ed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,―or the inconsistent vagaries of Norwegian fishermen.

Indeed, Mr Editor, it is a happy circumstance for our country, that if such an animal as the kraken do exist, their numbers are not great, nor are they capable of any great exertion. If this species had an existence when Pliny flourished, (which your correspondent seems to prove,) there either must have been no propagation since that period, or the passage over the German Ocean (at least between Shetland and Norway,) must have been rendered, many years ago, impracticable, by their natural mortality. The general depth of that channel is from 60 to 80 fathoms; and in no part, even up to Spitzbergen, deeper than 6 or 700 fathoms. Now, allowing that when Pliny wrote, there existed ten couple of these animals-that they propagated only one male and one female in sixty years-that they never were killed by accident, nor by the hand of man, (for so it appears,) but died a natural death at the good round age of two hundred years, what must be the aggregate number lying dead, or now roaming at large on the northern ocean? As this question, however, involves much nicety of calculation, I shall at present leave it to the determination of our worthy professor of Mathematics.

The whale, which is the largest sea animal, except the one in question, that we know of, is generally supposed to have young every second or third year; and the Greenland fishers, aware of this fact, always make sure of the mother, (for the maternal affection is here exhibited in a very striking point of view, which I have more than once witnessed,) by killing her young first. Allowing, however, that the whale had been originally constituted like the kraken, at least so far as never to appear on the surface but in calm weather, (which is seldom the case in these climates,) nor any of the species to have been killed by man, and that the usual term of their existence was two hundred years, is it at all probable, or consistent with reason, to suppose, that out of one hundred and fifty-seven thousand whales, (about the average number killed by Europeans since 1660,) not one of this multitude should ever have been seen by ships passing and re

passing on their respective voyages, floating dead or alive on the sea, or driven, by various causes, either on the coast of Scotland, its isles, or that of Norway. On the contrary, seldom a year passes but there are numerous instances of whales losing themselves, and running on some of the abovementioned coasts. I shall not agitate, this question farther; and therefore proceed to the examination of the colossal cuttle-fish, which shall not detain us long.

The cuttle-fish, though, according to Pennant, Shaw, and others, enormously large, bears no comparison to the mighty kraken; nor can I well see, from the description given of the two monsters, how they can be identified as the same species; the one being an inhabitant of the Indian Ocean, the other of the North Sea,

The only thing like evidence in support of the existence of the colossal cuttle-fish, (and that is of a most suspicious kind,) is an account given by a Captain Dens, recorded in the works of Denys Mertfort, and made use of by subsequent authorities, that the Captain, while in the African Seas, lost three of his men by an attack from this monster, whilst employed in cleaning the ship's sides; and he adds, "that its arms were the thickness of a mizen mast, with suckers of the size of pot-lids."

Pennant, it appears, only affirms, "that he was well assured by persons of undoubted credit, that in the Indian Seas it has been found of such a size as to measure two fathoms in breadth across the central part," &c. &c.—the remaining part of the passage is too absurd to merit attention. Dr Shaw appears to have made Captain Dens' account of this sea monster a subject of lecture, without the support of ocular demonstration, or other testimonies sufficient to impress us with any belief of its actual exist

ence.

Now, Mr Editor, I was fifteen years afloat in the Indian Ocean, and, during that eventful period, visited almost every island, capital, creek, and course, from the Cape of Good Hope to the confines of the Molucca Islands, but never saw nor heard of this monster, nor any of the ravages of its ferocity. It may, however, be asserted, and with some justice, that the evidence of seamen, relative to the wonderful productions of nature, or other

subjects peculiar to the countries they have visited, is often unaccountably exaggerated; or, if near the truth, so perplexed with ignorance, that it is extremely difficult to gather truth from such authority. I conceive, however, that if the ravages cominitted by the colossal cuttle-fish were nearly as frequent as the horrid ferocities of the shark, alligator, &c. its name and terror would have been as frequently in our mouths and minds, as the names and terrors of these enemies of the human race; but, so far from this being the case, I do not recollect ever having heard, during the long period I was in those seas, of the name ever being mentioned.

