night of my election, the King of Naples | highly appreciated and respected, and I
(who honoured Rome with his presence for shall speak of the country to the end of my
a fortnight) received his honorary degree, days with the most fervent admiration.
in common with all the other Sovereigns of
Europe: and I am happy to say the Duke
of Wellington is one also. West, Fuseli,
Lawrence, Flaxman, and myself, are the
only British artists belonging to St. Luke's
as academicians. This institution is up-
wards of three hundred years standing.
Raffaele, the Caraccis, Poussin, Guido, and
every great master that we esteem, were
members. I had the high gratification to
see my name enrolled in the list of these

illustrious characters.

I expect to be in England by Christmasday, or near it. I shall have indeed a great deal to tell you. I was much pleased with Naples-staid ten days-went to Portici, Herculaneum and Pompeii, and ascended Mount Vesuvius. This was a spectaclethe most awful and grand that I had witnessed: the fire bursting every two minutes, and the noise with it like thunder; red hot ashes came tumbling down continually where I stood sketching, many of which sketches I brought away, and different pieces of the old lava, which I hope to shew you. The eruption took place a week or two after I left. But Pompeii exhibits now the most extraordinary remains of antiquity in the world: a whole city is laid open to view-as the carriages went in one track, the marks of the wheels are distinctly seen on the stones; the habitations are unroofed, but in other respects quite perfect. The house of Sallust, the Roman historian, was particularly gratifying to me: unaltered, and in every respect (except the furniture, which I think was removed to Portici) the same as it was eighteen hundred and fifty years ago, when inhabited by him. There are many shops: in one, the amphora, which held wine, is curious, and the marks of cups they used upon the slab are distinctly seen; a milk-shop, with the sign of a goat, is perfectly preserved, with the vessels in the front room, and other shops

in the same state.

Rome has been a scene of the utmost gaiety lately, during the stay of the King of Naples. I was at three splendid balls given at the different palaces: we were obliged to appear in court-dresses, and the cardinals added much to the richness and splendour of the party. The ladies looked peculiarly striking, but they did not wear hoops as in the English court. There were French and English dances, and the fireworks surpassed all my expectations. Upon the whole, the entertainments were very novel and very delightful.

I am to be presented to the Pope; Cardinal Consalvi will fix the day, it is supposed 2d or 3d of next month, and I leave Rome the day after a day that I most sincerely dread, for I am become so attached to the place and the people, I shall have a great struggle with myself. I should be the most ungrateful of human beings if I did not acknowledge the endless favours they have bestowed on me. It is the place of all others for an artist, as he is sure to be

say that, till within a very short period of his death, it was not thought necessary to call for the aid of the highest medical skill. I forgot to thank you for your kindness in Mortification had then commenced, and all calling on Mr. West. I shall send the human assistance was too late. Without Transfiguration, which I think will make a meaning a reproach of any kind to the perstare in England, with other pictures, sons who did attend his latest hours, it must sketches and prints. There are also two ever be a source of heavy regret that he large figures, and some porphyry and Egyp-breathed his last without having the advantian granite slabs. G. H. H. tage of any treatment superior to that which the knowledge of an Apothecary suggested, or the consolation of any relative about his dying bed. No Physician was consulted, and his only surviving sister, Mrs. White, though the wife of a medical gentleman, was left in ignorance of her brother's situakindly spread, less dear and congenial to tion, while he expired in arms, however the awful moment, than those which nature demands as the fittest to clasp the body from the parting soul.

The Transfiguration, so artlessly mentioned in this letter, and the original finished Sketch for the picture presented to the Academy of St. Luke's, are hourly expected of the Fine Arts on the treat awaiting them in England, and we congratulate the lovers by their Exhibition.

It will be the last relic of an extraordinary young man, whose talents reflected a lustre on the land of his birth, and whose premature death must be deeply lamented, as having deprived the Arts of a bright genius, and his country of a splendid name.

