The Project Gutenberg eBook, Faustus, by Friedrich Maximilian von Klinger,
Translated by George Borrow


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Title: Faustus
       his Life, Death, and Doom


Author: Friedrich Maximilian von Klinger



Release Date: May 14, 2008  [eBook #25468]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAUSTUS***


Transcribed from the 1864 W. Kent and Co. edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org





FAUSTUS:
HIS
LIFE, DEATH, AND DOOM.


                           A ROMANCE IN PROSE.

                       Translated from the German.

          "Speed thee, speed thee,
          Liberty lead thee,
    Many this night shall hearken and heed thee.
          Far abroad,
          Demi-god,
    Who shall appal thee!
    Javal, or devil, or what else we call thee."

                                 LONDON:
                    W. KENT AND CO., PATERNOSTER-ROW.
                                  1864.

                                 LONDON:
              ROBSON AND LEVEY, PRINTERS, GREAT NEW STREET,
                               FETTER LANE.




THE TRANSLATOR TO THE PUBLIC.


The publication of the present volume may at first sight appear to
require some brief explanation from the Translator, inasmuch as the
character of the incidents may justify such an expectation on the part of
the reader.  It is therefore necessary to state, that although strange
scenes of vice and crime are here exhibited, it is in the hope that they
may serve as beacons, to guide the ignorant and unwary from the shoals on
which they might otherwise be wrecked.

The work, when considered as a whole, is strictly moral.  The Catholic
priest is not praised for burning his fellow-creature at an _auto-da-fe_,
and for wallowing in licentiousness; nor is the Calvinist commended for
his unrelenting malignity to all those whose tenets are different from
his own, and for crying down the most innocent pleasures and relaxations
which a bountiful and just God has been pleased to place within the reach
of his earthly children.

The tyrant and the oppressor of mankind will here find himself depicted
in his proper colours.

Neither will the _champions of freedom_ pass the fiery ordeal with feet
unseared; since a glorious specimen of what they all are will be found
among the following pages.  Ye who with ever-open mouths are constantly
clamouring at whatever is established, whether it be beneficial to the
human race or injurious, will here find the motives for your conduct
pointed out and held up to contempt and execration.

But, above all, this work contains the following highly useful advice:

Let every one bear his lot with patience, and not seek, at the expense of
his repose, to penetrate into those secrets which the spirit of man,
while dressed in the garb of mortality, cannot and must not unveil.  Let
every one bridle those emotions which the strange and frequently
revolting phenomena of the moral world may cause to arise in his bosom,
and beware of deciding upon them; for He alone who has power to check or
permit them, can know how and why they happen, whither they tend, and
what will be their ultimate consequence.  To the mind of man all is dark;
he is an enigma to himself: let him live, therefore, in the hope of once
seeing clearly; and happy indeed is he who in this manner passes his
days.

The present translation, it should be added, has been executed with as
much fidelity to the original as the difference of the two languages, and
other considerations, would allow.




CONTENTS.
            CHAPTER I.              1
Ambitious Character of
Faustus--His Discovery of
Printing--Journey to
Frankfort--The Devil, the White
Nun, and Father Gebhardt of
Mayence--Faustus offers his Bible
to the Council of Frankfort--His
first Interview with a
Spirit--The Infernal
Banquet--Speech of
Satan--Allegorical Entertainments
of Leviathan--Faustus's Dialogue
with the Devil
           CHAPTER II.              60
Leviathan meets Faustus at an Inn
at Frankfort--Assembling of the
Council, and Discussion on
Faustus's Bible--Corporation
Squabbles--Leviathan and Faustus
invited to a grand Civic
Entertainment--Faustus presents
his Bible to the City--His
Introduction to the
Mayoress--Knighthood of the
Mayor--The Devil's Revenge on the
Corrupt Corporation--The Hermit
of Homburg--A Lesson to
Misanthropists--The Hermit and
the lovely Pilgrim--His Hut burnt
by Leviathan, and he perishes in
the Flames--Faustus returns to
his Wife and Family at
Mayence--Espouses the Cause of a
despairing Client, and corrupts
the Judge--Dispute about the Nun
Clara--Leviathan's Revenge on the
avaricious Judge--Faustus's
Adventure with Clara--Takes leave
of his Family--Rescues a Youth
from Drowning
           CHAPTER III.             116
The Devil and Faustus continue
their Journey on the Banks of the
Fulda--The oppressive
Prince-Bishop--Faustus's
Interview with the
Bishop--Clerical Luxury--Case of
Dr. Robertus, the Protector of
the People--Faustus espouses his
Cause, and liberates the
"Patriot"--The Devil and Faustus
visit the Court of the Prince of
---.--The betrayed Minister and
his Daughter--The Devil and
Faustus imprisoned--The Fiend
suffocates the Prince, and, with
Faustus, resumes his Journey--The
Wildgrave and burning
Village--The infatuated
Monk--School of
Physiognomy--Faustus and the
Virgin Student--The Devil's
Peep-show, and its Talismanic
Influence--Portrait of the Fiend
           CHAPTER IV.              181
France in the Reign of Louis
XI.--Interview of the Devil and
Faustus with Father Vesois--Loves
of Madame de Monserau--Faustus
and the French Widow--The Fatal
Supper--Arrival of Faustus and
the Devil at Paris--Execution of
the Duke of Nemours--Faustus and
the avaricious
Father--Infanticide
recommended--Horrible Death of
the Miser, and Ruin of his
Daughter--Trial of a humane
Surgeon, and ungrateful
Murderer--Anatomical
Cruelties--Prisons of
Paris--Bishop of Verdun's
Cages--Perillus, the Tyrant
Phalaris, and the Brazen
Bull--Atrocious Character of
Louis XI.--The Hermit of
Calabria--Faustus and the Devil
visit England--Cruelties of
Richard, Duke of Gloucester--The
Devil's Portraiture of the
English Character--Arrival of
Faustus and the Fiend at
Milan--Murder of the Duke Galeas
Sforza--Florence--Spanish
Auto-da-Fe--Pope Alexander
VI.--Combat of a Papal General
with one of his Officers for a
White Goat--Machinations of the
Pope--Ancient and Modern Rome,
and her Abominations--Cardinal
Caesar Borgia--Licentious
Entertainments at the
Vatican--The Pope and his
Illegitimates--Caesar Borgia and
Michelotto--Stratagem to depose
his Brother Francisco--Murder of
the latter--Faustus and the
lovely Lucretia--Vanity of Human
Philosophy, and Sophistry of its
Professors--Atrocious Plots and
Excesses of Pope Alexander--His
Sale of Indulgences--Amended
Catalogue, with increased
Prices--Murder of Alphonso of
Arragon--Caesar Borgia's Letter
to the Pope--Cardinal
Orsini--Borgia's Triumphal Entry
into Rome--Marriage of
Lucretia--Gross Festivities--The
Devil's Apostrophe
thereon--Descent of the Pope into
Hell, and Death of Caesar Borgia
            CHAPTER V.              261
Faustus's Consolation for his
Crimes--Philosophy of
Voltaire--Faustus's portentous
Dream--Apparition of his
Father--Baseness and Ingratitude
of Man--Flight of the Devil and
Faustus to Mayence--Death of his
Son, and Destruction of his
Family--Retrospect of his
criminal Career--Accursed Destiny
of Faustus, and Triumph of the
Devil--Descent of Faustus into
Hell
 CHAPTER I.


Faustus, having long struggled with the shadows of Theology, the bubbles
of Metaphysics, and the _ignes-fatui_ of Morality, without being able to
bring his mind to a firm conviction, at length cast himself into the dark
fields of Magic, in the hope of forcing from Nature what she had so
obstinately withheld from him.  His first attainment was the remarkable
invention of Printing; but his second was horrible.  He discovered,
almost fortuitously, the dreadful formula by which devils are called out
of hell, and made subservient to the will of man.  But as yet he had not
exerted his power, out of love to his immortal soul, for whose welfare
every Christian is so anxious.  At this period he was in the full bloom
of manhood.  Nature had favoured him in his person, and had given him a
noble and expressive countenance.  Here was enough to bespeak his
happiness in the world; but she superadded pride and untamable
impetuosity of mind, which displayed itself in deep determination of
purpose, and in the constant workings of a heated imagination, which was
never satisfied with the present, but affected to discover the emptiness
and insufficiency of the acquired object, even in the zest of its
enjoyment.

Faustus soon lost the path by which moderation leads frail mortals to the
abode of true happiness.  He soon felt the narrow limits of humanity, and
endeavoured to burst their bonds.  By what he had learnt and believed in
his youth, he entertained a high opinion of the capacity and moral worth
of man; and, in comparing himself with others, he naturally laid the
greatest part of the sum-total to his own account.  Here were fine
materials for greatness and glory: but true greatness and true glory
generally fly from him who is on the point of attaining them, just before
he can separate their fine pure forms from the mist and vapour which
delusion has shed round them.  It appeared to Faustus that, in his
situation, the nearest and most convenient way to honour and reputation
would be the sciences; yet scarcely had he tasted their enchantment when
his soul became inflamed with an ardent passion after truth.  Every one
who is acquainted with these sirens, and has heard their deceitful song,
must know that, provided he does not make a mere trade of them, he must
infallibly miss his aim, from the necessity of assuaging the burning
thirst with which they inspire him.  Faustus, after he had for a long
time groped about in the labyrinth, found that his earnings were doubt;
displeasure at the short-sightedness of man; and discontent and murmuring
against the Being who had formed him.  He might still have been
comparatively happy had he had only these feelings to combat: but when
the perusal of the sages and the poets awakened a thousand new wants in
his soul, and his now winged and artificial imagination conjured up
before his eyes the many intoxicating enjoyments which gold and
reputation could only procure him, his blood ran like fire through his
veins, and all his faculties were soon swallowed up by this sensation.

By the discovery of Printing, Faustus thought he had at length opened the
door to riches, honour, and enjoyment.  He exerted himself to the utmost,
in order to bring the art to perfection, and he now laid his discovery
before mankind; but their lukewarmness quickly convinced him that,
although the greatest inventor of his age, he and his family would soon
perish with hunger unless his genius continually displayed itself in some
new forms.  Hurled from the pinnacle of hope, oppressed by heavy
debts,--which he had incurred by generosity and extravagant living, and
by his becoming security for false friends,--he now surveyed the world
through a gloomy medium.  His domestic ties, when he no longer knew how
to support his family, became an intolerable burden.  He began to think
that there was a malign influence in the distribution of men's fortunes:
or how did it happen that the noble and intellectual man was every where
oppressed, neglected, and in misery; whilst the knave and the fool were
rich, prosperous, and honoured in life?

