these results. Though the science is yet in its infancy, and many new discoveries as to its details may yet be expected, its general principles may be considered as already fixed.

I beg the reader to observe that here has been no torturing of Scripture testimony on the one hand, or forging of geological facts on the other, to make out an agreement between the two. If we simply admit that the word day stands for indefinite period, a sense in which it is used in scores of instances in the Bible, the correspondence between the two accounts is striking and natural; and no work of the imagination is required to identify with each other the facts which they mutually set forth.

And now let us inquire, Is it probable that all these surprising coincidences are the mere work of chance? If the Mosaic account is the offspring of human invention, in a dark and semi-barbarous age, how comes it that, when considered in the light of the foregoing just interpretation, the numerous geological facts, so far from contradicting it, all conspire to confirm it, in each of the particulars on which they both treat? To believe that Moses, respecting so occult a subject as the creation of the world, could have accidentally stumbled upon facts so marvellously in accordance with the future developments of science, would seem too much for the wildest credulity. The inspiration of God alone, in those times of ignorance, could have enabled him to write a history which subsequent discoveries have proved so accurate.

Let not the lover of the Bible, then, shrink from the strongest blaze of geological light. All truth is God's truth, and must be consistent with itself; and if the Bible is true, as we firmly believe it is, there is no danger that any discoveries in the rocks will prove it false. Let geology, then, be cultivated, especially by the theologian. Let the revelations of this, as well as of all other natural sciences, be collated with those of Holy Writ; and the light which they mutually throw upon each other, and upon the works and ways of the Creator, will be found to elevate our views respecting the power, wisdom, goodness, and overruling providence of the Almighty.

W. F.

ART. XXX.

Festus.

FESTUS: a Poem, by Philip James Bailey, Barrister at Law. First American Edition. Boston: B. B. Mussey. 1845. 16mo. pp. 416.

SUCH is the title of a work published about six years since in England, but unknown, except to a very few, in this country, until the appearance of this reprint from the house of Mr. Mussey. We are heartily glad that it has been introduced among us, and that it has been issued in a style worthy of its intrinsic merits. As far as mechanical execution is concerned, the volume reflects credit upon the American press. Having thus paid our respects to the publisher, we propose to devote a few pages to an examination of the work itself.

It is unfortunate that the critic of a poem like "Festus " should be entirely ignorant of the personal character and history of the author. The life of every true poet is the best commentary on his works. It opens to view the relation between his poetry and his heart, and shows the influence of his daily experience in moulding and directing the elements of his genius. Homer's blindness, and Dante's poverty, and Milton's persecution, are not trivial circumstances of biography; they are important facts in the history of literature. They suggest to us the interesting truth that the three great epics of the world were not created in quiet, amid the luxury of ease and the smiles of favor, but were the fruits of imagination inspired by sorrow and goaded by distress. The miseries of "poor, proud Byron," the struggles of the noble-minded Schiller, the sick-room discipline of Miss Barrett, if they do not add any thing to the absolute value of their poetry, supply a bond of personal sympathy at least, which is almost indispensable to a perfect appreciation of the works of genius. We question, moreover, whether the pleasure experienced from the study of a poet's work be not heightened by an undefined and mysterious association of its beauties with the features of his face. The poet and the poem will not be separated. There is a secret correspondence and subtile affinity which,

in our imagination, connects the beauty of "Christabel" with the dreamy, half-shut eyes of Coleridge, which makes "Alastor" continually suggest the intense, spiritual gaze of Shelley, and which continually reminds us, in the "Faust" and "Tasso," of the expressions of refined selfishness and dignified repose that are so happily blended in the countenance of Goethe. But, whatever may be the circumstances or the personal history of Mr. Bailey, there can be no doubt that the poetry of "Festus" had its root in his nature and his experience. Throughout, it bears evidence of the intense activity of mind and the glowing fervor of feeling which give to every work the impress of reality.

The design of the poem is borrowed from the story of Dr. Faust, a German physician in the early part of the sixteenth century, who, dissatisfied with the narrow circle. of honest, ordinary knowledge, plunged into the mysteries of magic, and, at last, bargained with Satan for a full supply of earthly pleasures and worldly power by the sacrifice of his soul. The tradition, no doubt, sprang from the cir cumstances and the tendencies of the times, and became deeply rooted in the heart of Europe. Its richness in the elements of tragic power has, very naturally, made it the subject of many dramatic works. Marlowe's Festus, in English literature, was, we believe, the first regular drama and the only one of any note founded upon it; but, in Germany, the appearance of the great work of Goethe gave rise to a considerable number of attempts and imitations among poets of a minor class. There is, however, a marked peculiarity of method and treatment that distinguishes the Festus of our author from any of its predecessors. There is scarcely any thing in common between them, except the name and the bare outline of the story. It is difficult to state definitely the precise object and aim of the work as a whole. Innumerable eddies play upon the stream and distract the attention from its regular and onward flow. "It has a plan but no plot." The general design, however, seems to be to exhibit

"the mind of youth

In strengths and failings, in its overcomings
And in its short comings.

Its love of power, heed not how had, although
With surety of self-ruin at the end.

All passions, and all pleasures, and all powers

Of man's heart, are brought in, and mind and frame.
"It aims to mark

The various beliefs as well as doubts

Which hold or search by turns the mind of youth
Unresting anywhere."

In the execution, the work is faithful to this mighty breadth of purpose. The opening scene is laid in heaven, and the work commences with a sublime chant from the cherubim and seraphim before the throne of God. Lucifer then appears, and, after an address to the Deity filled with the subdued eloquence of humility and sorrow, makes known the purpose of his visit.

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 unto himself that nought but God
Can satisfy the soul he maketh great.

Lucifer.

In him of whom I ask, I seek once more
To tempt the living world and then depart.

The Holy Ghost.

And I will hallow him to the ends of heaven,
That though he plunge his soul in sin like a sword
In water, it shall nowise cling to him.

He is of heaven. All things are known in heaven,
Ere aimed at upon earth. The child is chosen.

Thus we have, in the outset, a definite statement of the theology of the work. It is that of the final reconciliation of all souls.

"They who read not in the blest belief

That all souls may be saved, read to no end."

We perceive here, then, "a divided duty." It is our intention to examine, in the first place, the influence of this theological creed, as it is developed by the author, upon the character of the poem, leaving the question as to the poetry itself for after consideration. The grounds, upon which the doctrine of ultimate salvation is based, are those of Trinitarianism and Calvinism.

"All creatures being faulty by their nature,
And by God made all liable to sin,
God only could atone — and unto none
Except himself - for universal sin.
It is thus that God did sacrifice to God,
Himself unto himself, in the great way
Of Triune mystery."

The moral system of the work, of course, is fatalism.
"Free will is but necessity in play."

"The soul is but an organ, and it hath
No power of good and evil in itself,

More than the eye hath power of light and dark."

This theory is the key-note to "Festus," the strain of its commencement and its close. It has been generally stated that the philosophy of the work is to show the mission of evil as a purifier. If such be its intention, we must consider the poem a complete but splendid failure. This is not shown, and, from the premises on which its theology reposes, can never be. Our poet believes that "we were made to be saved;" that the final cause of human nature is the bliss of heaven; that evil is an agent appointed by the Almighty for securing this ultimate design. With him,

"God's salvation waiteth not

On man's weak will or ministry."

"God makes,

Destroys, remakes, for his own pleasure, all."

His view of the final consummation, shows us man made "as high above temptation as ever sun o'er sea."