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" A village plundered by the insurgent peasantry, shrieks and tumult, women, old Men,
and children Aly across the stage, Old Man. Away! away! fly from the murdering dogs !
Woman, Sacred heaven! How blood-red is the heaven! How bloed-red the rising fun!
Another. 'Tis fire !
Enter Link' and Infurgeuls.
Mezlır. Ditrich Von Weiler led up the dance. There was sport for thee! We were all in a raging heap round the church steeple. He looked out and wished to treat with us. Bai! a ball through his head. Up we rushed like a tempeft, and the fellow soon made his exit by the window. Then we brought out thirteen of the nobility--in ali eighty. What a shouting and jubilee among our boys, as they broke loole upon the long row of miserable rich linners. Heaven and earth! how they struggled and stared on each other ! We surrounded them, and killed every foul with pikes. Hadit thou seen how the fellows writhed in a licap, and croaked like frogs ! It warm'd my heart like a cup of brandy."
Would that this pi&ture were only just as a representation of the feudal days of Germany. It must bring to every one's inind, the out. sages of the French regicides and of the Irish insurgents.
The painting of a comet speaks the hand of a maiter. “ Mezler. Hat thou seen the great comet ?
Link. Yes, it is a dreadful ghaftly fign! As we marched by night, we faw it well. It went towards Ains
Mezler. And was visible for an hour and a quarter, like an arm brandishing a sword, and bloody red !
Link. Didst thou mark the three stars at the sword's hilt and point ?
Mezler. And the broad black clouds, illuminated by a thousand thousand streamers like lances and like swords ?
Link. I saw it well-and beneath a pale white; cross'd with fiery ruddy fames, and among them grilly figures with snaggy hair and beards.
Mezler. Did you see them, too? And how they all swam about as if in a sea of blood, and struggled all in confusion enough to drive me mad!”
The gipsey scene has a terrific wildness. " Front of a gipsey hut in a wild forest.-Nights fire before the hut, at which fit
ine mother of the gipfies and a girl - It rains ard thunders. Mother. Throw some freth ifraw up the tharen, daughter. It rains fearfully.
Enter a Gipley-boy. Boy. A dormouse, mother! and herc, two field mice! Mother. Skin them and roaft them, and thou shall have a cap of their skins.Thou bleedeft!
Boy. Dormouse bit me. Mother. Gather some thorns, that the fire may burn bright; when thy father comes, he will be wet through and through.
Other gipsey-women entor, with children at their backs. First Woman. Halt thou fared well?
Second Woman. Ill enough The whole country is in an uproar : One's life is Rot sase a moment. Two villages are in a light flame.
Firs Woman. So it was the fire that glared in the sky.--I looked at it long, for Saming meteors have been so common.
The captain of the giphies enters with three of his gang. Captain. Heard ye the wild huntsman ?
First Itoman. He pats'd by us but this minute.
Enter Coetz on korseback. Goctz. I thank thee, God! I see fire - They are gipsies: My wounds bleed forely-my foes close behind! Great God! thou endest dreadfully with me.
Captain. Is it in peace thou comeft?
Góetz. I crase help from you. My wounds are stiff with cold. --Alif me from horse,
Captain. Help him a gallant warrior in appearance and language.
Inside of the kut, Captain, Gipfies, and Goetz. Captain. Call our mother let her bring bloodwort and bandages. (Gortz st ains himself.) Here is my holiday doublet.
Gotz. "God reward you ! (the mother binds his wounds.)
Captain. Who does not know you, Goetz ? Our lives and heart's blood art yours.
Enter Gipfey men.
Captain. Your pursuers! they shall not reach you.-Away. (Shriels , call the others. We know the palles better than they. We shall bring them down ere they are aware of us. (Excunt Captain and men gipsics with their guns.).
Goetz (alone.) O emperor! emperor! robbers protect thy children! (4 hasp for ring of musquetry is heard.) The wild forefters! Iteadyand true.
our} For the last time you shall feel my arm. - Never was it so weak. (Exit. Tumult.) Hamar. He gallops to join our party. Cfiring.)
Enter Wolf. Wolf Away! away! all is loft. The captain shot dead !--Goetz a prisoner. (The women scream and fly into the wood.)
We here perceive some of the strong and rapid ftrokes of Goethe's pencil. The above, also, may convey to the reader fome notion of the conduct of the piece, which is all bustle and activity. The author, indeed, hurries us from place to place, with too great a degree of ra. pidity.--Modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis. To Dr. Johnson's opinion of the unities, however, we have long subscribed from a con. viction of its justness.