In this melancholy state of mind Faustus wandered from Mayence to
Frankfort, intending to sell one of his printed Latin Bibles to the
magistracy, and then to return and buy with the produce food for his
hungry children.  He had been able to accomplish nothing in his native
city, because at that time the Archbishop was at war with the whole
Chapter, and all Mayence found itself in the greatest confusion.  The
cause was as follows: a Dominican monk had dreamt that he passed the
night with his penitent, the lovely Clara, who was a white nun, and a
niece of the Archbishop.  In the morning it was his turn to read mass; he
did so, and, unabsolved from the night of sin, received the host in his
profane hands.  At eve-tide, after a cup or two of Rhenish, he related
his dream to a young novice.  The dream tickled the imagination of the
novice: he told it with some additions to a monk; and in this manner the
story, embellished with horrors and licentiousness, ran through the
convent, until it came to the ears of the Prior himself.  This holy man,
who hated Father Gebhardt on account of his intimacy with the most
respectable houses, was shocked at the scandalousness of the affair,
which he considered as a profanation of the holy sacrament; and, refusing
to decide on such a weighty matter, he referred it to the Archbishop.
The Archbishop, wisely concluding that whatever sinful man wishes or
thinks by day he dreams of by night, denounced the ban of the Church
against the monk.  The Chapter, whose hatred to an Archbishop always
increases the longer he lives, and gladly seizes every opportunity to
annoy him, took Father Gerhardt under its protection, and opposed the ban
on these grounds: "It is well known that the Devil tempted St. Anthony
with the most licentious representations and voluptuous enticements; and
if the Devil dared to act so with a saint, whose equal was not to be
found in the calendar, what should prevent him from playing off his
pranks with a Dominican?  We must therefore advise the monk to follow the
example of the holy Anthony, and, like him, to oppose the temptations of
the fiend with the weapons of prayer and fasting.  It is, however, much
to be lamented, that Satan should have so little respect for the
Archbishop as to make the instrument of his wiles assume the figure of
one of his reverence's family."  The Chapter conducted itself in this
case exactly in the same manner as hereditary princes do whose fathers
live too long.  But what served more completely to confuse the case was a
report from the nunnery.  The nuns had assembled in the refectory, and
were busied in dressing up a Madonna for the next festival, hoping to
surpass by its magnificence their rivals the black nuns, when suddenly
the old porteress entered, told the licentious story, and added, that the
Dominican, whose name she had forgot, would certainly be burnt alive, for
that the Chapter had even then assembled for the purpose of trying him.
Whilst the porteress was relating the tale with its various
circumstances, the faces of the young nuns were violently flushed, and
Sin, who never loses an opportunity of corrupting innocent hearts, shot
into their blood, and hastily pictured the dangerous scene to their
imaginations.  Fury and consternation, in the mean time, deformed the
features of the old ones.  The abbess trembled and leaned on her staff,
while the spectacles fell from her face.  But when the porteress added,
that it was the sister Clara whom the fiend had brought to the Dominican
in his dream, a dreadful shriek filled the whole hall.  Clara alone
remained tranquil, and when the uproar had ceased, she said, smiling:
"Dear sisters, why do you shriek so fearfully?  I myself dreamt that I
passed the night with Father Gebhardt, my confessor; and if it was the
work of the fiend" (here she and all the rest made the sign of the
cross), "why, we must give him the discipline."  "The Father Gebhardt!"
cried the porteress; "now, all ye saints and angels, that is the very
person who dreamt of you; that is he whom they are about to burn."  The
porteress having thus expressed herself, this second version of the dream
was immediately circulated through the city.  The Madonna was allowed to
remain naked, for the sisters cared now very little if the black nuns
bore away the palm.  The abbess did all in her power to spread the news
abroad, the housekeeper followed her example, the porteress harangued an
audience beneath the gateway, and Clara candidly replied to the yet more
candid questions of her companions.  The last trumpet could not have
diffused in Mayence more terror and confusion than did this extraordinary
tale.

No sooner did the Dominican prior hear of this accident than he ran to
the assembled Chapter, and gave, by his information, a new turn to the
affair.  The Archbishop would willingly have suppressed the whole
business; but it was now time for the Chapter to take it up, and all the
canons were unanimously of opinion, that so strange a circumstance ought
to be communicated to the Holy Father at Rome.  They now became
infuriated, and nothing but the midday bell had power to separate them.
From that moment, all Mayence, clergy and laity, divided into two
parties; and for many years nothing was heard, spoken, or dreamt of, but
the Devil, the white nun, and Father Gebhardt.  The matter was argued
from the pulpit of every sect: mountebanks, Capuchins, and dog-doctors,
made it their theme; while the lawyers, after having taken the
depositions of the nun and the father, and confronted them with each
other, wrote folio volumes concerning the sinful and unsinful chances of
the dream.  Was this a time for Faustus and his discoveries to succeed?

In Frankfort, which is at the present day the asylum of science, Faustus,
however, hoped for better fortune.  He offered his Bible to the reverend
Town Council for two hundred gold guilders; but, as a large sum had just
been expended in purchasing five hogsheads of prime Rhenish for the
council cellar, his demand came rather unseasonably.  He paid his court
to the town-clerk, to the speaker, and to the senators,--from the proud
patrician to the yet prouder head of the shoemaker guild.  He was
promised by all favour, protection, and assistance.

At length he attached himself to the then presiding mayor, from whom he
for a long time gained nothing; but, as if in recompense, the
lady-mayoress kindled a violent passion in his susceptible heart.  One
evening the mayor assured him that the council, on their next day of
meeting, would come to a determination, by virtue of which the assembled
members would most probably pay down the sum for the Bible.  Faustus
replied, that his children might very possibly die of hunger before so
enlightened an assembly had decided; and, maddened with despair, he now
returned to his solitary apartment.  In this moment he suddenly
recollected his magic formula.  The thought of running some bold risk,
and of purchasing independence of man by an alliance with the Devil,
rushed more vividly than ever through his brain.  Yet the idea terrified
him.  With hasty steps, furious gestures, and fearful cries, he strode up
and down the chamber, struggling with his rebellious spirit, which urged
him to penetrate the surrounding darkness; still his soul shuddered and
was unresolved.  The clock struck eleven from the neighbouring tower.
Black night hung about the earth.  The north-wind howled, and clouds
obscured the face of the full moon.  Nature now appeared in a second
chaos.  A night more suited to bewilder an excited imagination could not
be conceived.  Yet was the beam of his mind balanced.  In one scale hung
religion and its firm supporter--the hope of immortality; while thirst
for independence and knowledge, pride, pleasure, malevolence, and
bitterness filled the other.

At length Faustus, according to the custom of magic, drew the horrible
circle which was for ever to remove him from the providential care of the
Omnipotent, and from the sweet ties of humanity.  His eyes sparkled, his
heart beat louder, and his yellow tresses stood erect on his head.  At
this moment he thought he saw his aged father and his blooming wife and
children wring their hands in despair, and fall down upon their knees to
pray for him to that Being whom he was about to renounce.  "It is their
misery, it is their situation, that maddens me," he wildly shrieked, and
stamped on the ground with his foot.  He now became enraged at the
weakness of his heart, and advanced towards the circle; the storm rattled
against the windows, the foundation of the house trembled: a noble
angelic figure appeared before him, exclaiming, "Stay, Faustus!" and the
following colloquy ensued:

_Faustus_.  Who art thou, that disturbest my daring work?

_Figure_.  I am the Genius of Man, and will save thee, if thou art to be
saved.

_Faustus_.  What canst thou give me to assuage my thirst for knowledge,
and my desire for freedom and enjoyment?

_Figure_.  Humility, resignation in suffering, content, and a proper
estimation of thyself; above all, an easy death, and light in the world
to come.

_Faustus_.  Begone, vision of my heated fancy!  I know thee by the
cunning with which thou wouldst deceive the wretches whom thou hast made
subservient to power.  Begone, and hover around the brows of the beggar,
of the monk, of the debased slave, and of all those who have their hearts
fettered by unnatural bonds; and who keep their senses locked up, in
order to escape from the claws of despair.  The powers of my soul require
room, and let Him who has given me it answer for its workings.

"Farewell, unhappy man," sighed the Genius, and disappeared.

Faustus cried, "Am I to be frightened on the very brink of hell by
nursery-tales?  But they shall not prevent me from piercing the darkness;
I will know what the gloomy curtain conceals, which a tyrannical hand has
drawn before our eyes.  And who is to blame, I repeat?  Was it I that
formed myself so that trifling exertion exhausts my strength?  Did I
plant in my bosom the seeds of passion?  Did I place there that impulse
for aggrandisement which never lets me rest?  Did I fashion my soul, so
that it will not submit, and will not bear contempt?  Perhaps I am like
the earthen pot, which, formed by a strange hand, is broken into pieces,
because it does not hit the fancy of the maker, and because it does not
answer the use for which it appears to have been designed.  Alas! I am a
mere vessel; yet wherefore then this struggle with my destiny, which
would fetter my noblest resolves?  And was mind given for no purpose?
Surely not!  The bull trusts in his horns, and the stag in his swiftness
to escape from the hunter; and is that which so eminently distinguishes
man less his own?  Mind I possess; I employed it for the benefit of my
fellow-men, and neglect was my reward; perhaps the devils will respect it
more."

Here he sprung furiously into the circle; while the lamentations of his
wife, father, and children seemed to echo, in the deep tones of despair,
"Lost! for ever lost!"

Satan, ruler of hell, had, by the hoarse sound of his trumpets, which
echoed even to the glowing sides of the sun, announced to all the fallen
spirits dispersed through the upper and lower world, that he intended on
this day to give a great festival.  The spirits assembled at the mighty
call.  Even his envoys at the papal stool, and at the different courts of
Europe, forsook their posts; for the invitation led them to expect
something great and important.

Already the monstrous vaults of hell resounded with the wild cries of the
fiendish populace, while myriads seated themselves upon the scorched
ground.  The princes then stepped forth, and commanded silence to the
multitude, whilst Satan heard the intelligence brought by his envoys from
the upper world.  The devils obeyed, and a death-like stillness prevailed
amid the thick, misty darkness, interrupted only by the groans of the
damned.  In the mean time the slaves of the fiends--shades who are
neither worthy of happiness nor damnation--prepared the immeasurable
tables for the banquet; and they deserved to be under the thraldom of
such a task.  When they were yet in flesh and blood, and ate the fruits
of the earth, they were of that equivocal kind, who seem the friends of
all men and yet are the friends of none; whose tongues continually
prattle of the noble precepts of virtue, which they feel not in their
hearts; who only abstain from evil because it is accompanied by danger,
and from doing good because it requires courage and self-denial; who
traffic with religion, and, like avaricious Jews, lay out their capital
at interest, for the purpose of securing a comfortable berth for their
miserable souls; and who worship God from fear, and tremble before Him
like slaves.

The devils, who, to say the truth, are no better masters than the Polish,
Livonian, and Hungarian nobility, drove them about in hell at a furious
rate.  Others were sweating in the infernal kitchen, and cooking the meal
for their haughty lords--an unpleasant service for a soul which had once
supported its own human body by eating and drinking.  For although the
devils originally neither ate nor drank, yet they had learnt from men the
custom of celebrating every solemnity by means of the glass and platter;
and on such occasions they feast on souls.  The general of each legion
(for hell is arranged on a military footing, and in this respect
resembles every despotic government, or rather every despotic government
in this respect resembles hell) chooses a certain number of damned souls,
as food for his subalterns.  These are delivered over to the slaves, who
stew, broil, and baste them with infernal sauce.  It frequently happens
that these wretches have to stick their own wives, daughters, fathers,
sons, or brothers upon the spits, and to keep up the purgatorial fire
beneath them; a truly horrible and tragic employment, rendered yet more
so, since their overseer, a capricious devil, like all understrappers of
great lords, stands behind them with a whip in order to expedite the
work.  On the present occasion two popes, a conqueror, a celebrated
philosopher, and a recently canonised saint, were intended to feast the
palates of Satan, his viziers, and his favourites.  Abundance of fresh
victuals had just arrived for the common people.  The pope had a little
time before set by the ears two armies of French, Italians, Spaniards,
and Germans, in order to fish up in the tumult certain districts, to add
to the patrimony of St. Peter.  They fought like heroes, and fell by
thousands into the infernal regions.  What happiness would it be for the
souls intended for these devilish repasts, if they were thereby to find
an end to their torments!  But no sooner are they swallowed, digested,
and returned piecemeal into the pools of hell than they are regenerated,
and arise to become the patients of new suffering.

