excellence in the poetic art; in which the productions of more modern, and infinitely superior writers, had thrown him completely into the shade. Even these were daily diminishing in number and in zeal. The periodical critics spoke without reserve of his "lame and negligent versification”— his "many intervals of tame and feeble thought"-his "silver mixed with so much alloy, as to be in danger of passing for base metal, and requiring to be purified and repolished throughout." They unhesitatingly told him, that he was trifling with his fame;" and, considering how they themselves had fed and pampered his disease, more candidly than kindly reminded him," that many writers have perished of literary obesity;" very plainly hinting, that such would, probably, be his fate-and such, as a poet, it unquestionably has been. In old age, for he was now in his 65th year, he had yet to learn that most difficult of an author's taskshow to destroy what ought to be destroyed. He would never otherwise have suffered those plays to see the light, whose dramatic demerits were so palpable, that even his profuse encomiast, Miss Seward, could not but discover and record them. "The Graces, not the Furies," it was no less truly than elegantly remarked by one of the critics of this last production of his pen*, "rocked his cradle; and he misses his destination, when he endeavours to delineate or to infuse the deeper passions." Even the Graces themselves, we are compelled to add, in the multiplicity of the literary labours of his long and active life, but too often forsook his side. After the death of his beloved son, Mr. Hayley left for ever his delightful seat at Eartham; on the decoration of which he had spent a considerable sum of money; and where he had passed too many happy days with endeared connexions, now in the land of spirits, to be delightful more. His future residence was at Felpham, where he had built himself a small house, for the benefit of its vicinity to Bognor, whither the invalids of his family frequently went to bathe. Here his life, which had hitherto been passed in free and social intercourse with some of the first literary characters of the age, and with many distinguished also by their rank, was spent in retirement; and, with his familiar friends, he generally adopted the title and signature of the Hermit, a character, which, in comparison with his former habits and pursuits, was not inappropriate to his present ones. To the Monthly Review, lxviii. 260. close of his life, however, he kept up an occasional intercourse with the noblemen and gentlemen in his neighbourhood, with whom he had always lived on the most friendly terms; whilst his vicinity to Bognor enlivened his solitude during the bathing season, by visits from the principal summer residents at that fashionable place of resort. For some years he had suffered under a very distressing malady, to which men of literary habits, and sedentary lives, are peculiarly exposed; an attack of which terminated his existence, on the 9th of November, 1820, three days after he had completed his 75th year. His death was gradual, and without pain, the use of his faculties being continued to him to the last moment of his existence. On his character as a writer we have already too fully and freely offered our remarks, as his productions came successively under our notice, to require any thing in the nature of a general summary here. The greater part of his poetry will, in all probability, die with him; at least it will be well for his reputation if it does so: his biographical compositions will survive, and survive advantageously to their author's fame, until the names of Milton, and Cowper, and Romney, shall be forgotten. Even of his prose compositions, grace and elegance are the characteristic features, rather than sublimity or strength to which in none of his works did he ever attain. He published carefully what he does not seem to have written hastily; and polished his compositions often, until he became affected where he meant to be affecting. He was unquestionably possessed of considerable learning, of which also he had the rare faculty of knowing how to make a proper use; rendering, as he uniformly did, his erudition auxiliary to the elegance of his style, and the correctness of his taste. In him learning wore its most attractive form-never a repulsive one, as in other writers it but too frequently has done. The best Greek, Latin, French, Italian, and Spanish writers, were of his familiar acquaintance; and he was well read in the fathers of the church, of whose productions few men, in the present day, know any thing but the names. In politics he was a decided Whig: some of his Tory friends thought, indeed, that he verged too nearly on the wild notions of the democrats, or, in the phraseology of our own times, the radicals. His sentiments prevented not, however, his numbering amongst his intimate associates some of the leading characters of the opposite party; whence, 佛 coupled with the general mildness of his character, we may fairly infer, that in the declaration of his opinions he was not violent or offensive. Lord Thurlow was his friend and correspondent, exchanging with him, after his retirement from public life, several letters on Greek literature-a topic at all times a favourite one with this great lawyer, and active statesman. The duke of Richmond, lord Spencer, the duchess of Devonshire, Burke, sir William and lady_Hamilton, Gibbon, Cowper, Hurdis, Reynolds, Romney, Flaxman, Miss Seward, Charlotte Smith-these were some of his friends and associates in the meridian of his life; and the man who lived on terms of intimacy with persons of such different sentiments and characters, could not have been an unamiable companion. He appears, indeed, to have been quite the reverse. His temper was mild and benevolent-his manner so peculiarly graceful and polite, that Miss Seward calls him the most dazzling and engaging of mankind. His house was at alltimes open to his friends, who were received beneath his roof with a