This eccentric man and clever artist was born in London, in 1763. He
gave very early indications of genius, and when quite a child, used to
draw objects on the floor, with the implements of his father, who was a
painter, in crayons. He executed pictures of pencils, scissors, and
other things of the kind, with so much perfection, that his father often
mistook them for real ones, and stooped down to pick them up. Some of
George's drawings, executed before he was five years old, were exhibited
with great applause at the society of artists in London.
These and other evidences of talent rendered him a favorite child; his
father saw the germs of excellence in his own art, and, at the age of
fourteen, had him apprenticed to himself, for seven years, during which
his application was incessant. His father appears to have been harsh,
unfeeling and selfish, and to have thought more of obtaining money from
the talents and exertions of his son, than of giving him such training
as should insure his success in life.
During his apprenticeship, George was confined to an upper room, copying
drawings or pictures, and drawing from plaster casts. Being almost
entirely restricted from society, all the opportunities he had for
amusement were obtained by stealth, and his associates were a few boys
in the neighborhood. The means of enjoyment were obtained by such close
application to his business, as secretly to produce a few drawings or
pictures more than his father imagined he could complete in a given
time. These he lowered by a string from the window of his apartment, to
his youthful companions, by whom they were converted into money, which
they spent in common when opportunities offered.
In this manner passed the first seventeen years of the life of George
Morland; and to this unremitted diligence and application he was
indebted for the extraordinary power he possessed over the implements of
his art. Avarice, however, was the ruling passion of his father, and
this was so insatiable, that he kept his son incessantly at work, and
gave him little, if any, education, except as an artist. To this cause
must doubtless be attributed the irregularities of his subsequent life.
Morland's earlier compositions were small pictures of two or three
figures, chiefly from the ballads of the day. These his father put into
frames and sold for from one to three guineas. They were remarkable for
their simple truth, and were much admired. Many of them were engraved,
and widely circulated, which gave the young artist an extensive
reputation. About this time, he went to Margate to spend the summer,
and, by the advice of a friend, commenced portrait painting there. Great
numbers of fashionable persons came to sit to him, and he commenced
several pictures.
But the society of accomplished people made him feel his own ignorance
to such a degree as to render him unhappy, and he sought relief at pig
races and in other coarse amusements, projected for the lower order of
visitors at Margate. These at last engaged his whole attention, and the
portraits were thrown aside, to be finished in town. He at last
returned, with empty pockets and a large cargo of unfinished canvasses.
Morland continued, however, to rise rapidly in his profession, and he
might easily have secured an ample fortune. The subjects he selected for
his pencil, were, generally, rural scenes, familiar to every eye, and
the sentiment they conveyed was felt by every beholder. Many of these
were admirably engraved by the celebrated J. B. Smith, and immense
numbers were sold. Morland now had demands for more pictures than he
could execute, and at almost any price.
But, unhappily, this gifted artist had already become addicted to the
society of low picture dealers, and other dissipated persons, and his
habits were, consequently, exceedingly irregular. His chief pleasures
seemed to be--a ride into the country to a grinning match, a jolly
dinner with a drinking bout after it, and a mad scamper home with a
flounce in the mud.
Such, at last, was Morland's dislike of the society of gentlemen, and
his preference of low company, that he would not paint pictures for the
former class, but preferred selling them to certain artful dealers, who
were his associates, and who flattered his vices, so that they might
prey upon his genius. Of these persons, who pretended to be his friends,
he did not obtain more than half price for his paintings. This system
was carried to such an extent that Morland was at last entirely cut off
from all connection with the real admirers of his works. If a gentleman
wished to get one of his pictures, he could only do it by employing one
of these harpies who had access to the artist, and who would wheedle a
picture out of him for a mere trifle, and all under the mask of
friendship.
About the year 1790, Morland lived in the neighborhood of Paddington. At
this period, he had reached the very summit of his professional fame,
and also of his extravagance. He kept, at one time, no less than eight
saddle horses at livery, at the sign of the White Lion, opposite to his
house, and affected to be a good judge of horse-flesh. Frequently,
horses, for which one day he would give thirty or forty guineas, he
would sell the next, for less than half that sum; but as the honest
fraternity of horse-dealers knew their man, and would take his note at
two months, he could the more easily indulge this propensity, and
appear, for a short time, in cash, until the day of payment came, when a
picture was produced as a douceur for a renewal of the notes.
This was one source of calamity which neither his industry, for which he
was not remarkable, nor his talents, were by any means adequate to
overcome. His wine merchant, who was also a gentleman in the discounting
line, would sometimes obtain a picture worth fifty pounds, for the
renewal of a bill. By this conduct, he heaped folly upon folly, to such
a degree, that a fortune of ten thousand a year would have proved
insufficient for the support of his waste and prodigality.
Morland's embarrassments, which now crowded upon him, were far from
producing any change in his conduct; and, at length, they conducted him,
through the hands of a bailiff, into prison, of which, by the way, he
had always entertained a foreboding apprehension. This, however, did not
render him immediately unhappy, but rather afforded him an opportunity
of indulging, without restraint of any kind, his fatal propensities.
There, he could mingle with such companions as were best adapted to his
taste, and there too, in his own way, he could, without check or
control, reign or revel, surrounded by the very lowest of the vicious
rabble.
When in confinement, and even sometimes when he was at liberty, it was
common for him to have four guineas a day and his drink,--an object of
no small consequence, as he began to drink before he began to paint, and
continued to do both alternately, till he had painted as much as he
pleased, or till the liquor had completely overcome him, when he claimed
his money, and business was at an end for that day.
This laid his employer under the necessity of passing his whole time
with him, in order to keep him in a state fit for labor, and to carry
off the day's work when it was done; otherwise some eavesdropper snapped
up his picture, and his employer was left to obtain what redress he
could. By pursuing this fatal system, he ruined his health, enfeebled
his genius, and sunk himself into general contempt. His constitution
could not long sustain such an abuse of its powers. He was attacked with
paralysis, and soon after, he died.
Thus perished George Morland, at the early age of forty-one years; a man
whose best works will command esteem as long as any taste for the art of
painting remains; one whose talents might have insured him happiness and
distinction, if he had been educated with care, and if his entrance into
life had been guided by those who were able and willing to caution him
against the snares which are continually preparing by knavery for the
inexperience and heedlessness of youth. Many of the subjects of
Morland's pencil, are such as, of themselves, are far from pleasing. He
delighted in representations of the pigsty. Yet even these, through the
love we possess of truthful imitations, and the hallowing powers of
genius, excite emotions of pleasure. His pictures of scenery around the
cottage door, and of those rustic groups familiar to every eye, have the
effect of poetry, and call into exercise those gentle sentiments, which,
however latent, exist in every bosom. It is sad to reflect, that one who
did so much to refine and civilize mankind, should himself have been the
victim of the coarsest of vices.
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