Her death was Blue Bell Inn, Otley, Yorkshire. occasioned by putting her legs and feet into cold water, when in a free perspiration, which brought a severe affection of the brain. 24. At Fasque, lady Ramsay of Balmain. -At Edinburgh, Mr Thomas Reid of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, aged 31. -At Dalkeith, Mr David Chalmers, portioner, there, aged 80. -At Bonnington Place, Mrs Mary Oliphant, spouse of William Cowper. -At Gilmore Place, Mrs Elizabeth Knox, relict of Mr John Home, land-surveyor, Edinburgh, in the 63d year of her age. -At Bullingate, county of Wicklow, Ireland, aged 42 years, Major Edward Tandy, of the Honourable East India Company's service. 25. Mrs Janet Hannay, wife of James Ogilvie Mack, Esq. writer in Edinburgh. At Surrey Place, Glasgow, Mr Andrew Oswald, wine and spirit merchant. 26. At his lodgings at Harrowgate, where he had gone for the benefit of the waters, Judge Fox, of Dublin. His death was awfully sudden; at dinner he appeared to be slightly unwell, but retired to his room as usual, after he had dined, and was found there two hours after, on the point of death. He had retired from the bench some time ago. -At Gosport Barracks, John C. Cowell, Esq. late Lieutenant-Colonel, Royal Scots. 27. At Hillhead, Mr John Somerville, sen. merchant, Glasgow. 28. At Edinburgh, Mrs Margaret Malcom, wife of Mr Daniel Robertson, Black Bull Inn. -At her house, Dunfermline, of a very sudden illness, Mrs Finlay Malcom, relict of the late Mr Finlay Malcom, brewer in Dunfermline, aged 51. 29. At 6, South St James's Street, Miss Mary Bell, daughter of the late Andrew Bell, Esq. of Craigfoodie, Fife. 30. At Stranraer, Patrick Taylor, Esq. -At Irvine, Mrs Reid, wife of Richard Reid, Esq. writer. -At Sanquhar House, Moray, George Grant, Esq. of Burdsyards. -At Great Malvern, lady Cope, wife of Sir Jonathan Cope, Bart. 31. At Edinburgh, Samuel Kendall, Esq. late of the colony of Berbice. -At his seat at Felpham, near Bognor, Dr The doctor has been Dean of Cyril Jackson. Christ-Church for 26 years, and was admired for his learning, and revered for his virtue. Margaret, wife of Lieutenant-Colonel G. Napier, 3d guards. Sept 3. At Inverness, in her 78th year, Jane, relict of the Honourable Archibald Fraser of Lovat. -At Grange House, Bruntisland, Mrs Hamil. ton, wife of Mr James Hamilton, accountant-general of Excise. -At Glasgow, Miss Ann Mure, eldest surviving daughter of the late William Mure, Esq. formerly of Laneshaw, in the parish of Carluke. 4. At Saltcoats, Andrew Glasgow, Esq. of Deanfoot, Peebles-shire. At Rothsay, where she had gone for the recovery of her health, Mrs Wilson, wife of the Rev. Dr Wilson, minister of Falkirk. -At Blyth, David Sivright, Esq. late merchant in London. -At Moncrieffe House, George Hugh, son of the late Eneas Mackay, Esq. of Scotston. - At Leith, Mr Robert Thomson, shipmaster there. -At Edinburgh, Dame Matilda Theresa Cochrane Wishart, wife of Sir Thomas Cochrane, Knt. royal navy, and daughter of the late Sir Charles Ross of Balnagown, Bart. 5. At Logie, Mary Ann, wife of James Boucher, Esq. At Bessborough, Miss Maria, Jane Riddell, second daughter of the late Thomas Riddell, Esq. of Bessborough. -At Edinburgh, Miss Harriet Erskine. 6. At his cottage in Easthorn, Arthur Piggot, The death of M. P. in the 69th year of his age. this eminent lawyer causes a vacancy among the Benchers of the Middle Temple, of which society Sir Arthur was a member. -At the Palace in Tuam, William de la Poer Beresford, Lord Decies, D. D. Archbishop of Tuam. At Carron Park, William Cadell, Esq. of Banton, aged 82. Mr Cadell was one of the ori ginal founders of the Carron Iron Works, and during the whole course of an active life, was engaged in many useful and important commercial undertakings. At Edinburgh, Mrs Jean Gibson, widow of the late Dr William Dalgliesh, minister of Peebles. 8. William Somerville, Esq. Ampherlaw. 9. At Aberdeen, William Forbes, Esq. late of Skellater, aged 88. -At Perth, Jane, only daughter of Mr George Condie, writer. -At Arbroath, Mrs Rose, widow of the Rev. Patrick Rose. 10. At Edinburgh, Mrs Munro, relict of Daniel Munro, Esq. of Summerfield. At Leith, aged 16, Miss Margaret Brown Thomson, eldest daughter of the late Mr George Thomson, merchant there. 11. At Portobello, Catherine, daughter of Mr Alexander Guthrie, bookseller, Edinburgh. At her house in Oxford-street, London, the Right Honourable Lady Essex Ker, second sister of his Grace the late John Duke of Roxburgh, Groom of the Stole to his present Majesty. This lady is the last of the original family of the Earls and Dukes of Roxburgh. 12. At Brompton, near London, aged 17, Robert Dalrymple Horn, eldest son of R. D. Horne Elphinstone, of Horn and Logie Elphinstone. 