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sweetness of disposition: but it is out of our power to regard him otherwise than as the primary cause of his son's degradation and ruin, by pursuing a system of education not more injudicious in itself than repugnant to the very qualities for which he is so liberally commended.

George Morland was born on the 26th day of June 1763: he was the eldest, and, Mr. Dawe says, the favourite son: but, if it was an instance of favour that he alone was brought up at home, he certainly had reason to curse the 'cruel kindness, which terminated in consequences such as the most unjust dislike or hatred would probably have failed to produce. His father appears to have destined him from infancy to follow his own profession; and the natural and early genius. of the son may appear to justify, if any thing can, a resolution formed without previous attention to the disposition of the person whose future welfare it so essentially involved. If, however, the determination itself may admit of excuse, it is impossible to palliate the rigorous and illiberal manner in which it was pursued. George, in his childhood, discovered marks of an inquisitive mind and a desire of knowlege, which, instead of encouraging them, the father seems to have taken pains to suppress and extinguish. He begrudged him every moment which he stole from the immediate labours of his profession; and even the superficial knowlege which he is said to have acquired of the French and Latin languages must, probably, have been picked up without his father's assistance or approbation, since the old gentleman often la mented the time he had lost in acquiring the classical knowlege which he himself possessed.' The years of George's childhood were passed in close confinement and solitude; for, by a defect of judgment yet more glaring than that which we have recorded, his father refused him the society of children of his own age, equally from a fear of abstracting. him from his study and of injuring his morals. The consequences of this flagrant error were a bashfulness and a timidity which never afterward deserted him; and which, by estranging him from the company of his equals and superiors, contributed more than any other cause to plunge him into the vortex of low and vulgar dissipation. His natural temper

was that of extreme vivacity and volatility, which the system of his education was not qualified to correct, though for a time it may have suppressed it: but his close, confinement, and the severity of his treatment, cast an occasional gloom over his disposition, which continued to the last day of his life to infect him, often even in hours, of his most abandoned thoughtlessness and merriment. Perhaps, though it is not sug

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gested by his biographers, we may be justified in saying that his intellects were impaired by the vices of his education; and that the true excuse for much of his subsequent misconduct is that of imbecility bordering on insanity, towards which the whole of his father's plan appears most strongly to have tended.

Among the many absurdities of this destructive system, one of the most pernicious was the deception by which Morland's parents intended to reconcile him to restraint and solitude; and which, together with its immediate consequences, we shall relate in the words of Mr. Dawe : premising that the friend here mentioned was the father of the writer, at that time articled to Morland's father, and the only associate allowed him by his illiberal parents:

To the restraint beforementioned, his parents added deception, which, however well intended, was in the end productive of the most ⚫ disastrous consequences to our artist. Instead of exciting in him an aversion to immorality, by inspiring him with a love of virtue, his parents endeavoured to reconcile him to confinement, and deter him from the vices of the town, by exaggerated accounts, and bug-bear stories, concerning its dangers. It was, of course, impossible that these tales could long obtain implicit belief; and he would frequently question his friend, respecting their truth, who was thus placed in a most perplexing dilemma; for he had to answer without evasion the enquiries of the son, and at the same time avoid contradicting his pa rents. Whatever answers he might give, the imposition could not long escape detection; and, with that detection, it is evident that the influence, not only of this scheme, but of every plan formed for his instruction, must be rendered precarious, if not abortive. Under such circumstances, it would have been impossible for the most sagacious friend to achieve much for his benefit. About his nineteenth year, he began to evade all restraint, and fell into those very errors from which his parents had endeavoured to deter him, by ill-judged means. He then first gave the rein to those passions which eventu ally impaired his intellects, and destroyed his constitution.'.

The writer then proceeds to enumerate some of the more glaring irregularities of conduct, into which, from this period, Morland fell most rapidly, and without any apparent resistance from a single virtuous principle.

