are not, however, the less entitled to reception. The route homewards abounds in vicissitudes. A different course from that by which the prisoners arrived, equally led them across desarts; at the distance of thirteen days from Tombuctoo, is Tudenny, distinguished by four wells of excellent water, and large ponds or beds of salt, from which the country round about to a great distance is supplied. A desert of twenty-nine days succeeded; hunger, thirst, exhausted strength, and death. At length a watering place, and a village of tents, afforded relief; and here Adams and his companions were employed in taking care of goats and sheep, during eleven months. Here despair of liberty led Adams to revolt, and flight: he reached another village, obtained another master, and, a mistress, too; but, the intercourse was detected; and the culprit was again sold, to a purchaser whose residence being at Wadinoon, to the northward, brings him so much nearer home. Here he found three of his fellow sailors in the Charles, was ill treated, put in irons, and doomed to death, but at length was ransoméd by the British Vice Consul, and brought into his service, whence he gradually proceeded by way of Mogadore and Cadiz, to London. The reception of Adams by the ViceConsul, Mr. Dupuis, at Mogadore, affords an opportunity of comparing the story he then told, with the accounts he gave when examined in London; and, indeed, was an occasion of his being discovered in London, in a distressed condition, by a gentleman who had seen him at Cadiz in the service of an English Merchant, there, where his history, as having been at Tombuctoo, was reported, and excited considerable interest. To Mr. Dupuis we are also indebted for many valuable notes, and various information; which, on the whole, confirm the testimony of this wandering sailor, while they assign a proper level to his powers of observation, and his general qualifications. After having received assistance, and told his story, he quitted London for America, as soon as possible; leaving behind him a large portion of a bounty assigned him by the Lords of the Treasury, which will be increased by the profits of this volume. It The public mind looks with great anxiety to the expeditions now advancing in Africa: a more favourable point of time for the appearance of this narrative could not occur. increases our acquaintance with the country and the people, though not so much as might have been hoped for from a better prepared mind. We pay little attention to Adams's errors in Natural History, or in Geography, which must strike every reader; they are those of an illiterate sailor. An elephant with four tusks; -an animal with a pouch on its back, in which it deposits its prey, are evidently mistakes occasioned by ignorance of language. Many confusions equally gross have the same cause. Adams has taken many Negro words for Arabic, and vice versa. He has imperfectly guessed the situation of places, and the direction of routes; nevertheless, we accept the narrative, generally, as genuine, and instructive. It is at least equal to those obtained from the Moorish merchants, which were all we had, previously; and it assists to moderate that exaggerated estimate which some had formed of the vast magnitude of that object after which, as well the French nation, as ourselves, had been long anxious. It would not surprise us, should future discoveries divest the personages whom Adams has described as royal, of some of their dignity; nor to find, that this famous city of Tombuctoo was not the Metropolis of the Sovereignty, nor the real center of trade. That probably, is on the great river; and remains yet to be discovered. The description given by Adams of the milder character of the negroes, and the more ferocious disposition of the Moors, we believe to be strictly just. sand facts well authenticated: another It is to be remarked that the Christian captives are invariably worse treated than the idolatrous or Pagan slaves whom the Arabs, either by theft or purchase, bring from the interior of Africa, and that religions bigotry is the chief cause of this distiuction. The zealous disciples of Mo hammed consider the Negroes merely as ignorant unconverted beings, upon whom, by the act of enslaving them they are conferring a benefit, by placing them within reach of instruction in the "true belief;" and the Negroes having no hopes of ransom, and being often enslaved when children, are in general, soon converted to the Mohammedan faith. The Christians, on the contrary, are looked upon as hardened infidels, and as deliberate despisers of the Prophet's call; and as they in general stedfastly reject the Mohammedan creed, and at least never embrace it whilst they have hopes of ransom, the Mooslim, consistently with the spirit of many passages in the Koran, views them with the bitterest hatred, and treats them with every insult and cruelty which a merciless bigotry can suggest. It is not to be understood, however, that the Christian slaves, though generally illtreated and inhumanly worked by their Arab owners, are persecuted by them ostensibly on account of their religion.They, on the contrary, often encourage the Christians to resist the importunities of those who wish to convert them: for, by embracing Islamism the Christian slave obtains his freedom; and however ardent may be the zeal of the Arab to make proselytes, it seldom blinds him to the calcu lations of self-interest. A curious instance of the struggle thus excited between Mohammedan zeal and worldly interest, was related