stenery, and its picturesque appendages, would have given a new scope to his laborious and skilful pencil. His natural predilection for coast and water views when in the Isle of Wight bears us out in this conjecture, and justifies the reasons of our regret.

"Morland's frequent visits at the back of that island made him known to every publican and fisherman that resided in these parts. There was in particular a small publichouse at Fresh Water Gate, called the Cabin, which may be termed his favorite resort; near that spot he made innumerable sketches, and indeed through all the tract extending from thence to Black Gang Chine, Undercliffe, Steephill, Bonchurch, and as far as Shanklin.

"Accident once brought Morland and the writer hereof together at the latter village, when the artist drew from his pocket a sketch-book, filled with the most exquisite trea

sures.

"The following anecdote may be inserted, perhaps not improperly, in this place. A mutual friend, at whose house Morland resided when in the Isle of Wight, having set out on a journey to London, left an order, upon his departure, with his acquaintance at Cowes, to give Morland his own price for such drawings or pictures as he should think proper to send. The gentleman intrusted with this commission, although highly respectable both in his moral and professional character, had, nevertheless, a very incompetent knowledge of, and as little true relish for, the fine arts.

"Morland's pictures, however,. were always sent in with an accompanying solicitation for cash, in proportion, or according to the nature of the subject; these demands were regularly complied 1806.

with, until, at length, a small but highly-finished drawing was transmitted, with a demand of cash as usual, in the ratio of its merit. Struck with the apparent disparity between the size of the drawing, and the sum demanded, which seemed out of all proportion, the conscientious agent positively refused to advance a shilling upon it, until he had transmitted the drawing to his friend, who was then in London. This was accordingly done, and instructions were immediately sent back to take the drawing, and as many others as the artist might offer at the same price. Upon the receipt of this liberal and explicit order, the agent at Cowes hastened to find out Morland, and instantly paid the money, but not without observing, that he thought his friend must be deranged in his intellects.

"At the present period, however, there is not a single sketch in that collection, but what would produce three times its original cost. much for the want of a just and true discrimination as to the nature, value, and merits of the fine arts!

So

"During Morland's stay at Yarmouth, he and his fellow-travellers were apprehended as spies, when the former, in his vindication, produced several drawings which he had just finished at Cowes; but these the lieutenants ingeniously decyphered, as confirmations of their guilt, and our travellers were escorted by a strong body of soldiers and constables to Newport; where being brought, and separately examined before the bench of justices, they were at length discharged, after a strict injunc tion to paint and draw no more during their abode in that island.

"Upon his return to London, 1799, Morland took lodgings at Vauxhall,

E

this boy of ten years of age; consisting of a variety of translations and sonnets, with the head-piece to each By Thomas Dermody.' The translations I perceived to be detached portions from Virgil and Horice. The version was more distinguished for a closeness of translation, to express the strict sense of the respective authors, than for that freedom and those little graces in version, which the idiom of the English language would have admitted, and which I had not the least doubt that more mature years and practice would have effected in him. But it is impossible to describe the pleasure I received, when I began to peruse his sonnets; in which his mind was unshackled, and his natural genius at full liberty to take its youthful flights into the region of Poesy. A justness of expression and sentiment, an appropriate imagery (particularly in three or four pastoral pieces), an ease and sweetness of versification, together with the strictest accuracy of rhymes, pervaded the whole of the productions that were the offspring of his own brain.

"At breakfast next morning he asked me if I had done him the favour to inspect any of his manuscripts. Every one of them,' said I, before I went to bed.'-Then, sir,' observed he, I fear I kept you up late.'-Not so late, I assured him, as I wished; as my only regret was, that, instead of translating merely detached parts of Virgil and Horace, he had not completed a Georgic, an Eneid, an Epistle, or a Satire. He answered, that he made the versions as particular passages struck him; and that he meant hereafter to complete them, particularly Ho

race's Art of Poetry. I then informed him, that I was much delighted with his sonnets; and greatly so with the one entitled

The Sensitive Linnet,' of which I begged him to give me permission to take a copy to shew to a friend or two. He replied, I was welcome to do so: but he would take the liberty to request that I would not give a copy of it; as perhaps, one time or other, he might venture to send some of his little pieces to a newspaper or a magazine. I assured him it should remain with me. Had it not been for this observation, I should certainly have desired copies of seveval others of these early productions. Yet, could I have taken a peep into futurity, and then foreseen his premature loss to the lite rary world, I should have been tempted to possess myself of more copies without making suit to him for the permission.

"I asked him whether the sonnet of The Sensitive Linnet' was a fiction, or occasioned by any real occurrence. He answered, that there was at least as much truth, as of poetic licence in it. He then stated the following par ticulars; which, though on a subject really pathetic, were delivered by him with such an archness of countenance, that it was not possible for me, during the narrative, to repress a smile. His account of the occasion of the sonnet was, to the best of my recollection, iiterally as follows: That a young lady of his acquaintance, residing at Ennis, was very fond of a lin net; and the linnet appeared equally fond of the young miss: but the young lady soon got a sweetheart; when, instead of singing to the linnet, she sung to her lover. E 4

The

Vauxhall, and painted several pictures of ships in distress, wiccks, and other subjects, apparently from scenes off the Isle of Wight, many of which he treated in his usual masterly manner; but, notwithstanding all the labor he lavished upon them, few will ever be deemed so pleasing as those executed in his more tranquil style. His land storms are, nevertheless, pregnant with spirit, with fine partial effect, and accidents of a more familiar nature.