After the expiration of his apprenticeship, George remained for about six months under his father's roof; till his excesses growing too boundless for the common restraints of a domes tic arrangement, he accepted the invitation of a scoundrel, who hired a garret for his residence in a court near Drurylane; where he employed him at the rate of a few shillings per week in painting for him pictures of an infamous descripThe extraordinary perversion of his heart, or of his

tion.

intellects,

intellects, cannot be more strikingly displayed than by the circumstance that, at the very time of his submitting himself to so low and shameless a drudgery, he had refused a liberal offer of Romney the artist, (we are not informed, however, what that offer was,) because he did not choose to enter into articles with him for three years; and had also declined an advantageous proposal from the drawing-master to the Royal family, because his bashfulness and aversion to the restraints of good company were too great for controul.

At last, however, he became sensible of the miserable state into which he had voluntarily plunged, and consented to quit it for an invitation given to him by a lady named Hill, then living at Margate, to paint portraits there for the season. The particulars of his residence at that place are afterward given, in a series of letters which he wrote to his friend Dawe, and which most strongly shew the confinement of his, ideas and the vulgarity of his mind; though the latter was unquestionably at that time less depraved than in the more advanced periods of his life. Towards the end of the year, he accompanied his patroness in a trip to the continent: but, on his arrival at Saint Omers, he grew sick of manners so unusual to him, and left his fellow-travellers, in order to return among the blackguard associates for whose absence he daily pined, and to the more blackguard habits which were become almost necessary to his comfort. The letter which he wrote to Mr. Dawe from St. Omers may, perhaps, afford a better estimate of his mind at this period, than any narration of his exploits; and we are sorry to add, en passant, that, low and vulgar as it is, yet it is probably superior both in style and sense to those which many Noblemen and Gentlemen Commoners at both our Universities would write on the same occasion to their choice companions of the Post-boy Club and Fly-by-nights :

"DICKY, "Port Royal Inn, St. Omers, Oct. 28, 1785. "I doubt if you will be able to read this, as the French pens are so bad, the legs of the tables so uneven, and the paper so coarse. I am now sitting by myself, over a bottle of claret, in a great room, about 16 feet high, starved with cold; a fire-place as large as a moderate room in London, but has not, by the colour of it, felt the warmth of a flame these dozen years; a parcel of French waiters, who, as I cannot talk French, impose upon me at pleasure: these are not half my grievances, but too numerous to write about at present. We set out from Dover last Monday, at one in the forenoon, and had the most amazing quick passage known these twelve years, 'twas no longer than one hour and thirty-two minutes from pier to pier. The sea ran very high, and frequently washed quite over us. Mrs. Hill came down below to avoid the spray, and she was no sooner down than a great sea poured through