to me to have occurred at Wed-Noon, in the case of a boy belonging to an English vessel which had been wrecked on the neighbouring coast a short time previous to the "Charles." This boy had been persuaded to embrace the Mohammedan faith; but after a little while, repenting of what he had done, he publicly declared that he had renounced the doctrines of the Koran, and was again a Christian. To punish so atrocious an outrage, the Arabs of Wed-Noon resolved to burn him; and they would no doubt have punctually performed the ceremony, but for the interference of the man from whose service the boy had emancipated himself by his first conversion. This man contended, that by abjuring the Mohammedan faith, the boy had returned into his former condition of slavery, and was again his property; and in spite of the most opprobrious epithets which were heaped upon him (including even the term "infidel," the horror and abomination of all true Mooselmin) the man insisted that if they would burn the boy, they should first reimburse him for the value of a slave. Reluctant to lose their sacrifice, the Arabs now attempted to raise money by subscription to purchase the boy; and contributions were begged about the town to burn the Christian. But in the end, as they made slow progress towards obtaining by these means a sufficient sum to purchase the boy, they relinquished their project; the owner, however, was shortly afterwards obliged to remove his slave to another part of the country, to secure him from private assasination. But, not religious zeal alone prompts them to such cruelty: these Moors of Africa take offence but too easily, and when once offended, are with difficulty pacified. They harbour revenge, too, with the most obstinate perseverance, and take a delight in perpetrating it. A history of such a transaction is given in the Appendix, No. II. to this volume; which our readers will consider as a fixed trait in the character of these impassioned sons of Africa. The following anecdote, to the catastrophe of which I was an eye-witness, will exemplify in, some degree these traits of their character. A Shilluh having murdered one of his countrymen in a quarrel, fled to the Arabs from the vengeance of the relations of his antagonist; but not thinking himself secure even there, he joined a party of pilgrims and went to Mecca.From this expiatory journey he returned at the end of eight or nine years to Barbary; and proceeding to his native district, he there sought (under the sanctified name of El Haje, the Pilgrim, a title of reverence amongst the Mohammedans) to effect a reconciliation with the friends of the deceased. They, however, upon hearing of his return, attempted to seize him; but owing to the fleetness of his horse he escaped and fled to Mogadore, having been severely wounded by a musket ball in his flight.His pursuers followed him thither; but the Governor of Mogadore hearing the carcumstances of the case, strongly interested himself in behalf of the fugitive, and endeavoured, but in vain, to effect a reconciliation. The man was imprisoned; and his persecutors then hastened to Morocco to seek justice of the Emperor. That prince, it is said, endeavoured to save the prisoner; and to add weight to his recommendation, offered a pecuniary compensation in lieu of the offender's life; which the parties, although persons of mean condition, rejected. They returned triumphant to Mogadore, with the Emperor's order for the delivery of the prisoner into their hands: and having taken him out of prison, they immediately conveyed him without the walls of the town, where one of the party, loading his musket before the face of their victim, placed the muzzle to his breast and shot him through the body; but as the man did not immediately fall, he drew his dagger and by repeated stabbing put an end to his existence. The calm intrepidit with which this unfortunate Shilluh stood to meet his fate, could not be witnessed without the highest admiration; and, how ever much we must detest the blood-thirsti ness of his executioners, we must still ac knowledge that there is something closely allied to nobleness of sentiment in the inflexible perseverance with which they pursued the murderer of their friend to punishment, without being diverted from their purpose by the strong inducements of self-interest. A Course of Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, by Augustus William Schlegel: translated from the original German. By John Black. 2 Vols. Svo. Price 24s. Baldwin and Co. don. 1815. Lon THAT Germany has lately produced eminent men in the various walks of Literature, is a well known fact, although from public circumstances, we, in this island, have had but slight acquaintance with their labours. Intercourse being again established, we have the pleasing prospect of receiving both profit and pleasure by continental communications learned and ingenious; while, to judge from what Catalogues and Journals have reached us, we derive satisfaction from the returns made by our country; and from the honourable post assigned to the labours of British literati, in the esteem of intelligent foreigners. There certainly was a defect in German feelings, as there was in those of our own nation, among the leading characters of the last generation, or rather perhaps, of the generation before the last, in following too partially the modes and sentiments which prevailed in France. We are not illiberal enough to pronounce a thing worthless, because it originates with a rival, or an enemy; neither are we so