive to the higher principles of composition, colouring and chiaroscuro; and he determined when very young, to throw off that style of high finishing and minute imitation, in which his father so sedulously instructed him. When asked whether he did not think the correct manner of his early studies extremely improving, he would laughingly reply, "what, making leaves like silver pennies?" In correcting this fault, he ran into the opposite extreme. He found what effect might be produced by a few strokes of the brush; and the adoption of a more careless manner at once suited his taste and indulged his indolence. He was fearful of becoming a mannerist. With other artists he never held any intercourse, nor had he prints of any kind in his possession, and he has often declared that he would not go across the way to see the finest assemblage of paintings that ever was exhibited. He was once induced, however, to make a journey with Mr. Ward, on purpose to view lord Bute's collection; but having sauntered through one of the rooms, he refused to see any more, declaring that he was averse to contemplate any man's works, lest he should become an imitator.

After making some general remarks on the works of Morland, Mr. Dawe has given us some curious particulars as to his mode of painting. Despatch was his principal object. He never made a complete sketch for the plan of his pictures, and if he made any at all, it was the slightest possible. He introduced the objects as he procured the models, and as they first happened to be placed, without any previous plan for their ar"angement.

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"He generally began upon the canvass with the chalk or brush at once, sometimes even without knowing what he was going to paint, inventing as he proceeded; and he would paint a picture in the time that many would spend in seeking for a subject. Having sketched his composition in a loose manner, if any thing displeased him he altered it, and began immediately to paint. Toward the close of the day, when he could no longer see to finish, he would frequently plan or even lay in two or three small subjects. A large painting he would dead colour in a few hours; but from not making sketches for his pictures, they themselves were often nothing more than sketches.

"It is a great reproach to a painter for an observer to be able to foretell what kind of picture he will produce from a given subject. Though Morland was not exempt from this defect, it was often impossible for even those who saw the beginning of his pictures to predict what they would be when finished; because in the course of the work, he altered repeatedly, and was eager to avail himself of whatever accident might suggest.

When he found his knowledge deficient he had recourse to nature, and never gave himself any trouble which he could avoid. If perplexed about the legs of a horse, he would copy them from life, but would draw the legs only. As he never copied more than was absolutely necessary, he seldom drew enough, and his animals are often incorrect and ill put together; for never having pursued any regular course of study, after he left his father, he was unable to draw from principle. Hence arose that inequality observable in his pictures, in which we sometimes meet with parts that are transcripts of nature, tacked to others that would disgrace a novice in the art, notwithstanding the skill he possessed in adapting those which he

drew.

"He was extremely dexterous in avoiding fore-shortening, and similar difficulties, and when they were unavoidable, in hiding them by shade, or other expedients. he felt himself embarrassed in drawing a figure, he would throw over it a carter's frock, and as often as he could he concealed the extremities. The landscape of his back grounds he also drew from nature, and the trees and ponds can still be pointed If out, in the fields about Camden Town which he introduced in the pictures he executed while he resided there. When he painted his picture of Bird-nesting he went to Caen Wood, and made a drawing of the trees, and the rest of the landscape.

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Latterly, to save trouble, he in general contented himself with making only a hasty sketch, and mixing his tints from nature, after which he painted much from memory. This method, owing to the way in which it was conducted, led to that slight and slovenly style which disgraced too many of his performances. Instead of drawing his forms correctly, and copying all the breaks, ond other incidental varieties from nature, he drew every thing in a loose manner, and depended on accidents of the brush to vary the surface and contour."

Morland had the discernment to perceive, that it is not labour but touch, that gives the appearance of finish. correctness of drawing, his biogragher says that he substituted touch for But instead of laying a foundation by truth, and in his latter works, made his execution stand for every thing else. It was one of his principles that a portion of pure red should be introduced somewhere in a picture. Accordingly, we never see a landscape of his without a red coat, cloak, or cap, accompanied with a blue jacket or petticoat; he also remarked, that there should be a touch of vermillion in the lips, though they should not be painted entirely with it.

"His gipsies are admirable, since in them vulgarity of character is appropriate. "He often associated with them, and accompanied by Brooks, has lived with them for several days together, adopting their mode of life, and sleeping with them in barns at night. He excels likewise in bailiffs, butchers, ostlers, post-boys, rusticks, and, in short, in all those classes of society where we look for any thing rather than refinement.

"In conversation pieces, and other tranquil scenes, the attitudes of his figures are well conceived. It is the state that succeeds exertion in which Morland excels; such as the Labourer's Luncheon, the Return from Market, the Weary Travellers, the Tired Cart Horse, Baiting the Horses, Watering Cattle, and a multitude of similar subjects. His various Stable Scenes, Publick-house doors, and Gipsies Reposing, are also of this description. A few exceptions, indeed, he has afforded, as his Mail