A Biographical Sketch 



Morland's sense of humour delighted in tricks of this kind, and 

 he indulged in such practical jokes as would be pleasing to the 

 intelligence of a fourth-form schoolboy. One day for instance he 

 bought a badly-smelling mackerel, and carrying it off to a public- 

 house in Francis Street, where he often used to dine with convivial 

 friends, he stuffed it under the seats of one of the chairs. Soon 

 after the men had assembled, " an ancient and fish-like smell " 

 became painfully apparent and caused consternation. Morland 

 called up the landlord, and with mock indignation protested that the 

 smell would drive all his friends away. The room was overhauled, 

 but nothing was found for some time afterwards, when the servants 

 who were " spring-cleaning" discovered the cause of the mischief. 



Morland's original creditors were meantime waiting for their 

 money, and after his first few months of regularity he did nothing but 

 create new creditors by extending his debts. His love of indepen- 

 dence, which had been characteristic of him when he left his 

 father's house as a boy, was now intensified into a kind of suspicious 

 dislike of anybody who would keep him to an engagement. Some- 

 times, when one of his patrons would come to watch a painting in 

 progress (some painting perhaps which had been partly paid for 

 some time previously), Morland would deliberately throw down his 

 palette and brushes and set off with Bob Parker, the pugilist, or 

 his old confident Brooks, for a day's pleasure, leaving his patron to 

 gather as much patience as he could in the situation. 



Frequently, too, such excursions were necessary to avoid arrest 

 on the warrant of one of his creditors, whose patience was alto- 

 gether exhausted. From this time onwards, indeed, Morland's life 

 was one of continually dodging, and for years he was like some 

 hunted animal, chased this way and that by the enemies who would 

 devour him, lurking in the holes and corners of the company 

 doubling on his track, and flying from one retreat to another. 



Poor Mrs. Morland must have had a tragic experience, and it is 

 only natural that at times her love for her erratic husband should 

 have been severely strained. There were painful domestic quarrels 

 when the wife gave vent to her indignation and grief at the sight of 

 the wanton ruin of their home and happiness by Morland's incurable 

 self-indulgence. Now and again she left him to seek a shelter at 



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