Whilst in the Red Sea, watching the motions of Bonaparte, I remember often observing, as did also every officer and man in the ship, an enormous sea monster; but so far from being ferocious, like the cuttle-fish, when we made any attempt in our boats to approach it, it continually disappeared. This fish (the name of which I never ascertained,) was always to be discovered in the Red Sea, by vast flocks of gulls hovering over the spot where it lay. When perfectly calm, which was there frequently the case, particularly in the mornings, we used to be highly amused by looking at this monster lying basking in the rays of the sun, with the upper jaw of the mouth, which had some resemblance to the great porch door of an old cathedral, but probably much larger, hove back to the angle of 45° from the perpendicular, whilst the lower jaw lay extended on the surface of the sea. In this position, while thousands of gulls (whether attracted by the odour of its breath, or some other cause, I know not) were flying immediately over the throat, making a dreadful noise, which was heard at a great distance, the upper and lower jaws were brought together like lightning, with a clap resembling the report of a great gun, by which means some hundreds of the feathered tribe were entrapped into the stomach. This operation was repeated about every ten minutes, until satisfied, when the animal disappeared.

After what I have advanced against the existence of the kraken and cuttlefish, it may be expected I should say something about the great sea serpent. I have often witnessed, both in the

East and West Indies, as well as in the southern parts of the coast of America, many sea snakes, as they are called, from six to twelve, and even fourteen feet in length, but very harmless in their nature. In the year 1792, while at anchor at St Johns, Antigua, one of these snakes, which was about six feet, as well as I remember, in length, got on the ship's deck by means of the cable, through the hawsehole, which was taken up in the naked hand, and heaved into its own ele

ment.

Had your correspondent repressed Paul Egede's absurd and irreconcileable fiction (for it deserves no other term), and a few others of the like cast, our belief would have been greatly strengthened by the information given by our transatlantic brethren; but when we see so many absurdities mixed with facts, I really do not well know what to think of the whole, when deliberately called on to give credit to such a fable as, "A hideous sea monster was seen, July 6th," but no year mentioned, which reared itself so high above the water, that its head overtopped our mainsail," which must have been at least forty feet above the surface of the sea. "It had a long pointed nose, out of which it spouted like a whale. Instead of fins, it had great broad flaps like wings; its body seemed to be grown over with shell-work," perhaps in masonic order; " and its skin was very rugged and uneven. It was shaped like a serpent behind; and when it dived into the water again, it plunged itself backwards, and raised its tail above the water a whole ship's length from its body."

I shall only observe again, that it is a most fortunate circumstance, that these sea monsters are so very scarce as not to be seen more than once or twice in a whole century; for if more numerous, the consequence would have been most fatal to a great maritime nation, like Great Britain. Our seamen, undoubtedly the most superstitious part of the whole community, would very soon have lost all that ardour and enterprise with which this brave and heroic body of men are so universally characterised; our emi nence, foreign and domestic, would soon have been annihilated, government bankrupt, and the nation a prey to famine and civil discord. These

are considerations worthy, if not of the attention of your correspondent, at least of the serious contemplation of ministers; and in order to ascertain the fact of the existence of these sea monsters, I strongly recommend, without loss of time, such measures as, in the wisdom of government, may appear most conducive to that end. But perhaps the ships that have gone on the northern expedition have orders to this effect. W. B. Edinburgh, 9th May 1818.

NOTICES OF THE ACTED DRAMA IN

LONDON.

No V.

Covent Garden Theatre.

MR SHEIL, the author of the Apostate, has written a new tragedy called BELLAMIRA, or THE FALL OF TUNIS, which was produced at this theatre on the 22d of April. It is characterised by the same faults as Mr Sheil's first production, and they are carried to even a more extravagant extent; but, from what we could judge by the representation, it possesses more and greater beauties. The plot is, to the last degree, puerile and improbable. It seems to have been taken from the circulating library, which could very well afford to part with it, for there are five hundred or five thousand as good left behind. The scene is laid at Tunis, but wherefore, there appears no conceivable reason, for all the chief persons are Italians. In fact, Chance has brought the five principal characters together, for the sole purpose of affording Mr Sheil an opportunity of writing a tragedy about them; and he seems to have chosen Tunis, in preference to any other place, in order that he might be delivered of certain common-places which he had conceived, respecting the conduct of the European powers, in so long suffering a herd of vulgar barbarians to make slaves of their more polite and civilized Christian neighbours, who would no doubt have been greatly scandalized at doing any thing of the kind themselves. The plot, which we in part extract from the newspapers, is as follows:

