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the hearse. When nature could endure wakefulness no longer, it was with a struggle that I consented to sleep; for I shuddered

finally, I sank into slumber, it was only to rush at once into the world of phantasms, above which, with vast, sable, overshadowing wings, hovered predominant the one sepulchral idea." * This is an accurate picture of a strong intellect, harassed by doubt.

pit, because he is a sneerer. Milton's Devil I was subjected haunted me day and night. is too proud to be flippant. Napoleon rarely In the former, the torture of meditation was indulged in mere verbiage, like Voltaire. excessive; in the latter, supreme. When Great ambition, which cannot exist without the grim darkness overspread the earth, great pride, is always self-concentrated, col- then, with the very horror of thought, I lected, above mere smartness; terrible in its shook-shook as the quivering plumes upon silence. But Göethe has represented evil by making its personification an Encyclopædist. Byron too has grappled with the nature of evil. A Lucifer, in his hands, means in- to reflect that, upon awaking, I might find tellect. His Devil is not the demon of pride, myself the tenant of a grave. And when, like Milton's, nor the demon of skepticism, like Goëthe's; but, if we may be permitted the phrase, the demon of metaphysical analysis. He is a logician, a reasoner, a bold theorizer. He represents pure reason, unsupported by faith. We do not assert that the poet intended that it should be so; but as Cain, in the drama, personifies a metaphysical and analytic intellect, Lucifer very evidently is its attendant shadow, which we may call daring Doubt. Byron does not make the primal murderer a commonplace villain; he is none of his capricious Corsairs or lack-a-daisical Laras; but a strong, gloomy man, of the John Forster school, pursued by his own thoughts to destruction, like Actæon by his hounds. Evil, according to Byron's creed, is not in the universe, but in ourselves. gate, It follows us as closely and naturally as our shadow. It is not mean pride or mockery;

Mrs. Browning is the author of a noble poem, called "The Drama of Exile." While writing it, the lady sat beneath the shadow of Milton's soul. She is, all through the poem, like her own Corneille, "an orator of rhyme." The subject is the exile of our first parents from Eden. The story commences where Paradise Lost terminatedwith the banishment. The latter concludes, like a sad and lofty dirge, when the afflicted two disappear through the cherubim-guarded

"With solemn steps and slow."

it means an impossibility of faith. And And the poetess continues the strain, as if a what Hell so fitting a residence for a fallen, mourner with a softer voice caught up the seared spirit, as a mind which sees a skeleton dying note, and prolonged it. Of course, beneath every form which says, with Tennyson's "lean and gay-toothed man,"

"Every face, however full, Padded round with flesh and fat, Is but modelled on a skull?"

Evil or Lucifer plays a part in the drama. But he is sadly altered since we saw him last, holding high court in Pandemonium, surrounded by his grim and ghastly brethren. He has become quite human; a polished and insidious gentleman; in fact, quite a lady's ideal of a Devil. He is very eloquent, and bad enough-a supernatural Danton. He is more of a rhetorician than Satan, and less of a demon than Mephistopheles. Occasionally, even through his modern phrases and arguments, we recognize the proud spirit which

This is the worst Hell of all. Though we cannot assert, with Pierre Leroux and his brother philosophers, that Hell and Heaven exist only in the human heart-for we leave such questions to the constituted authorities -we may be allowed to remark, that a mind self-tortured by religious doubts is the type of the utterest misery known to us. Poe "Clashed on the sounding shield the din of war" has given us involuntarily a terrible picture of such a mind in one of his tales-"The against the Highest. He is a composite Premature Burial"-which will confirm our demon; and his eighteenth century sarcasm assertion:- "My fancy grew charnal. I cannot altogether conceal the old audacity talked of worms, of tombs, of epitaphs. I and pride. For has Milton ever coined was lost in reveries of death, and the idea of premature burial held continual possession * Vide Collected Edition of the Works of Edgar of my brain. The ghastly danger to which | Allan Poe, published by Redfield, vol. 1, p. 333.

more ringing sentences than the follow- come at their real meaning. The present ing?

"Here's a brave earth to sin and suffer on!

It holds fast still-it cracks not under curse;
It holds, like mine, immortal. Presently
We'll sow it thick enough with graves as green,
Or greener, certes, than its knowledge-tree!
We'll have the cypress for the tree of life,
More eminent for shadow;-for the rest,
We'll build it dark with towns and pyramids,
And temples, if it please you. We'll have feasts
And funerals also merry-makes and wars,
Till blood and wine shall mix and run along,
Right on the edges! And, good Gabriel,-
(Ye like that word in Heaven!)—I too have
strength-

Strength to behold Him, and not worship Him;
Strength to fall from Him, and not cry on Him;
Strength to be in the universe; and yet
Neither God, nor his servant. The red sign,
Burnt on my forehead, which you taunt me with,
Is God's sign that it bows not unto God;
The potter's mark upon his work, to show
It rings well to the striker. I and the earth
Can bear more curse.