through one of the weather-ports, and wetted her from head to foot. I was the second sick on board, and the first that got well; after my sickness began, and I had a good --, I went down, tumbled into my hammock, and slept very sound, midst straining and groaning,however, I slept till I heard, Welcome to Calais, gentlemen and ladies.' I flew out upon deck, and was surprised to find myself surrounded by Frenchmen, and quite a different country about me; cxtraordinary, every thing should be so different in so short a distance as twenty-one miles. We landed, and found a coach which M. Dessein, the master d'hotel, (Sterne speaks of) had sent to bring us to his inn, the hotel d'Angleterre. On our way to the inn we went through the fish market, which put me in mind of Billingsgate, as the women look just as fat and saucy; the boys cry, here, English! kiss my a-. When we arrived at the inn, our first business was to get dry; then my curiosity led me to walk about the town, which is but small. Coming down the Rue de Rampart, some soldiers were flying a kite; I did not see the string, and tumbled over it, for which I got abused in all sorts of French jargon. As it began to grow dark, I went back to the inn to supper and tea, all which was very good and very cheap we sat up till they sent our things from the Custom-house, and then the fille de chambre lit me up to bed, which was so very high I was obliged to jump into it. Next morning, after breakfast, we set out for St. Omers (which is in French Flanders,) in a coach and four, and arrived there at ten minutes after three, at Mrs. Hill's apartments, at the house of M. Petit, Marchand de Bois, Rue de Commandant, vis à-vis l'hotel novel d'Angleterre. Immediately fires were lighted up, and we had a dinner, à la-mode François, which is three courses of three dishes cach, and after dinner I began to look out for hotels and ; the first I found in great plenty, but none of the latter. I called upon many of the English that I knew in Margate, and about eight o'clock I went to bed, in a room as big as Westminster-hall, with two beds; 'tis rather impossible to find a bed-room in France with only one bed, so that makes good what Sterne says in the conclusion of his Sentimental Journey; and tis very common for gentlemen and ladies to lay in the same room at the inns. The bread is very good, as also the butter and tea, and the servants honest and civil. I lost my gold watch-key, and there was quite a bustle among the servants to know who it belonged to; at last I owned it, and they refused taking any thing. Before I come back I shall, in all probability, go to Lisle, as it is only a day's journey from here, and Mrs. Hill has asked me. I have very pressing invitations to stay and paint portraits, by many gentlemen and marquisses here; and there are already upwards of six hundred English families, besides many more daily coming, all people of fortune; upon which I have promised to return as soon as possible, and I have already many commissions to bring with me from England. I shall set out from here on Wednesday morning next, about seven in the morning, on board of the barge that goes every Wednesday and Sunday, and the price is only 24 sous, equal to a shilling English money; there is no trouble attending it, they are sure of reaching Calais in the

day, as there is no tide, and being only a canal, just like our New River, they are dragged along by horses. There is one thing that is rather disagreeable attending the conveyance in the barge, which is a set of friars, called Roquilets, the most nasty set of people in the world; they never change their clothes until they drop off their backs; when they are so lousy 'tis impossible they can bear them on themselves, they then send them to be baked, to kill the lice. The use of this set of fellows is, in case of a fire, they are to venture their lives in putting of it out. They never put on any linen, and only dress in a sort of coarse brown flannel; they are very numerous, and have a pretty good college. The church-music of France is something very strange, as it consists of country-dances; and they are remarkably fond of the tune of Nancy Dawson, which they never play in church but of Sundays. When a person dies the bells are set a ringing, as we do for a rejoicing day. There is very little to be heard in the town except drums and bells, and little to be seen except priests and soldiers, as the genteel people never walk out on foot, and there are only two coaches for hire; you may have four-penny fares; they only charge according to the distance. The women never have any hats, and in the hardest rain, they only throw their gowns over their heads. Upon my arrival in England I shall come up to London, and shall certainly pay Congress a visit, and give them some sort of a treat for supper, as, when I go back again, 'tis a doubt if ever I come to England any more, 'tis such a delightful country; no danger of robbing, and travelling very cheap; and a person may live very well for thirty pounds per annum, and many have not more; people who ran away in the rebellion, and have continued here ever since. Adieu, remember me to Congress, &c.

"GEORGE MORLAND.

"This letter was not wrote all the same day, as this last side, and what I am writing now, is on Saturday night. They have got a large company, and I have left them to finish my letter. I bought

a fine satin waistcoat yesterday, for a quarter price of what it would have cost in London; leathern breeches are only half a guinea per pair, shoes three shillings, cotton stockings half a crown, worsted stockings are dear, and very bad. They make them of one piece, without any distinction for the foot; that must be formed by putting the stocking on. Just now the Bon Dieu was carried by, which is the host, for some person incapable of coming out to receive it."

Soon after his return, he took lodgings at the house of a Mr. Ward, on the Harrow Road, where he began to exercise his talents in a way most favourable to his reputation and creditable to the originality of his genius. For three years before his emancipation from paternal authority, he had been, heard to declare his intention, as soon as he should become his own master, of throwing aside the dry and precise style which his father had prescribed for his imitation; and to paint from himself, and according to principles which, at that early period, he had firmly fixed in his own mind. The time

now

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