Mcph. Under the Heavens.
Faust. Aye! so are all things else—but
where abouts?
Meph. Within the bowels of these Ele-

ments,

Where we are tortur'd and remaine for ever!
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd
In one selfe-place; but where we are is Hell,
And where Hell is, there must we ever be.
And to be short, when all the world dis-
solves,

And every creature shall be purified,
All places shall be Hell that are not Heaven.
Faust. Think'st thou that Faustus is so
fond to imagine,

That after this life there is any paine ?
No! these are trifles, and mere old wives

tales."

so terribly?

Luci. I am Lucifer, and this is my companion Prince in Hell. Faust. O, Faustus! they are come to fetch thy soule.

Beel. We are come to tell thee thou dost injure us.

Luci. Thou call'st on Christ contrary to thy promise.

Becl. Thou shouldst not thinke on God. Faust. And Faustus vowes never to looke to Heaven."

While Faustus is thus agitated, Lucifer calls up before him, in their own proper shapes, the Seven Deadly Sins, to make him some pastime. As they pass by, they describe themselves

and occupations with very great vigour, and with a kind of grotesque sublimity. This vision delights the senses and imagination of the magician; and he is left so charmed with himself and situation, that he gives vent to his feelings thus:

Faust. O might I see Hell, and returne againe safe,

How happy were I then!

Old Marlow now indulges, quite unexpectedly, in a most extraordinary flight. After Faustus and Mephostophilis have taken an excursion through the air, from Paris to Naples, and thence to Padua and Venice, they arrive, apparently by rather a circuitous route, at Rome, which the Demon thus describes not unpoetically.

"Know that this city stands upon seven hills, That under-prop the ground-worke of the Just thorow the midst runnes flowing Tiber's

same:

streame,

With winding banks that cut it in two parts:
Over the which two stately bridges leane
That make safe passage to each part of Rome.
Upon the bridge call'd Ponto Angelo,
Erected is a castle passing strong, &c.

Beside the gates and high Pyramides
That Julius Cæsar brought from Africa.
Faust. Now by the kingdomes of infernall
rule,

Of Styx, of Acheron, and the Fiery Lake
Of ever-burning Phlegeton, I sweare
That I doe long to see those monuments
And situation of bright splendent Rome," &c.

Here, however, he breaks out into a lament, that during all his airy voyaging he has been a mere spectator, and is now desirous of becoming an actor in the scene; above all things he wishes to astonish the Pope. Mephostophilis enters warmly into his designs against his Holiness, and thus advises him:

Mcph. Let it be so my Faustus; but first

Here enters a procession of Cardinals and Bishops, some bearing crosiers, some pillars, and Monks and Friars chaunting. They are followed by the Pope, Raymond King of Hungary, and the Saxon Bruno," whom the Emperor of Germany had created Pope, but who is now led in chains by his reigning Holiness. The Cardinals of France and Padua are ordered to the holy consistory, to consult the decretal statutes what punishment is due to Bruno, for his usurpation of the See. Soon as they depart, Faustus and Mephostophilis assume their appearance, and, as if returning from the consistory, declare to the Pope,

That Bruno and the Germane Emperor Be held as Lollards and bold Schismatiques, And proud disturbers of the Church's peace. And if that Bruno, by his owne assent, Did seeke to weare the triple diadem, He shall be straight condemn'd of heresie, And on a pile of faggots burnt to death." On this the Pope bestows his blessing on them, which makes Mephostophilis jocularly remark,

So, so, was never Devil thus blest before." Meanwhile, Bruno

"Is posted hence, And on a proud-pac'd steed, as swift as thought,

Flies o'er the Alpes to fruitful Germany." The Cardinals, whom Mephostophilis had struck in the consistory with profound sleep, now awake, and with all haste repair to the Pope, who is enjoying himself at a banquet. They immediately exclaim:

"First may it please your Sacred Holinesse To view the sentence of the Reverend Synod Concerning Bruno and the Emperor."