incapable of judging for ourselves, as to accept without examination whatever a rival, or an enemy, thinks proper to boast of as superior or exquisite. Nonsense is nonsense, and frivolity is frivolity, whether sanctioned by French critics, who laugh at German solidity, or by Germans, who detect the deceptions of French superciliousness, and scowl at the frightful fashions, to which the folly of the moment obliges them to conform. Frederic of Prussia patronized whatever was French: his flatterers, to obtain his favour, praised whatever he patronized. The consequences we have seen, and dearly bas Prussia paid for the errors of Frederic. A better spirit has arisen in Germany, and now, independent of former bias, that country exercises the right of thinking for itself. On this independence we congratulate it. This will, no doubt, pervade the whole of the national feelings, and instead of a mongrel set of notions, neither French nor German, but a bad mixture of both; ideas and sentiments truly German will display themselves, and take the lead in affairs of moment, for such is national opinion; in affairs, too, not equally important, though certainly, not without a respectable degree of consequence. That is of consequence which the public think so; and whether it be the duty of preserving inviolate the energies of a National Constitution, or maintaining in due dignity the honour of a National Theatre, if it affect the public mind, no well-informed statesman will deem it beneath his notice. The relaxations and amusements of the citizens in civilized states, have always been objects of attention to the Governors of those states; and though, it may be supposed, that the officers entrusted with the duty of inspecting them, have seldom been critically acquainted with the rules of Aristotle, or the maxims of the Greeks, yet, they ought to have been familiar with the effect of certain spectacles on the minds, the passions, and the prejudices too, of their countrymen; and alive to the practical application of the principle, which enjoins all possible care that the Commonwealth sustains no injury. To have broken the shackles of vice is no small act of virtue: to have dared to restore freedom from French domina tion, though to the transitory kings and queens of the theatre only, is honourable to the author of the lectures before us. We cannot, indeed, adopt every word he says; and must beg leave to dissent even from parts of his panegyric on Shakespeare; yet we honour his independence, and we respect the diligence manifested in his researches. He introduces his instructions by reference to the antients, and among them, principally to the Greeks; for the Romans he keeps mostly in the back ground. Now, it is true, that we have not much acquaintance with the theatre of other nations; yet, we own, that we did expect some notice of those very curious dramas which modern learning has brought to our acquaintance from India; -dramas, which, from their antiquity, as well as their native beauties, demand the consideration of critics and connoi seurs. to whom the Historian (if he existed,) was inaccessible. A national event be came the dignity of tragedy; a village incident, or rumour, was the favourite of comedy. The ordinary characters of ordinary life, figured in the barn, or found their representatives in the strolling company; but kings and heroes and deities, demanded greater preparations, more artificial splendour, and more striking configuration in every part. Neither were these events always com plete in a single incident: they consisted of parts, consequences, naturally following from some leading event. The poet could not (or would not) always bring the whole of these into one piece. He found in different parts of the same story sufficient employment for his Muse, and he preferred affecting the minds of spectators by simplicity, rather than oppressing them by superabundance. He therefore divided his theme. Dramatic exhibitions certainly exist in China; they were not unknown to the South Sea Islanders, discovered by Cooke; and some allusion to those scenes, though savage, would have added a variety to the themes treated on by the Lecturer. To come nearer to his purpose, Egypt unquestionably had Dramas, though their nature is not fully known to us; they were probably, religious; especially those which took for gious; as in the first instance, no doubt, were those of Greece. Moreover, we do not think, that these religious observances were originally intrusted to a strolling Thespis in his Cart. It was not religious rites, in any sense, that were performed by actors whose cheeks, for want of more comely red, were stained with lees of wine. If so, the distinction between the rise and the his tory of Tragedy and Comedy is clear: Tragedy was historic, religious and instructive: Comedy was popular, personal, and perfidious; it was character swollen into Caricatura. Nothing could be more natural, than the desire to become acquainted with the history of the country; and nothing could more strongly coincide with the disposition of a wise legislature. Ancient events were, therefore, set before a people who could not read; and History was taught by the poet, to those VOL.V. No. 25. Lit. Pan. N. S. Oct. 1, And we acknowledge an obligation to M. Schlegel, for having set the fact of a trilogy, or three pieces performed on the same day, in a somewhat stronger light than usual: we are hereby enabled to discern to what degree certain tragedies besides being historical, were reli their basis the woes of the