While these victims were writhing on the spits, the cellarers and
butlers, slaves of the above-mentioned order, decked out the sideboards.
The flasks were filled with tears of hypocrites, of would-be saints, of
pretenders to sensibility, and of persons who repent from weakness of
soul; with tears which envy squeezes out on hearing of another's
prosperity; with tears of egotists who weep for joy because they
themselves have escaped the misfortunes by which others are overwhelmed;
and of sons who weep over the palls of their harsh and avaricious
fathers.  The flasks on the supper-table were filled with the tears of
priests, who, like actors, play a part in the pulpit, in order to move
their auditors; and to give the liquor a sharper flavour, it was mingled
with tears of courtesans, who walk the streets weeping for hunger, until
some inexperienced youth barters his dollar with them for sin.  Reserved
for Satan and his princes stood, on various sideboards, flasks of the
noblest drink.  This was heady and foaming, being a mixture of the tears
of monarchs, who weep for the misery of their subjects, whilst they issue
commands only calculated to perpetuate it; of the tears of maidens who
weep for the loss of their chastity with streaming eyes; and of the tears
of favourites who have fallen into disgrace, and now weep because they
can no longer rob and oppress under the protection of their masters.

No sooner had the slaves decked the table, and stationed themselves
behind the chairs of their masters, than the grandees poured forth from
the chambers of Satan.  The furies went foremost; the body-guards
followed them, and were succeeded by the chamberlains.  Then came pages
bearing lighted torches, woven out of the souls of monks who entrap
wives, and press round the deathbed of husbands to force them to leave
their property to the Church, without reflecting that their own
illegitimate spawn must beg for bread through the land.  Then came Satan
himself, closely followed by the remaining nobility of his court,
according to their rank and favour.  The devils bowed their heads in
reverence, the pages placed the torches upon the table of their
sovereign; while Satan, with a triumphant air, mounted his high throne,
and delivered the following speech:

"Princes, potentates, immortal spirits, welcome! thrice welcome!
Rapturous emotions glow through me when I cast my eyes along your
squadrons of countless heroes.  We are yet what we were when, for the
first time, we awoke in this pool from the stunning consequences of our
fall, and for the first time assembled here.  Only one feeling still
rules,--unanimity alone maintains her sway, and in this place only do all
devote themselves to the same end.  He who has the happiness of
commanding you may easily forget all other glory.  I own we have
suffered, and still suffer, much, especially since the full exercise of
our powers is restrained.  But in the feeling of the vengeance which we
take on the sons of dust,--in the contemplation of their madness and
crimes, by which they continually thwart the purposes of their
being,--lies a recompense for our suffering.  Welcome, thrice welcome,
all ye whom this sentiment inflames.

"Hear now the occasion of the festival which I intend this day to
celebrate with you.  Faustus, a daring mortal, who, like us, is at war
with the Eternal, and who, through the strength of his spirit, may at
some future period be deemed worthy to dwell along with us here, has
discovered the art of multiplying, on an easy principle, a thousand and a
thousandfold, those things denominated books,--those dangerous toys of
men,--those vehicles of delusion, of error, of lies, and of
horror,--those sources of pride and of painful doubt.  Until now they
have been too costly, and only in the hands of the rich, whom they filled
with fancies, and from whom they chased that humility which God had for
their happiness infused into their hearts.  Triumph!  Soon will the
poison of knowledge and inquiry be communicated to all classes.  New
cravings, new wants, will arise; and I doubt whether my enormous kingdom
will be able to contain all those who will destroy themselves by this
delicious poison.  But this were only a slight victory: my eye pierces
deeper into that distant period, which is to us no more than an hour is
to man.  Soon will cavillers and haters of the established Church spread
about like the plague: pretended reformers of heaven and earth will
arise, and their doctrines, from the facility of communication, will
penetrate even into the hut of the beggar.  They will think to do good,
and to purify the object of their hope from falsehood.  But, if men begin
well, how long do they continue to act so!  Sin is not more inseparable
from them than are ill consequences from their noblest pursuits.  The
well-beloved people of God, whom he endeavoured to snatch from evil by
the sacrifice of his only Son, will quarrel about tenets which no one
understands, and will tear each other to pieces like wild-beasts.
Horrible atrocities, surpassing all the abominations perpetrated by men
since they first sprung into existence, will desolate unhappy Europe.  My
hopes appear to you too bold,--I read it in your doubting countenances;
but listen to me whilst I explain.  Religious disagreements will give
rise to these frenzies.  Then first will Fanaticism, the wild son of
Hatred and Superstition, untie all the bonds of nature and humanity.  The
father will murder the son, and the son the father; kings will joyfully
dip their fingers in the blood of their subjects, and place the sword in
the hands of bigots, in order that they may slaughter their brothers by
thousands, because their opinions are different.  Then will the water of
the rivers turn into streams of blood, and the shrieks of the murdered
will shake hell to its very centre.  We shall see wretches come down to
us stained with crimes for which we have had hitherto neither names nor
punishments.  Already do I see them attack the papal chair, which keeps
together the fragile fabric through treachery and deceit, whilst it
undermines itself through crime and luxury.  The great props of the
religion which we dread give way; and, if the sinking structure be not
sustained by means of new miracles, it will disappear from the face of
the earth, and we shall once more shine in the temples as worshiped
divinities.  Where will the spirit of man stop, when he has once
undertaken to illumine that which he formerly honoured as a mystery?  He
will dance on the grave of the tyrant, at whose frown he the day before
trembled.  He will break to pieces the altar on which he lately
sacrificed, if he once endeavour to find the way to heaven by his own
wisdom.  Will the Creator take home to himself a human being, who is not
a million times more allied to us than to him?  Man abuses every thing,
even the strength of his soul as well as of his body.  He abuses all that
he sees, hears, feels, or thinks; and all with which he trifles, or with
which he is seriously engaged.  Not content with deforming whatever he
can seize with his hands, he soars upon the wings of imagination into
worlds to him unknown, and arrays them in ideal deformity.  Even freedom,
the noblest of his treasures, to obtain which he has shed rivers of
blood, he readily sells for gold and pleasure, before he has tasted its
sweets.  Incapable of good, he yet trembles at evil, he heaps horror upon
horror to escape it, and then destroys his own handiwork.

"After the bloodshed of war, mankind, wearied with slaughter, will take a
few moments' repose, and then their venomous hatred will be displayed in
petty and private bickerings.  Some, indeed, will every now and then
raise piles of wood and fagot, and burn those alive who disagree with
them in religion; others will attempt the solution of inexplicable
riddles; and those born for darkness will dare to struggle for light;
their imaginations will become inflamed, and their desires insatiable.
Truth, simplicity, and religion will be trodden under foot, for the sake
of writing a book.  Yes, yes, book-writing will become a universal
employment, by which fools and men of genius will alike seek fame and
emolument; caring very little whether they confuse the heads of their
fellow-creatures, and hurl firebrands into the hearts of the innocent.
The heaven, the earth, the secret strength of nature, the dark causes of
her phenomena, the power which rules the stars and bowls the comets
through space,--every thing visible and invisible,--they will wish to
handle, measure, and dive into.  They will invent, for all that is
incomprehensible, words and numbers; and heap system upon system, till
they have brought deeper darkness upon the earth, through which doubt,
like the fen-fire, will only shine to allure the wanderer into the
morass.  Only then will they think to see clearly, and then I expect
them.  After they have shovelled away religion, and are forced, out of
the remains, to patch together a new and monstrous mixture of human
wisdom and superstition, then I expect them.  And then open wide the
gates of hell, that the race of man may enter.  The first step is already
taken; the second is near.  But this must be preceded by a horrible
revolution upon the face of the earth.  Soon will the inhabitants of the
old world emigrate, for the purpose of discovering new, and to them
unknown, regions of the globe.  They will there attack and slaughter
millions, to possess themselves of that gold which the innocents value
not.  They will fill this new world with all their crimes, and then
return with materials for corrupting even the old one.  Thus will nations
become our prey, whom till now innocence and ignorance have protected
from us.  And thus shall we, by the assistance of the favourites of
heaven, triumph.

"This, then, O potentates! is what I wished to communicate to you; and
now rejoice with me over this mighty day, and enjoy in anticipation the
victory which I, who know men, promise you.  Long live Faustus!"

With horrible uproar, which made the axis of the earth tremble, and the
bones of the dead rattle in their coffins, the devils shouted, "Long live
Faustus!"  "Long live the corrupter of the sons of dust!"  Hereupon the
chief nobility of the kingdom were permitted to kiss the hand of his
Satanic majesty.

The triumphant devils now sat down to table, and fell upon the prepared
meal.  The goblets clattered, the souls were craunched between their iron
teeth; and they drank the health of Satan, of Faustus, of the clergy, of
the tyrants of the earth, and of future and living authors, amidst the
clang of hellish artillery.  In order to render the banquet more
magnificent, the masters of the revels went to the pools, drew out the
burning souls, and chased them over the tables, to illumine the gloomy
scene; while they ran behind the wretches with poisoned whips, forcing
them to caper; and sparks ascended to the blackened roofs, crackling like
wheat-sheaves ignited by lightning in an autumn storm.  That the devils
might have music to their meat, others hastened to the pools, and poured
molten metal amid the flames, so that the damned howled and cursed in
grisly despair.  If priests now could, instead of their cold and
fruitless sermons about penitence, give a specimen upon earth of these
horrid cries, sinners would quickly turn a deaf ear to the voluptuous
warblings of castrati, and join in some pious psalm: but, alas, hell is
distant, and pleasure close at hand.  After the banquet a great stage was
erected, and various plays were performed, founded on the heroic deeds of
Satan; for example, the Fall of Man, the Betrayal of Judas Iscariot, &c.

The performance was then suddenly changed to an allegorical ballet.  The
scene was a wild and dreary spot.  In a dark cavern sat Metaphysics, in
the shape of an Egyptian mummy, whose eyes were fixed upon five
glittering words, which flitted continually backwards and forwards, and
at each change had a different import.  The mummy ceased not to follow
them with its stony eyes; while in a corner stood a little roguish devil,
who incessantly blew bubbles of air into its face.  Pride, the amanuensis
of Metaphysics, gathered the bubbles up as they fell, pressed the air
out, and kneaded them into hypotheses.  The mummy was clothed in an
Egyptian waistcoat, embroidered with mystic characters.  Over this it
wore a Grecian mantle, which ought to have concealed the characters, but
was much too short and too narrow for that purpose.  Its legs, thighs,
and body, were cased in long loose drawers, which did not, however,
entirely conceal its nakedness.  A huge doctorial hat covered its bald
head, which was marked with the scratches worn by its long nails in
provoking deep reflection.  Its shoes were made after the European
fashion, and sprinkled with the finest dust of the schools and
universities.  After it had gazed a considerable time on the moving
words, without being able to understand them, its attendant, Pride, gave
the wink to Delusion, who was walking near.  He seized a wooden trumpet,
and sounded a dance.  No sooner did the mummy hear the noise than it took
Pride by the hand, and danced about with antic gambols; but its thin
withered legs could not bear this long, and it soon sunk breathless into
its former posture.

Then came forward Morality, a fine female form, hooded in a veil, which,
chameleon-like, sported all colours.  She held Virtue and Vice by the
hands, and danced a trio with them.  For music, a naked savage played
upon an oaten pipe, a European philosopher scraped the fiddle, while an
Asiatic beat the drum; and although these contradictory tones would have
distracted an harmonious ear, yet the dancers did not once lose the
step,--so well had they learnt their parts.  When the maiden gave Vice
her hand, she coquetted and languished significantly before him; but when
she gave it to Virtue, she moved along with the modest gait of a matron.
After the dance, she reposed upon a thin, transparent, and
beautifully-painted cloud, which her admirers had woven out of various
shreds and remnants.

Next appeared nude Poetry: she danced with Sensuality a characteristic
dance, to which Imagination played the flute d'amour.

History then advanced upon the stage.  Before her went Fame, with a long
brazen trumpet.  She herself was hung round with stories of murders,
poisonings, perjuries, conspiracies, and other horrors.  Behind her
panted, beneath a prodigious load of chronicles, diplomas, and documents,
a strong nervous man, clothed in the German fashion.  She danced with
Slavery, to the rustling of the stories with which she was hung.
Falsehood at length took the trumpet from the mouth of Fame, and tuned it
to the dance; and Flattery led the figures.