Here a thorough misunderstanding takes place. His Holiness flies into a violent rage and swears, that unless the Cardinals instantly deliver up Bruno, they shall both die. Faustus and Mephostophilis enjoy this scene invisible and occasionally put in a little biting remark, which, coming none can tell whither, bewilders and affrights the sacred company. But they are not satisfied with this-and when refreshments are brought in, they snatch the wine-glass from the Pope's hand, and finally give him a slap on the face, when he cries out,

"Oh! I am slain-helpe me my Lords. O! come and helpe to beare my body hence; Damn'd be his soule for ever for this.deed."

Friars then enter, with bell, book, and candle, and a curse is solemnly pronounced on him who stole his Holiness' meat, on him who struck his

Holiness a blow on the face, and on him who gave Friar Sandelo a hit on the pate. The scene at last degenerates into the most utter farce, but, on the whole, it is written with great vivacity and spirit, and shews, that both Mephostophilis and Faustus had a keen sense of the ludicrous.

After this merry exploit, the Devil and the Doctor return to Germany,and Faustus, of course, is in high favour with the Emperor, as the deliverer of Bruno. The Emperor limits his demands on the magical powers of Faustus to this:

"We would behold that famous conqueror,
Great Alexander, and his Paramour,
In their true shapes and state majestical,
That we may wonder at their excellence."

This is accordingly done rather stu→ pidly-but the scene soon ceases to be solemn, and the Doctor returns to his pranks. A certain courtier, Benvolio, had doubted of his magical powers, and treated him with great ridicule before this exploit. Faustus accordingly punishes him, by planting horns on his head, a favourite mode of punishment with this magician. Much merriment between Faustus and Mephostophilis here ensues. Benvolio tries is of course baffled, and subjected to to waylay and assasinate his tormentor, farther torments and indignities. rious facetious scenes follow, in which the Doctor uses the black art in a very

Va

harmless way, confusing the noddle of a clown, and cheating a horse-dealer; on which last feat he seems greatly to pride himself. It is impossible to give any idea, by extracts, of these scenes, but their merit seems to consist in their extreme simplicity, bordering at all times on the veriest silliness; yet from the earnestness of the actors, possessing a sort of natural interest, and affording a laughable contrast between the high power of Faustus, and the insignificant objects on which, for his amusement, he thinks proper to exercise it.

As the play approaches its conclusion this farcical spirit subsides. Faustus, Mephostophilis, and several of his scholars, being assembled, one of them asks his master, in very elegant terms, to shew them "that admirablest lady, Helen of Greece;" to which request he thus beautifully replies:

"Faust. For that I know your friendship is unfeign'd, It is not Faustus' custom to deny

The just request of those that wish him well:
You shall behold that peerlesse Dame of
Greece,

No otherwise for pompe or majesty,
Than when Sir Paris crost the seas with her,
And brought the spoiles to rich Dardania.”

After the exhibition of Helen, who ravishes every beholder with her beauty, an old man enters, who tries to turn Faustus from his evil ways; and the magician seems inclined to follow his advice, and treats him with great tenderness. Mephostophilis however enters, and the terrible sound of his voice destroys all wise resolutions, and seems at once to change the very soul and nature of Faustus, who suddenly converts his fear into ferocity, and desires his Familiar, to tear into pieces that old man to whose kind advices he had just before so gratefully listened.

"Torment, sweet friend, that base and aged man,

That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer, With greatest torments that our Hell affords."

This is one of those sublime strokes by which our old dramatists suddenly electrify the soul, and make us forget, as if we had never read them, the numerous pages of dullness and darkness before and after;-the effect of such passages is deep and lasting; they cling to our feelings and imagination; and the remembrance of one such gleam of light opens out to us the whole character and being of the person described, and raises him up, clearly and distinctly, a real, living, and

human existence.