"However the eye may be pleased with his other pieces, yet they do not excite those sensations of horror which his sea tempests never fail to present to the mind; still, his coast scenery and light breezes may be considered his best pictures. Conformity to truth and beauty, grounded upon the immutable laws of Nature, constitutes the grand predominating feature of his best works, and from a strict adherence to this principle he pleased every class of individuals.

"Pictures adapted to please only one class of persons, frequently owe their favorable reception to accident, or to some local circumstance; but where ideas apparently contrasted, yet stiil natural, can be combined upon the easel, and assimilated to the capacity of every observer, this effect certainly and decisively demonstrates the consummate skill of the artist.

"Morland possessed abilities sufficient to reconcile contradictionshis pictures instantaneously struck, and equally delighted the correct eye of the connoisseur, as well as of the uninformed spectator. His superior genius, apparent in his grander compositions, may be resembled to the Moon,

Stooping from her meridian heaven,

Downward to the waves.'

"The mutability of human affairs brings us now to the painful task of following Morland into the hands of a bailiff, and through the trou bles and mortifications cf a prison, to which his depravity, still more wretched, had brought him! Yet, even thus fallen, and wallowing in the very sty of filth and debauchery, his talents still preserved him some friends, whose recommendation and security procured him the rules of the Bench. This ill-fated artist seemed to have possessed two minds-one, the animated soul of genius, by which he soared in his profession-and the other, that debased and grovelling propensity, which condemned him to the very abyss of dissipation. Thus may he be justly compared to the beautiful flower, which contains within itself the two opposite powers of healing and charming the senses, and that of blasting and destroying life!

Within the infant rind of this small flower,

Poison hath residence, and med'cine power,

For this being smelt, with that sense

chears each part,

Beir tasted, slays all senses with the heart.

Two such opposing pow'rs encamp there still,

In man, as well as herbs-grace and rude will.

And where the latter is predominant, Full soon, the canker Death eats up that plant.

"Too truly, alas! was this verified, and too prominently illustrated in the case of the unfortunate Morland. Sunk, in this barathrum, or cavern of misery, he had the fullest latitude for indulging the influence of "rude will," to its utmost extreme: here he could mingle with such companions as were best adapted to his wayward

fancy

fancy-here, in his own way, he could reign, and here could revel. When the writer hereof beheld him thus surrounded by the very "lowest of the low," in a place rendered by dissipation and indolence, more like a brothel-house than the residence of unfortunate genius, he has often been tempted to exclaim, in the language of the poet,

When I behold a genius brht and base, Of tow`ring talents, bu terrestrial a'ms, Methinks I view her thrown from her high sphere,

The glorious fragments of a soul im

mortal,

With rubbish mix'd, and glitting in the dust.'

And often has he turned his eye from the melancholy spectacle, with tears of tender pity-with sensations of disgust.

"His constant companion and favorite in this Castle of Indolence, was a personage who went under the familiar nick-name of " My Dicky," (of whom he painted a most excellent portrait,) as he had a familiar nick-name for all whom he honored with the luxury of his levee festivities.

"Even here, in this miserable abode, that spirit of industry which ever distinguished him in his profession, was not extinguished, and his exertions were certainly not from compulsion, (at least it has been so asserted) for, by a single day's attention, he could with ease have procured a week's competent provision; the fact is, that amidst all his seeming contempt for it, and through all the various frolics and mischances of his life, he still loved and idolized the art.

"Whilst in this place, he painted several pictures for Mr. Jones, the marshal, which we believe are still in his possession; also several for Mr. Graham; a considerable number for dealers; and a still larger

number for private gentlemen. The late Mr. Spencer, of Bowstreet, had a pretty large collection painted by Morland, during the time of his confinement. One of these was a straw-yard, very highly finished; and to give any degree of interest to such a subject, it was indispensably necessary, that very particular attention should be bể, stowed on every part of it. On one of the upper rails of the rack, on which a raven is placed, there appears written, in large characters,

NO MORE STRAW-YARDS FOR ME. "G. MORLAND."

"This was, perhaps, one of the first symptoms of his slighting, or appearing to slight, the art, although it might merely express his distaste for one particular subject. In proportion, however, as his customers flocked round him, he neglected one essential part-the finishing; some who had purchased his works unfinished, procured some second hand to glaze up the fore-grounds, but this has chiefly lain among the picture-dealers, whose skill in supplying half-worn landscapes, with new skies, and in cracking and varnishing historical pictures to produce the appearance of antiquity, can only be rivalled by certain of the productions of the new school of landscape painting.

"Morland, whilst in confinement, retained still a strong tincture of the same vanity by which he had ever been distinguished, and which often placed him in awkward or ridiculous situations. Shutting his eyes upon his own absurdities, he thought the world would be equally complacent, for, although it was a fact of general notoriety, that he was confined within the rules of the King's Bench, he would be E 2 conceited