Then appeared Medicine and Quackery, and were received with loud
laughter: they danced a minuet, to which Death clinked the music with a
purse of gold.

After them were seen Astrology, Cabala, Theosophy, and Mysticism.  They
grasped each other by the hands, and whirled around in intricate figures;
while Superstition, Delusion, and Fraud stood near, and blew the
bagpipes.

These were followed by Jurisprudence, a sleek, rosy-faced dame, fed with
fees, and hung about with commentaries--she coughed through a tedious
solo; and Chicanery played the bass-viol.

Last of all entered Policy, in a triumphant car drawn by two mares,
Weakness and Deceit.  On her right sat Theology, holding in one hand a
sharp-pointed dagger, and in the other a blazing torch.  Policy herself
wore a golden crown upon her head, and supported a sceptre over her right
shoulder.  She descended from the car, and danced with Theology a
pas-de-deux, to which Cunning, Ambition, and Tyranny played on soft
tinkling instruments.  After she had finished the pas-de-deux, she made
all the other figures a sign to begin a general dance.  They immediately
obeyed, and sprang about in wild confusion.  All the before-mentioned
musicians played on their instruments, and raised a din, only surpassed
in loudness by the table-music of Satan.  Yet Contention soon insinuated
herself among the unsuspicious dancers; and, animated by Zeal and Fury,
they hastily snatched up weapons.  When Theology perceived that all
embraced delightful Poetry, and that Morality wished to tear off her own
veil, in order to cover her with it, she gave the latter a thrust with a
poniard from behind, and singed the nude and tender Poetry with her
flaming torch.  Both raised a dreadful shriek: Policy commanded silence,
and Quackery hastened to bind up the wound of Morality, whilst Medicine
cut a shred from her robe in payment.  Death stretched out his claw from
under the mantle of thievish Medicine to seize Morality, but Policy gave
him such a blow that he yelled aloud, and grinned most hideously.  Poetry
was allowed to hop about, because she was naked, and had nothing to be
despoiled of.  At length History took pity on her, and laid upon the burn
a wet leaf from a sentimental romance.  Policy then tied them all behind
her chariot, and drove away in triumph.

All hell expressed approbation of this last spectacle by reiterated
clappings; and Satan embraced the devil Leviathan for having got up the
entertainment, which flattered him exceedingly, it being one of his chief
whims to be reckoned by the fiends as the inventor of the sciences.  He
often said, in his pride, that he had begotten them in his intercourse
with the daughters of earth, in order to divert men from the
straightforward and noble feelings of their hearts; to remove from their
eyes the mystic veil which constitutes their happiness; to make them
acquainted with their state of restriction and weakness; and to fill them
with painful doubt concerning their after destination.  "I taught them,"
he would continue, "by their means, to reason, so that they might forget
to practise virtue, and to worship.  We ourselves have defied Heaven with
bold and open weapons, and I have at least shown them the way of
skirmishing incessantly with the Eternal."

The sensible reader will here pause, and admire the strict resemblance of
all courts to each other: that is, how the great, through the service,
toil, and sweat of the little, win the favour of their sovereigns, and
bear away the rewards.  Leviathan gave himself out as the inventor of
this allegorical ballet, and was on that account thanked and caressed,
although the real author of it was the Bavarian Poet Laureate, who a
short time before had died of hunger, and found his way to hell.  He
prepared the ballet after the latest court-fashion, by the command of
Prince Leviathan, who had at least talent enough to discover merit: the
reason of his bitter allusions to the sciences was, probably, because
they had so ill supported him; and perhaps Leviathan, who knew perfectly
well what would please Satan, had given him a hint to that effect.  Be
this as it may, the devil had the reward, and the thin shade of the
Bavarian Laureate sat cowering behind a rock of the theatre, and observed
with bitterest agony the marks of unmerited favour which Satan had
lavished on Leviathan.

The half-intoxicated devils now became so clamorous as nearly to drown
the howls of the damned; when suddenly the powerful voice of Faustus
echoed from the upper world through hell.  He had at length surmounted
every obstacle, and now summoned before him one of the first princes of
the kingdom of darkness.

Satan started up in ecstasy: "It is Faustus who calls there.  No one else
has the power; and no one else, if he had such power, would dare to knock
so loudly against the iron portals.  Up! up! a man like him is worth a
thousand of the scoundrels who come down hither every day by rote."
Then, turning to the devil Leviathan, his favourite, he added, "I choose
thee, the subtlest seducer, the deadliest hater of the human race, to
ascend and purchase for me, by thy dangerous services, the soul of this
desperado.  Only thou canst chain, satiate, and then, drive to despair,
his craving heart and his proud and restless spirit.  Quick, quick!
ascend! dispel the vapours of school-wisdom from his brain.  Consume with
the fire of voluptuousness the noble feelings of his heart.  Disclose to
him the treasures of nature, and hurry him into life, that he may the
sooner grow tired of it.  Let him see evil arise from good, vice
rewarded, justice and innocence trodden under foot, as is the custom of
men.  Conduct him through the wild and terrible scenes of human life; let
him mistake its aim, and lose among its horrors the guiding thread of
virtue.  And when he stands separated from all natural and heavenly ties,
in doubt concerning the noble destination of his race,--when even
pleasure and enjoyment have left him, and the inward worm awakes,--then
depict to him, with infernal bitterness, the consequences of his deeds
and delusions, and unfold to him all their links, extending to remotest
generations.  If despair should then seize him, hurl him down, and return
in triumph to hell."

_Leviathan_.  Wherefore, O Satan, dost thou impose this work upon me?
Thou knowest that I have long ago had enough of men, and of their
playground,--the world.  What is to be made out of wretches who, as thou
hast observed, have strength neither for good nor evil?  Gold, ambition,
or pleasure, can quickly make rascals of them, who have for a short
period pursued the phantom virtue; and if any one should move boldly at
first along the path of vice, he will be driven back when half-way by the
spectres of his crazy imagination.  If, indeed, it were a proud
hot-headed Spaniard, a revengeful assassinating Italian, or even a wild
lascivious Frenchman, whom you wanted me to catch--but a German, one of
those thick-pated swine, who slavishly bend before rank, riches, and all
the artificial distinctions of men, who believe that their lords and
princes are made of superior materials to themselves, and have a right to
dispose of them just as they please, either in fighting their own
battles, or those of other sovereigns!  Hast thou heard from them for
centuries a single word of rebellion against tyranny, or of shedding
blood for the rights of man?  Not one of them has, as yet, come down to
hell in glory; a proof that these people have no distinguished heads
among them.  Those are to my mind who wish to clear up every thing, who
fight with the adamantine shield of individuality, against which all
prejudices, earthly or heavenly, are shivered.  Show me such a man who is
willing to become great on earth at the expense of his soul, and I will
immediately ascend.

_Satan_.  Shall devils, O Leviathan, be blinded by prejudice, like the
sons of dust?  I tell thee, the man after our own heart is born under
that district of heaven.  He is one of those who, endued by nature with
hot and furious passions, rebel against all the old-established customs
of society.  When such a spirit tears its way through these cobwebs, it
resembles a flame, which, by its own fury, speedily consumes the
materials which feed its lustre.  He is one of those visionary
philosophers who strive to seize, through imagination, what is denied to
cold understanding; and who, if they are unsuccessful, laugh at all
knowledge, and make pleasure and enjoyment their gods.  Away, away,
Leviathan! soon shall a fire break out in Germany which will spread
through all Europe.  Already is the germ of that delusion springing up
which shall endure for centuries.  What the German has once caught, he
will not easily let go.

The commanding voice of Faustus now resounded for the second time.  Satan
continued:

"Thou mayst know by this call that he is no trembler.  Hasten to him,
for, if thou delayest, perhaps he may doubt the strength of his charms,
and hell will lose the fruits of his temerity.  Truly, the fellow is such
a genius, that I can almost overlook his origin."

The devil Leviathan angrily replied: "I swear, by the hot and foul pool
of the damned, that the rebel shall one day blaspheme, and curse this and
the hour of his birth."

He went away wrapt in a veil of smoke, and the fiends pursued him with
loud huzzas.

Faustus stood within the magic circle, while his breast swelled with
rage.  For the third time he repeated the dreadful formula, in a voice
that resembled thunder.  The door suddenly flew open; a thick vapour
hovered around the margin of the circle; he struck into it with his magic
rod, and cried in triumph, "Unveil thyself, thou thing of darkness!"  The
vapour dispersed, and Faustus saw a tall figure concealed beneath a red
mantle.

_Faustus_.  Why this tedious disguise to one who wishes to see thee?
Discover thyself to him, who fears thee not in whatever shape thou mayst
appear.

The Devil flung back his mantle, and stood in a daring and majestic
attitude before the circle.  His fiery eyes sparkled from beneath their
black brows, between which malice, hatred, fury, agony, and scorn had
formed themselves in thick folds.  These furrows were sunk in a smooth,
clear, high-arched forehead, which contrasted strangely with the fiendish
marks between the eyes.  A finely-formed aquiline nose inclined towards a
mouth which seemed to have been framed only for the enjoyment of immortal
things.  He had the mien of a fallen angel, whose countenance was once
illuminated by the Godhead, but which was now obscured by a gloomy veil.

_Faustus_ (_in surprise_).  Is man, then, every where at home?  Who art
thou?

_Devil_.  I am a prince of hell, and come because thy mighty call compels
me.

_Faustus_.  A prince of hell under this mask; under the figure of a man!
I wished for a fiend, and not one of my own race.

_Devil_.  Perhaps, Faustus, we are most so when we resemble ye; at least,
no mask suits us better.  Besides, is it not your custom to conceal what
ye are, and to appear what ye are not?

_Faustus_.  Bitter enough, and yet true as bitter; for, if our outsides
looked like our insides, we should not be very different from that which
we imagine you to be; still, I expected to see thee more terrible, and
even hoped that thy appearance would try the strength of my courage.

_Devil_.  Thus do ye always imagine things contrary to what they are.
Probably you expected a devil with horns and a cloven foot, as the
cowardly age has depicted him.  But since you have ceased to worship the
powers of nature, they have forsaken you, and you can no longer conceive
any thing great.  If I were to stand before thee such as I really am,--my
eyes threatening comets, my body a dark, hovering cloud, which shoots
lightning from its gloom, in my hand the sword which I once brandished
against the Avenger, and on my arm the ponderous shield which his thunder
pierced,--thou wouldst become a heap of ashes in thy circle.

_Faustus_.  But then I should at least see something great.

_Devil_.  I might admire your courage; but you are never more ridiculous
than in these would-be grand bursts of feeling, when you contrast the
little you can embrace with the monstrous and great which are so high
above you.  Thus may the worm measure the trampling elephant, and reckon
his weight in the moment when it dies beneath his powerful foot.

_Faustus_.  Mocker! and what, then, is the spirit within me, which, if it
once get fairly on the ladder, will mount from step to step into
infinity?  What are its limits?

_Devil_.  The length of your own nose.  But, if you called me out of hell
merely for this chit-chat, permit me to return for ever.  I have long
known your inclination to prate about that which you do not understand.

_Faustus_.  Thy bitterness pleases me; it chimes in with my humour, and I
should like to be better acquainted with thee.  What is thy name?

_Devil_.  Leviathan; which signifies _all_, for I can do all.

_Faustus_.  Hear the braggart!  Are devils, then, so boastful?

_Devil_.  'Twas said merely to do honour to the shape in which thou seest
me: but words are vain.  Set me to the proof.  What dost thou require?

_Faustus_.  Require?  What an indefinite word for a devil!  If thou art
what thou seemest, anticipate desires, and gratify them ere they become
wishes.

