F.’s sense of humour or his ignorance of German. The description of Florence is even more confused than in the original, and he adds strange lore of his own, such as the mythical story of the Brazen Virgin on the bridge at Breslaw, who was used for the disposal of unruly children. It is possible that P. F. had really visited eastern Germany and the Polish or Galician regions, such as Prague and Cracow, but it is just as likely that he obtained his extra knowledge from a travelled friend. He frequently tones down the German author’s denunciation of Faust’s wicked ways, and emphasizes the fantasies and cogitations rather than the presumption and arrogance of the sorcerer. The English Faust book is therefore the first step in the deepening of the Faust character, and this conception is developed by Marlowe.[11] There is in the original legend of Faust little of that titanic discontent with the spiritual limits of humanity, which is now regarded as the fundamental characteristic of the Faustian nature. It is not the desire to solve the riddle of the universe that drives him to the pact with the Devil, but the less worthy desire for power and pleasure. It is true that “he took to himself eagles’ wings and wanted to fathom all the causes in heaven and earth,” but the Promethean defiance which some scholars have sought to establish as his guiding motive, was a preconception implanted in their own minds by a study of the Faust of Goethe. The Faust of the _Historia_ obliges the Devil to answer all his questions and shows afterwards a lively interest in the organization of heaven and hell, but the first-fruits of the pact are food, wine and women. Even Marlowe’s Faustus promises himself merely treasure, delicacies and power from intercourse with the spirits; philosophy, medicine, law and theology are all inadequate for the man who longs to “raise the wind, or rend the clouds,” but when his league with hell has endowed him with supernatural powers, the only use he finds for them is to gratify his sensual desires or indulge in practical jokes. It cannot be said that Marlowe has realized in his tragedy the potentiality of the legend, though he seems to have had an inkling of it. The Helen episode gives rise to the finest poetical passage in the play:— “Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?”— and the final scene, with Faust’s death presaged by the striking of the clock, is impressive, but the author has done little to raise the conception to a higher plane.