We have mentioned that Mr. Harlow landed at Dover on the 13th of January. Within a few days of his return to Town, panting for the certain fame and glory which awaited him, full of the immediate realization of that vision which had glowed before his eyes and inflamed his imagination from the cradle, in a tumult of those ecstatic feelings which such an epoch in his life called forth-he was seized with that malady which, alas! proved mortal, and turned all this stirring of noble passion into a clod of senseless clay. Ah, miserable and short-sighted man—that lamp of genius which years of watchfulness and toil have raised from its darkly glimmering to the blaze which illuminates the world, is extinguished in the moment of its most resplendent light-those ardent hopes which have cheered thee on through the rugged paths of life, but reach the open and sunny brow of the eminence, up to which thou hast struggled, to enable thee to cast one triumphant glance around, and find their fruition in the grave. That grave, indeed, is lofty as it is low-it partakes, and this is all thou hast achieved, of immortality, mingled with the common fate of thy kind.

The disorder with which Mr. Harlow was attacked, did not at first threaten any consequence more serious than a few days confinement to the house. It was an attack of cynanche parotidea, or what is vulgarly known by the name of the mumps. Unhappily, it seems to our apprehension, from perhaps an anxiety to get rid of so unpleasant an outward appearance, at an important period for active exertion, the disease was checked and thrown inward. It speedily assumed a very dangerous aspect, the glands and throat being so completely swollen and ulcerated as to preclude the possibility of administering nourishment of any kind, and even of utterance. In this dreadful state the dying Artist lay for several days, endeavouring to express his wishes by writing on scraps of paper; and it is lamentable to

On the Tuesday week after his decease, which took place on the 4th of February, the remains of this distinguished artist were buried in the vault of St. James's Church, and the funeral was attended by his nearest relatives, and Artists, among whom we only particularize Sir William Beechey, to record that he, with a spirit truly liberal, offered his services, gratui tously, and unsolicited, to finish the portraits which his lamented young friend had left in an unfinished state.

It was rumoured that Mr. Harlow would have been admitted at once to the Royal Academy, had he survived a few months; but, on inquiry, we find that no such measure was ever contemplated, or could take place, consistently with the laws by which that body is governed.

In person, Mr. H. was slight and wellproportioned-his countenance remarkably youthful, and his manners mild and pleasing, Auburn hair, and an almost boyish look, added to the wonder which his productions never failed to excite, and to the admiration of his superlative talents. Of his endowments, unconnected with the art which was his sole study and delight, we may speak more highly than could be expected. His judgment on the lighter literature of the day, on the drama and acting, was dictated by a fine taste and a sound mind. In conversation he was generally agreeable, and frequently entertaining, from little sallies of wit and humour, which enliven argument and discussion. He loved music, and entered into all the amusements of polished society with a relish which seemed rather to belong to an idle than an industrious life, and an ease not often found in

studious men. There is an unobtrusive portrait of him in the back-ground of his picture of the Kemble family, which we think might be singled from the group for an interesting engraving.

We have now closed our task. Posterity will do justice to his memory, and we trust that it will suffer no hurt from this sincerc and just tribute of a warm friend of the living, and a sincere mourner for the dead.

1

SKETCHES OF SOCIETY.

THE HERMIT IN LONDON,.

OR

SKETCHES OF ENGLISH MANNERS.

Second Series, No. VIII.

THE HO АХ.

(Sequel to Assignations in the Regent's Park.)

I was so delighted with the escape of the fair (then) incognita, that I forgot the book which I held in my hand; and I found, on losing sight of the intended traditore, that I had also lost sight of it. I searched about in vain for many minutes, and was prepared for putting up with my loss, when a very modest, down-cast-eyed, well dressed female accosted me, and inquired if the volume which she held in her hands belonged to me. I answered in the affirmative, and thanked her very heartily for her attention and condescension. She presented the book, and made me a curtesy with a peculiar studied grace-I thought a

little theatrically. "A celebrated actress!" shrewdly remarked I to myself, as I took the publication from her elegantly extended

arm.