hearty welcome, and entertained in a style of simple elegance, without profusion. To flattery he was not inaccessible; nor, if we may judge from the doses administered by Miss Seward, was he easily alarmed at its grossness. Speaking generally as little ill of any man, as author ever did of his brethren, he sometimes gave way to the spirit of literary jealousy to an extent which, on maturer reflection, his own good sense and natural candour must have induced him to condemn. His domestic life could not have been a happy one. Mrs. Hayley was not the most suitable companion he could have chosen. "She had," says Miss Seward, who must have known her well," a Gallic gaiety of spirit, which the infelicities of her destiny could but transiently, however violently, impede. The short paroxysm of anguish passed-the tide of vivacity returned, and bore down every thing before it*." This was not a disposition calculated to make so gentle a spirit as the poet possessed, happy. Mrs. Hayley wanted discretion in the affairs of common life was extravagant a great talker wished always to be in society, and consequently could not endure the solitude which her husband loved. Differing, therefore, in taste, inclination, and habit, so decidedly as to render their living together inconsistent with each other's peace, they separated by consent, a year or two before her * Letters, v. 22. death; the liberal maintenance allowed his wife, entrenching very much upon Mr. Hayley's limited, though handsome income. Away from him, as she had done whilst with him, Mrs. Hayley was proud of her husband's talents; and always spoke in the highest terms of his virtues. The son whom he so fondly loved, was not hers; but the offspring, it would seem, of some improper connexion in the poet's earlier life, and for some time he is said to have sustained in the family the doubtful character of a protégé. This representation passed with the less remark, because the benevolence of Mr. Hayley's disposition had, many years before, induced him to adopt a friendless youth of genius, of the name of Howel, whom he himself instructed in French, geography, Italian, and fencing, after he had acquired a considerable share of classical learning at Westminster; and when his education was thus liberally completed, he procured a commission for him in the army, in which he behaved with great gallantry in the East Indies; but perished in his passage home, laden with honours he had well deserved. Of Mr. Hayley's religious sentiments and character, it is difficult to speak as minutely as we could wish that we had the means of doing. His connexion with Gibbon naturally gave rise to a suspicion of his infidelity, which was strengthened by his continual absence from public worship. The latter circumstance, deeply as its example is to be deplored, was, however, occasioned entirely by the infirmity of his health, especially the severe complaint in his eyes, which was always aggravated by the slightest damp or vapour. But he read every Sunday the service of the church, to such of his domestics as were detained at home; and seldom, if ever, passed a day without perusing some portion of the Scriptures. He considered them, indeed, as he well expressed the sentiment in the concluding lines of his epitaph on Collins, to be the most precious of all compositions; and grounded his hope of justification on the death and merits of his Saviour. In a Bible which he had diligently perused for more than 60 years, he had transcribed from Tasso, the following beautiful lines as expressive of the sincerity of that faith, whose rich inheritance we earnestly hope that he has reaped: Da cui s'impara La via di gir al ben perfetto e vero! Mandando al ciel il suo gentil pensiero VOL. IV. No. 7. D 34 Short Account of the Islands of Timor, Rotti, Savu, Solor, Ende, or Floris, and Sumba, or Sandal Wood Island, in the Indian Archipelago. (Communicated by Sir THOMAS STAMFORD RAFFLES, Knt., Lieut.-Governor of Fort Marlborough, Bencoolen.) TIMOR. THE island of Timor, situated between the 8th and 11th degrees of south latitude, and the 123d and 127th of east longitude, is throughout a hilly country. Many of the hills are of a considerable height, and conical, but it is not known that any volcanos exist. The whole island is subject to frequent earthquakes, several generally occurring yearly, but more particularly in the months of November and December, at the change of the monsoon, and if the rains are late they are the more severe. The church and government-house of Coupang were thrown down by one in 1794, since which they have not been rebuilt. The valleys are generally very narrow, with steep sides, but in a few instances open into plains of a considerable extent: one of the largest is at the bottom of Coupang bay, and is certainly not less than ten miles square. The rivers are all small, and so steep that there are not any of them navigable beyond the influence of the tide, which is seldom above four hundred yards, and the flattest not two miles. The rise of tide at full and change is about nine feet. There are several anchorages along the N.W. coast during the S.E. monsoon, but Delli and Coupang alone deserve the name of harbours. Delli harbour, situated on the N.E. part of the coast, is open to all winds from W.N.W. to E.N.E., but is perfectly defended from the sea by a reef of rocks (dry in some parts at low water), which extend across it, leaving only two narrow passages through them, one from the N.W. and a smaller one from the N.E. The first alone is capable of admitting large ships. A pilot establishment is kept up, and all vessels entering must pay pilotage. Coupang harbour is on the S.W. part of the coast; it is a large bay, about twelve miles wide at the mouth, and upwards of twenty deep; it is formed by the island of Semao to the S.W., and a point of Timor to the north. Fort Concordia is situated on the south side of the bay, near the straits of Semao. At the distance of from one to three quarters of a mile off shore (the flagstaff of the fort |