house of Atreus. These woes originated in the impiety and perjury of King Tantalus, whose race was distinguished for violence and murder; but, especially from the cruelty of Atreus, who caused two children of his brother to be served up to their father at an entertainment. Agamemnon, his son, obtained his wife Clytemnestra, by slaying her husband. Menelaus, another son, married Helen, whose seduc tion by Paris, caused the ruin of Troy; for, to avenge the insult Greece collected her forces; which being windbound, cost the hapless Iphigenia, daughter of Againemnon, her life, as a sacrifice to Diana; under pretence of avenging Iphigenia, Clytemuestra, with her paramour Egisthus, murdered Aga memnon, on his return from Troy; to avenge Agamemnon, Orestes murdered his mother, Clytemnestra; and to pus et sceleratus codem. This deed, although perpetrated from the most powerful niotives. is repugnant however to natural and moral order. Orestes as a Prince was, it is true, entitled to exercise justice even on the members of his own family: but he was under the necessity of stealing in disguise into the dwelling of the tyrannical usurper of his throne, and of going to work like an assassin. The memory of his father pleads his excuse; but although Clytemnestra has deserved death, the blood of his mother still rises up in judgment against him. This is represented in the Eumenides in the form of contention among the Gods, some of whom approve of the deed of Orestes, while others persecute him, till at last the divine wisdom, under the figure of Minerva, reconciles the opposite claims, esta nish Orestes, the Furies haunted him to insanity and restlessness. Here, howéver, punishment stops; for Clytemuestra certainly deserved death, though her son should not have been the person to inflict it: Orestes is brought to trial; and, the votes being equal, he is acquitted. This history furnished topics for the ingenuity of several Poets; and the pieces -they composed are to be considered as unfolding that chain of events, (all conducted by interference of the gods) by which one primary crime led to many more; each generation, as fresh agents rose, deserved personal punishment for personal guilt, still combining the recollection of the original gression; till the balance of crime and of punishment became equal. trans-blishes a peace, and puts an end to the long series of crimes and punishments which desolated the royal house of Atreus. Among the remaining pieces of Æschylus, we have what is highly deserving of our attention, a complete trilogy. The antiquarian account of trilogies is this, that in the more early times the poet did not contend for the prize with a single piece, but with three, which however were not always connected together by their contents, aud that a fourth satirical drama was also attached to them. All these were suc means cessively represented in one day. The idea which we must form of the trilogy in relation to the tragic art is this: a tragedy cannot be indefinitely lengthened and continued, like the Homeric epic poem for example, to which whole rhapsodies have been appended; for this is too independent and complete within itself. Notwithstand ing this circumstance, however, several tragedics may be connected together by of a common destiny running throughout all their actions in one great cycle. Hence the fixing on the number three adınits of a satisfactory explanation. It is the thesis, the antithesis, and the conLexion. The advantage of this conjunction was that, in the consideration of the connected fables, a more ample degree of gratification was derived than could possibly be obtained from a single action. The objects of the three tragedies might be separated by a wide interval of time, or follow close upon one another. The three pieces of the trilogy of Eschylus are Agamennon, the Choephora or Electro, and the Eumenides or Furies, The of ject of the first is the murder of Agameer nou by Clytemnestra, on his return from Troy. In the second, Orestes avenges his father by killing his mother: facto pius A considerable interval takes place between the period of the first and second pieces, during which Orestes grows up to manhood. The second and third are connected together immediately in the order of time. Orestes takes fight after the murder of his mother to Delphi, where we find him at the commencement of the Eumenides. In each of the two pieces, there is a visible reference to the one which follows. In Agamemnon, Cassandra and the chorus prophesy, at the close, to the arrogant Clytemuestra and her paramour Ægisthus, the punishment which awaits them at the hands of Orestes. In the Choephora, Orestes, immediately after the execution of the deed, finds no longer any repose; the furies of his mother begin to persecute him, and he announces his resolution of taking refuge in Delphi. The connexion is therefore evident throughout, and we may consider the three pieces, which were connected together even in the representation, as so many acts of one great and entire drama. I mention this as a preliminary justification of Shakspeare and other modern poets, in. connecting together in one representation a larger circle of human destinies, as we can produce to the critics who object to this the supposed example of the ancients And now, what becomes of the boasted unities of time and place, so zealously enforced by the French critics? -If these three pieces, forming one subject, are no other than the acts of a modern drama, in what does the management of them differ from Rich |