She paused, and then addressed me thus: 'Sir, your age and gentleman-like appearance (I wished that she had confined herself to the latter) encourage a very young and inexperienced woman (she can be no actress thought I) to throw herself on your protection, and humbly to solicit a favour.' "Speak, lady," said I, but I thought her a mendicant-yet superbly dressed as far as mourning costume can go!

'I came here,' said she, to meet an unfortunate sister, who has disobliged my father by marrying against his consent. He will neither see her nor her husband; and he has forbidden all intercourse betwixt us. I know that the young couple are in pecuniary distress, and I came here to relieve them (no beggar, thought I, quite pleased.) My sister was late; and the sun has gone down. I have been pestered and pursued by a ruffian' (here she turned round.) "Describe him," said I, perhaps it is the disappointed Rake? (the description did not answer.) Might 1,' continued she, be allowed to walk by your side until I get into the streets?'"Surely, fair lady ; and do me the honour to accept my arm; old age is always a protection; and you shall find me ready to defend you if the case require it." She bowed gracefully.

"You merit," added I, “ a younger and a handsomer beau; but a more honest one you cannot get" (another graceful inclination of the head.) Sir, resumed she, "attachment is the price of protection; gratitude is the forerunner of regard.' (Very prettily spoken, thought I; it is now dusk, and she jakes me for ten or twelve years younger.) "Yes," replied I, grown a little more sentimental than usual;"but the rose twines not round the storm-struck and withered elm." True,' rejoined my!

fair companion; but the antique elm, which | sides, who was to blame but myself? What is not withered, may shelter the rose; and has old age to do in lover's haunts? What she may grow under his protection, and look business had prying curiosity with assignaup to him with the smile of gratitude and tions, and with the tricks of youth, at the of sympathy.' "Hem," said I, can she be tranquil time of life so happily reached by THE HERMIT IN LONDON.

smitten?

'My name,' said she, is Maria Mortimer, the daughter of Mr. Montagu Mortimer, a stern but worthy man, who lives in Harley Street; I must slip unperceived into my room, if you will conduct me to the corner of the street; but if you will call on me to-morrow about two or three o'clock, mainma, who has a feeling heart, and knows of my meetings with my sister, will thank you in person for the protection afforded to her daughter.' "Thanks! I require none," said I, (feeling a vibration from her fingers on my arm, which discomposed my usual coldness and gravity, and giving her my card)" but I shall think myself honoured in improving the acquaintance of so charming a young lady." Here her eyes met mine, and I lost in the encounter.

THE DRAMA.

KING'S THEATRE.-On Saturday Figaro and Angrisani confirming our prophecy of A new Ballet succeeded: improvement. a graceful bagatelle, in which the sole incident is the purchase of six female slaves by an Eastern Prince, who wearied of familiar seiks and foreign beauty, each of the slaves exhibits in the dance of her country, with the scale descending instead of rising, from the graceful bolero of Spain to the graceless nondescript of England, in which Milanie displayed a fearful abundance of footing and action. Had we seen it in Les Anglaises pour 'rire, we should have laughed; We were now in Portland Place. I could but in Les Marchand d'esclaves we not only have wished that we had been two miles off. applauded but encored it-(the Prince I became silent, and experienced regret at seemed of a similar taste, and the dancer the idea of parting. We were at the corner second act consisted of a glittering prowas presented with the handkerchief.) The of Harley Street. I grew dejected and forlorn-we separated." I kissed her hand, cession, and some elegant dancing, in which Vestris displayed an energy that was loudly gloved like a covered relic. I felt as I have not felt for twenty years. It is the assigcommended; and Milanie, after having nations which have disturbed me! stooped to conquer," rose to her former No,' answered a secret voice, it is the flatter-altitude. The dresses, new and very eleing accents of the lady. I began to wonder gant, were Turkish: those of the females, how I had remained single so long. Was in graceful compliance with the Turkish it possible, that this adventure should costume, divested of that stiffening which change my lot? I pulled up my cravat, and recalls the remembrance of the frightful was sorry for my grey hairs. "There is a hoop. vegetable dye," said Í.

