Faustus, which is a latin word signifying fortunate. He was a student of divinity at the college of Wittenberg, and having attained to a high position in that branch of learning, he entered upon the study of Magic, Necromancy, etc. Eventually he became the subject of a legend to the effect that he had sold himself to the devil.

Marlowe strictly adheres to this idea, which implies a contract between the man and the evil one, Lucifer, for a term of twenty-four years of youth, power and pleasure, in exchange for his body and soul.

The only analogy between the incident in the book of Job and the history of Dr. Faustus is that there is an adversary in both, and a man to be tried or tempted.

In Job, Satan has no expectation of finally destroying the man, his utmost hope is to plague him into an act of disobedience or disloyalty to the Almighty; and God puts a limit to his power, saying only "He is thine to tempt." But in Faustus, the man, in his pride of learning, himself summons these evil powers and signs his own destruction with his blood; thus, as it were tempting Hell, instead of being tempted. Goethe who professed greatly to admire Marlow's play, has treated the subject in a similar manner. His hero is also the student of Wittenberg who has learnt everything so thoroughly, that he has at last arrived at the conclusion that the only thing that can be known here on earth, is to know that nothing can be known. He then begins to deal in magic and necromancy, and discovers that he is able to summon spirits; the devil, however, in the form of a dog watches his opportunity and tempts him to his destruction. The final catastrophe is inferred rather

than declared.

Ben Jonson has a play called "The devil is an Ass." An amusing bit of fancy, but serving only to show that, if Satan sends a conceited little fool of a devil to do his work, and he comes in contact with strongminded mortals, he will probably be foiled in his attempts, make an Ass of himself and be summoned back to Hades in disgrace; leaving behind him only a spot of grease, and a strong smell of sulphur.

A writer in the time of Shakespeare, believed to be one, "Brewer,” produced "The Merry Devill of Edmonton "-a very favourite piece at the time, and often played.

He uses the same idea of a man selling his soul for supernatural powers; and, at the opening of the play, the magician's time has expired. But this writer combines the ideas of Marlowe and Jonson ; for, although the magician admits the contract, he catches the devil in a magic chair, and holds him fast until he grants another seven years' lease. He is good natured, and uses his supernatural powers to smooth the way for the young lovers of the piece, and bring them to a "happy-forever-after" conclusion; and, as the devil appears no more in the play, we conclude and hope he will be clever enough to extract a long series of seven years' leases from the messengers as they "come for him."

Dryden, that arch imitator, who imitates Sophocles, Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Milton, and all of them with great ability, has also tried his hand in this diabolic vein,

In his play of the "Duke of Guise," there is an astrologer whom the Duke consults, and he, in his turn, consults a familiar spirit. Like the witches in Macbeth, he "Keeps the promise to the ear and breaks it to the hope." Melanax, the Evil-one, appears at the end of twelve years to Malicorn, the astrologer, bringing with him the bond which was intended to be in force for twenty-one years. The astrologer discovers, to his dismay, that he has signed it with the figures reversed. The result is that he disappears in the midst of flames, and the Duke is assassinated the same day. The story is powerfully drawn, but is not equal to that of Marlowe.

About the year 1839, a book appeared which made a great sensation at the time, and called forth the most extravagant encomiums from all sorts of critics. Tennyson said of it "I can scarcely trust myself to say how much I admire it, for fear of falling into extravagance." A hundred others joined in chorus, and their opinions, which are recorded in print, are of the most enthusiastic character.

The author of this extraordinary book is Philip James Bailey, son of a Nottingham manufacturer. He was born in 1816, and was educated for the bar; and, as he is still living, and his biography-so far as I know-yet unwritten, I am not in a position to furnish any further particulars describing him, but will proceed to speak of his one work "Festus." It is a volume containing nearly 600 8vo pages, all in dramatic or colloquial form, and divided into scenes, not into acts. These scenes are placed in almost every conceivable locality-Heaven; Hell; the Centre of the Earth; the Moon; the Metropolis; and the last scene of all is the Judgment of the Earth. The characters introduced are, of course, appropriate to the localities depicted.

The first scene of Festus, like that of Job, is laid in heaven. Lucifer appears before God, and asks for the soul of Festus to tempt. God eventually gives him permission to try Festus, reminding him of the limit to his influence in the words "Upon his soul thou hast no power. All souls are mine for aye, and I do give thee leave to this, that he may know my love is more than all his sin; and prove himself that nought but God can satisfy the soul he maketh great."

To compare Bailey with Marlowe, the former appears to me to be a Christian with higher aspirations, aiming, in fact, at the universal salvation of all mankind, including, eventually, even the fallen angels. Marlowe, on the other hand, was accounted an Atheist, and would have been cited before the Ecclesiastical Court of Queen Elizabeth to answer for his "offences" if he had not met with a premature death by being slain in a brawl. The natural tendency of his thoughts was possibly towards doubt, but he really teaches, and with terrible force the orthodox belief in a devil. Faustus is destroyed, not for disbelief of God, but for his disbelief in a devil. Marlowe's Mephisto says plainly that eternal damnation is his own doom as it is that of his master-Lucifer; and that it will be the doom of Faustus also, and of all who disobey God and lead unholy lives.

I need not tell the story of Faustus. representations of Faust and Marguerite.

All are familiar with the stage
Well, the story is the same,

with this difference, that whereas Faust loves and ruins a simple village maiden, and lavishes his magic art to accomplish this object; nothing less than the possession of Helen of Greece will satisfy the passion and ambition of Faustus. In both works there is the same display of magic to carry on what may be termed the comic business; but there is nothing in Marlowe's piece equal in effect to the scene in Goethe's play, where the taps from which wine ran are made to pour out liquid fire when the men help themselves.

