stowed on me. It is the place of all others for an artist, as he is sure to be highly appreciated, if he has any talent. I shall speak of the country to the end of my days with the most fervent admiration."

The end of poor Harlow's days was not so remote as he imagined, when he finished that letter. Having given a picture of "The Presentation of the Cardinal's Hat to Wolsey in Wesminster Abbey" to the Academy of St. Luke's at Rome, and having left a portrait of himself with the Academy of Florence, in return for being made a member, he embarked for his native country, and arrived in London in January, 1819. Lord Burghersh, our ambassador at the court of Florence, had paid him many attentions abroad, equally kind and polite; and Lord Liverpool, who ought to be praised as often as he is named, caused all his packages to be passed at the custom-house without charge or examination. had, however, hardly re-established himself again in his house, 83. Dean Street, Soho, and set his easel ready, to show to the world how largely he was a profiter by his visit to Italy, when he was suddenly attacked by a disease, called by the learned the Cynanche parotidæa, and by the vulgar the mumps; which, after several days of the severest suffering, terminated his life, on the 4th of February, 1819, in the thirty-second year of his age. He was buried under the altar of St. James's church, Piccadilly-Sir William Beechey, Henry Bone, the celebrated enamelist, and other artists and friends, being present.

He

Of the person and peculiarities of Harlow

It

I have already said, perhaps, enough. has been well observed by one of his biographers, "Let a young man of genius, when he begins the world, be as faultless as an angel, he will find it impossible to escape censure: he should, therefore, avoid all peculiarities of private manners, if he can. Every young painter should read what we now write, and remember it; if he be morbidly inclined, he will find attempts made to goad him into despondency; if irritable, to irritate him into anger; if amiable, to heap calumny and falsehood upon his gentle nature, to lower him to the level of some impotent imitator, to negative his reputation, and sink him in spirit and in health." There is no question, that the free manners and unbridled tongue of Harlow were sorely against his rise here; and that he owed his rejection by the Royal Academy less to his want of influence, than to his conduct and conversation. It cannot be denied, nevertheless, that, except in a certain want of decorum, he was in his worst days no worse than many other artists, and better, as far as a generous nature goes, than many who prevented his admission to honours which his pencil richly deserved. As an artist, he was eminently skilful in colour and in human character, and handled his subjects with unusual taste and grace: but he discovered, after all, no new way of awakening our emotions; he followed the beaten track in which others trode, and perhaps his highest fame is that of having had some of his heads mistaken for the work of Lawrence. Painters acquainted with the minutiae of drawing, the trick

of light and shade, and all the often-practised spells which go to make up a picture, might, it is possible, discover some traits of difference between Harlow and his brethren, which, to a professional eye, might seem important. I have looked for such things in vain, and described his works as they appear to me; and shall conclude with the generous words of Lawrence, " that he was the most promising of all our painters."

295

BONINGTON.

It is often the pleasure of the Creator to unite a fine genius with a frail body: the former ripens into excellence, and the latter fades and decays; and both sink prematurely together, for in death they may not be divided. Of these, one of the latest and worthiest was Richard Parkes Bonington. He was born in the village of Arnold, near Nottingham, on the 25th of October, 1801. For one whose life was to be brief, his parentage was fortunate his father, a follower of art in his youth for amusement, resorted to it in manhood for subsistence, painted landscapes and portraits, and likewise taught drawing in some of the public schools around Nottingham. Bonington was therefore born and nursed in the bosom of art; and we are told that when only three years old he sketched almost every object that presented itself to his observation: this might be; but making all allowance for his advantages, one can scarcely be prepared to credit the story which adds, that even at that infantine period he not unfrequently ventured to make designs. When fame finds a man of genius out, and the world begins to take some interest in him, if he

is a poet, his accidental jingles in the nursery are called to memory as proofs of early inspiration; and if a painter, his hideous and unmeaning scrawlings with ink or with cinders are set down as designs and sketches requiring thoughts stronger than what childhood has to bestow. I find it gravely asserted, that “some specimens of these precocious efforts are still in the possession of his parents: they are chiefly drawn in pen and ink, with surprising accuracy, and illustrative of history;" but that a child three years old should illustrate the history which he could not read, appears to me, I must own, a story that would require the faith of a Hohenlohite.

Though not such a miracle as this, it is nevertheless true that he drew and sketched with considerable accuracy, and even taste, when but some seven or eight years old; and this is wonderful enough in all conscience. We must, however, consider, that his father directed his studies, and made him familiar from his cradle with works of art, and guided his hand in sketching. He perceived, indeed, a wonderful aptitude in the boy; with a father's love he watched over his progress, and with an artist's skill showed him the true and immediate way. He supplied him not only with those ready subjects for exercise which the print-book and portfolios contain, but conducted him into the fields, and bade him study the pasture hills, the ruined towers, the running streams, the busy birds, the unfolding flowers, the light and shade of the forest, and in all, and in more, find matter for his pencil. From books and prints the student gets but a