I was now at my door. The words of
the incognita still echoed in my ear.
I was
too late for dinner! What to do? send off
an apology, plead indisposition, dress, dine
in the corner of Long's, observe the ani-
malculi of fashion and of extravagance, slip
into the English opera incog, view the ec-
centricities there the wanderings of mo-
dern taste. But first-must dress: no,
first-must write the excuse.
I did so.
" A taper, John." "Twas brought,-I must
seal my letter,my family repeater had
disappeared,I put my hand in my pocket,
there was an aching void there! I ordered
my servant to take a note to Miss Maria
Mortimer in Harley Street, whilst I dressed.
No such person was to be found!

At my age, to be thus duped, was too
bad. There is no fool like an old fool,
cried I, in a rage. I looked ten years older
whilst putting on my cravat; but I called
in philosophy to my aid, and pursued my
dining and evening plan,

Carefully did I conceal this secret from my acquaintances; but, as its disclosure may benefit others, I owe it to my readers, and I give it, not unblushingly, under the anonyme of the Hermit.

MESSRS. BUCKE AND KEAN.

This has been a dramatic week of little novelty and of no interest, if we except the grand dispute between Mr. Kean and Mr. Bucke, the author of a neglected Tragedy. As this is not only an important affair in Cockneyshire, but really of some consequence to the Stage, we may be expected to offer a few remarks upon it, which we do with as much impartiality as if we were the judges on a trial by battel, in which each party belaboured his opponent with a sand-bag, according to the law of the land touching plebeians in such mortal fray. And, by the by, should this matter lead to any thing like fighting, as the great actor, having no fear of the Bow Street officers before his eyes, has been desperate enough to send a challenge by the Morning Post, we would advise a sand-bag encounter; for Kean is too formidable a name for swords, and his rival must at pistols be fearful in the shape of Buck-shot.

It appears by a preface to the play, which has been published, that it was presented to the Sub-Committee, of notorious fame, in Nov. 1817. They were so pleased with it, that they voted the author free of the house, "the highest honour they could bestow," with liberty to pick up as much instruction and amusement as he possibly could in it, and promised to bring out his Be-Tragedy with, "prodigious!" their "whole

Woman's power over me was greatly weakened for a fortnight. But yet all women are not counterfeits. Still do I consider woman as nature's fairest work-the very master-piece of the creation.

