THE MONTHLY MIRROR.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF

THE LATE MR. EDWIN.

(Concluded from p. 366, Vol. 20.)

Ar the commencement of the year 1779, Edwin and Brett, forgetting their duty at the Bath theatre, rambled as far as the Devizes, where they staid a fortnight On their return to Bath, Brett read an apology from the stage to the audience. As it comprised the lan-* guage of repentance, the public were not obdurate, and the error* was forgiven. When it was Edwin's turn to go on, he affected to treat the affair with indifference, but was called to order by Major Brereton, from the boxes, who insisted upon Edwin's exhibiting some sign of contrition-this desire becoming general, Edwin partly complied, but was secretly resolved to take final leave of the Bath' audience.

In the course of this season, he. delivered a comic lecture three times, in the lower rooms of Bath, and twice at Winchester and Southampton.

In the summer of this year, while he was performing at the Haymarket, he received overtures from Mr. Harris, of Covent Garden theatre. The terms offered at first were four pounds per week; but Edwin was resolved on having seven pounds, and continuing inexorable, the manager complied, and the object solicited was engaged.

The first scenic personage he represented at Covent Garden, was Touchstone, in Shakespeare's beautiful pastoral of As you Like it. Edwin did what he could, but the effort was not entirely satisfactory: he played Midas on the same evening, and in that part recovered all the dignity he had forfeited in Touchstone. The luminouse ness of the prince of burlettas began to appear, and, the public eye ↑ dazzled with radiance, before that period unknown.

The leading design of Mr. Harris in engaging Edwin, was to do + the part of Punch, in Dibdin's pantomime of Harlequin Every Where, a part to which the composer knew no other individual competent ! His vast comic powers were first generally acknowledged in Master Stephen, in Every Man in his Humour. From his fine acting on that night, every thing great was presaged of him,

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At the conclusion of that season, he made a new engagement with the manager, and was fixed for three years at eight pounds per

BVOL. XXI.

week. At the expiration of that term, it was increased to twelve, and thus it continued until he was finally called from the great theatre of existence.

There are not wanting those who would infer, that his wild graces ought not to have been encouraged; Edwin certainly created a manner which our best actors eagerly imitate, and happy are they who can catch any portion of his excellence. He laid the foundation of a new school.

Edwin performed Jemmy Jumps, for Lee Lewes's benefit at Canterbury, the Saturday before Passion week, in 1790. His name had such an effect there, that at three o'clock all the avenues to the theatre were completely stopped up; carriages could not approach the doors, and the ladies were obliged to go from the stage over the spikes of the stage box, to their places in the side boxes.

The next day Edwin and Lee Lewes made a post haste journey to Paris, where Edwin excited the following emotions in the Dauphin, who was walking between two grenadiers in the Thuilleries, when the comedian met his eye. Edwin was dressed in a large, rough, coachman's coat, and half tipsy with Champagne. The Dauphin stopt short, surveyed his figure for a minute, from the cranium to the os calcis, and then laughingly exclaimed, “ma foi c'est bien drole !"

In the beginning of May, 1790, by the advice of his physicians, Dr. Brocklesby and Dr. Garthshore, he took a lodging at the Rein Deer on Epping Forest, where he remained three weeks, and then returned to town.

On the 13th of June he married Miss Mary Hubbard, at St. John's church, Westminster. This marriage, which had been preceded by his ill usage and desertion of the woman, who,

Though she had not the name, had the truth of a wife," was much resented by the public, who expressed their disapproba tion very loudly on his re-appearance before them.

In July he engaged a lodging on Clapham Common, but finding the air too cold for his emaciated frame, returned to his apartments in Bedford Street.

The last character he ever performed in public, was Gregory Gubbins, in the Battle of Hexham.

Three weeks before his death, a consultation of physicians was held at his house, and the issue of their judgment was, that if he was not conveyed immediately to Nice, he must assuredly die. In obedience to their directions, his friends engaged a Danish vessel for

the purpose, and paid ten pounds in advance to the captain, whose name was Mayyer.

He never could be prevailed upon, during his indisposition, to wear a night-cap, except in bed; he would put on his cap when in bed, and deposit his wig carefully behind his pillow, and when he awoke, at the return of day, the first thing he called for was his wig.