With “the invisible tribunal” the menibers and executioners of which were unknown, and met in secret to condemn to death such cri. mipals as other courts of justice could not reach, we have already been made acquainted by several translations from the German, particularly the romance called Herman of Unna. With a scene founded upon this extraordinary inftitution, we shall conclude our extracts. " A narrow vault dimly illuminated. The judges of the secret aribunel discovered frared all muffled in black clouks and filent.
*Eldey Fudge. Judges of the secret tribunal, sworn by the cord and the stcel, to be unpitying in juftice, to judge in fecret, and to avenge in secret, like the deity, Are your hands clean and hearts pure? Raise than to heaven and cry, Mildoers?
All. Woc! Woe! Elde Judge. Cryer, begin the diet of judgement. Cryer. I cry for accufation against misdoers !--Whose heart is purc, whose hand is clean, let him accuse and call upon the steel and the cord for vengeance! vergeance ! verigeance!
Accufer. (comes forward) My heart is pure from misdeed, and my hand clean from innocent blood : God pardon my fins of ignorance, and frame my steps to his way! -I raise my hand aloft and cry, Vengeance! Vengeance! Vengeance!
Eldeft Fudge. Vengeance upon whom ?
Accufer. i call upon the cord and upon the steel for vengeance, against Adela Von Weislingen.-She has committed adultery and murder. She has poisoned her hulband by the hands of her servant.--The servant hath Nain himself.--- The husband is dead. Ellef Judge. Sweareft thou by the God of truth, that thy accusation is true ? Accufer. I swear. Eldej Judge. Doft thou take upon thy own head the punihmeat of murder and adultery, should it be found falle?
accufer. I take it. Eldél Judge. Your voices ? (They conuer se a minute in law whispers.) Accuser. Judges of the Secret Tribunal, what is your doom upon Adela Voa Weißlingen, accused of murder and adultery ?
Eldef Judge. She hall die! Shall die a bitter and double death! By the dou. bke doom of the steel and the cord, shall she expiate the double misdeed. Raite pour hands to heaven and cry, Woc unto her!--Be she given to the hand of the avenger.
All. Woc! Woe!
Elde Judge. There halt thou thc cord and the teel! Within cight days muft. thou cake her
from the face of heaven. Wherever thou findest her, let her no longer cumber the ground. Judges, ye that judge in secret, and avenge in secret, like the deity, God keep your hearts from wickedness, and your hands from innocent blood !" (The Scene closes.)
The translator informs us that some liberties have been taken with the original, in omitting two occasional disquisitions upon the civil law as practised in Germany--that literal accuracy has been less itu. died in the translation, than an attempt to convey the spirit and gencral effect of the piece," and that he is little diitrustful of the fidelity of the version, owing to the friendship of a gentleman, of high literary eminence, who has obligingly taken the trouble of fupcrig. tending the publication."
Art. XIV. The Votary of Wealth, a Comedy', in Five Aas; as per.
formed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, By J. G. Hol. man, Author of " Abroad and At Home." Second Edition,
8vo. Pp. 87. Price 1s. Longman. London. 1799. THOUGH “the Votary of Wealth” may scarcely be entitled to a place among our first-rate plays, such as “ The Heiress," of Bur. goyne, or “ The School for Scandal,” of Sheridan ; yet we can lafely pronounce it superior to the Spettres or the Bluebraids that have amused, of late, the children of dillipation.
In tris comedy, the dialogue is by no means a tissue of proverbial vulgarities and tragical declamation. Observations, it is true, are here and there interspersed, which are unmeaning or superfluous. But in general, few passages occur, which have not a tendency to the acceleration of the main design.
The characters, we believe, are juftly imitated from nature. That old Visorly and his son have their prototypes in real life, we alert from our own observation and experience.
The laws of poetical justice are here strictly observed, and the moral is clear and obvious, not shrouded in myftery, as it often hape. pens in our modern dramas; where, from the sentiment and conduct of the hero or principal personages, as well as the obscure application of the fable, we suspect that the author is a secret friend to some imposing fashion or tenet of the day, which at the touch of reason must start up in its native deformity.
The features of the weak and covetous Old Viforly, and his bases son Leonard, will at once appear in the following scene :
“ Old Viforly. Well, my dear boy, what news—what news?
Leon. By this I learn, that the vessel that brought him from Bengal, is wrecked, and he has perished.