"GABRIEL. O ruined angel!

"LUCIFER.

O miserable earth!

Well! and if it be,

I CHOSE this ruin,-I elected it

Of my will, not of my service. What I do,
I do volitient, not obedient,

And overtop thy crown with my despair.
My sorrow crowns me. Get thee back to
Heaven,

And leave me to the earth, which is mine own,
In virtue of her misery, as I hers,
In virtue of my ruin! Turn from both
That bright, impassive, passive angelhood,
And spare to read us backward any more
Of your spent hallelujahs!"

So spake the arch-fiend. The words
worthy of him-proud, bold, defiant,

as fate and salt of life."

are

"sad

writer might be permitted to quote, without being accused of presumption, a few lines from an unpublished poem, in which he has thrown his weak arms round this subject, and striven to clasp it. If they have no other effect, they will show, at all events, that he is able to appreciate the genius of a poet, without being committed to his creed. Dealing with this very question of Evil, he

says:

"The good preponderates;
For good and God are synonyms. Strong Faith,
Which breaks the shell of life, and spreads its
In the broad sunshine of Jehovah's throne,—
wings
Which walks with up-turned face, and even bears
A halo round its head,-the reflex of the light
And Love, that knits two separate hearts together,
Which glances from the features of the One;-
Until they branch and grow like twining trees,
Fed by one sunshine, nourished by one moisture,
Of different kindred, and yet twins in life;
And Hope, that holds the sufferer's head above
The rising waves, and points unto the shore,
Whispering of home, until he strikes forth boldly;
And Knowledge, which is master of the elements,
Calling the lightning of God's truth to earth,
As with a Franklin wand,―all, all are good!
'The universe is but a thought of God,'*
And God can think no evil!"

Bailey holds different opinions, and would be likely to indulge in a hearty laugh at the weak optimism, and, mayhap, rhetorical gammon, which is our best attempt at poetical composition; (we speak on the principle that a modest word turns away wrath ;) and we cannot do better than allow him to explain his own views in his own words. After the popularity of Festus had become a fixed fact, many severe attacks on its theological opinions appeared in the leading journals of And now we come to the Lucifer of Fes- England, which necessitated a reply. Actus-a strange creation, powerful, original, cordingly, in the second edition of the work, unique. The author believes that Evil is a a proem was published, which was intended phantasm, not a reality; or we may say with to be, at the same time, an explanation and more accuracy, he believes that, if it does a vindication. Many persons consider that exist, it is but the mask which conceals the this proem is the most objectionable portion features of Good. He regards it as a neces- of the volume; that the work has been insary shadow of the highest throne, darken- jured, not improved, by it; in a word, that ing the world momentarily, but not disfigur-"explanation has spoiled it." Be this true ing it. It is a necessity, like the mountains or not, the proem is somewhat more than or the atmosphere; it is the complement of an explanatory preface; it is a recapitulation Good. As salt must have a sweet-as sun in brief of the leading thoughts of the writer implies shade, or night day-Good, in his opinion, necessitates that shadow which is called Evil. We do not commit ourselves to the views and speculations of our author, because we endeavor to analyze them, and

the

*This noble line is a literal translation from prose of Schiller. The original may be found in a juvenile work of his, called (we quote from memory) "The Letters of Raphael."

-his final summing up. As a poem, it is in nowise inferior to the drama which follows it; nay, it stands alone in literature as a treatise on dogmatic theology which is closely scientific and logical, without ceasing to be poetical. It is solemn and grand as a death-sermon from Bossuet. We may differ from the preacher; but while his warm words and passionate thoughts dig up the tears from our hearts, and shake us as with a storm of grief, we cannot help loving him. Thus nobly his vindication commences a proud plea for his race and his art:

"Without all fear, without presumption, he
Who wrote this book would speak respecting it
A few brief words, and face his friend, the world;
Revising, not reversing, what hath been.
Poetry is itself a thing of God:

He made his prophets poets; and the more
We feel of poesie, do we become
Like God in love and power; under-makers.
All great lays, equals to the mind of man,
Deal more or less with the divine, and have
For end some good of mind or soul of man.
The mind is this world's, but the soul is God's;
The wise man joins them here all in his power.
The high and holy works, amid lesser lays,
Stand up like churches among village cots;
And it is joy to think that in every age,
However much the world was wrong therein,
The greatest works of mind or hand have been
Done unto God. So may they ever be!
It shows the strength of wish we have to be great,
And the sublime humility of might."

