'Mong strangers for your son. Here lies my kingdom!" A tumult is heard without, and an officer of the guard | Is in your kingdom's heart! enters in haste.

To nature; her all-powerful voice wilt thou
To silence also bring?

Gr. Ing.-Before Belief

Avails no voice of nature.

King. I resign

My office as his judge into thy hands.
May I do this?

Gr. Inq. Give him to me."

The cold and brief manner in which this arrangement is concluded is appalling. The plot hastens to its catastrophe. In a remote apartment the queen's last meeting with the doomed prince takes place. Our last extract shall be a part of the final scene.

"Carlos (sinking on one knee before her.)—Elizabeth!
Queen. And thus we meet again!
Carlos. And thus we meet again!
Queen.-Arise; we will not,

Carlos, grow weak. Not with unworthy tears
Must the great dead be honored. Tears may flow
For smaller ills! He offered up himself

We have occupied so much space in the details of this long and intricate play, that we are compelled to curtail our remarks, and as much as possible. Schiller has undoubtedly rendered his tragedy the more interesting, from the glowing picture he presents of the manners of the times. In the character of the Queen we think he has succeeded better than Alfieri; in that of Philip, not so well. Schiller's Philip is a tyrant; but the tyrant in Alfieri is painted in colors infinitely stronger. Perhaps we are shown too uniformly the darker side of the picture, but it is in all respects a powerful one. It was a bold and fine thought in the Italian poet, to represent the monarch of Spain as keeping himself aloof from all confidence or support from others, and shrouding his designs ever in the inscrutable veil of hypocrisy. Even in the presence of Gomez, his tried counsellor and servant, Filippo maintains the same guarded and haughty reserve. His commands are brief and laconic to a studied degree, and his follower in cruelty rather divines his meaning, from his long habits of sharing in the schemes of his master, than gathers the full import of the words uttered, from the king's language. On no occasion does the king express openly what we might suppose his feelings; it is only by his actions, and by penetrating through his habitual deceit, that we are able to judge of his plans. In the council scene, his hypocrisy deceives all his courtiers; and in the catastrophe, the half-spoken expression of rising remorse is checked on the instant, while he imposes silence, under the penalty of death, on his accomplice in crime. This character is one which it well suited the austere genius of Alfieri to depict; one touch of relenting, or of a communicative spirit towards his servant, and the whole had been marred. He walks with unfaltering step towards the goal of his intent, wrapped in cold and impenetrable reserve. Far different is the King that Schiller has painted. He is comparatively

Carlos has awakened from his former madness; devoted only to the accomplishment of his friend's dying request, he disclaims the entertainment of any other feelings for the queen than an affection founded on the circumstance that she was the confidant and friend of the Marquis. At this juncture the King, Grand Inqui-open-hearted; and exhibits a confidence and candor sitor, and Nobles appear in the back-ground, unperceived by the Prince or Elizabeth.

"Carlos.-Now I depart from Spain,
And see my father in this life no more;
I cannot love him-nature in my breast
Is now extinct--be you again his wife;
His son is lost to him. Return to duty.
I go to rescue my oppressed people
From tyrant hands. Madrid sees me as king,
Or never more. Now for our last farewell!
Did you hear nought?

towards the Marquis of Posa, a being whose nature could never accord with his, that seems to us quite misplaced in the character of a tyrant like Philip. His jealousy is also that of pride, and pride is his master passion; but the author has not done well to make him indulge in such lengthened soliloquies. The Queen is a beautiful creation; ingenuousness, dignity, and tenderness are finely displayed in her lovely character. In aristocratic and feminine reserve, she is much superior to Isabella in Alfieri, whose passion and devotedness are more undisguised than is becoming to her sex and station. We do not admire the readiness with which she discloses her still lingering preference for Carlos; and her hesitation and embarrassment in presence of the King, are unfavorably contrasted with the boldness, founded on the consciousness of innocence, in Schiller's Elizabeth. Alfieri has but sketched his other personages; Gomez is a reflection of his master, and Perez appears but once to any purpose. The minor persons in the German drama are, on the other hand, highly (Attempts to put on his mask-interesting. The princess of Eboli is natural; her jeathe king steps between them.) (Queen falls senseless.)