Old Vil Poor man! poor man! alas! he was a good twenty years younger than I am.-Only to think that I Mould outlive him! Ah! there is no knowing who is to go to the grave firft. Mayhap, I may outlive you, Leonard. (weeping)
Leon. Oh! Sir, don't indulge such melancholy ideas. His death, though, to be fure, very dreadful, and likely to awaken sensibility in the breasts of his relations, yet carries with it to us a kind of consolation.
Old Vil. How do you mean, Leonard ?
Leon. You know my wish to be united to his daughter, and, perhaps, he might have had in his mind a different alliance for her.
Old Vif. Very true.
Leon. Now my attainment of that object is infinitely more fecure ; the mother and the girl being both under our roof and likely to continue so.
Old V'if. Very true. Lord, what a blockhead was I, to fall a blubbering, and for a man too, who, though he was my first cousin, I should not have known from Adam. But I have a very tender heart.
Leon. Yes; and a very soft head. (Afide.) But now, Sir, to break these dismal tidings to his wife and daughter.-That muii be my mother's business.
oli vil. Yes; we will go and prepare her to make the melancholy discovery. You have the way, my dear Leonard, of placing things in a right point of view. It is really quite a weakness, my being so tender-hearted.”
We prefer the faithful Oakworth, of “the Votary of Wealth," to the Jack Buller, of “ the Birth-day,” and are willing to entertain the flattering idea, that in the good old honeit domeftic, there is something characteristically English.
" Leonard. You are welcome, Sir.
Oakworth. Thank you, Sir;-ihank you. So I be got to you, at lat. You great folks take a plaguy time coming at. Ma'am, your humbic servant. May. hap I hould say, your ladylhip:- Pray excuse all faults.
Leon. Never mind. Lady Jemima does n't stand on ceremony.
remember Mrs. Cleveland, (heaven, bless her !) when she was not the height of my kaee. Often and often is the time, that I have danc'd her o' top of it. Well, thác is neither here nor there. When her father died--Ah! I Ihall never forget it-Ho has not left a better man behind him. There was not a dry eye in the village except the undertaker's ; and folks do say, he cried a bit. Well, her father, good foul! had met with so many losses and crosses, that there was little enough left for his daughter, to live like a lady on, so he was persuaded by her friends to take a voyage to India, with a cousin of her's who had retired, and was going to letils there.
Leon. Mr. Cleveland has acquainted me with the rest ; there he married her, and from thence, by the severity of his father, he was forced to send her.
Oakw. Ah, poor dear! home the came again, miserable enough, to be sure. Well, mayhap, all for the best. Now she will be as happy as the days are long.
Leon. What delight, Sir, you must feel at the happiness of this family, to“ whom you have thewed so much attachment! What gratitude do they not owe
Oakw. Gratitude to me! That is a great mistake of yours, and it behoves me to let you right. Mrs. Cleveland's father faved me from ruin ;-me and my family from beggary; and, I think, he must have a bad notion of the value of a kindness done him, who, if he could live long enough, would not strive to repay it down to the fiftieth generation.
Leon. What a noble heart !
Oakw. Noble heart ! Plha! pla! sure the world is not so bad, that a man need be prais'd for not being a monster:
Leon. I am proud of the happiness of being known to you.
Oakw. Why, to be sure, a mighty matter to be proud of, Gentlemen, being known to an old ftupid country bumpkin. Surely you be jeering a body—but it you be, I can't find in my heart to be angry; for as long as you are so good and fo kind to the dear creatures I love, you may fout and jeer at me, as much as you please.
Leon. We feel the value of such integrity as yours; and be assured, we shall always say less of your merit than we think you deserve.
Old Vif. Always less than you deserve.
Oakw. Do you know I shall take that very kind of you. For if you are for good as to fancy I have any deserts at all, you must in conscience think they be very little; and if so be you keep your word and say less than you think, I shall be mighty happy, because then you will just say nothing at all. So, Gentlemen, as in duty bound, I am your most bumble servant."
The prologue, written by G. W. T. Fitzgerald, Esq. and the epi. logue, by John Taylor, Esq. though not in the best style of those wri. ters, and, consequently, not gems of the firft water, have intrinsic worth when compared with the Bristol Stone of Miles Peter Andrews.
Art. XV. Subftance of the Speech of the Right Honourable
Henry Addington, Speaker. of the House of Commons, on the 120h of February, 1799. In the Committee of the whole House, to whom His Majesty's most gracious Mefage of the 22d of January, relative to Ireland, was referred. Second Edition. Pp. 44. Price is. Wright, London, 1799.
Sve. Pp. 44.