These lines are sufficient to show that our poet understands his mission. In no light or frivolous spirit does he enter upon his lofty theme, not influenced by schoolboy ambition, or weak desire to be the object of pointed fingers and muttered "There he is;" not from mere cacoethes scribendi, (the scribbler's itch,) a worse disease than Scotland has begotten; but from a pure and holy impulse, from a belief in his own inspiration, and a determination to sing a strain which shall sink into the world's heart; because, as his own fine words express it, it is "done unto God." But we said we would let him speak on the question which we have been prosing about, in his own words. Here they are. The reader will observe that evil is regarded as a necessity, but a necessity which developes good:

"Necessity, like electricity,

Is in ourselves and all things, and no more
Without us than within us; and we live,
We of this mortal mixture, in the same law

As the pure, colorless intelligence,
Which dwells in Heaven and the dead Hadëan

shades.

We will, and act, and talk of liberty;
And all our wills, and all our doings both,
Are limited within this little life.
Free will is but necessity in play.
The clattering of the golden reins which guide
The thunder-footed coursers of the sun;
The ship which goes to sea informed with fire,
Obeying only its own iron force,

Reckless of adverse tide, breeze dead, or weak
As infant's parting breath, too faint to stir
The feather held before it, is as much
The appointed thrall of all the elements
As the white-bosomed bark which woos the

wind,

And when it dies, desists. And thus with man:
However contrary he set his heart
To God, he is but working out His will;
And, at an infinite angle, more or less
Obeying his own soul's necessity.
He only hath free will, whose will is fate.
Evil and good are God's right hand and left.
By ministry of evil, good is clear;
And by temptation, virtue;-as of yore,
Out of the grave rose God. Let this be deemed
Enough to justify the portion weighed
To the great spirit, Evil, named herein.
If evil seemed the most, yet good most is;
As water may be deep and pure below,
Although the face be filmy for a time."

But the proem, though beautiful in itself was scarcely necessary to the intelligibility of the character of Lucifer in this play. The character explains itself; it needs no key. The Lucifer which tempts Festus is not a mental attribute, as in Milton's Satan; he is not pride, nor skepticism, nor metaphysica analysis; he represents sensuality. Through the gratification of his senses; not through a proud search for wisdom, a wild aspiration after the fruit of knowledge; not through intellectual subtility, or light laughter at things which are sacred; not by fierce wrestling with the mysteries of this breathing world, desperate attempts to read the riddle of the Sphinx, (which is nature,) vain and reckless as the efforts of that

"First poet upon Tiber side, Who dropped his plummet down the broad, Great universe, and said, 'No God,'

Finding no bottom !"

not through such errors falls Festus. His Devil is the flesh; his own nature is his weakness. Lucifer means nothing more than the physical beauty and carnal fascinations which distract the mind of aspiring youth, and sway it from lofty themes to the pursuit of mundane pleasure. Youth is always more or less sensual. Its passage from sorrow, like unto no other sorrow, and knows not how to shut his misery in his heart. He speaks like a being who foresees a worse fate even than an eternity of misery; as one who expects an eternity of annihilation. He appears to feel that, some day or other, his existence will cease to be necessary to the existence of the world-machine, and shudders as he faces nonentity. Better to be in torture than not to be at all. He can endure any thing but death. And from those complaints and shudderings we conclude that Bailey wished to teach the utter destruction of the evil principle finally, and the return of all created things to Good, or God. Indeed, when we reach the conclusion of the book, we are scarcely astonished to find mercy meted out even to Lucifer; to find him not only destroyed as an evil principle, but restored to Heaven and happiness. We close our imperfect analysis with the final words of God:

"Rise, spirit! all created things unmade;
It suits not the eternal laws of good
That evil be immortal. In all space
Is joy and glory; and the gladdened stars,
Exultant in the sacrifice of sin,

And of all human matter in themselves,

And thou who cam'st to heaven to claim one son, Remain possesssd by all. The sons of bliss

Shall welcome thee again, and all thy hosts

Whereof thou first in glory as in woe
In brightness as in darkness erst shall shine.
Take, Lucifer, thy place. This day art thou
Redeemed to archangelic state. Bright child
Of morning, once again thou shinest fair
O'er all the starry ornaments of light."

So mote it be.

Of the style of "Festus" we will not trust ourselves to speak. Great thoughts look forth from every line, like calm, deep eyes. Every page is starred by them. The writer "spake inspired." A late essayist, in a feeble and diffuse paper on the subject, said one truth-"Bailey hath a demon." * He speaks like one possessed. He was only twenty-three when he published "Festus," and it will stand as a grand monument of inspired youth.