Queen.--No, nothing--save the clock That sounds our separation.

Carlos.-Then good night,

Mother; from Ghent you will receive the letter
Which shall the secret of this interview
Make public. I depart-henceforth with Philip
To walk an open path. Henceforth between us
There's nothing secret. You shall never need
To shun the world's eyes.
This is my last deceit.

King. It is your last!
Carlos (catches her in his arms.)-Is she dead?

Oh, heaven and earth!

King.-Cardinal! I have done

My part-do yours!"

lous attachment to the prince urging her into a conspispiracy which ends in his destruction, her subsequent remorse and confession of guilt, and vain efforts to save him, are all natural and dramatic. The character of the Marquis of Posa might itself form the subject of an essay. A citizen of the world, and devoted to the ac

Editorial.

CRITICAL NOTICES.

THE SWISS HEIRESS.

Destiny" because the Baron has very properly selected for her a husband, without consulting her Heiress-ship about the matter. This intended husband is one Count Laniski, young, good-looking, noble, valiant, wise, accomplished, generous, amiable, and possessed of a thousand other good qualities-all of which, of course, are just a thousand better reasons why the Bride of Destiny, being a heroine, will have nothing to do with

The Swiss Heiress; or The Bride of Destiny-A Tale. him. Accordingly, at eight years old, she grows melanBaltimore: Joseph Robinson.

choly and interesting, patronizes the gipsies, curses the Count Laniski, talks about "fate, fore-knowledge, and free-will," and throws aside her bread-and-butter for desperation and a guitar. In spite of all she can do, however, the narrative gets on very slowly, and we are upon the point of throwing the lady (banjo and all) into the street, when the Count himself makes his appearance at the Castle, and thereby frightens her to such a degree that, having delivered a soliloquy, she runs off with her "Brother William" to America.

"Brother William," however, is luckily killed at the sicge of Yorktown, and the "Bride of Destiny" herself is recaptured by her family, the whole of whom, having nothing better to do, have set out in pursuit of herto wit-her half brother Albert, (who is now Baron de Rheinswald, the old Baron being dead) Clermont a croaking old monk, and Madam de Montelieu a croaking old somebody else. These good people, it seems, are still determined that the "Swiss Heiress" shall be the "Bride of Destiny"--that is to say, the bride of the Count Laniski. To make matters doubly sure too on this head, the old Baron has sworn a round oath on his death-bed, leaving the "Swiss Heiress" his "eternal curse" in the event of her disobedience.

The Swiss Heiress should be read by all who have nothing better to do. We are patient, and having gone through the whole book with the most dogged determination, are now enabled to pronounce it one of the most solemn of farces. Let us see if it be not possible to give some idea of the plot. It is the year 1780, and "the attention of the reader is directed, first, to a Castle whose proud battlements rise amidst the pines and firs of the Swiss mountains, while, at its base, roll the waters of Lake Geneva," and, second, to the sun which is setting somewhat more slowly than usual, because he is "unwilling to terminate the natal day of the young heiress of the Baron de Rheinswald, the wealthy roprietor of Montargis castle, and its beautiful envir "We are thus left to infer-putting the two sentences and circumstances in apposition-that the Montargis Castle where dwells the young heiress of the Baron de Rheinswald, is neither more nor less than the identical castle "with the proud battlements" et cetera, that "rises amid the pines and firs" and so forth, of the "Swiss Mountains and the Lake of Geneva" and all that. However this may be, the Baron de Rheinswald is a "Catholic of high repute" who "early in life marries a lady of great wealth, a member of his own church, actuated by ambition"—that is to say, there was either something or somebody "actuated by ambition," but we shall not say whether it was a lady or a church. The lady (or perhaps now the church) "lived but five years after the union, and at her death earnestly and solemnly implored that her only son might be devoted to the priesthood." The lady, or the church (let us reconcile the difficulty by calling the thing "Mother Church") being thus deceased, the bereaved Baron marries a second wife. She being a protestant however, ble. But, not having forgotten her old bad habits, she the high contracting parties sign an instrument by which persists in talking about "fate, foreknowledge, and it is agreed "that the eldest child shall be educated by free will," and it is not therefore to be wondered at that the mother's direction, a protestant, the second be sub-matters in general assume a truly distressing complexion. ject to the father's will and a catholic, and thus alter-Just at this crisis, however, a Mr. Frederick Mortimer nately with all their children." This, it must be al-makes his interesting debût. Never certainly was a lowed is a contrivance well adapted for effect. Only more accomplished young man! As becomes a gentlethink of the interesting little creatures all taking it man with such an appellation as Frederick Mortimer, "turn about!" What fights, too, they will have, when he is more beautiful than Apollo, more sentimental than breeched, over their prayer-books and bread-and-butter! | De Lisle, more distingué than Pelham, and, positively, Our author pauses in horror at anticipated consequen-more mysterious than the "mysterious lady." He symces, and takes this excellent opportunity of repeating what "a late writer" (a great friend of his by the bye) says in regard to "chemical combinations” and “opposite properties."