He was not despondent even when in a state of total debility, but seemed cheerful, related his jest, and smiled with ghastly pleasantry.

So powerfully did hope cleave about his mind to the last, that two days before his death, he seened confident that he should recover when on board the vessel.

In the evening of this day, he called for pen, ink, and paper, and, with much difficulty, wrote the following fragment of a letter, which he intended should have been sent to Dr. Garthshore, or Dr. Brocklesby.

"Dear Sir,

"The unremitting attention you have paid to me, joined to your great wisdom in your profession, has given me much content during the whole course of my illness; and if I had a dear relation under your care, I should be most truly happy, that a physician of your ability had the direction of her health. In other hands I might have been dead long before this, and, perhaps my voyage, by God's permission, may restore me. I am ashamed to say that, in pecuniary matters, I am quite worse than my heart can bear. The derangement of my circumstances, from illness, is a little disagreeable, therefore hope your kindness will excuse the—” ·

When he came to this part, his strength failed him-the pen dropt from his hand, and he fell back on the couch, and scarcely ever articulated after.

On the 30th of October, he lay horizontally upon a couch before the fire, slavered at the mouth, and had not the power to express his wish. He continued languishing until half past four o'clock on the following morning, when he put his left leg out of bed, and endeavoured to sit upright: his attendant then gave him some syrup of squills, which he could not swallow; it guggled in his throat. He put out his shrivelled hand, which Mrs. Edwin kissed, then faintly adjusting his pillow, which he wetted with a chilly tear, moaned, looked up, and faded into death. He was forty-two years of age.

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On Sunday, the 7th November, at eight in the evening, his remains were accompanied to the grave by the following persons, attended by an immense concourse of spectators. His body was deposited on the north side of St. Paul's Covent Garden, between the ashes of Doctor Arne, and his prototype, Ned Shuter.

ORDER OF THE FUNERAL.

The following epitaph is engraved on his tomb-stone, which was

erected by his brother-in-law, Mr. Redhead.

Each social meed, which honours human kind,

The dust beneath this frail memorial bore;

If pride of excellence uplift thy mind,

Subdue the weakness, and be vain no more.

A nation's mirth was subject to his art,

Ere icy death had smote this child of glee;
And Care resum'd his empire o'er the heart,

When Heaven issued-Edwin shall not be.

ANTHONY PAsquim

THE SCOTCH MUSIC.

SEVERAL of the Scotch songs take their names from the rivulets, villages, and hills, adjoining to the Tweed, near Melrose; a region distinguished by many charming varieties of rural scenery, and which, whether we consider the face of the country, or the genius of the people, may properly enough be termed the Arcadia of Scotland. And all these songs are sweetly and powerfully expressive of love and tenderness, and other emotions, suited to the tranquillity of pastoral life.

It is a common opinion, that these songs were composed by David Rizzio, a musician from Italy, the unfortunate favourite of a very unfortunate queen. But this must be a mistake. The style of the Scotch music was fixed before his time; for many of the best of these tunes are ascribed by tradition to a more remote period. And it is not to be supposed, that he, a foreigner, and in the latter part of his life a man of business, could have acquired or invented a style of musical composition, so different, in every respect, from that to which he had been accustomed in his own country. Melody is so much the characteristic of the Scotch tunes, that I doubt whether even basses were set to them before the present century; whereas, in the days of Rizzio, harmony was the fashionable study of the Italian composers. Palestina himself, who flourished about two hundred and fifty years ago, and who has obtained the high title of Father of Harmony, is by Avison ranked with those who neglected air, and were too closely attached to counterpoint; and at the time when Rizzio was a student in the art, Palestina's must have been the favourite music in Italy. Besides, though the style of the old Scotch melody has been well imitated by Mr. Oswald, and some other natives, I do not find that any foreigner has ever caught the true spirit of it. Geminiani, a great and original genius in this art, and a professed admirer of the Scotch songs (some of which he published with accompaniments) used to say, that he had blotted many a quire of paper to no purpose, in attempting to compose a second strain to that fine little air which in Scotland is known by the name of The Broom of Cowdenknows. To all which we may add, that Tassoni,† the author of Le Secchia Rapito, speaks of this music * Cowdenknows, Galashiels, Galawater, Etterick Banks, Braes of Garrow, Bush above Traquair, &c.

+ Tassoni was born in 1565.