_Devil_.  The noble steed champs the bit in fury when curbed by a timid
rider: how he then resembles the man who feels wings that could bear him
into light, yet who is kept down in the dark abyss!  Faustus, thou art
one of those fiery spirits who are not contented with the scanty meal of
knowledge which Omniscience has set before them.  Great is thy strength,
mighty is thy soul, and bold thy will; but the curse of finite reason
lies upon thee, as it does upon all.  Faustus, thou art as great as man
can be.

_Faustus_.  Masquerading fiend, return into hell; must thou, too, deceive
us by flattery?

_Devil_.  Faustus, I am a spirit formed of flaming light; I saw the
monstrous worlds arise out of nothing: thou art of dust, and of
yesterday.  Do I flatter thee?

_Faustus_.  And yet must thou serve me if I command.

_Devil_.  For that I expect the approbation of hell, besides a reward;
neither man nor devil will work for nothing.

_Faustus_.  What reward dost thou expect?

_Devil_.  To have that which animates thee; that which would make thee my
equal if it had power.

_Faustus_.  I were well off then, truly; yet, adept as thou art, thou
knowest little of men, if thou doubtest the strength of one who has set
himself free from the bonds which nature has drawn so tightly round our
hearts.  How gentle did they appear to me once, when the eye of my youth
clothed men and the world in the pure colours of morning!  'Tis gone;
dark is my horizon; I stand on the gloomy verge of eternity, and have
broken through the laws which keep the human race in harmony.

_Devil_.  What madness is this, Faustus?  Harmony! does _she_ rule the
confused dance of life?

_Faustus_.  Silence!  I feel it perhaps for the last time; and perhaps
look back for the last time upon the pleasant, joyous days of youth.  How
lamentable that man must awake from this dream of bliss; that the plant
must shoot up, in order to wither away as a tree, or be felled!  Ha,
demon, smile; I was once happy.  But let that be forgotten which can
never be recalled.  Yes, we have only strength when we pursue wickedness.
But wherein am I great?  If I were so, should I want thee?  Go, cunning
flatterer; thou wilt only make me feel my own littleness.

_Devil_.  He who is capable of feeling where the shoe pinches him, and
has courage enough to tear away the cause of it, is at least great so
far.  More I will not say, and woe to thee if I were to stimulate thee
with words.

_Faustus_.  Observe me now, and tell me what my spirit requires, but what
I dare not utter.

At these words Faustus pointed to himself, then towards the heavens, and
moved his magic staff towards the east and the west.  He then continued,
"Thou wast, when nothing was."  He laid his hand upon his breast and
forehead: "Here is darkness; let it be dispelled."

_Devil_.  Desperate man! full well I know thy wish, and tremble, devil as
I am, at thy boldness.

_Faustus_.  Wretched spirit! thou shalt not escape by this subterfuge.
In my burning thirst I would undertake to drink dry the deep sea, if I
hoped to find at its bottom what I sought.  I am thine, or another's: I
yet stand where no devil can penetrate.  Faustus is yet his own master.

_Devil_.  Thou wast so a few minutes since.  But thy lot was cast when
thou enteredst this circle.  Whoever has looked me in the face turns back
in vain; and thus I leave thee.

_Faustus_.  Thou shalt speak, and remove the dark covering which conceals
from me the world of spirits.  I will know the destination of man, and
the cause of moral evil in the world; I will know wherefore virtue
suffers, and vice is rewarded; I will know why we must purchase a
moment's enjoyment by years of agony and sorrow.  Thou shalt disclose to
me the source of things, and the mysterious causes of the phenomena of
the physical and moral world.  Thou shalt make Him, who has arranged all,
comprehensible to me--yes! even if the vivid lightnings, which at this
moment shoot from thy demon eyes, were to stretch me lifeless in this
circle of damnation.  Dost thou think that I have summoned thee merely
for pleasure and gold?  Any dastard may fill his belly, and satiate the
desires of the flesh.  Thou tremblest!  Have I more courage than thyself?
What quaking devil has hell vomited out?  And thou callest thyself
Leviathan, who canst do all!  Away, away! thou art no fiend, but a
miserable thing like myself.

_Devil_.  Madman! thou hast not yet felt, as I have, the vindictiveness
of the Avenger, the anticipation of which alone would make thee return to
dust, even if thou didst bear in thy bosom the united strength of men
from the first to the last sinner.  Urge me no farther.

_Faustus_.  I will, and am resolved.

_Devil_.  Thou inspirest me with reverence and pity.

_Faustus_.  Obedience is all I require.

_Devil_.  Go to war with him who has lighted up a torch within thee which
will consume thee, if fear do not extinguish it.

_Faustus_.  I have done so, and in vain.  Obey!

_Devil_.  Insatiable man!  But know that a devil has his bounds too.
Since our fall, we have lost the idea of these sublime secrets, and
forget even the language to express them.  The pure spirits of yonder
world can alone sing and imagine them.

_Faustus_.  Dost thou think by this crafty excuse to cheat me of that
which I desire?

_Devil_.  Fool!  I would wish for no better revenge upon thee than to be
able to paint to thy soul, in the glittering colours of Paradise, all
that thou hast lost, and then see thee writhe in despair.  Knew I more
than I know, can the tongue formed of flesh make intelligible to the ear
of flesh what lies beyond the bounds of sense, and the disembodied spirit
only comprehends?

_Faustus_.  Then be a spirit, and speak!  Shake off this figure.

_Devil_.  Wilt thou then understand me?

_Faustus_.  Shake off this figure, and let me see thee as a spirit.

_Devil_.  Thy words are folly.  Now, then, see me: I shall exist, but not
for thee; I shall speak, but thou wilt not catch my meaning.

Leviathan then melted into a thin clear flame, and disappeared.

_Faustus_.  Speak, and unfold the enigma.

As the soft west wind moves along the perfumed meadows and gently kisses
the tender flowers, so did it murmur around the ears of Faustus.  Then
the murmur changed to a loud continued tumult, which resembled the
rolling of thunder, or the dash of a breaker against the coral reef, or
its howl and bellow in the caves of the ocean.  Faustus crept close
within his circle, and with difficulty supported himself.

_Faustus_.  Ah, if this be the language of spirits, my dream has
vanished; I am deceived, and must gnash my teeth in darkness.  I have,
then, exchanged my soul for the gratification of earthly lust! for that
is all in which this intriguing devil can assist me.  That is all against
which I risked eternity!  I thought to move among men enlightened as no
one had ever yet been, and to dazzle them with my glory like the rising
sun.  The sublime thought of living for ever as the greatest in their
hearts is gone; and I am more wretched than I was.  Where art thou,
trickster, that I may vent my fury upon thee?

_Devil_ (_in his former figure_).  Here I am.  I spoke, and thou didst
not understand the sense of my words.  Dost thou not feel that thou art
born for darkness?  Thou canst not become that which thou must not.
Withdraw thy mind from impossibilities, and direct it to what is
attainable.  Thou wishedst to hear the language of spirits; thou heardst
it, and wert stunned and deafened by the sound.

_Faustus_.  Provoke but my wrath, and I will bruise thee to tears with my
magic rod.  I will chain thee to the rim of my circle, and then stamp on
thy neck.

_Devil_.  Do it, and hell will laugh at thy anger.  For every tear thou
makest me shed, Despair shall one day wring a drop of blood from thy
brow, and Revenge shall hold the scales to catch and weigh it.

_Faustus_.  How revolting to a noble creature like myself to hold
converse with an outcast, who has only sense for wickedness, and will
only assist in wickedness!

_Devil_.  How disgusting to be forced to listen to a man who reproaches
the Devil because he is a devil, and does not boast of that shadow,
Virtue, like one of you!

_Faustus_.  Vain boast.  If thou couldst but taste the moral value of
man, by which he approaches the immortal, and which makes him worthy of
immortality!

_Devil_.  I can prove that it does not exist.

_Faustus_.  Yes; I believe thou canst.  And so can any one of us who
makes the measure of his own wickedness that of all mankind, and who
makes that virtue contemptible which he has never felt in his breast.  We
have had philosophers who in this matter have long had the start of the
Devil.

_Devil_.  Better if thou hadst never read them; thy head would then have
been more clear, and thy heart more sound.

_Faustus_.  Damnation!  Is the Devil always right?

_Devil_.  I will show you that which those philosophers only talk of.  I
will blow away from your eyes the clouds which pride, vanity, and
self-love have collected, and so charmingly coloured.

_Faustus_.  How wilt thou accomplish that?

_Devil_.  By conducting thee through the theatre of the world, and
showing thee men in their nakedness.  Let us travel by water, by land, on
foot, on horseback, on the rapid winds, and see the race of man.  Perhaps
we may discover that for which so many thousand adventurers have broken
their necks.

_Faustus_.  Agreed.  Let us go through the world; I must intoxicate
myself by variety and enjoyment; and I have long wished for a broader
sphere of observation than my own wild heart.  Let us go forth, and I
will force the Devil to believe in human virtue.  He shall avow to me
that man is the eye-apple of Him whom I now no more must name.

_Devil_.  Then will I return to hell a convicted liar, and give thee back
the bond which thou wilt presently sign with thy blood.

_Faustus_.  But if I were to trust a devil, who might palm upon me his
own fiendish performances for the works of men, how would the scoffer
laugh?

_Devil_.  Such a monkish notion I should not have expected from one who
has so long toyed with philosophy; but in this ye are all alike, fools
and wise men.  If any thing goes wrong, pride and self-love will never
permit you to lay the blame on yourselves.  Observe now those two words,
Good and Evil, which you would fain stamp into ideas; for when you have
words, you always think you have coined the empty sound into a thought.
You labour with your eyes closed, and when you open them it is but
natural that the good should be your own work, and the evil that of the
Devil.  Thus, then, must we poor devils ride about day and night, in
order to turn to this or that piece of roguery the heart or the
imagination of this or that scoundrel, who, if it had not been for us,
would have remained an honest fellow.  Faustus! Faustus! man seeks abroad
and in the clouds a thousand things which lie in his own bosom, or before
his face.  No; during our tour I will add to nothing, except thou command
me.  All that thou seest shall be the work of men; and thou wilt soon
perceive that they do not require the Devil to incite them.

_Faustus_.  And is this all that thou canst afford me?

_Devil_.  I will lead you from step to step; when we have run through
this course, another scene will immediately open.  Get first acquainted
with that which surrounds thee, and then mount upwards.  The treasures of
the earth are thine; thou mayst command my power: do but dream--do but
wish.

_Faustus_.  That is something.

_Devil_.  Only something!  Discontented being, thou shalt be able to
force Leviathan to further the projects which thou callest good and
noble, and the consequences of them shall be thy earnings, and the reward
of thy heart.

_Faustus_.  That were more, if the Devil did not say it.

_Devil_.  Who can boast that he has forced the fiend to do good?
However, let this thought inflate thy bosom.  Faustus, step out of the
circle!

_Faustus_.  It is not yet time.

_Devil_.  Dost thou fear me?  I repeat, thou shalt spend the moments
allotted to thee according to thy own pleasure: yes, Faustus, I will fill
for thee the intoxicating cup of enjoyment, as it has never been filled
for any other mortal.  Thy nerves shall wear away before thou hast
emptied it.  Count the sands of the shore, and thence thou mayst guess
the number of joys that I will strew before thee.

Thereupon he placed a casket of gold near the circle.  The figures of the
mayoress and a train of lovely maidens then passed by.

_Faustus_.  Ha, devil, who has showed thee the way to my heart?

_Devil_.  Is not my name Leviathan?  I have weighed thee, and thy
strength.  Dost thou respect these?

(He shook upon the ground, from a sack, a quantity of orders of
knighthood, bishops' hats, crosses of honour, and diplomas of nobility.)