The first child is a son, and called William. The second is a daughter, Miss Laura, our heroine, the "Swiss Heiress," and the "Bride of Destiny." She is the "Swiss Heiress" in virtue of a certain "dispensation from the church of Rome, by which the estates of the Baron were to descend to his first catholic child by his second marriage" and she becomes the "Bride of

Having caught and properly secured the young lady, the new Baron de Rheinswald takes up his residence for a time "on the borders of Vermont and Canada." Some years elapse, and so forth. The "Bride of Destiny" is nearly one and twenty; and the Count Laniski makes his appearance with a view of urging his claim. The Heiress, we are forced to say, now behaves in a very unbecoming and unaccountable manner. She should have hung herself as the only rational course, and--heigho!--it would have saved us a world of trou

pathizes with the woes of the "Bride of Destiny," looks unutterable threats at the Count Laniski, beats even the "Swiss Heiress" at discoursing of “free will,” and the author of the "Swiss Heiress" at quoting paragraphs from a "late writer." The heart of the "Bride of Destiny" is touched-sensibly touched. But Love, in romance, must have impediments, and the Loves of the "Bride of Destiny" and Mr. Frederick Mortimer have two. The first is some inexpressible mystery connected with a certain gold ring, of which the Heiress is especially careful, and the second is that rascally old Baron

that he also knows very well who he is not. Hereupon Mr. Theodore Montelieu calls Mr. Frederick Mortimer a liar, a big liar, or something to that effect, and challenges him to a fight, with a view of either blowing out

Rheinswald's "eternal curse." Nothing farther there- | knows very well who he is, leaving it to be inferred fore can be done in the premises, but as we have now only reached Chapter the Sixth, and there are to be seventeen chapters in all, it is necessary to do something-and what better can be done than to talk, until Chapter the Fifteenth, about “fate, foreknowledge, and | his already small modicum of brains, or having the exfree will?" Only imagine a string of delightful sentences, such as the following, for the short space of three hundred and ninety-six pages!

ceedingly few blown out, which he himself (Mr. Theodore Montelieu) possesses. Mr. Mortimer, however, being a hero, declines fighting, and contents himself,

"How rapidly time flies," said the Count, "I have been here for the present, with looking mysterious. weeks, and they seem but days."

"I am not surprised, my lord," said Mrs. Falkner, smiling. "Nor I," he returned, also smiling. "This place, such society, wraps the senses in such blissful illusion that I take no note of time. The clock strikes unheeded, unheard."

"Why do you smile, Miss Montargis?" asked Mrs. Falkner. "I was just thinking," she replied, "that Count Laniski had unconsciously given a local habitation and a name' to the fabled

region where cold is so intense as to congeal sound."

It will now be seen that matters are coming to a crisis. Mr. Mortimer is obliged to go to Philadelphia; but, lest Mr. Montelieu should whisk off the heiress in his absence, he insists upon that gentleman bearing him company. Having reached, however, the city of brotherly love, the ingenious young man gives his keeper the slip, hurries back to Vermont, and gets every thing ready for his wedding. Miss Montargis is very angry and talks about the inexplicable ring, fate, fore-know

Mrs. Falkner bowed, but could not comprehend what such a region had to do with Count Laniski's compliment to the heiress. "Take care, Mr. Mortimer," said Miss Montargis, still smil-ledge and free will-but old Clermont, the Baron, and ing, "you are in dangerous vicinity. Have you no fear of cold?" "It is not sufficiently positive," he replied," to destroy my be

lief that it exists with much latent warmth, which it requires but a little address to render quite sensible."