Count Manfredi (Mr C. Kemble), a nobleman of Naples, who is in slave

ry at Tunis, discovers that Charles V. is marching against the pirate city. He arms the Christian slaves against their tyrants, and becomes himself their leader; binding himself by an oath, that not liberty, or even the embraces of his wife and child, shall make him abandon the common cause. At this period his wife Bellamira (Miss O'Neil), whom he considered to be in Italy, and separated from him for ever, arrives at Tunis with her child, as slaves. Manfredi attempts to save his wife from the grasp of the barbarians, and is, in consequence, about to be sacrificed to their rage, when Montalto (Mr Young) arrives on the spot, and saves him. Montalto has been admiral of Naples; but being exiled, by the intrigues of his own brother Salerno (Mr Terry), he repairs to Tunis, abjures his religion, and is placed in high power. He uses it to give freedom to Manfredi, his wife, and child, about whom he is particularly interested, on account of her resemblance, both in name and person, to his own (as he supposes) murdered child-murdered by Salerno. At this period Sinano (Mr Macready), who is also a renegade from his country, arrives from the barbarian camp, with orders to destroy the chief of the Christian slaves, and to depose Montalto from the government. In Manfredi he finds his deadly foe, the favoured lover of Bellamira, and the cause of his disgrace and exile from his native land. He separates the husband and wife, disgraces and imprisons Montalto and Manfredi, and takes Bellamira to his palace. Various scenes ensue between these two characters, in which she resists all his threats and intreaties, and rejects his proffered love. At this time Tunis is attacked by the Spaniards. Sinano is wounded in the battle which ensues, but has still strength left to arrive at the dungeon where he has confined his enemies, in order to destroy them. He kills Montalto, and is killed by him, but not before Montalto has discovered that Bellamira is his child, and Salerno his guilty but repentant brother. Tunis is now taken; and the tragedy closes with the reunion of Manfredi and Bellamira.

This, as the reader will perceive, is forced and extravagant enough. But in truth, the plot of a tragedy, as well as of any other of the higher species

of poetry, is of the smallest possible consequence; at least Shakspeare and the Greek tragedians thought so, and they knew something of the matter, whatever our modern dramatists may think. With them character and passion were every thing, and plot nothing: with us it is just the reverse. That the story of Electra had been chosen for the subject of tragedies before his time, was perhaps the very reason that Sophocles fixed upon it for the most beautiful that remains to us of his. The audience knew every particular of the plot beforehand; so that there was nothing to divide or distract their attention from the developements of character or passion. On the contrary, the audience of a modern play can find nothing better to do, the moment it begins, than set about to conjecture how it will end. It was so at Covent Garden theatre on the first

night of Bellamira. The viva voce critics who sat near us in the pit began to discover, in the second act, that Miss O'Neil* could be no other than C. Kemble's wife; shortly after, they settled that she would turn out to be Young's daughter; and lastly, as Mr Terry still remained without a local habitation or a name," they concluded, that as he must be somebody, he was the brother of Mr Young, and consequently the uncle of Miss O'Neil. Before long, all these conjectures proved to be very true; and when they ceased to be secrets, the persons who had made the discoveries, having no farther interest in the matter, talked of something else.

It is this "fatal curiosity," this diseased appetite for violent stimulants, that has been the bane of the modern stage. It was at first the effect of bad dramas, and is now become the cause of them; and what is worse, it is the cause of the absence of good ones. We have poets who are qualified to excel in the very highest departments of our acting drama; but they are deterred from attempting it, on account of the vitiated state of the public taste. Mr Sheil possesses powers that might and should have been employed in helping to correct this unhealthy

The audience of a modern play always speak and think of the characters by the name of the persons who act them. This is a more severe and sagacious criticism than they intend it to be.

craving after unwholesome and enervating food; instead of which, they have hitherto done nothing but administer to and aggravate it. And the worst of all is, that he has made his chief agent in this bad work, a charming creature, who is endowed with qualities adapted, in the most beautiful manner, to a directly opposite purpose. Miss O'Neil, and beings like her, were given us to cure the evils of humanity, not to enhance them; to "make a sunshine in a shady place," not to scatter clouds and tempests in our path. In the Apostate, Mr Sheil carried this moral torture, to which we allude, as far as we thought it could go; but in the tragedy before us he has invented a new kind of rack, by which the feelings are absolutely drawn and quartered. He places Miss O'Neil on a certain spot in the centre of the stage, and contrives to keep her there by means of the most violent emotions, which pull at the same moment in precisely opposite directions, and with nearly equal forces. The three grand cords (besides several subsidiary ones) by which he effects this notable purpose, are, maternal, conjugal, and filial affection. The maternal, however, seems to have the strongest power; and accordingly, a little child is used as a kind of loadstone to draw her about just as the author pleases. It is introduced into several scenes for this sole purpose, and never speaks a word during the whole play. This is very mischievous and unworthy trifling; and, judging from ourselves, its only effect is to give unmingled pain at first, and at length to become quite ludicrous.

