committed one crime, and if he appear innocent, turn him loose upon society accomplished for the commission of fifty, is surely the very height of folly.

It is true, that we have no right to punish before trial, and that the sole object of imprisonment previous to conviction is the detention of the person to answer the charge. But there are surely other modes of detention than promiscuous imprisonment, which may be enforced without being liable to be called punishment. The truth is, that the very worst of punishments ultimately is that of exposing the prisoner to a moral contagion, and the state which does so, is itself answerable for every enormity such prisoner may subsequently commit.

There is no question here between the Philadelphia and Auburn system: the latter cannot be carried into effect before trial. Solitary detention is however practicable, without punishment, and might be turned to the best uses. The prisoner should be detained without communicating with or even seeing any other person charged with offence. Under certain restrictions, his friends should occasionally be admitted to him; but advantage should be taken of the temporary cessation of the no easy task of providing his daily bread, to infuse as much moral and religious instruction into a mind probably in a very rude state as the time will permit. With these views, he should be offered instruction, such as the ennui of solitary imprisonment will cause him gladly to accept, and he should be required to mention the minister whom he would prefer as his religious visitor. In a very short time, very serious impressions might be made, and the prisoner who judged that his apprehension was his direst misfortune, might be made to bless that event as the epoch of his moral and social regeneration.

For the construction of Houses of Detention, we would strongly recommend the Panopticon principle of Mr. Bentham; there are objections to it as a Penitentiary, but none as a place of detention, to be adapted to the cultivation of moral and religious impressions, and to the prevention of all kinds of improper communication. It is a most serious and painful reflection to one who looks back upon the history of this country, that for ages, it may be said, all the great opportunities of doing social good on a great scale, and on enlightened principles, have been neglected in a vile struggle for mere place and the wretched power of distributing patronage.

The principles on which the Houses of Detention ought to be based may all be found in an excellent pamphlet lately published by Mr. James Simpson of Edinburgh; it is true that his scheme

is too vast; but it is the mistake of a physician, if it be a mistake, who sees that a local complaint arises from a derangement of the whole constitution, and instead of applying himself especially to the part affected, and thus patching up a cure, prefers the arduous task of repairing a cachectic habit. How glad we should be, if the noisy confusion and insane struggle of selfish parties could permit the hope even of an attempt to carry into execution such benevolent plans as those broached by Mr. Simpson. We had hoped that the era of a true reform was about to commence : in common with many others we have been disappointed: good men are not enough, they must fall on good times: the meaning of which is, that the execution of general plans of public good must wait until they can be proposed without injury to powerful but particular interests.

The mention of the moral uses to which a prison of detention might be turned reminds us of the Refuges for destitute children in America, and the Philanthropic Institution of this country, which must form a branch of any enlarged system of Prison Discipline. In the Boston reports, the "Refuge" and the benefits derivable from such institutions form a very prominent topic. It may be seen also that Mr. Simpson, in the philanthropic views we have already alluded to, reckons greatly on the efficacy of the plan of catching the criminal in embryo, and turning him into an honest career. This is a subject which has been practically well handled in this country by Captain Brenton and his society, which, by his exertions and the aid of small funds, has done more for the prevention of crime than most, if not all, the Secretaries of State for the Home Department for the last hundred years.

In the present state of this country, however, vast difficulty attends the consideration of all measures which imply a provision for children. The pauper system verges so close upon the prison schemes, that it is very difficult to draw the line. Parents, it has been said publicly, have been known to accuse their own children to get them into the Philanthropic Institution. If provision were generally made for the poor, the destitute, and the criminal below a certain age, there is vast reason to fear that the pauper in his very affection for his child would throw him on some criminal establishment-even for the preservation of his morals, and the best chance of procuring a subsistence. To such dilemma are we come at last. The subject, however, is one which deserves a far ampler consideration than at this moment we can give it.

The debtors' prisons of America, in those states where imprisonment for debt is not abolished, have no superiority over the wretched accommodations supplied in England for such persons

as are charged with being guilty of debt. It is to be hoped that this class of gaols will not long be required at all.* The same punishment ought not to await the unfortunate debtor (the fraudulent debtor is a criminal) and the felon. If imprisonment for debt is instituted for the recovery of debts, it is absurd, for in gaol no man can work; and if the debtor has property, why not take it without depriving him of his liberty? If it is instituted for the prevention of debt, it has the precisely contrary effect; it dangerously increases the facility with which credit is given by tradesmen, who have a fancied security in their hold of the body, and this, joined with the distance and uncertainty of the infliction, is a serious temptation to the thoughtless and sanguine.

