- 
1825.) 
losophy was taught to: mankind by Satan 
himself; and the press, by enlarging the 
stream of knowledge, is only, an inyention 
to extend the: bounds of;hell., 
**T am much ‘indebted to -thee,”. says, Satan) to, 
Faustus, on the arrival of his'soul in the regions of 
torment, ‘‘for having invented printing—that. art 
which is so singularly useful to hell.” —‘‘ The shades 
of hundreds of thousands will overwhelm thee with 
curses, for having converted the little stream which 
poisoned the human mind, into a monstrous flood. 
I, who am the ruler of hell, and shall gain by it, am 
therefore thy debtor.” 
_ The only qualification of this gloomy and 
eynical misanthropy—this discouragement 
to virtuous effort, by the doctrine that there 
is, and can be, nothing in the world but 
vice, is to be sought in the taunting re- 
roaches with which Leviathan (the fami- 
liar) overwhelms his victim, when he is 
about to plunge him into hell. 
** Fool !—thou sayest thou hast learnt to know 
man! Where?”—‘* Thou hast merely frequented 
palaces and courts, where men spurn away the un- 
fortunate, and lgugh at the complaints of the op- 
pressed, whilst they are dissipating, in revel, rout 
and roar, that which they have robbed them of. 
Thou hast seen the sovereigns of the world, thou 
hast seen tyrants, surrounded by their catamites, 
and their infamous courtezans; and thou hast seen 
priests who make use of religion as an instrument of 
oppression. Such are the men thou hast seen; and 
not him who'groans under the heavy yoke, and com- 
forts himself with the hope of futurity. Thou hast 
passed by, with disdain, the hut of the poor and 
simple man, who does not even know your artificial 
wants by name; who gains his bread by the sweat 
of his brow, shares it faithfully with his wife and 
children, and rejoices, at the last moment of his life, 
in having completed his long and laborious task.”— 
«« Canst thou say that thou knowest man, when 
thou hast only sought for him in the paths of vice 
and crime ?” 
-. There is another. passage, also, in which 
the author speaks in his own person, in 
something like the same strain. 
_ ‘* Faustus resembled those men of the world who 
abandon themselves to their pleasures as long as 
their strength remains, without thinking of the 
consequences ; and at length, worn out and dejected, 
east’ a gloomy look on the world, and judge of the 
human race according to their own sad experience, 
without reflecting that they have only trodden the 
worst paths of life, and seen the worst part of the 
creation. In a word, he was on the point of becom- 
ing. a philosopher of the species of Voltaire, who, 
wheneyer he found the bad, always held it forth to 
public view, and, with unexampled industry, always 
endeavoured to keep the good in the background, 
'| This reproach, however, falls more 
heavily upon the author himself than upon 
Voltaire. The whole machine is employed 
to\shew that there is nothing in the world 
but-wvice; or nothing but what is prepared 
ifs oa it were not for renowned heroes in their bloody 
Aields of battle, or ministers in their perfidious cabi- 
_ nets, ‘and for your priests, and, above all, for your 
{losophers, the gates of hell would soon be 
closed.” ‘It is remarkable, however, that in this 
' ‘Whole drama of horrors, the author has not intro- 
- duced one single philosopher, as an actor in any of 
Mie scenes of atrocity. 
Domestic and Foreign. 
15m 
to be vicious, as soon as any inducement. is: 
offered.. Ignorance and penury, and the. 
constant drudgery of rustic toil, at least, form. 
the only refuge from the deyil;—as tthe 
lowest life had not its vices as well as, the 
highest ; or any class could be too ignorant. 
for crime. : iy 
It is time, however, to speak of the 
ability with which this extraordinary work 
is planned and executed. In this point of 
view, its merit is decisive, and of a very 
high order. It has a vigour of imagination, 
that sports in luxuriancy, and soars, occa- 
sionally, even to the terrible sublime,— 
mingled, not marred, with all the licence of 
the grotesque and ludicrous. It has wit of 
the severest kind, and a poignancy of satire, 
which disdains not, however, to descend 
occasionally to the grossness of lampoon, 
Witness, for example, the description. of 
the character of the English nation, after 
Faustus and his infernal guide had visited 
the court of our third Richard, and observed 
all the over-coloured atrocities of that period. 
“‘ These people [says the devil] will groan for 
a time beneath the yoke of despotism; they 
will then sacrifice one of their kings upon 
the scaffold of freedom, in order that they may 
sell themselves to his successors for gold and 
titles. In hell there is very little respect paid to 
these gloomy islanders, who would suck the mar- 
row from all the putrid carcasses in the universe, 
if they thought to find gold in the bones. They 
boast of their morality, and despise all other na- 
tions : yet if you were to place what you call virtue 
in one seale, and vice, with two-pence, in the other, 
they would forget their morality, and pocket the 
money. They talk of their honour and integrity, 
but never enter into a treaty, but witha firm resolu- 
tion of breaking it, as soon as a farthing is to be 
gained by so doing. After death, they inhabit the 
most pestilential marsh of the kingdom of darkness, 
and their souls are scourged without mercy. None 
of the other damned will have any communication 
with them. If the inhabitants of the continent could 
do without sugar and coffee, the sons of proud Eng- 
land would soon return to the state in which they 
were when Julius Cesar, Canute of Denmark, or 
William the Conqueror, did them the honour to in- 
vade their island.” ‘ 
Notwithstanding, however, this assign- 
ment of our countrymen to the most pesti- 
lential marsh of hell, the pictures which the 
author exhibits of France under Louis XI., 
and of Rome under Pope Alexander VI., 
make the worst vices of the. worst age of 
England, even if the time of Henry VIII. 
had been selected, appear almost like vir- 
tues. The court and family of the pontiff, 
in particular, with the stains of blood and 
incest thick’ upon them, are exhibited in 
such colours of licence and ‘atrocity, that 
the ultimate appearance of the devil, in all 
his potent horrors, to terminate the career 
of abominations, and hurry his holiness, &c. 
to. the gulf of eternal retribution, appeats 
to be almost more probable than the catas- 
trophe which history assigns to them.— 
These are scenes, however, from which we 
will not quote: nor do we envy the imagi- 
nation that could riot in them. But, from 
X 2 the 