"No, no; I know Faustus better: knowledge and pleasure are his gods.
Remain what you are; these things are vain and futile.  Thus, by
different bribes may ye all be won; and for the sake of lust or
advancement, ye would work bare your hands and your intellects.  But,
whilst fools toil for them in the sweat of their brow, and in the
exhaustion of their mind, do thou enjoy, without care or labour, what I
shall serve up.  To-morrow, with thy consent, I will conduct thee to the
mayoress."

_Faustus_.  But how?

_Devil_.  Accept the conditions, and I will tell thee.  Come out of the
circle; thou lookest still like a drunken man.

_Faustus_.  I would annihilate myself if it were not for one thought!

_Devil_.  Which is--

_Faustus_.  That I shall only thereby sooner fall into thy power.

_Devil_.  How rash and hasty are men!  Learn but to know me, and, if I
cannot gratify thy wildest earthly desires, return to poverty, to
contempt, and thy starving philosophy.  Step forth, I say.

_Faustus_.  The fury of a lion inflames me, and, if hell were to yawn
beneath my foot, I would spring beyond the limits of humanity.

He sprang out of the circle, and cried,

"I am thy lord."

_Devil_.  Yes; as long as thy time runs.  I lead a mighty man by the
hand, and am proud to be his slave.




CHAPTER II.


On the following morning the devil Leviathan came with all the pomp and
retinue of a nobleman to the inn where Faustus sojourned.  He alighted
from his richly caparisoned steed, and asked the host whether the famous
Faustus sojourned there?

The host replied by a reverential bow, and ushered him into the house.
The Devil then advanced to Faustus, and said to him, in the presence of
the host:

"Your renown, your great talents, and, above all, your mighty invention,
have induced me to make a wide circuit in my journey in order to become
acquainted with so remarkable a man, whom the world, in spite of its
lukewarmness, knows how to value.  I came, likewise, to request your
company in the tour of Europe, and shall be happy to accede to whatever
stipulations you may choose to make, for I am perfectly aware that such a
pleasure is above all price."

Faustus played his part agreeably to that of the Devil; and the host
hurried out in order to relate the adventure to his household.  The
rumour was immediately spread, by a thousand channels, through all
Frankfort; and the arrival of the distinguished stranger was soon known,
from the sentinel at the city-gate to his most worshipful the mayor
himself.  Away ran the magistrates, as if the Devil drove them, to the
senate-house, leaving all the weighty affairs of state to remain
unsettled whilst they consulted about this unexpected apparition.  The
senior alderman, a patrician, who was particularly expert in deciphering
the meaning of the signs which occasionally appeared in the political
horizon, and had thereby obtained a powerful ascendency in the council,
pressed his fat chin into furrows, and his narrow brow into wrinkles,
and, with reflection in his little eyes, assured his sapient brethren
that "This distinguished stranger was nothing else than a secret envoy of
his imperial majesty, who was come into Germany to observe attentively
the situation, the comparative strength, the disagreements, and the
alliances, of the various states and princes; so that the high and mighty
court, at the opening of the approaching Diet, might know how to comport
itself.  And since the imperial court had always kept a watchful eye upon
their republic, they must now endeavour to convince this distinguished
visitor of the fiery zeal which they had always entertained for the high
imperial house, and not let him depart without winning him over to the
interest of the state.  That they must, in so doing, take as their
pattern the prudent senate of Venice, who never failed to show the
greatest friendship and honour towards him whom they intended to
deceive."

The subordinate members of the assembly affirmed that the alderman had
spoken like the Doge of Venice himself; but the mayor, who bore the
alderman a secret grudge, because the latter, like a true patrician,
hated the democratic form of government, and was accustomed to say,
whenever he was outvoted, "Ha, thus it goes when tradesmen and
shopkeepers are made statesmen," quickly took up the cudgels against him
in these words:

"Truly laudable and excellent, most sapient masters, seems to me that
which our most prudent and politic brother has now advanced, were it not
for one single circumstance which unhappily spoils all.  I, indeed, do
not make a boast of possessing the deep visual penetration of the
alderman,--a penetration, my brethren, which can spy out a storm before
it arises; nevertheless, whether it be from chance or reflection, I have
long foreseen, and have long foretold, that which is now gathering around
us.  You must all remember, that at each of our sittings I advised you
not to treat this Faustus so contemptuously, but to purchase his Latin
Bible for the small sum he demanded.  Even my wife, who is a mere woman,
like all other women, has frequently said that, although we ourselves
neither understood nor could use the book, we ought nevertheless to have
it; and, on account of the beautiful letters in the title-page, and of
the curious invention, to make a show of it, as we do of our golden bull,
and attract strangers from all parts.  It was likewise fitting that a
free and rich state like ours should protect the arts, and give them a
helping hand.  But I know very well what was in your minds; 'twas
envy--sheer envy.  You could not brook that my name should be rendered
immortal.  You could not digest that posterity should read in the
chronicle, '_Sub consulatu_ . . . a Latin Bible was bought from Faustus
of Mayence for two hundred gold guilders.'  Yes, yes; 'twas that stuck in
your gizzards; but, as you have brewed, so may you drink: Faustus is a
devilish wild fellow, and a very strange hand to deal with; I saw that
proved yesterday.  And now that the imperial envoy has travelled hither
merely on his account, merely on account of him whom we have treated
worse than a poor cobbler, think ye not he will blow us up with the envoy
out of revenge, and all our scrapings and grimaces will serve for nothing
but to make us appear ridiculous before the citizens?  But he who has
driven his cart into the mire may draw it out again.  I wash my hands of
the whole business, and, like Pilate, am innocent of Israel's blindness
and destruction."

Here followed a deep silence.  The bloody battle of Cannae, which
threatened Rome with ruin, did not terrify her senate more than did this
eloquent philippic the enlightened magistracy of Frankfort.  Already the
mayor triumphed in proud anticipation: he thought even that he had hurled
the alderman entirely out of his saddle; when the latter, collecting his
political wisdom and heroic strength, hastened to the assistance of the
sinking state, and bellowing aloud, _ad majora_, undauntedly proposed
"immediately to send an embassy from the council to the hotel, in order
to welcome the distinguished guest, and to offer Faustus four hundred
gold guilders for his Latin Bible, and thereby to appease him, and to
make him favourable to the state."

The mayor scoffed at the idea of giving four hundred gold guilders for a
thing which the day before they might, in all probability, have had for
one hundred; but his jeers and his scoffs availed nothing.  "_Salus
populi suprema lex_," cried the alderman; and, with the approbation of
the council, he commanded the mayor to entertain Faustus and the envoy in
the most sumptuous manner, at the expense of the state.

This circumstance consoled his worship, who willingly displayed his
wealth, partly on account of his defeat by the alderman, while the
concluding words, "at the expense of the state," put him in good humour.
The junior alderman immediately set out with one of the four syndics, and
the mayor sent to his house to order every thing proper for the festival.
The devil Leviathan was engaged with Faustus in a deep discourse when
these ambassadors were announced.  They were instantly admitted.  They
welcomed, with all humility, in the name of the senate, the distinguished
guest, and gave him to understand that his noble person, as well as his
important errand, were well known to them; assuring him at the same time,
in set terms, of their zeal and devotion for the high imperial house.
The Devil, upon this, screwed up his features, turned to Faustus, took
him by the hand, and assured the speakers that nothing had brought him to
their town but the desire of removing from it this great man, whom he had
no doubt they knew how to prize.  The ambassadors were now somewhat
disturbed; however, they soon recollected themselves, and continued thus:

"It rejoiced them highly that they could give him on the spot a
convincing proof of the respect which the magistracy entertained for so
great a man, as they were authorised to tender to Faustus four hundred
gold guilders for his Latin Bible, which they had long been anxious to
possess, and preserve as a precious treasure.  The illustrious magistracy
would also be most happy to enrol him, if it were agreeable, among the
number of citizens, and thereby open to him the way to glory and
emolument."

This last stroke was added by their own political wisdom; a proof that
they, as skilful negotiators, knew how to supply and fill up every vacuum
which had been at first overlooked.

Faustus started up in a fury, stamped on the ground, and cried:

"Base, lying, deceitful pack!  How long did I not fawn upon you, from the
proud patrician down to the shoemaker and the pepper-seller, around whose
necks you hang the magisterial insignia, like halters around asses?  And
did ye not permit me to wait at your dirty thresholds without deigning me
a single look?  And now that you hear this noble personage sees that in
me which you did not, you come and would pay me back in my own coin.  But
see, here is gold; for which you would barter the Holy Roman Empire,
provided you could find fools gross enough to buy the huge, monstrous
carcass, without head, sense, or proportion."

The Devil highly enjoyed the rage of Faustus and the downcast looks of
the young senators; but they, who had never read Roman history, were not
so high-spirited as to fling Faustus a declaration of war from beneath
their closely-folded robes of office; on the contrary, they communicated
the invitation to the mayor's festival in as unconcerned a tone as if
nothing had happened,--a new proof of their expertness in negotiation.
Had they, for example, replied to the insult, they would thereby have
acknowledged that they felt the force of it; but when they let it fall
flat upon the ground, as if it were nothing to any of them, it lost all
its power, and assumed the colour of an unfair reproach.  Genius alone is
capable in such critical moments of like discrimination.

At the word "mayor," Faustus pricked up his ears, and the Devil gave him
a significant side-glance.  Faustus thereupon took the Bible from the
casket, handed it over to the senators, and said, with some degree of
complaisance,

"That, upon due consideration, he was determined to make the city a
present of his Bible, on condition that they showed the sentence which he
marked under, and of which he wrote a German translation on the margin,
to the assembled magistrates; and, in remembrance of him, caused it to be
written in letters of gold on the wall of the council-chamber."

The senators hastened back to their brethren, as delighted as envoys who,
after a ruinous war, return with an advantageous peace.  They were
received with great joy, and, the Bible being opened at the appointed
place, they read--

"_And lo_!_ the fools sat in council_, _and idiots clamoured in the
judgment-chamber_."

They swallowed this bitter pill, because the presumptive shadow of
imperial majesty, in the form of the demon, prevented them from spitting
it out.  They comforted themselves with having been spared the four
hundred gold guilders, and wished each other joy for having escaped so
well out of this unpleasant affair.  The envoys received a vote of
thanks, and it is to be regretted that their names are not handed down to
posterity.  When at last they spoke of Faustus's well-filled money-chest,
the glitter of gold darted like lightning through the souls of all, and
each secretly determined to make the man his friend, in order to get
possession of it.  The alderman shouted, "We must make him a citizen, and
give him a seat and voice in the council.  Policy demands that we should
overstep law and custom, if the advantage of the State depends upon it."

Faustus, in the mean time, strolled out with the Devil; but they found
the people of the place modelled after so unsightly a pattern, with such
ugly figures and fiat features, that the Devil owned he had never seen
them equalled, except by the inhabitants of an English town called N---,
when dressed in their Sunday's best.  "Envy, malice, curiosity, and
avarice," said he, "are here and there the sole springs of action; and
both places are governed by a pitiful mercantile spirit, which prevents
them from being grandly wicked or nobly virtuous.  In short, Faustus,
there is little to be done in either place by a man of spirit, and we
will hurry away from hence as soon as you have brought the mayoress to
the point you wish her."

The clock sounded the hour of dinner; the Devil and Faustus, mounted upon
noble horses, and attended by a numerous retinue, proceeded to the house
of the mayor.  They entered the hall of assembly, where all the
magistrates awaited them, and, on their appearance, bowed before them
even to the dust.  The fat, bloated mayor, after a long speech,
introduced them to the wives of the dignitaries of the corporation, whose
figures, loaded with tawdry ornaments, seemed now to display a double
portion of awkwardness and vulgarity.  They stared like a flock of geese,
and could not satiate themselves with looking at the dress and
physiognomy of Leviathan; but the mayoress, a native of Saxony, towered
above them all, like an Oriad.  The expressive look of Faustus had
attracted her attention, as well as his prepossessing figure, and his
fine handsome face.  She blushed when he saluted her, and could find no
other answer to his eloquent address than a few broken words, which the
ears of Faustus caught like enchanting music.  The senators exerted their
wits to the utmost in complimenting their guests, and all now sat down to
the well-spread table.  After dinner the Devil led the mayor by the hand
to a private apartment,--a circumstance which flattered him
extraordinarily, but which was a dagger-blow to all the other guests,
especially to the alderman.