We shall endeavour to return to this subject in a future Number. In the mean time, we must add, that we think this second dramatic production of Mr Sheil evinces rare and valuable powers. The language, though sometimes overstrained, and disfigured by the common-places of poetry, is frequently pure, vigorous, and unaffected; the characters are, upon the whole, powerfully and consistently drawn; and there occasionally occur original and highly poetical thoughts and images.

Drury-Lane Theatre.

MARLOW'S JEW OF MALTA.-On the 24th of April, this play was re

vived here. The Jew of Malta is, on many accounts, a very curious and interesting work. It is undoubtedly the foundation of Shakspeare's Jew. But it possesses claims to no common admiration for itself; for, besides the high poetical talent it exhibits, it may be considered as the first regular and consistent English drama; the first unassisted and successful attempt to embody that dramatic unity which had been till then totally neglected or overlooked. The dramatic poems which preceded the Jew of Malta could be considered as dramas only in so far as they exhibited events, instead of relating them. The poet, instead of telling a story himself, introduced various persons to speak their own thoughts and feelings, as they might be supposed to arise from certain events and circumstances; but his characters, for the most part, expressed themselves in a style and language moulded and tinctured by his particular habits of thinking and feeling.

Marlow was the first poet before Shakspeare who possessed any thing like real dramatic genius, or who seemed to have any distinct notion of what a drama should be, as distinguished from every other kind of poetical composition. It is with some hesitation that we dissent from the opinion of an able writer in this Magazine, in thinking, that the Jew of Malta is Marlow's best play. Not that we like it better than the Faustus or Edward II., but it is better as a play. There is more variety of character, and more of moral purpose, in the Edward II., and the Faustus exhibits loftier and more impassioned poetry; but neither of those plays possess, in so great a degree as the one before us, that rare, and when judiciously applied, most important quality, which we have called dramatic unity,-that tending of all its parts to engender and sustain the same kind of feeling throughout. In the Jew of Malta, the characters are all, without exception, wicked, in the common acceptation of the term. Barabas, the Goyernor, Ithamore, the Friars, Abigail, to compass their own short-sighted views, all set moral restraint at defiance, and they are all unhappy, -and their unhappiness is always brought about by their own guilt. We cannot agree with many persons in thinking, that this play is without a VOL. III.

moral purpose; or that Barabas is a mere monster, and not a man. We cannot allow, that even Ithamore is gratuitously wicked. There is no such thing in nature-least of all in human nature, and Marlow knew this. It is true that Ithamore appears to be so at first sight. He finds it a pleasant pastime to go about and kill men and women who have never injured him. But it must not be forgotten that he is a slave; and a slave should no more be expected to keep a compact with the kind from which he is cut off, than a demon or a wild beast. Who shall limit the effects of slavery on the human mind? Let those answer for the crimes of Ithamore who broke the link that united him to his species. For a more full account of this play in its original state, we refer the reader to Vol. II. p. 260, of this Magazine.

The alterations in the Jew of Malta, as it has now been performed, are chiefly confined to omissions, with the exception of a long and tedious scene between Lodowick and Mathias at the commencement, in which each tells the other and the audience the story of his love for Abigail, the Jew's daughter, which said love nobody cares any thing about. What could be the inducement to change the fine and characteristic commencement of the original, in which we are at once introduced to Barabas in his countinghouse, among his gold? Lodowick and Mathias are very uninteresting and intrusive people at best; and it is quite time enough to be troubled with them when the author wants them in order to heighten his principal character. But it is a remarkable fact, that managers of theatres seem to know less of the true purposes and bearings of the dramatic art than any other given set of people whatever. After saying this generally, it is but fair to add, that we noticed two slight alterations in this play, which seemed to evince something that looked almost like genius. In the third act, after having purchased the slave Ithamore, in order to ascertain whether he will suit his purposes, Barabas desired to know his "birth, condition, and profession." Ithamore answers, that his profession is any thing his new master pleases. "Hast thou no trade?" says Barabas, "then listen to my words;" and then, after counselling him to dis2 D