strength!" It was accordingly announced boasts continually of unbounded prosperity, which we have read with instruction and in the bills, but postponed on various pre- as in the cases of the very pieces above enu- pleasure, we will venture to say, that he is tences-first, to make way for the Bride of merated, when in fact and in truth they not a person who deserves to be treated Abydos, whose theatrical honeymoon was so were losing and ruinous failures. Irritated with neglect by the world, and far less with horribly abridged ;-next, for the comedy by the delays and impediments, Mr. Bucke contumely by Mr. Kean. His volumes of the Castle of Glendower, which Mr. Kean, addressed a letter to Mr. Kean, in January display a mind deeply enriched with clasin his infinite judgment, pronounced to be last, to which the latter returned a well-sical literature, an observant spirit, and a equal to the School for Scandal, but which written and sensible answer. He affirms talent for employing these advantages of no a blind public would not hear out even one that he has "nothing to do with the ma- mean order. It has also been told us, but night;—and then for the Jew of Malta, in nagement of the theatre," which, though it we would not repeat it unless sanctioned which there were such fine wholesome work may be technically true, is clearly morally by Mr. Bucke's own statements, that misfor the unit and nothing for the ciphers. false; and promises, for his own sake, to fortunes in life added another claim to that These being speedily doomed, The Italians, make the most of the materials allotted to sympathy which struggling merit inspires :— Mr. Bucke's piece, was again put in mo- him, should The Italians be acted. Soon Mr. Kean was far wrong to throw a shametion; and the author asserts, that Mr. Kean after this, Miss Porter's Switzerland was ful taunt on such a man in such a situation. hinted to him that "the character of Man- brought out, and Mr. Kean walked through As for the miserable portrait, of Mr. Moore fredi was too much in his line" (Manfredi the hero, in a way that drew_considerable exciting with some ability (it is hardly creis a terrible rogue!)-" that the Blind Man disapprobation upon him. For ourselves, dible) the personal compassion of an actor was too good" (this was too bad)-" that though we blamed that want of proper exer- to do his bounden duty, and that actor conthe Page would excite too much interest" tion, we participated a little in his feelings, senting "in consequence," it is, consider(an usurious sin, quite repugnant to this that no efforts which he could make, would ing their relative situations, too ludicrous principal)—and "that no one should write postpone the fate of the drama. It, how- and contemptible for any strong feeling ;— a tragedy for that house, without making ever, affected Mr. Bucke's nerves so strongly, and with regard to the uncontrollable the entire interest centre in the character that he immediately withdrew his tragedy," laughter and pity" of the Company in He should perform " (so willing to do all which is, nevertheless, to be acted next the Green Room, it is a story, if true, very # the drudgery!) Mr. B. further adds, that week, and we withhold those opinions little to their credit. Laughter and Pity do on mentioning this conversation to a per- which we had committed to paper on pe- not go well together in any case, but here son concerned with the management, his rusing it, but which would, at present, be they would be indeed a monstrous and opinion was so coincident, that he observed, injudicious. The grand fracas is more odious union. Is it endurable that such a most of the performers were aware of Mr. amusing though less poetical, and we turn parcel of drivellers and --- women, as Kean's jealousy of Miss Kelly, and her to it. (generally speaking) are seen on the boards playing the part of Scipio would cause him On Mr. Bucke's publishing his charge of Drury Lane, should have it in their to throw up that of Albanio immediately. against Mr. Kean, the latter replied in a power to blast the fruits of genius by their Non obstat, the play was rehearsed, and a very imprudent and offensive letter, in ill-timed ribaldry? We can fancy the scene few frivolous alterations made to fit it to the which he not only forgets Mr. Bucke, Mr. Kean burlesquing the best passages of the critical tastes of the actors and actresses Moore, and the theatre, but himself. It is unfortunate play, on which only the happiwho were to support it, and who una voce indeed a hasty and passionate, and there-ness of a man of talent, and of his wife and protested that the plot was an excellent fore ill-advised production. We are not children, depended, and the parasitical plot, and The Italians a very pretty poem. among the most enthusiastic admirers of idiots round him echoing the laugh which After such profound persons determine, Mr. Kean as an actor, and will therefore such sport created. We shall have other we dare not question the fact. Yet this abstain from comments which might savour sorts of sentiments at their charity dinner "beautiful poem " had somehow an under- of still greater disrespect to him as a gen- on Friday (yesterday,) and those very hand factious opposition to contend with, tleman or a man. But it is impossible to amiable creatures who thus revelled in the and King John began to be talked of as a refrain from saying that he treats Mr. fun of an author's disappointment and forthcoming play. The Author, very natu- Bucke, and through him, Mr. Moore, the wretchedness, will tell us, in all the cant rally ascribing the ruin of Drury to the non-performers, and the public, in a manner as of sensibility, of their own deserts, sufferperformance of his production, now tells us outrageous as if he had fancied he were ings, and claims on humane consideration! that "the benches were deserted; and the still playing the Dwarf of Naples, instead treasury was losing nearly 2007. every of being Mr. Edmund Kean, out of theatrinight."-Indeed Mr. P. Moore seems to cal stilts. He begins by giving the lie from countenance this report, so different from Shakspeare, and ends by a sort of challenge, the Reports at the general meetings, for he if any sort of challenge might be conveyed writes to Mr. B. In respect to your tra- by public advertisement. But it is his pergedy, I regret, very grievously, that it was sonal insults to the Author which honourever allowed to be superseded by the Jew of able minds must feel to be most disgusting. Malta; because I think it would have been He styles him " Mr. deranged intellect,”productive to our treasury: whereas the says that Mr. Moore, "excited, with some Jew has not; neither has Richard Duke of ability, my personal compassion for Mr. York; nor King John; nor indeed any Bucke, in consequence of which I undertook thing brought forward last season by Mr. to act in his play;"-and, finally, that on Kean. The theatre is in a strange condi- reading it in the green room to his protion," &c. Truly it seems so, for from fessional brethren, "the only feelings it this letter it is clear that poor Mr. Moore, excited were uncontrollable laughter, and whom so many persons called tyrant, was pity for the Author." It is astonishing merely the slave of Mr. Kean, who brought that any man of common sense could so forward all the plays acted, and connived grossly commit himself as in these three at all the rank falsities told of their success passages. Of Mr. Bucke we know nothing at the time, now thus peremptorily contra- but through his works, and with the Philodicted under the hand of the most compe-sophy of Nature, 2 vols. published by Mr. tent authority. And this teaches us to remark on the folly of that silly system of delusion to which Mr. Moore is also a party. What can be thought of a concern which