The mayor, heated with wine, and intoxicated with the honour which the
supposed imperial envoy showed him, in a bending attitude and with
staring eyes awaited the communication.  The Devil assured him, in soft,
silvery tones, how much he was flattered by the mayor's hospitable
reception, and how very desirous he was to prove himself thankful;
adding, that he carried with him a number of letters of nobility, signed
by the emperor's own hand, and he would gladly bestow the first upon him,
provided--

Joy, transport, and astonishment darted through the mayor's soul; he
stood before the Devil with wide-gaping mouth, and at length stammered
out, "Provided how--what--oh!"  The Devil then murmured softly into his
ear: "His friend Faustus was desperately in love with the beautiful
mayoress, and that for his sake only he would do it; and if the mayoress
would retire with Faustus for a few moments,--which would be entirely
unobserved amid the noise and confusion of a festival,--he should deliver
into her hand the patent of nobility."

Thereupon the Devil hastened to Faustus, informed him of what had
happened, and gave him the letter of nobility, with certainty of success.
Faustus doubted, and the Devil laughed at his doubts.

The mayor remained in his cabinet almost petrified.  The sudden glitter
of such unexpected happiness was at once so clouded by an odious and
detestable condition, that he determined upon rejecting it.  But all at
once Ambition blew into his ear: "Ho! ho! Mr. Mayor; to be dubbed a
nobleman at once, and in such an off-hand manner, as the saying is, and
thereby to be placed on a footing with the proudest of thy foes, and to
raise thy voice in the council like a trumpet, and appear among those
there like a man whom, on account of his services, his imperial majesty
will exalt above the heads of all!"

Another feeling softly whispered--

"Uh! uh! with my own knowledge and consent to be thus disgraced!  But
then, again, who will know it? and what is there in the whole affair?  I
receive a certain good in lieu of what has long ceased to have any charms
for me.  The evil consists in the idea alone, and it will be a secret
between me and my wife.  But, stating the case fairly, can I arrive at so
high a distinction at a cheaper rate?  Will it not be a nail in the
alderman's coffin; and what will the citizens not say when they see that
his imperial majesty knows how to value me?  Shall I not get every thing
into my power, and revenge myself on those who have thwarted and
contradicted me?  Ho! ho! Mr. Mayor; be no fool; seize fortune by the
forelock.  Man is only what he appears in the eyes of the world, and no
one asks the nobleman how he became so.  But there is my wife; she will
set herself against my advancement, for I well know her Saxon prudery."

At that very moment she entered the room, eager to learn from her husband
what the magnificent stranger had confided to him in private.  He looked
at her with a roguish leer, but still with some degree of bashfulness.

_Mayor_.  Well, my chick, suppose I were to make thee a noblewoman
to-day?

_Mayoress_.  Then, duck, the wives of all the citizens and magistrates
would swoon with envy, and the alderman's lady would instantly die of
that husky cough which has so long assailed her.

_Mayor_.  That she would, for certain; and I could crush her proud
husband beneath my foot.  But hark, my chick: it only rests with you to
bring all this about.

_Mayoress_.  Who ever heard of wives making their husbands noblemen,
duck?

_Mayor_.  Who knows, my child, how many have been made so?  But be not
terrified; you have driven that cursed Faustus out of his wits.  (_The
Mayoress blushed_; _he continued_)  Only on his account will the envoy
create me a nobleman, and Faustus is to deliver to thee the patent of
nobility in private.  You understand me, I perceive.  Hem! What do you
think of the plan?

_Mayoress_.  I was thinking, my treasure, that if these two gentlemen
were to change their minds, we should certainly lose the patent.

_Mayor_.  Curse it! so we might.  Let us be quick, my mouse; such
bargains are not met with every day.

The company had in the mean while dispersed themselves in the garden; and
his worship, getting behind Faustus, whispered softly in his ear that
"his wife would esteem it an honour to receive the patent of nobility
from his hand; and he had only to step up a back staircase, which he
would show him, to an apartment where he would find her.  That as for
himself, he feared nothing from a man who had shown so much honour and
conscience."  He led him thereupon to the back staircase.  Faustus glided
up immediately, and entered a chamber, where he found the mayoress: he
flew to her, and created the mayor a knight of the Holy Roman Empire.
She then went and delivered to her spouse the letter of nobility; and
they determined between them that it should be laid upon the supper-table
in a covered golden dish, in order, by its unexpected appearance, to make
the blow more painful to the guests.  The Devil, to whom the mayor
confided the plan, highly approved of it; but Faustus murmured in the ear
of Leviathan, "I command thee to play this rascal, who has prostituted
his wife for ambition's sake, a thorough knavish trick; and to revenge
me, at the same time, on all these sheep-headed magistrates, who so long
forced me to pay my court to them."

They sat down to supper, and the glasses went quickly round; when all at
once the Devil commanded the dish, which had so long excited the
Curiosity of the surrounders, to be uncovered; then, holding up the
letter of nobility, he delivered it to the mayor with these words:
"Worthy sir, his majesty the emperor, my master, is pleased by this
patent letter of nobility to create you, on account of your fidelity and
services, a knight of the Holy Roman Empire.  I hope and trust that you
will never grow lukewarm in your zeal for the high imperial house; and
now, Sir Knight, I have the honour of first drinking your health."

These words rolled like thunder in the ears of the guests.  The drunken
became sober, and the sober drunk; the lips of the women turned blue with
rage, and could scarcely stammer out a congratulation.  The alderman was
seized with an apoplectic fit, and his wife was near dying of her husky
cough.  Fear, in the mean time, obliged the rest to assume a joyous
countenance; and they drank, with a loud huzza, the health of the
new-made knight.  While the tumult was at the highest pitch, a thin
vapour suddenly filled the hall; the glasses began to dance about upon
the tables; and the roasted geese, turkeys, and fowls cackled, gobbled,
and crowed.  The calves, sheep, and boars' heads cried, bleated, and
grunted, bounced across the table, and snapped at the fingers of the
guests.  The wine issued in blue flames from out the flasks; and the
patent of nobility caught fire, and was burnt to ashes in the hands of
the trembling mayor.  The whole assembly now sat like so many ridiculous
characters in a mad masquerade.  The mayor bore a stag's head upon his
shoulders; and the rest, men and women, adorned with grotesque masks,
spoke, cackled, crowed, neighed, or bellowed, according to the kind of
mask which had been allotted to each individual.  The alderman alone, in
the dress of a harlequin, sat motionless; and Faustus avowed to the Devil
that the ruse did great honour to his ingenuity.  After Faustus had
satiated himself by gazing at the spectacle, he gave the Devil the wink,
and they both flew out of the window; the latter personage, according to
custom, leaving behind him the sulphurous stench.

By and by the whole illusion disappeared; and when the sapient
magistrates re-assembled next morning in the council-chamber, they
scarcely mentioned to each other what had taken place the night before.
They kept the whole matter a state secret, and only revealed it now and
then to a chosen few.  All that the mayor got by this business was, that
his adversary, the alderman, lost the use of his limbs, and never again
took his seat in the council.

Faustus and Leviathan, in the mean time, passed over the city-walls; and
when they were in the open field, the Devil despatched an attendant
spirit to the hotel, in order to pay the reckoning, and to fetch away
Faustus's baggage.  Then turning to the young German, he asked him if he
were contented with this first feat.

_Faustus_.  Hem! if the Devil wants praise, I am content to give it him.
But I should never have imagined that yon pompous scoundrel would have
sold his wife for ambition's sake.

_Devil_.  Let us proceed a little further, my Faustus, and I will soon
convince thee that Ambition is the godhead which ye all worship; although
you disguise it under all kind of glittering forms, in order to conceal
its nakedness.  Till now you have studied man merely in books and
philosophical treatises; or, in other words, you have been thrashing
empty straw.  But the film will soon fall from your eyes.  We will
shortly quit this dirty country of yours, where priestcraft, pedantry,
and oppression reign unmolested and undisturbed.  I will usher you upon a
stage where the passions have a freer scope, and where great energies are
employed to great ends.

_Faustus_.  But I will force thee to believe in the moral worth of man
before we quit my native land.  Not far from hence lives a prince, whom
all Germany praises as a paragon of every virtue.  Let us seek him, and
put him to the test.

_Devil_.  Agreed; such a man would please me for his rarity.

The spirit now returned with the baggage, and was sent forward to Mayence
to bespeak a lodging in an hotel.  Faustus, for secret reasons which the
Devil guessed, proposed spending the night with a hermit who dwelt in the
hill of Homburg, and who was renowned through the whole neighbourhood for
his piety.  They reached the hermitage about midnight, and knocked at the
door.  The solitary opened it; and Faustus, who had dressed himself in
the richest clothes which the Devil had provided for him, begged pardon
for disturbing the repose of the holy man, and said that the night had
surprised him and his companion while hunting, and had separated them
from their attendants, and that they should be obliged by his giving them
house-room for a few hours.  The hermit looked on the ground, and
replied, with a deep sigh:

"He who lives for heaven seldom abandons himself to dangerous repose.
You have not disturbed me; and, if you wish to stay here till sunrise,
you must take things as you find them.  Bread and water, with straw to
lie on, is all I can afford you."

_Faustus_.  Brother hermit, we have brought all that the stomach requires
along with us.  We will only trouble you for a draught of water.

(_The hermit took his pitcher and went to a fountain_.)

_Faustus_.  Peace dwells in his heart as well as on his brow, and I may
think myself happy that he is not acquainted with that which binds me to
thee.  Faith and hope serve him instead of those things which I have
damned myself for; at least it seems so.

_Devil_.  And only seems.  What if I were to prove that your heart is
pure as gold in comparison with his?

_Faustus_.  Devil!

_Devil_.  Faustus, thou wert poor, ill-treated, and despised; thou didst
see thyself in the dust; but, like an energetic being, thou hast sprung
out of contempt at thy own risk.  Thou wert incapable of gratifying thy
lusts by the murder of thy fellow-creatures, as this saint would if I led
him into temptation.

_Faustus_.  I see all thy infernal craftiness.  If I were to command thee
to put him to a fair trial, thou wouldst confuse the senses of the just
man, so that he would commit acts which his heart abhorred.

_Devil_.  Ridiculous!  Why, then, do ye boast of your free-will, and
thereby ascribe your deeds to your own hearts?  But ye are all saints
while there is nothing to tempt ye.  No, Faustus; I will remain neuter,
and merely offer delights to his senses; for the Devil has no need to
creep into ye when you are already disposed for wickedness.

_Faustus_.  And if things do not turn out as you assert, think not that
your assurance shall remain unpunished.

_Devil_.  Thou mayst then torment me a whole day by preaching of the
virtues of men.  Let us see whether this will allure him.

A table, provided with dainty meats and delicious wines, now appeared in
the middle of the hermitage.  The solitary entered, and silently placed
the pitcher before Faustus, and then retired into a corner, without
heeding the luxurious banquet.

_Faustus_.  Now, brother hermit, since the things are on the table, fall
to without waiting to be asked twice.  You may eat of our fare without
the least injury to your reputation.  I see your mouth begins to water.
Come, a glass to the honour of your patron saint.  What is his name?

_Hermit_.  St. George.

_Faustus_.  Here's his health.

