The houses have all terraced roofs, and that on the Consul's commands an extensive view of the city. It is delightful to rise by night, and walk there in the brilliant moonlight, which has the appearance of a tranquil and beautiful day: you can see to read with perfect ease. From thence you can look all around on the terraces of other dwellings, on which numbers of the inhabitants lie buried in sleep. During the greater part of the night you hear no sound in this wide capital, not even the tread of a passing traveller or houseless Arab; nothing disturbs the impressive tranquillity of the hour, which strikes on the imagination. The lonely palm-trees, scattered at intervals around, and rising high above the houses, are the only objects which break the view.' pp. 83, 84. The great annual festival of the Egyptians takes place on the day appointed for the cutting of the bank of the Nile. A great number of people of different nations assemble on this occasion, which is one of great rejoicing. The day is that on which the inundation of the river, the great barometer of the hopes of Egypt for the year, rises to its greatest height. The dike is then cut, and the water finds its way into the canal, which reaches to Cairo. Mr. Carne describes the scene, and the amusements to which it gave rise, with a good deal of vivacity. From Cairo of course he paid a visit to the Pyramids; but as he has said nothing new concerning them, we shall pass over this part of his journal. M. Caviglia, it seems, is at present engaged in excavations, in order to discover a subterraneous communication which he imagines must exist between the Pyramids of Gizeh and those of Saccara and the remains of Memphis; an undertaking, to say the least of it, sufficiently adventurous! Our author's next journey was to Upper Egypt, where he examined the famous temples of Tentyra and Karnac, the ruins of Thebes, and the other well known curiosities in that part of the Pasha's dominions. We regret that our space will not allow us to follow him in this excursion, nor in his subsequent one to Mount Sinai. His account of the latter journey is well deserving of the attention of the reader, particularly all that part of it which relates to the author's personal adventures, for he had the fortune to be captured by the Arabs, and to be detained amongst them for some days. We suppose that he scarcely regretted this circumstance, as it him a good opportunity of observing those wanderers of the desert, and of becoming intimately acquainted with their very peculiar manners. gave Soon after his escape from captivity, Mr. Carne passed over to Palestine, and on his way called at Marilius, the celebrated residence of Lady Hester Stanhope, to whom he had two letters of introduction. One of these, by some mischance, he had not taken with him from Sidon, and the other failed to procure him an interview. It would be unjust to impute the rule which Her Ladyship seems to have adopted, of not seeing English travellers, to any coldness of feeling towards her country, or to any want of hospitality. The truth seems to be, that she has been a good deal annoyed by the reports which several of her countrymen, whom she admitted under her roof, brought home and published concerning her. It is too much the custom of travellers of every country, but particularly of our own, to swell out their journals by personal anecdotes, which they hope will add not a little to the variety and spirit of their works. We think that Her Ladyship has some reason to complain of the manner in which she is treated by Mr. Carne. He has devoted several pages of his book to her history, such, we presume, as he heard it from the consuls and others in her neighbourhood. If credit his statement, she is now become very nervous, and has for some time put great faith in nativities and the productions of a venerable Arabian, who passes for an astrologer or magician' We regret that Mr. Carne has descended to become the vehicle of such petty scandal. The world will attribute it to the disappointment which he encountered at Marilius- perhaps not very erroneously. we may In his progress through Palestine, Mr. Carne had occasion to observe the gross delusions practised by those foreign missionaries, who affect to be so zealously disposed to reclaim the people of the East from their errors and superstitions.' Most of our readers will remember the Greek bishop, Eusebius, who was in this country some eight or nine years ago, and was received with so much eclat at Oxford, and so warmly patronised by some of our ministers. While he was here, he put together eight or nine hundred pounds, which he received from different titled and dignified personages, for the purpose of getting the Testament printed and distributed through the country where it first appeared. According to Mr. Carne, this exemplary divine purchased a good house and garden with the money entrusted to him, and now he leads a life of cessive comfort,' utterly heedless of the good folks who were foolish enough to be duped by him. ex After completing his tour in Palestine, Mr. Carne proceeded to Cyprus, Rhodes, and the Morea. His details concerning the progress