I do not feel competent to make a fair comparison between Marlowe and Goethe. I am not a German scholar, and can only know the works of the latter, therefore, by translations; but I have already indicated my opinion, that however beautifully drawn the character of Margaret may be, yet the prizes Faust strives after are insignificant, and that on the whole Marlowe's is the grander conception. The scene with Margaret in the prison, and the Apotheosis, are both grand and beautiful; but the closing scene of Faustus is even more powerful-almost faultless in conception and construction. And although the earlier part of the play is somewhat rugged, marred in places by rant and stilt, still 'tis "Marlowe's mighty line," and, to my mind, his is, on the whole the finer treatment of the subject.

But after all, we may ask, where is the philosophy of these plays? Is there really a devil? Are any of the poet's pictures like him? I promised at the outset that there should not be any theological disquisition on my part; but I digress thus far. I believe Laborare est orare, "Keep on keeping on." Do the duty that lies nearest to your hand; eat wholesome food-and no devil will come to you. Who can say how many of the evil attributes of the traditional devil are but the products of brains disordered by fasting or feasting? See the story of St. Dunstan who took the devil by the nose with a pair of red-hot tongs. No one doubts, or at least, need doubt that the good Saint made a very successful attack upon what he really thought was a devil. But the truth might be that while engaged in his ecclesiastical iron-work on a Friday-and consequently while fasting-a real bull appeared at his smithy door and frightened him. The roar of the animal, the apparition of head, horns, hoofs, and tail would naturally, under the circumstances incline him to believe that he had actually encountered the very devil himself.

I

But I must leave these profitless speculations and return to the original purport of this article, which was, while drawing attention to the various writers who have made his Satanic Majesty the object of their works, to point especially to Bailey's almost forgotten book. claim for this book, power, richness of imagery, and poetry almost equal to Milton's. There! The heresy is out! I like his theology better, and his poetry nearly as well. I think Milton has done endless mischief by his proud Satan, and his pictures of Hell; for his power of poetry has made them real to many a poor tortured soul.

Can any one explain why Festus is so soon forgotten? all this wealth of poetry has the author written no more?

Or why, with

To exhaust

Doubt

one's self intellectually at twenty-three is indeed a curious fate. less he is doing good work as a teacher-but this does not explain why--beyond two or three poems, he has ceased to write. He speaks in his “L' Envoi" of "Soul-wrack;" perhaps, in his case, the power is there but the process of wielding it is mentally too costly-too exhausting. When he dies his work may live, but never was one so warmly praised, never one so soon forgot.

In conclusion, I would express the hope that, in spite of my imperfect attempt to compare Faustus and Festus with the analogous poems, Job and Faust, I may induce some of my readers to read Festus for themselves. It is not a book to read continuously without a diversion to the thoughts by other reading. One cannot devour it at a sitting as if it were a sensational novel like "The Woman in White." Much of it is diffuse-many of the speeches are sadly too long. The same may be said, however, of the "Paradise Lost" and the "Paradise Regained," and nearly all the great poems; Spenser's "Faerie Queen" for instance, and Browning's " Ring and Book" of 20,000 lines, Swinurne's "Bothwell," and others. But we must take them as we find them, and I know of no poem that will better pay for a perusal than Bailey's "Festus." CHAMP DU SUD.

REVIEW.

SONGS AND SONNETS OF SPRINGTIME.-By CONSTANCE C. W. Naden.

(London: C. Kegan Paul and Co.)

IT is really refreshing, in these days of pretentious mediocrity, to light upon a collection of poems so fresh in thought, so perfect in rhythm, and withal so simple in construction as those comprised in Miss Naden's charming little volume. Nor is the authoress more remarkable for these qualities than for her versatility. She is as happy and successful in her humorous poems, and in the translations from German poets, as in her sonnets and lyrical compositions. In every one of her productions, so far as we have read, we find that indispensable element of perfection-a distinctly defined idea. Without this attribute the most fluent and facile of would-be-poets becomes a mere manufacturer of tinkling rhymes. But in Miss Naden's poems, it is the "thought," beautiful or quaint as the case may

be, which first attracts us; and, when we say that those thoughts are always expressed in graceful and musical language, and that we have not been able to detect either a forced rhyme, or a false metaphor, we have indicated pretty forcibly our opinion that Miss Naden's work is not only far above the ordinary run of poetry, but that it will eventually secure for her a more than local fame.

The striking feature of Miss Naden's volume is, that nearly all her poems are tinged with the cast of thought peculiar to German Literature. We do not mention this a defect, on the contrary, it is this acquaintance with the writings of Goethe, Siebel, and others, which has lifted her imagination, as it were, out of the ordinary groove of commonplace, and has given to her writings a depth and tone which we seldom meet with in the present day. We heartily congratulate Miss Naden on the success of this, her maiden effort, and we are proud of the right to claim her as a local poetess.

Our space will not allow us to give more than one example, but this we trust will suffice to induce our readers to purchase the volume* and judge for themselves :

SPEECH AND SILENCE.

When some sweet voice flows forth in foreign speech,

The soul shines through the words and makes them clear,

And all we see interprets all we hear;

For smiles and frowns have wondrous power to teach,

And voiceless grief our inmost heart can reach,

With calm, deep gaze, too sad for hope or fear :
Our eyes are wet for those who shed no tear,
And lips that death has silenced, yet may preach.

In stillness we must win our deepest lore,

Or 'mid the speechless chant of earth and sea.
Truth is a spirit, bodiless and free;

Imaged in words, 'tis perfect truth no more;
For all our lofty visions fade and flee,

And song begins when ecstacy is o'er.

* Published at 5s., and sold by Cornish Brothers, Hudson and Sons, and the Educational Companies.