pare in its portrayal of illicit love with the novels of Sarah Grand, Thomas Hardy, George Moore, and a dozen others of our modern novelists who deal in nastiness and filth, but in Reade's day those subjects were tabooed or only remotely hinted at, and hence the outcry.

Reade, as was his invariable custom, assailed his critics in his turn, calling them "prurient prudes." He brought an action for libel against one of his American critics, gaining a nominal verdict.

Even in the briefest notice of Charles Reade his methods and habits as a writer must be described. He was as unblushing and bold a plagiarist as ever lived. In the preface to " A Simpleton" he undertakes to explain and justify his system by the example of Shakespeare, Molière, Scott and some others known to fame. But his defense is weak. They " lifted" and transformed. They found dead bodies and made them living souls. Reade's stealing was grand larceny only. In "Griffith Gaunt" the trial scene is taken bodily, with but the change of name here, and there, from one of the old English state trials. In "The Cloister and the Hearth" whole passages are transferred from the "Colloquies" of Erasmus, while some of the insane asylum scenes in

"Hard Cash" are taken from "Valentine Vox," an earlier novel, dealing with the same subject, or from newspaper reports.

The last story he ever wrote is entitled "The Picture," which was first published in Harper's Magazine for 1884. It is almost a literal translation of a French story that appeared in 1855, entitled "Mademoiselle Malapeire," by Mme. Reybaud.

There was just enough change in the names and few minor details to show Reade's consciousness that he was dealing in stolen goods. The theft was discovered at once, but just after the story appeared Reade died and the incident was closed.

These things, entirely unnecessary to him, for he was a man of the most undoubted genius and original power, were due to his perversity, and to the same half-insane notion that made him believe that he was a playwright, "Shakespeare stole, Molière took his own wherever he found it, Sterne appropriated the learning of others, therefore I can do the same." That was his logic. He was a great writer and novelist, and to such a one much can be forgiven.

PHILIP JAMES BAILEY,

A LONG FORGOTTEN POET.

Do many people remember Philip James Bailey?

There must be a good many readers that have some acquaintance with the once famous poem entitled "Festus," that two generations ago delighted and thrilled countless readers of the English-speaking world.

It was in 1839 that Philip James Bailey published "Festus." He had been educated at Glasgow university, and was studying law. He was afterward called to the bar as a member of Lincoln's Inn, but he never practised.

When his poem appeared it was a time of dearth in English poesy. Wordsworth and Southey had ceased writing, Browning had written only "Pauline," "Paracelsus" and "Stratford," and had no readers. Tennyson was still obscure, his volume of 1833 being all that he had published, and this mercilessly scored by the critics, while Richard Hengist Horne had not yet written

"Orion." It is small wonder, therefore, that "Festus " was received with acclaim, and the youthful poet hailed as the rising star.

It contained many fine passages that struck the popular fancy, the following being one of the most quoted and best known:

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

s;

We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.

Since its first publication the poem has passed through eleven editions in England and over thirty in this country.

"Festus," which is one Faust, is a poetical drama.

form of the name of

It has the same un

derlying idea as the "Faustus" of Marlowe, the "Faust" of Goethe, and the book Job-a human being tempted by the power of evil. As in Job, Lucifer appears before the throne of heaven and asks permission to tempt Festus, which is granted. One line in this permission greatly pleased the Universalists at the time, as indeed does the whole tenor of the poem. God says, "He is thine to tempt," but immediately adds the restriction, "Upon his soul thou hast no power. All souls are mine for aye."

But the opening is weak and not at all com

parable to Faust, for where can be the loss to the human being if Lucifer cannot win his soul ? Nor is Lucifer in any way such a master spirit as Mephistopheles. He is, in fact, rather an amiable devil, and instead of tempting Festus occupies himself in teaching a system of divinity. He reveals to him all manner of profound knowledge; carries him up into heaven, where he learns that his name is written in the book of life; conveys him through space, and invests him with the power of ubiquity; enlarges the bounds of his knowledge, talks wildly of conflagrations and the burning of worlds, but as a general thing is rather a pleasant and edifying companion and an exceedingly serviceable guide. He conducts him through hades and hell also, where there is a long passage between Festus and Elissa that greatly excites Lucifer's jealousy and leads to about the only tragedy in the volume.

At length, having explored the whole universe, Festus is elevated to the throne of all the earth and is monarch for a single day, but he does nothing and it results in nothing. Then follows a millennium, and after that a judgment day. All mankind are saved and Lucifer and his hosts are readmitted into heaven. The drama ends in universal felicity.