13. On his passage to London, William A. Downs, Esq. auditor of his Majesty's customs in Scotland. At Edinburgh, in the 89th year of her age, Mrs Ann Campbell, relict of the late Major Thomas Wood of the royal marines, and daughter of the late John Campbell, Esq. of Ottar. At Islabank, in the county of Forfar, James J. Wedderburn, eldest son of P. Wedderburn, Esq. At Edinburgh, Captain Archibald Mercer Macgachen, 22d regiment of foot. -At his house, in Bury St Edmunds, London, William Smith, Esq. in the 88th year of his age, formerly of Drury Lane Theatre. 16. At Edinburgh, Dr Patrick Lindsay, assistant-inspector of hospitals. 17. At Portobello, Sarah Anna, infant daughter of Alexander Stephen, Esq. Mineral-street, Edinburgh. -At Tynemouth, the Right Honourable Lady Collingwood, widow of the late Vice-Admiral Collingwood. At Fulham House, Sir James Sibbald, Bart. At Lindertis, Elizabeth Stuart, youngest daughter of G. I. Meason, Esq. of Lindertis. 19. At Edinburgh, Dr William Wright, F. R. S. L. & E. late physician to the forces. 20. At his seat in Kent, Sir Edward Knatchbull, Bart. one of the members for the county. -At Edinburgh, Lawrence Hume Ford, infant son of William Ford, Esq. Caledonian Glass Works. Lately, At Walsall, Staffordshire, in the 42d year of his age, William Badger, Esq. -At Ingouville, on the banks of the Seine, on the morning of the 8th ult. Caroline, daughter of John Ellis, Esq. of Connaught Place, grand-daugh ter of the late Sir Peter Parker, Bart. Admiral of the Fleet, daughter-in-law of the Right Hon. Reginald Pole Carew, and first cousin of the Lord Howard de Walden. The preliminaries to her alliance with Colonel Sir Robert Steele, Knight of the Order of Charles III. of Spain, &c. were in progress at the moment of her lamented dissolution. The Pavilion was hung in black and illuminated by flambeaux. The remains of this accomplished lady had been embalmed, and lay in state previously to their being brought to England for sepulture. Recently, in the Island of Antigua, at the residence of her only son, Samuel Auchinleck, Esq. the representative of the ancient Barons of that Ilk, a gallant and distinguished Lowland race, most honourably alluded to in Miss Porter's historic novel of the Scottish Chiefs, Elizabeth, relict of the late Samuel Auchinleck, Esq. many years collector of the customs at Antigua-her memory is endeared to her family and friends, by the remembrance of those amiable domestic, feminine, and christian virtues which adorned her while livingand render her lamented when dead. Oliver & Boyd, Printers, Edinburgh. (A Tragedy, from the German of Adolphus Müllner, &c.) THE best German critics of the present day seem to be agreed in thinking very poorly of their own dramatic literature. They are proud indeed, as they ought to be, of a few masterly pieces in which the intellectual subtlety of Lessing the uncontrollable fire and energy of Schiller and the matchless union of reason and passion which character izes the genius of their Goethe, have been abundantly displayed. But they complain, with justice, that no one of these great men has given them such a number of fine works, composed upon one set of principles, and in one form, as might furnish any thing like a model for the erection of a true national literature of the drama. Each of them appears, throughout the whole of his dramatic career, to have been perpetually engaged in the search of some great idea or principle which might comprehend within itself the two elements of novelty and dignity, in such a manner as might render it worthy of lying at the root of a great superstructure destined to convey to the most distant times an adequate expression of the genius of German thought and German feeling. It may be doubted whether this search has been in any one instance successfully terminated by any of the three powerful writers we have named-and it is quite certain, that if such were the case, no one of themselves was ever quite satisfied that it actually was so. Of all , Lessing's dramatic works, the Nathan the Wise is the only one which is now VOL. VI. talked of in Germany as quite worthy of his genius; but, in truth, that singular production has very slender claims to the character of a proper drama. It is rather a philosophical romance, composed in a dramatic form and as a romance, it is certainly one of the very best, both in conception and execution, to be found in the whole body of European literature. There was something exquisitely happy in the idea of choosing for the exhibition of a picture of the various characters of men as modified by the nature of their religious creeds, that fine period when men of so many different persuasions came together under the influence of the most opposite, and