which indicates the consciousness of approaching death. He ventured to walk out among the scenes which he loved at Coleorton Hall; on his return, he complained of cold, was observed to shiver, and desired to be conducted to bed, from which he never again rose. He died the 7th of February, 1827; aged seventy-four years.

In person, Sir George Beaumont was tall and well-shaped; his hands were elegantly formed; and his aspect was erect and noble. There was great persuasion in his smile; his voice was gentle, and his conversation lively and instructive. Few represented so gracefully the man of birth and talents. He had all the dignity which we assign to the Sidneys and Raleighs of Elizabeth's court, united to the polished elegance of that of George IV. His knowledge was extensive, and sat gracefully on him, like an every-day dress; while his love of literature, and his admiration of the great masters in art, amounted to a passion. Nor could he conceal his liking for the stage, or his respect for its best ornaments. In one of his letters to Lord Dover, he says, - "I believe Shakspeare and Garrick are the only persons who have had it in their power to make it impossible for their admirers to decide whether their tragedy or comedy was most excellent. Garrick is before me at this instant (February, 1824); I see his quick eye, and hear the electric tones of his piercing and rapid utterance. Other actors are men of slow proceedings; but he was like the lightning. It is quite impossible to form an idea of the sensations he conveyed, whether he chilled you with horror, or convulsed you with

laughter. Other actors may be compared to Otway or Rowe; but Garrick alone was Shakspeare." His sympathy was wide and far-reaching; nor did he think, that to speak once to a man of genius in his life, was notice sufficient, Jackson he ever regarded as a friend, and watched his progress in art with much solicitude. "I am rejoiced," he said to Lord Dover, "to hear of the recovery of our friend Jackson, whose life is as good as his works. I have known him from his outset ; and I verily believe no human being was ever more free from envy, hatred, malice, and every bad and unkind passion." His generosity was great. He aided largely in bringing forward Jackson: he countenanced Coleridge; and when his hour of adversity came, he stirred himself so that the poet obtained that pension from the Royal Society of Literature which men fondly hoped would last for life. While he lived, genius never solicited him in vain.

Of his skill as a painter, I have heard artists speak both in terms of censure and commendation. Whilst writing this imperfect sketch, I applied to one whom I reckoned equally clever and candid for his opinion; and his evasion of the question I must consider as unfavourable. I have, however, seen many of Beaumont's landscapes; for, as he painted for several hours almost every morning, he produced numbers, some of which he gave to his friends, and others to public galleries; and, if I may venture to speak from my own feelings, I must say there is nothing of common-place in their conception. He

felt the poetry of the scenes which he desired to delineate; and his notions are all akin to the lofty and the grand. An acre of meadow, a tree in the middle, a cow at its foot, and a crow on the top, was a kind of landscape which he never contemplated. He loved Claude, and imagined that he imitated him. His heart was, however, with Wilson; if he set up the former for his model, his eye wandered unconsciously to the latter. In his works, there is less of the fine fresh glow of nature than I could wish to see: there are glimpses of grandeur; indications rather than realities- the dawn, but never the full day. Yet nature had bestowed on him the soul and the eye of a fine landscape-painter; scenes shone on his fancy, which his hand had not skill to embody he saw paradise, with angels walking in glory among the trees; but the vision either passed away, or was dimly outlined on the canvass. Nature had done much for him; but fortune rendered the gift unavailing. Coleorton Hall, and a good income, hindered him from ranking with the Wilsons, the Turners, and the Callcotts of his day; the duties of his station, the allurements of polished society,-in short, the want of the armed hand of poverty to thrust him into the ranks of the studious and the toiling—hindered him from acquiring that practical skill of execution, without which imagination and taste are comparatively fruitless. Yet, with all these drawbacks, he has left works which will continue his name for centuries among the lovers of the poetic and the beautiful.

tained after his death by his lady, who in look and taste so much resembled him, that they seemed akin. She did not long survive her bereavement. Coleorton Hall, with all its fine scenery, has passed into the hands of a kinsman, who sustains, I am glad to hear, the old state and hospitality of the gifted family of Beau

mont.

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LAWRENCE.

a

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, principal painter to the King, and president of the Royal Academy, was born on the 4th of May, 1769, in the parish of St. Philip and Jacob, Bristol, within a few doors of the birth-place of Robert Southey, the poet. He was the youngest of sixteen children, most of whom died in infancy. His father, Thomas also, had been educated for the law; but was either so unsteady of purpose, or so unfortunate in choice, that he became successively attorney, poetaster, spouter of odes, actor, revenue officer, farmer and publican, and prospered in none of these callings. The artist's mother, Lucy Read, was distantly related to the house of Powis, and, therefore, of gentle blood;- -an honour which Lysons, the antiquarian, would fain have established for the family of her husband also.

The early history of the painter is painfully mingled with the fortunes of his father. One who saw him when young, said he was a handsome child, with large bright eyes, and a voice unusually sweet. His father, at that time landlord of the Black Bear Inn, Devizes, turned his good looks and fine voice to advantage, and taught