We have thus gone through the various points which must necessarily very soon come under the consideration of our legislature. The United States have confessedly got the start of us in the solution of the great problem of the prevention of crime, and the profitable disposal of the labour of convicts. The system of our secondary punishments is so inefficacious and so expensive, that it must necessarily undergo a thorough revision before long. In the mean time, the minds of inquirers should be directed to those sources whence practical information is to be derived: with this view, it is probable, that even the general view we have been enabled to take of this wide and branching subject, may be useful. It has been our object to consider the principles of imprisonment as exemplified in the Penitentiaries of America: we are well aware how very imperfectly the task has been accomplished, aided as we have been by the enlightened and copious volume of the French Commissioners, whose work does honour to the bar of France. Little is however to be done within the limits of a review, beyond awakening the attention, and stimulating the appetite for information; if our esquisse of American prison discipline answers this purpose, we shall be satisfied.

The Solicitor-General, Sir John Campbell, has at present a bill before the House for the abolition of imprisonment for debt, and the more effectual recovery of debts.

ART. IV.-Goethe's nachgelassene Werke. (Goethe's Posthumous Works.) Bände I-V. 18mo. Stuttgart and Tubingen.

1833.

THE volumes before us, five in number, constitute only what is termed the first delivery (Lieferung) of Goethe's Posthumous Works. They contain, as mentioned in our last number: 1. The second part, forming the continuation and completion, of Faust. 2. Gottfried von Berlichingen, never before printed, and Götz von Berlichingen, adapted to the stage. 3. A Journey in Switzerland in 1797, and a Journey on the Rhine and Main in 1814. 4. Miscellanies, hitherto unedited, upon Art. 5. Miscellanies relating to the Drama and German Literature. We propose to indicate the general character of each volume of the lot, but our principal attention will be directed to the first, which, though containing no less than 344 pages, is occupied exclusively with Faust.

So much has been said and written about this celebrated production of late, so many ingenious speculations have been set afloat with regard to its real meaning and tendency, that the English public, we are sure, will be glad to know something of the subsequent conduct and conclusion of the plot, though we are far from certain that any further disquisition on the philosophical object of the work will be tolerated. Nor is this our only reason for wishing to shun all disquisitions of the sort. It is, we know, a rather dangerous acknowledgment and may bring a storm of objurgation on our heads-but after giving our best consideration to the controversy and comparing the problem proposed at the outset of the poem with what must now be termed the solution of it, we cannot help suspecting that the author had no object at all, beyond the very ordinary one of wishing to possess a subject which should give full scope to his wondrous universality, and allow him to employ all the stores of fancy, feeling, observation and reading, which a life of study might enable him to hive up; that, in short, as the author of Waverley confessed to be not unfrequently his case, Goethe began his story in a happy state of recklessness, and left the ending to take care of itself. This somewhat hazardous opinion will appear far less so after a fair examination of the plan; all, therefore, that we think it necessary to prefix by way of preamble to our analysis of this second and concluding part, is a slight recapitulation of the main incidents of the first; for unless these be fresh in the memory, the following analysis, as well as any critical remarks we may annex to it, will be understood with difficulty, if at all.

VOL. XII. NO. XXIII.

G

The first part of Faust then, be it remembered, now opens (for it did not originally*) with a Prologue in Heaven, in which a somewhat irreverent colloquy between Mephistopheles and the Lord is set forth. Amongst other topics this colloquy turns upon Faust, whom Mephistopheles obtains leave to tempt to destruction if he can; the futility of the enterprise being at the same time clearly intimated by words placed in a mouth which must be regarded as infallible:

"Enough, (says the Lord), it is permitted thee. Divert this spirit from his original source, and bear him, if thou canst seize him, down on thy own path with thee. And stand abashed, when thou art compelled to own--a good man, in his dark perplexity, may still be conscious of the right way." "Well, well, (replies Mephistopheles,) only it will not last long. I am not at all in pain for my wager. Should I succeed, excuse my triumphing with my whole soul. Dust shall he eat, and with a relish, like my cousin, the renowned snake."

The Lord reiterates his permission, Heaven closes, and the Archangels disperse, leaving Mephistopheles to compass the destruction of Faust as he best may. We are next introduced to the hero himself, who, after careering over the whole learning of the world, has just arrived at pretty nearly the same sagacious

conclusion as Solomon:

"I communed with my own heart, saying, Lo, I am come to great estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they that have been before me in Jerusalem. Yea, my heart had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.

And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly. I perceived also that this also is vexation of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." (Eccl. ch. 1.)

It would be difficult to conceive a fitter mood for a philosopher to be tempted in; and after two or three soliloquies, two or three conversations with his amanuensis Wagner (a mere book-worm), and a stroll into the country amongst the villagers-all introduced for the more perfect development of the character-Faust becomes acquainted, by a somewhat singular mode of introduction, with Mephistopheles, and what may be esteemed the essential action of the drama begins. After a good deal of metaphysical quibbling, a regular (or rather irregular) compact is formed; the high contracting parties agree, like Archer and Aimwell in the play, to be master and servant by turns-Faust to be master upon earth, and Mephistopheles to be master in hell. All imaginable

This circumstance must never be lost sight of in speculations as to the author's original object or plan.

Mephistopheles says: "I will bind myself to your service here, and never sleep