yet the most noble of feelings, to rival each other in all the heroism of devotion and chivalry beneath the inspiring sky of Palestine. The very name of Saladin, too, who is the true hero of the piece, possesses a charm beyond which nothing could be desired. It is a thousand and a thousand pities that all the beautiful imagery and passion of the scene and the poet should have been chilled by the coldness of those tenets, the propagation of which was the real object of the whole piece-but this very defect renders it less a matter of regret that the form of the piece, as a work of art, should have been such as it is-and that, therefore, the masterpiece of Lessing should have failed to be a German tragedy.In like manner, the greatest of all Goethe's works, the Faustus, although it exhibits, in Q the highest degree, almost every power Since the death of Schiller, and silence of Goethe, the German drama does not seem to have produced any thing worthy of being named along This tragedy, which is the first dramatic piece of regular length and construction that has proceeded from its author, produced a most powerful impression when brought forward on the Vienna stage, and continued during many weeks to form the chief subject of conversation among the highly elegant and cultivated audience of that city. It has since been acted with distinguished success on almost all the other stages of Germany, and has, in fact, already taken a place quite superior to that of any drama written for many years in the language of that country. There are many minor excellencies which have had their share in creating so speedily for the piece this high distinction; but the main cause of it must, without all doubt, be sought in the profoundness of those views of Man and his whole destiny, which have been embodied by the author in his performance-views which were never before perhaps embodied in any German drama with so much consistent and uniform seriousness of thought, purpose, and expression, but of which scattered traces may be found in not a few of their most favourite pieces, formed on the Greek model, and in which those who are acquainted with their literature in many of its other branches, will see abundant reason for supposing there is much to harmonize with the prevailing spirit of German thought and philosophy. The interest of this tragedy is deep-it grapples with, and reveals, so far as they can be revealed, many of the most hidden mysteries of the human soul. The elements of feeling, of which it chiefly makes use, are indeed simple elements, unperplexed in the main with any sophistical or phantastic intermixtures, and undisguised by any considerable crowding together of events, incidents, and personages. But the simplicity, both of the story itself, and of the passions which it developes, does not diminish, but very greatly increase the effect of the whole drama. There is enough to satisfy both the eye and the imagination, and surely there is more than enough to awaken trains of reflection that must be last ing, because they are essentially inexhaustible. The nobility of man, when he falls a free-will offering to his virtue ;-his poverty, his misery, when he has sinned against the voice of conscience, and feels himself thence forth to be a cast-away, a limb dissevered by unworthiness from the harmonious whole of nature;-these are the great and beautiful ideas which this poet has undertaken to illustrate, by his living picture of the workings and the fortunes of humanity. On that picture no man can look without unconcern, for who is he that is so pure and so happy, as to find nothing in such a picture that reflects back some faint image of what has passed within himself? The thoughts that he scarcely dare avow to himself have ever passed across his mind-the feelings that have been smothered-the passions that have been strangled in their evil birth-all these are forced back upon his memory; and in read ing the tragedy of GUILT, every man must confess to his own soul, that in much he has been guilty. The greatest beauty in Müllner's management of his fable, lies in the skilful and yet perfectly natural manner in which he has contrived to exhibit guilt in the fulness of its miserywithout so far disgusting us with his guilty hero, as to take from us any part of that lively interest with which fortunes so strange as his are, are formed to be regarded. In this respect there is no play in the world, except only Macbeth, that seems to us so fully to satisfy the mind of the reader or the spectator. In the Bride of Messina, indeed, there is much of the same merit; but the defect of harmony in the whole tone of feeling and language in that powerful tragedy, is sufficient to counteract, in no slight degree, the deep