Harlow proved himself, on many occasions, to be among the vainest of men, and generally wished it to be believed that he possessed information to which he was a stranger. On one occasion he said to me, "It is extraordinary that Fuseli, who is so fine a scholar, should suffer engravers to place translations under the plates taken from the classical subjects painted by him;" and remarked, "I was educated a scholar, having been at Westminster school, and therefore wish to see the subjects given in the original languages," and then imprudently instanced the print taken from his picture of the death of Œdipus. When Fuseli appointed the next sitting, on our way to Harlow's house, I mentioned this conversation to him, and added, I really think he does not understand one word of Greek or Latin, to which he gave his assent, and remarked, "He has made, I think, an unfortunate choice; for, if I recollect rightly, the Greek passage, as well as my translation of it, are scratched in under the mezzotinto. But before we part, I will bring his knowledge to the test." After he had sat the usual time, he asked for a piece of chalk, and wrote in large letters, on the wainscot, the following passage:-- "κτύπησε μὲν ζεὺς χθόνιος, αἱ δὲ παρθένοι ῥίγησαν ὡς ἤκουσαν· ἐς δε γουνάτα πατρὸς πεσοῦσαι, κλαῖον."[57] After having done so, he said to Harlow, "Read that," and finding by his hesitation that he did not understand a letter, he resumed, "On our way hither, Knowles told me you had said that I ought not to permit engravers to put translations under the prints taken from me, and that you had instanced the Œdipus; now that is the Greek quotation whence the subject is taken, and I find you cannot read a letter of it. Let me give you this advice: you are undoubtedly a good portrait painter, and I think in small pictures, such as you are painting of me, stand unrivalled; this is sufficient merit; do not then pretend to be that which you are not, and probably from your avocations never can be--a scholar."