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The worlds themselves are but as dreams within

Here let us pause. We have seen that all men are agreed as to the existence of evil, but at variance as to its nature and origin. Each personality fashions it according to its own views. But it is universal, and, in the opinion of most men, immortal. The existence of conscience implies the existence of evil, against which it battles. Furthermore, conscience is not only an inspirer of our good actions, but an historian of our crimes. the morning, the noonday, and the night, it teaches us that evil is not only a terrible existence, but that it coexists with us, is with

In

Their souls who lived in them; and thou art null, us, now and for ever, in secula seculorum.

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What shall we say? Nothing. But let us think that we are the subjects of a mystery, and obey.

J. B.

Around the dizzy centres of all worlds Again be blessed with the blessedest.

So, ye are all restored, rebought-rebrought

To Heaven, by Him who cast ye forth, your God. declamatory, bombastic writer amongst us a clear

Receive ye tenfold of all gifts and powers.

* Gilfillan, in his " Literature and Literary Men." By the way, is not the popularity of this proof of a highly vitiated literary taste?

We tremble when we see him cast into the | justify it, or convince ourselves or our readers dreary prison of the "Everlasting No," when of its truth. The dramatic artifice of introfaith has fled from his soul, like the maiden ducing the personification of Evil into the

from his side, and all the world is a horrible blank, on which the name of God is written nowhere, and even the serenity of nature is a torture and a curse. And we rejoice, even to tears, when the happy change comes; when a ray of human affection lights his eye once more, as he gazes on man his brother, and the lost soul is recalled and pointed again to the skies, made perfect by suffering, and redeemed by love. 'Tis the old, true story. There is a great similarity in the history of intelligent nations, and greater in the life-process of thinking men. Festus and Sartor are of one race. Their blood is the same; they are both poets; they have both reached the height of manhood;

"The degree

They took was high; it was wise wretchedness;" they are both thunder-scarred; and even after their redemption, bear marks of the fire upon them.

In the first scene of Bailey's drama, Lucifer asks the permission of God to tempt Festus, as does Mephistopheles in "Faust." We learn from this that the sufferings of the man are permitted and preordained: but we also hear God's words, "He is chosen," and know the moral-that evil only works out the primal design of the universe, and works unto good. This thought was almost expressed by John Sterling, when he said, "Lies are the masks of truths." Under the appearance, evil is the substantial good, and the existence of the one is as necessary to that of the other as bone to flesh. It was indispensable, however, to the elucidation of this idea, that the temptation of the man should be consented to by the Divinity; on which account we have Evil, or Lucifer, demanding the Divine permission to tempt him. Lucifer can no more avoid tempting Festus, than the latter can escape being tempted. The demon is a part of the machine, and as necessary to its continuance as the man; like an unsightly crank in the steam-engine, the blotch is indispensable to the beauty. It fulfils its mission. It mars the appearance to the casual eye; but, in reality, it secures the stability and symmetry of the whole. So we understand Bailey's theory; and again we must remark, that we are endeavoring only to analyze it, not to

presence of the Divinity, in order to account for the temptation of the man, is as old as the Book of Job. Göethe and Bailey have both copied that; and, in doing so, they have selected a glorious model. Job was a good man, who lived in the fear of the Lord, and daily testified to His greatness, by sacrifices and prayers. And Jehovah smiled kindly on him, and "blessed the work of his hands." But, as no man can enjoy his Heaven upon earth, he is compelled to endure anguish and sore suffering, for

"On a certain day, when the sons of God came to stand before the Lord, Satan also was present among them.

"And the Lord said to him, Whence comest thou? And he answered and said, I have gone round about the earth, and walked through it.

"And the Lord said to him, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a simple and upright man, one that feareth God, and avoideth evil?

"And Satan, answering, said, Doth Job fear God in vain?

"Hast thou not made a fence for him and his house and all his substance, and blessed the work of his hands, and his possession hath increased on

the earth?

"But stretch forth thy hand a little, and touch all that he hath, and see if he blesseth thee to thy face.

"Then the Lord said to Satan, Behold! all that he hath is in thy hands; only put not forth thy hand upon his person. And Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord."

Here, too, temptation is permitted; evil is a necessity. The prosperous man is tested by suffering, and redeemed by love. Many writers assert that the grand poem, called the Book of Job, was written as an argument for universal salvation; but, be this as it may, Bailey has borrowed his plan from it, and told the old story in modern verse. Festus yields to temptation; becomes the slave of the senses; loves, and sins; wanders over the earth without a purpose or aim, blindly groping for light, as the Cyclops in his cave;" drinks deep of pleasure, which is the herald of death; and finally returns, in humility and love, to the Author and Origin of all Good. But there is one characteristic of Bailey's Lucifer which we should not forget to mention a characteristic not belonging to any other creation of the kind. He is a sorrowful devil; he laments, and almost repents; he indulges in supernatural

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