Murray in 1813, and Amusements in Retire-
ment, published by Mr. Colburn last year,
from his pen, now lying on our table
before us, and the greater portion of

Into Mr. Bucke's reply to Kean's letter we cannot enter. It states strong facts, and draws pretty incontrovertible inferences. It also invites the other performers implicated to clear themselves; but this they have not, as far as we know, yet done. Their dependence on the Theatre, and the theatre ruled by the party accused, is perhaps a sufficient ground for conjecturing why they have acquiesced each in their share of the obloquy. Some trifling tumults have ensued at the theatre, but on Mr. Kean professing to be ready if he had offended the public to humble himself to it, his friends and "the Wolves" carried him through. He has really a severe task to execute. The Caricature represented him with the house on his back, and now he has also got the writers for it on his shoulders,

too much for an Atlas to bear, We wish, for his own sake, he had not written the letter; but still it must be remembered that there was great irritation and soreness, which if they do not excuse may extenuate his offence. And, moreover, it is so genuinely theatrical, and out of all the rules

2. To the first ship, as aforesaid, that shall reach to 83 deg. of North latitude, 1000/; to 85 deg. 20007.; to 87 deg. 3000l.; to 88 deg. 40007.; the Act having already allotted to the first ship that shall reach to, THE ROYAL MINSTREL. An Heroic Poem. or beyond 80 deg. the full reward of 50007.

LORD BYRON.-Public curiosity is a good deal excited by the announcement of a Prose Tale by this celebrated writer, entitled "THE VAMPYRE," which will appear in the next Number of the NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The origin of this production is rather curious. It was proposed in a Literary Circle that each of the company present should write a Tale, depending upon some supernatural agency, which Beccaria, David Hartley, David Hume, Condorcet, Sir was undertaken by Lord Byron, the daughter of Wm. Jones, Dr. Kippis, Dr. Ingenhauz, M. de Beaumarthe celebrated Mr. Godwin, and a certain Phy-chais, Bishop Shipley, David Barclay, Dr. Fothergill, sician. The tale of Miss Godwin has already appeared under the title of Frankenstein.

1. To the first ship belonging to any of
his Majesty's subjects, or to his Majesty,
that shall reach the longitude of 110 degrees
West from Greenwich, or the mouth of
Hearne's or Coppermine River, by sailing
within the Arctic Circle, 50007.; to the
first ship, as aforesaid, that shall reach the
longitude of 130 degrees West from Green last No. page 1, col. 3, 1, 26, for due read dire.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Several valued Correspondents will, we trust, excuse
to their letters this

our giving particular answers
week. If they were aware of the tithe of our claims
in this way, we are sure they would excuse any apparent

PROPOSALS for an ECONOMICAL and SE-A VOYAGE up the PERSIAN GULPH, and a

HAKEWILL'S VIEWS in ITALY, illustra- THE EDINBURGH MONTHLY REVIEW.