Mortimer spoke with mingled playfulness and seriousness, but the latter prevailed, and Miss Montargis felt it a reproof, and blushed, she scarcely knew why.

"To be sensible," she said, "it must affect others. Who ever

felt its influence? not she at least who has painfully realized its

negativeness."

"I am sure you speak mysteries to me," said Mrs. Falkner, laughing," what can you mean?" &c. &c.

We would proceed, but are positively out of patience with the gross stupidity of Mrs. Falkner, who cannot understand what the other ladies and gentlemen are talking about. Now we have no doubt whatever they are discoursing of "fate, foreknowledge, and free will." About chapter the fifteenth it appears that the Count Laniski is not the Count Laniski at all, but only Mr. Theodore Montelieu, and the son of that old rigmarole, Madam Montelieu, the housekeeper. It now appears, also, that even that Count Laniski whose appearance at Montargis Castle had such effect upon the nerves of our heroine, was not the Count Laniski at all, but only the same Mr. Theodore Montelieu, the same son of the same old rigmarole. The true Count, it seems, in his younger days, had as little partiality for the match ordained him by fate and the two fathers, as the very "Bride of Destiny" herself, and, being at college with Mr. Theodore Montelieu at the time appointed for his visit to Montargis Castle, had no scruple in allowing the latter gentleman to personate his Countship in the visit. By these means Mr. M. has an opportunity of seeing his mother, the old rigmarole, who is housekeeper, or something of that kind, at the Castle. The precious couple (that is to say the old rigmarole and her son) now get up a plot, by which it is determined that the son shall personate the Count to the end of the chapter, and so marry the heiress. It is with this end in view, that Mr. Theodore Montelieu is now playing Count at the residence of the Baron in Vermont. Mr. Frederick Mortimer, however, is sadly in his way, and torments the poor fellow grievously, by grinning at him, and sighing at him, and folding his arms at him, and looking at him asquint, and talking him to death about "fate and foreknowledge and free will." At last Mr. Mortimer tells the gentleman flatly that he

Mr. Montelieu, on the other hand, get in an absolute passion and talk about nothing less than the old Baron Rheinswald and his "eternal curse." The ceremony | therefore proceeds, when just at the most proper mo ment, and all as it should be, in rushes—Mr. Frederick Mortimer!-it will be seen that he has come back from Philadelphia. He assures the company that the Count Laniski, (that is to say Mr. Theodore Montelieu,) is not the Count Laniski at all, but only Mr. Theodore Montelieu; and moreover, that he himself (Mr. Frederick Montimer) is not only Mr. Frederick Mortimer, but the bonâ fide Count Laniski into the bargain. And more than this, it is very clearly explained how Miss Laura Montargis is not by any means Miss Laura Montargis, but only the Baroness de Thionville, and how the Baroness de Thionville is the wife of the Baron de Thionville, and how, after all, the Baron de Thionville is the Count Laniski, or else Mr. Frederick Mortimer, or else that is to say-how Mr. Frederick Mortimer is'nt altogether the Count Laniski, but—but only the Baron de Thionville, or else the Baroness de Thionville-in short, how every body concerned in the business is not precisely what he is, and is precisely what he is not. After this horrible development, if we recollect, all the dramatis personæ faint outright, one after the other. The inquisitive reader may be assured, however, that the whole story ends judiciously, and just as it ought to do, and with a very excellent quotation from one of the very best of the "late writers."

Humph! and this is the "Swiss Heiress," to say nothing of the "Bride of Destiny." However—it is a valuable "work"--and now, in the name of “fate, foreknowledge and free will," we solemnly consign it to the fire.

ROSZEL'S ADDRESS.

Address delivered at the Annual Commencement of Dickinson College, July 21, 1836, by S. A. Roszel, A M. Principal of the Grammar School. Published by Request of the Board of Trustees. Baltimore: John W. Woods.

Mr. Roszel, we have good reason for knowing, is a scholar, of classical knowledge more extensive, and far more accurate than usual. In his very eloquent Address on Education now before us, he has confined