Faustus has no sooner expressed his subjection to his Familiar, than his evil desires recur;—and, first of all,

he exclaims in a rapture,

"One thing, good servant, let me crave of

Thee,

To glut the longing of my heart's desire,
That I may have unto my Paramour,
That heavenly Helen which I saw of late,
Whose sweet embraces may extinguish cleare
Those thoughts that do dissuade me from
my vow,

And keep my vow I made to Lucifer,"

With this request Mephostophilis eagerly complies, and Helen enters between two Cupids. The address of Faustus to her is distinguished for elegance and grace, and shows the passionate fervency of the lover, joined to the classical propriety of the scholar.

"Faust. Was this the face that launcht a thousand ships,

And burn'd the toplesse towers of Ilium ?

Sweet Helen! make me immortall with a kiss!

-Her lips sucke forth my soule-see! where it flies!

Come Helen-come, give me my soule againe.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
O! Thou art fairer than the evening ayre,
Clad in the beauty of a thousand starres!
Brighter art Thou than flaming Jupiter,
More lovely than the Monarch of the skye .
When he appear'd to haplesse Semele!
In wanton Arethusa's azure arms,
And none but Thou shall be my Paramour!"

of

But the rapturous enjoyments Faustus are soon to be direfully interrupted. Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Mephostophilis enter, amid thunder and lightning-and the hour is at hand in which he is to deliver up his soul.

"Luci. Faustus, we come to Thee, Bringing with us lasting damnation, To wait upon thy soule! the time is come · Which makes it forfeit.

Meph. And this gloomy night, Here, in this roome, will wretched Faustus be. Beel. And here we'll stay,

To

marke him how he doth demeane him

selfe.

Faustus is now left alone in his study, and the clock strikes eleven. His last soliloquy will not suffer by a comparison with any passage in any dramatic writer.

"Faust. O Faustus!

Now hast thou but one bare houre to live! And then thou must be damned perpetually. -Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven,

That time may cease, and midnight never come!

Faire Nature's eye! rise! rise againe! and make

Perpetual day or let this houre be but a yeare,

A month, a weeke, a naturall day,
That Faustus may repent, and save his soule!
O lente, lente, currite noctis equi!
The stars move still! time runnes! the
clocke will strike!

The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd.

Oh! I'll leap up to heaven!-who pulls me downe?

See where Christ's blood streames in the firmament!

One drop of blood will save me! Oh! my

Butmine must live still to be plagued in hell! Curst be the parents that ingender'd me. No, Faustus! curse thyselfe! curse Lucifer! That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven. [The clock strikes twelve. It strikes! it strikes! now, body, turne to ayre !

Or Lucifer will beare thee quicke to Hell! O, soule, be chang'd into small water-drops, And fall into the ocean, ne'er to be found!

Thunder, and enter the Devils. O mercy, Heaven! looke not so fierce on me! Adders and serpents! let me breathe a while! Ugly Hell! gape not!-Come not, Lucifer! I'll burn my bookes!-O Mephostophilis !"

The terrified scholars now rush into the study, and one of them exclaims

"The Devil whom Faustus serv'd, hath torne him thus !

For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought

I heard him shrieke, and call aloud for help, At which same time the house seemed all

on fire,

With dreadful horror of these damned fiends."

The Chorus then enters, and the drama concludes with the following fine lines.

"Cut is the branch that might have growne

full straight,

And burned is Apollo's laurel bough!
That sometime grew within this learned man.
Faustus is gone: regard his hellish fall,
Whose fiendful torture may exhort the wise,
Only to wonder at unlawful things,-
Whose deepnesse doth entice such forward

wits,

To practise more than heavenly power per

mits."