of the war in Greece have lost much of their interest, in consequence of the more recent reports which we have had from the same quarter. The classical reader will be sorry to hear that the island of Cyprus, once so famous for the beauty of its women, has lost a great part of its character in this respect Its climate and its shady groves are, however, still as enchanting as ever. The island of Rhodes preserves also many of its ancient attractions. • Much of the scenery in the interior of the island is of the most romantic kind. Wild and lonely valleys, where the rose and myrtle spring in profusion, open into the sea, and are inclosed by steep mountains on every side. The greater part of the island is uncultivated; and the number of the villages in the interior is small; pomegranate and figtrees abound here, as well as peach-trees, but the fruit they produce is very inferior in flavour to those of Europe. The island is supposed to contain thirty thousand inhabitants, two-thirds of whom are Turks, and is near forty leagues in circumference; but so small a portion of the soil is cultivated, that it scarcely raises corn sufficient for its own support: wine is the only other produce of the soil of any consequence, and of this very little is exported. But Rhodes is one of the cheapest places in the world to live in. One may not be able to procure here a variety of meats; yet, such as there is, sheep, kid, fish, and poultry of various kinds, with excellent wines and fruits, cost a mere trifle. For a few hundreds a-year a stranger might live en prince, in this delicious island, have his chateau amidst gardens in a retired and beautiful situation, his Arab horses, a number of servants, a climate that will probably add ten years to his life, if he will consent to live without the enervating pleasures of high society. It is well known that an English gentleman of handsome fortune made Scio his abode for many years; he had his family with him, lived in a charming spot, and kept a yacht, in which he often visited the other Greek islands, but always returned to his own abode with undiminished pleasure, and resolved never to forsake it. He died about four years ago, before the breaking out of the Revolution,' - pp. 483 -485. Mr. Carne states several afflicting instances of the atrocious cruelty which has been, in almost equal proportions, practised by the Turks and the Greeks since the breaking out of the Revolution: indeed, these instances are so frightful, that we forbear to touch upon them; and they are so nearly balanced, that it is impossible to say which of the belligerents is the more barbarous. Amid such horrid scenes, it is delightful to find in the softer sex on both sides the most signal proofs of fidelity to their religion and their families. 'At Larnica, (Isle of Cyprus,) a Greek family were placed in a rather tragical situation. A certain time was allotted them to decide whether to embrace Islamism or die; the husband leaned to the former alternative, and strove to persuade all his family; but the wife was firmly resolved to adhere to the faith of her fathers, and, like many other Greek women in this warfare, showed a heroism, of which the men are too often destitute: the time allotted was not yet expired.' p. 441. By the side of this passage let us place the pathetic story of Handivia Dudu, a Turkish lady, who was among the sufferers in Tripolizza when it was stormed by the Greeks, and was by them rendered the theatre of one of the most abominable massacres that ever was committed. She was a widow, and only eighteen years of age: her husband, together with her parents, were put to death at the taking of the town. After his house had been entered and plundered by the Greeks, and he had been compelled to give up all his property to them, they promised to spare his life, on condition that his wife would produce all her ornaments and jewels, which she had concealed. She sent them to the captors without a moment's hesitation, too happy to purchase her husband's life at such a price. When the Greeks found they had obtained every thing, they told the Turk to prepare to die. He knew them too well to doubt the execution of their purpose, and only requested he might be allowed to see his wife once more. They suffered him," said Handi 66 via," to lay his head upon my bosom for a few minutes only; then they took him from my arms, and murdered him!" No violence was offered her, however, and she resided at this time with two Greek women, in a very good house, but retired from the street, all communication with which was carefully excluded. An air of settled melancholy had fixed itself cn her fine countenance, and in relating the tale of her miseries she was much affected. "She never could love again," she said, "in this life: her husband, to whom she had been married only a few months, was her first and only love, and her happiness perished with him." Her situation was truly a desolate one: every friend she had on earth slain, encompassed by dangers, she was often the prey of the liveliest alarms, and, not knowing in whom to confide, she was unable to stir from the house, for fear of insult or violence from the Greeks. "Often," said the ill-fated lady, "I wished for death, as my only refuge." - pp, 535—537, From the Morea Mr. Carne proceeded to Zante, whence he returned to England. Upon the whole, we think that we may safely recommend this work to the attention of the reader. It is full of very interesting matter, well arranged, and set off to the best advantage by a lively and sometimes an impassioned style of expression, which is well suited to Oriental subjects. It is pleasing also to observe that, on more than one occasion, Mr. Carne sustained the character of his country, by succouring the distressed, and even by sacrificing to the wretched victims of civil war a portion of his own conveniences. ART. VI. The Old English Drama. 