impression its catastrophe might otherwise have been fitted to create. Imperfectly, notwithstanding, as the moral of that tragedy is brought out by the personages of the fable themselves-it is nobly expressed by the chorus in its conclusion; and, in truth, those sublime words (not easily to be rendered) might have formed, with equal propriety, the conclusionof Müllner's tragedy, or of Schiller's. "Das leben ist der güter hochstes nicht, Der übel grösstes aber ist DIE SCHULD." Another great excellence is the author's use of the idea of Destiny-the manner in which he has presented that idea throughout, with all its power and mystery, and yet without compromising in any degree the entire freedom and responsibility of the agent. His hero, Hugo, is brought before us as one concerning whom evil action and miserable fortune had been foreboded and predicted even before his birth; and yet, with such truth and power has he given back the image of our mysterious life, that this circumstance does not clash with any of our natural feelings concerning the proprieties of retribution-and we see, that however much of his life may have been foreknown, he was yet master of that life, and the sole artificer of all its issues. In poetry, which is itself the reflection of life, through a medium that both beautifies and magnifies that which it reflects-above all, in such noble poetry as that of Müllner-we are not astonished, that more. of the hidden mysteries of life should be seen, 124 Guilt; or, the Anniversary. than in ordinary life, as we our selves contemplate it,-any more than that the palpable features of actual life should be exhibited in such poetry with new freshness and energy of colour and of tone. It is only as if the poet were permitted to have some glimpses of that prescience which we know does exist, and amidst our admiration of his genius in its other workings, we scarcely permit ourselves to question the possibility of such things being granted to one so gifted as he is. It is possible, without making any use of this awful idea, to represent, with abundant power and energy, some single tragical event, some one unhappy accident in one man's life; but without its use it appears to us to be quite impossible to unfold a complete panorama of all that inextricably mingled, and indissolubly connected progress of thoughts and actions in which alone the true and entire tragedy of any man's history can be revealed. The mother of this Hugo, a Spanish lady, being alarmed by some dark words of a gypsy, which promise nothing but evil for his fortunes, is prevailed upon, in the absence of her husband, to give the boy to her friend, a northern countess, who is anxious to have an heir, and who presents him in that character to her own lord. He is carried to the Scandinavian castle of this lord, and educated there in all the wild freedom and wilder superstition of the north. Ere he has passed the limit of manhood, however, he travels over the world, and is led by his delight in reviewing the recollections of his infancy, to spend some years on the soil of Spain. Knowing nothing of the secrets of his own strange history; and, in consequence of a change of name, being unknown in like manner to any person in Spain, he forms an intimate friendship with a young nobleman of his own age, and conceives an unfortunate passion for this friend's beautiful wife. After long contending and struggling with his passion, his resolution is at last overcome by the knowledge that his passion is fervently returned. The honour of Elvira is no more, and the suspicions of her lord are soon excited-in his jealousy he insults Hugo, and kindles thereby the first stirrings of that guilty thought which is destined to lead him to all his misery. He is slain by Hu [Nov. go in the forest-but it is supposed that he had fallen by an accidental discharge of his own fowling-pieceand (amidst many sorrowful fears on but without any actual knowledge or her part, and some dark suspicions, belief of his guilt) he becomes the husband of the beautiful Elvira, who loves and is loved again with all the matchless fervour of southern imagination and southern blood. leave Spain, carrying with them the They band, and take up their abode in the son of Elvira by her murdered huspaternal castle of Hugo, where they spend a year in company with Hugo's pure northern simplicity of virtue and unmarried sister Bertha, a lady whose of happiness affords a strange contrast to those tumultuous miseries and pleasures, between which the life of the guilty husband, and the not innocent wife, is divided. It is on the evening of the day with Bertha. (With cheerfulness.) You know the winds All blow with swelling cheeks. Then all fall; At once fly open :-hands invisible |