We have enabled our readers to

judge of the merit of this drama, from the many extracts now given, and therefore we need not offer any observations of our own. It is obvious, that, as a whole, it is exceedingly imThe perfect and disproportioned. commencement and the conclusion are solemn, lofty-even magnificent-but the middle part is out of all keeping ; and the ludicrous is therein not only too far prolonged, but too broadly The drawn, and deeply coloured. drama, too, comprehends a period of twenty-four years, and the actions and events are too few, and not sufficiently varied. Neither does Faustus seem to deserve the fearful punishment finally inflicted on him by Lucifer. At the same time, Marlow has shown great skill, and a deep knowledge of human nature, in not drawing Faustus as a monster of guilt and iniquity, so as to destroy all sympathy

with his sufferings and fate. Though sold to Hell, he seeks rather his own enjoyment and pleasure than the misery of others, nor does he even seek them at the expense of his fellow creatures. When he delivers himself up to pleasure, his paramour is no innocent maiden whom his magic seduces, but the bright phantom of a former age, and his licentiousness, even in its most criminal indulgencies, connects itself with the dreams of an imagination filled with all the forms of classical beauty. Goethe, on the other hand, in his powerful drama on the same subject, has driven Faustus over the edge, and down the abyss, of Sin. But we are not now going to criticise the work of the German philosopher. That we may do at another opportunity. Let us conclude with one remark that while there is at present abroad throughout the world so mad a passion for poetry, and more especially for poetry in which the stronger passions of our nature are delineated, it is somewhat singular, that such excessive admiration is bestowed on one great living Poet, while (to say nothing of contemporary writers) there are so many glorious works of the mighty dead, unknown, or disregarded-works from which that illustrious person has doubtless imbibed inspiration, and which, without detracting from his well-earned fame, we must think, are far superior, in variety, depth, and energy of passion, to the best poems which his powerful genius has yet produced. H. M.

REMARKS ON THE DISEASES LATELY PREVALENT IN EDINBURGH.

A VAPOUR, or effluvium of an unknown nature, which arises from stagnant water in marshes or lakes, commonly called marsh miasma, almost never fails, in the situations in which these exist, to produce Intermittent Fevers or agues. In Edinburgh this disease is recorded to have formerly prevailed epidemically; but since the removal of the cause, by the draining of the marsh which existed on the south side of the town, in the present situation of Hope Park, and of the North Loch, between the Old and New Town, about the middle of last century, intermittent fevers have almost entirely disappeared from the town. Examples of this disease are here now extremely rare, except when excited by exposure

to cold in those who have formerly been affected with it, or who have been exposed to its cause in countries and situations where it still prevails. Two instances only have come under my observation, in which agues appeared to originate in the town or neighbourhood. One was in a gardener, who, in the spring of the year 1815, had been employed in working on the marshy banks of Duddingston Loch. In this man the ague was quotidian; and when, along with a medical friend, I first saw him, about a fortnight after he had been taken ill, the hot stage of the fever was long continued-the cold fit slight and with little shivering; he, at the same time, laboured under cough and other pectoral complaints, which rendered it difficult to determine whether the disease was intermittent fever, or hectic, symptomatic of a rapid consumption. On watching the case, however, for a few days, the progress of the symptoms seemed to indicate that it was intermittent fever. The bark was accordingly given, which, by producing its usual specific effects in that fever, demonstrated the nature of the disease. After a few doses, the paroxysms were diminished in severity, and in a fortnight were entirely removed. The other instance was in a poor man who had lived in the Cowgate, and several years ago was admitted as a patient into the Royal Infirmary with a wellmarked intermittent fever, of which he was speedily cured. In this case no adequate cause could be assigned for its production.

Continued fevers always prevail more or less in Edinburgh. Of these some seem to be produced by exposure, or fatigue, or other causes which it is not easy to ascertain, but do not appear to arise from, or to be communicated by, contagion. This, which may be considered as the synochus, or common continued fever of this country, seems to prevail in all parts of Britain, particularly during summer; and is accordingly denominated by some physicians the Summer Fever. It occurs among all classes of the community, and in persons of all ages; but young and plethoric men seem to be more liable to it than others. It appears to be seldom dangerous; but the feverish symptoms are frequently smart, and are attended by headach, and by sickness of stomach, bilious stools, and other marks of derangement in the