2 Vols. A Selection of Plays from the 1. London, Hurst, Robinson, and Co.; and A. Constable and Co. Edinburgh. WE are not without hope that the tone recently adopted by some of the most influential periodical works, upon the state of our dramatic literature, will meet a respondent feeling on the part of the literary public. The existence of that barbarous evil, a degenerate and debased drama, is admitted on all hands; and the present general system of administering it is so deplorable, as to oppose serious difficulties to its reformation. The only remedy legislative interference is one that naturally and rightly calls up many doubts and jealousies. Englishmen would start at the idea of placing in the hands of the executive a power by which the mimic aspirations of liberty might be crushed, and oppression be no longer denounced for their amusement. But we will venture to assert that a law more arbitrary in its nature, or more grievous and intolerable in its practice, than that which now governs theatrical productions, could not be devised by the wit of man. The obstacles which have been thrown in the way of various dramatic pieces during the present season are notorious enough. But it is not so commonly known that a tragedy upon the subject of Charles the First, from the able pen of Miss Mitford, has suffered strangulation as quietly as though the power by which it fell were no less legitimate and immutable than the use of the Turkish bowstring. We know not whether pain or indignation has predominated in the breasts of literary men at the circumstances connected with the recent exercise of this intolerable power. Who that feels a pride in the few leaves of evergreen which the passing century has added to our dramatic wreath, can behold, without pity, a name once only coupled with those honours, now become the very incubus of dramatic genius? But what man—whether he partake those feelings or not- is not indignant at the mere reflection, that the most monstrous of all legal anomalies should be permitted to exist in a free country? Doubtless there will be persons ready to set up the long established existence of the office and power of the licenser, as a proof of their excellence, and as a reason why they should remain inviolate. But who will produce, from the entire history of that office, any think like a parallel to the manner in which its power is now exercised? There is not a play of Shakspeare's, not a remnant of "The Old English Drama," nor a piece that ever retained possession of the stage, which could have been produced upon it under the present practice. That it is necessary to have a check upon the licentiousness and immorality to which the stage is obnoxious, there can be no question. But is such an object to be effected by a course of vexatious and unreasonable cavilling, or is not that course much rather calculated to bring all restraint into contempt? Public opinion, after all, has proved itself in this case the best guardian of public decency and public morals. What licenser would dare to think of banishing (leaving out of view the earlier dramatists) Congreve, Farquhar, Colman, and twenty other examples of licentiousness, from the stage, if their works were held unexceptionable in public opinion? Yet, to a considerable extent, public opinion has done it. From almost all our finest writers some grossness or other has been expunged in deference to that opinion. But where do we find it requiring the sacrifice of those splendid examples of dramatic poetry, which have been inspired by the sacred writings, or dictated by the pure and exalted sentiments of religion? Now, forsooth, these fountains of the sublime are to be closed against the dramatist, and never to be glanced at on the stage. What a sense of "the beauty of holiness" must that mind have entertained, which first conceived the magnanimous idea of investing it with such a safeguard! Like the Houri of the Moslem, these sacred charms are only to be adored in secret, to be worshipped in proportion to the strictness of their concealment! We, for our parts, should be satisfied to see these affairs of the stage left in the hands of the public. We should deem it entirely safe under the protection of a moral and intelligent people, who have already sacrificed a great portion of "The Old English Drama" to their rigid sense of duty. The abandonment of privilege is not, however, the order of the day, and we do not expect to see |