Born. To Hubert H. Humphrey III, 26, a University of Minnesota law student, and Lee Humphrey, 26: their second daughter; in St. Paul.

Married. Princess Peggy d'Arenberg, 35, blonde jet setter and oil (Jersey Standard) heiress; and the Duc d'Uzes, 40, darkly handsome French nobleman (his title is the oldest in France); she for the third time, he for the second; in Marrakesh, Morocco.

Died. Fritz Bauer, 64, Jewish lawyer who survived the horrors of Hitler's concentration camps to become West Germany's most renowned Nazi hunter; of a heart attack; in Frankfurt. Called the "conscience of his country," Bauer was named chief prosecutor of the state of Hesse in 1956, ultimately brought hundreds of fugitives to justice, including the notorious Auschwitz adjutant Karl Hoecker. Died. Donald A. Hall, 69, engineering genius who designed Charles Lindbergh's Spirit of St. Louis; of a heart attack; in San Diego. "CAN YOU CONSTRUCT PLANE CAPABLE FLYING NONSTOP BETWEEN NEW YORK AND PARIS?"

Lindbergh wired tiny Ryan Airlines, Inc. in February 1927. The answer was yes, and Hall, Ryan's only engineer, was as good as his word, producing in 60 days the single-engined craft that Lindy flew 3,610 miles across the Atlantic and into the history books. Died. Francis Cardinal Brennan, 74, Pennsylvania Irishman who rose to the highest Vatican post ever held by an American; of a heart attack; in Philadelphia. A brilliant canon lawyer, Brennan in 1940 was the first American appointed to the Sacred Rota, Roman Catholicism's court of last appeal in marriage, in 1959 became its chief judge, and last January was named the first American to head the Curia's Congregation of Sacraments, which ensures the correct administration of the seven sacraments. Died. Richard Maney, 77, dean of Broadway pressagents, who in 50 years beat the drums for some 250 plays (including My Fair Lady, Camelot); of pneumonia; in Norwalk, Conn. Gruff, unfailingly honest and highly literate, Maney assailed the theater for its "notorious affair with mediocrity," and engaged in monumental bouts with such employers as Orson Welles and Billy Rose. "Producing," he once said, "is the Mardi Gras of the professions-- anyone with a mask and enthusiasm can bounce into it." Yet in his tart, tough way, he was fond of the theater. As he once put it: "Pressagentry can be a gay life for one with detachment, and with an understanding of why the theater's children behave the way they do."

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