_Devil_.  Ho, ho, brother hermit! the renowned St. George of Cappadocia
was a fellow after my own heart; and if you take him for a model, you
cannot go wrong.  I am perfectly well acquainted with his history, and
will relate it in a few words for your instruction.  He was the son of
wretchedly poor people, and was born in a miserable hut in Cilicia.  As
he grew up, he early perceived his own talents, and, by force of
flattery, servility, and corruption, found his way into the houses of the
great and opulent, who at length, out of gratitude for his services,
procured him a commission in the army of the Greek emperor.  But when
there he pilfered and plundered to so enormous an extent, that he was
soon obliged to fly, to avoid being hanged.  Thereupon he joined himself
to the sect of the Arians, and, by his quick parts, soon learnt to gabble
the unintelligible jargon of theology and metaphysics.  About this time
the Arian emperor, Constantine, kicked from the episcopal chair at
Alexandria the good and most Catholic Athanasius; and your redoubtable
Cappadocian was, by an Arian synod, appointed to the vacant see.  George
was now completely in his element: he puffed, strutted, and filled his
paunch.  But when he, by his injustice and cruelty, had driven his
subjects to the verge of madness, they put him to death, and carried his
body in triumph through the streets of Alexandria.  Thus did he become a
martyr, and consequently a saint.

_Hermit_.  There is not a word of this in the legend.

_Devil_.  I believe ye, brother; and, for the sake of truth, the Devil
only ought to have written it.

The hermit then crossed himself.

_Faustus_.  Do you call eating and drinking crimes?

_Hermit_.  They may tempt us to commit crimes.

_Devil_.  Your virtue must be very weak if it cannot resist temptation;
for temptation and resistance should be the glory of a saint.

_Hermit_.  You are right so far; but every one is not a saint.

_Faustus_.  Are you happy, brother?

_Hermit_.  Solitude makes me happy; a good conscience makes me blessed.

_Devil_.  How do you obtain your food?

_Hermit_.  The peasants bring me wherewithal to support my existence.

_Faustus_.  And what do you give them in return?

_Hermit_.  I pray for them.

_Faustus_.  Are they bettered by your prayers?

_Hermit_.  They think so, and I hope so.

_Devil_.  Brother, you are a rogue.

_Hermit_.  The reproaches of the sinful world are what the just man ought
to expect.

_Devil_.  Why do you not look upwards, and why do you blush?  But know,
that I have the art of reading in a man's face what is passing in his
heart.

_Hermit_.  So much the worse for yourself.  You will have little
enjoyment in company.

_Devil_.  Ho, ho! you know that?  (_Looking at Faustus_.)

_Hermit_.  It is a vile world in which we live, and woe for you if
thousands did not hasten into solitude to avert by their prayers the
anger of incensed Heaven from the heads of sinners.

_Faustus_.  Reverend brother, you own yourself that you are paid for your
prayers; and, believe me, it is much easier to pray than work.

_Devil_.  Listen once more.  You have a twist of the mouth which tells me
you are a hypocrite; and your eyes, which revolve in so narrow a circle,
and which are generally cast downward, tell me that you are convinced
they would betray the feelings of your heart, were you to raise them.

The hermit lifted his eyes towards the heavens, prayed with clasped
hands, and said, "Thus does the righteous man reply to the scoffer."

_Faustus_.  Enough.  Come, brother, and bear us company in our repast.

But the hermit remained inflexible.  Faustus looked scornfully on the
Devil, who merely smiled and shook his head.  Suddenly the door opened,
and a young female pilgrim rushed in almost breathless.  When she had
recovered from her fear, she related how she had been pursued by a
knight, from whom she had the good fortune to escape by reaching the cell
of the pious hermit.  She was received in a friendly manner; and,
unclasping her long mantle, she exhibited such beauty as would have made
the victory over the flesh no easy matter for the holy Anthony himself.
She placed herself by the side of Leviathan, ate sparingly of the meal,
and the Devil began to--

                                * * * * *

The hermit was at first shocked, and at last confused; and he had
scarcely power to struggle with the temptation.  The pilgrim tore
herself, ashamed and angry, from the arms of Leviathan, to seek
protection by the side of the hermit, which he could not refuse her.

The Devil and Faustus now pretended to be intoxicated and overwhelmed
with sleep; but before they took repose the Devil placed, in the presence
of the hermit, a weighty purse of money under the straw, and deposited
his own rich rings and those of Faustus in a casket, which the latter
laid close beside him.  On the table they placed their swords and
daggers, and then flung themselves down and soon snored.

The pilgrim softly approached the table, and poured out with her delicate
and snow-white hands a goblet of foaming wine.  She just touched the rim
with her rosy lips, and then offered it to the hermit.  He stood like one
amazed; and in his confusion emptied it, and another besides, and
greedily swallowed the luxurious morsels which the tempter, one after
another, held up to his mouth.  She then led him out, and bursting into
tears, entreated his pardon for having been forced to outrage his holy
eyes.  She then looked mournful and inconsolable, pressed his hand
warmly, and at last fell down on her knees before him.  At this instant
the silvery moon beamed upon her bosom, over which the gentle night-wind
moved her dark, dishevelled locks.  The hermit sank upon this dazzling
bosom, without knowing whether he was dead or alive.  At length the
pilgrim said, "That she would yield herself entirely to his wishes, if he
would revenge her first on those daring reprobates, and take possession
of their treasure, which would enable him and her to live happily to the
end of their days."

The hermit, at these words, recovered in some degree from his
intoxication, and asked her, in a trembling voice, what she meant, and
what she would have him do.

Amongst broken exclamations of rapture she murmured, "Their daggers lie
on the table: do you murder the one; I will manage the other.  Then dress
yourself in their clothes, and seize their treasure.  We will then set
the hermitage on fire, and fly to France together."

The horrible idea of murder made the hermit shudder.  He hesitated, was
undecided, looked on the charms of the siren; he saw that he could make
himself master of her and of the treasure without danger; and, all his
virtue yielding, he forgot heaven and his oft-repeated vows.  The pilgrim
dragged the reeling miscreant into the hut; each seized a dagger; and
just as he was about to aim a blow at Faustus, the Devil burst into the
fiendish scorn-laugh; and Faustus saw the hermit, with a lifted dagger,
standing by his side.

_Faustus_.  Cursed monster, who, under the mask of religion, wouldst
murder thy guest!

The hermit sunk trembling to the earth.  The pilgrim, a phantom of hell,
appeared to him in a frightful form, and then vanished.

Faustus commanded Leviathan to set fire to the hut, and burn it to ashes,
along with the hypocrite.  The Devil obeyed with joy.  The following
morning the peasants shed many tears for the fate of the righteous man;
and, having collected his bones, they preserved them as precious relics.

Faustus and the Devil arrived early the next day at Mayence, and alighted
at the dwelling of the former.  His young wife fell with a cry of joy
upon his neck, embraced him, and then burst into tears of sorrow.  The
children clung sobbing to his knees, and greedily examined his pockets,
to see whether he had brought them any thing.  His old gray-headed father
next staggered towards him, and shook him mournfully by the hand.  The
heart of Faustus was moved, and his eyes began to moisten, while he
trembled, and looked angrily upon the Devil.  When he asked his wife why
she wept, she wrung her hands, and replied, "Ah, Faustus, do you not
perceive how the hungry ones examine your pockets for bread?  How can I
see that without tears?  They have eaten nothing for a long time; we have
been unfortunate, and all thy friends have forsaken us; but now I see
thee again, it is to me as though I saw the countenance of an angel.  I
and thy father have suffered more on thy account than on our own.  We
have had such frightful dreams and visions; and when my eyes, weary with
weeping, have closed for a few hours, I saw thee torn from us by force,
and all was dark and horrible."

_Faustus_.  Thy dream, love, is about to be partly fulfilled.  This
gentleman here will reward thy husband for those talents which his
ungrateful country overlooked or despised.  I have agreed to travel with
him far and wide.

_Old Faustus_.  "My son, stay at home and support thyself honourably,"
says Scripture.

_Faustus_.  And die of hunger, says Experience.

The wife began to weep yet more bitterly, and the children screamed for
bread.  Faustus gave the Devil a sign, and he called to his servant, who
presently afterwards brought into the room a heavy coffer.  Faustus
unlocked it, and flung a large bag of gold upon the table; which being
opened, and the yellow coin appearing, a lively flush of joy was
instantly diffused over the melancholy countenances of the family.  He
then took out magnificent clothes and jewels, which he delivered to his
wife.  Her tears vanished, and vanity at once dried them up, as the
sun-rays dry up the morning dew.  The Devil smiled, and Faustus muttered
to himself, "O magic of gold and of vanity!  I may now go to the
antipodes, and no other tears than those of hypocrisy will be shed."
Then, aloud, "Well, wife, these are the fruits of my journey, reaped in
advance.  Is not this better than staying at home with you and starving?"

But the wife heard him not; for she stood with her rich robes and jewels
before the looking-glass to see how they became her.  The little girls
frolicked around her, took up the clothes and ornaments she had laid
aside, and aped the mother.  In the mean time a servant brought in a
substantial breakfast, the children fell upon it, cried and shouted with
joy; but the mother had, in the mean time, forgotten her hunger.

The old father took Faustus aside, and said, "If thou hast obtained all
these things by honourable means, let us thank God, my son, and enjoy his
bounty; but for some nights past I have had horrible dreams, although I
hope they were merely caused by our necessities."

This remark of the old man sank deep into the heart of Faustus; but the
pleasure of seeing his children eat so heartily, and of observing with
what love and thankfulness his eldest son and favourite looked at him;
the thought of having relieved them from their misery; and, above all, an
inward longing for pleasure,--considerably damped the impression.  The
Devil added a large sum to the money in the bag, presented the young wife
with a costly necklace, gave each of the children a trifle, and assured
the family that he would bring back Faustus to them safe, sound, and
wealthy at no very distant period.

Faustus, attended by the Devil, now went to see a friend, whom he found
much dejected.  He asked him the cause of his unhappiness, and the other
replied:

"This afternoon the law-suit which you have often heard me speak of is to
be determined; and I am certain of losing it, although justice is on my
side.  In short, Master Faustus, nothing remains for me to do but to beg,
or drown myself in the deepest part of the Rhine."

_Faustus_.  How can you be certain that you will lose your cause, if
justice is for you, as you say it is?

_Friend_.  But the five hundred gold guilders which my opponent has given
the Judge are against me; and if I cannot outbid him, I must fall to the
ground.

_Faustus_.  Pooh! does it merely depend on that?  Come, lead me to the
Judge.  I have a friend here who willingly assists people out of such
difficulties.

They found the Judge to be a proud, inflated man, who would scarcely
deign to honour a poor client with a look.  Faustus had long known him
for what he was.  When they entered the room, the Judge, in an imperious
tone, thus addressed Faustus's friend, "Why do you come to trouble me?
Do you not know that tears never interrupt the course of justice?"

The unhappy friend looked humbly to the ground.

_Faustus_.  Mighty sir, you have spoken well: tears are like water; they
merely spoil the eyes of those that shed them.  But do you know that my
friend has right on his side?

_Judge_.  Master Faustus, I know you for a man who plays away his money
at ducks-and-drakes, and who has a loose tongue.  Right and law are very
different things: if he has the first for him, it is no reason that he
should have the second.

_Faustus_.  You say that right and law are two different things:
something like judge and justice, perhaps.

_Judge_.  Master Faustus, I have already said that I know you.

_Faustus_.  Perhaps we are mistaken in each other, most enlightened sir.
But it is mere waste of soap to attempt to wash a blackamoor white.  (_He
opened the door_, _and in stalked the Devil_.)  Here is a gentleman who
will lay before you a document, which I hope will give the cause of my
friend a new aspect.

When the Judge saw the richly-dressed Leviathan, he assumed a more
friendly countenance, and asked them all to be seated.

_Faustus_.  We can settle the whole business standing.  (_To the Devil_)
Produce the document which we have found.

The Devil counted out of his purse five hundred gold guilders; he then
stopped and looked at the Judge.

_Judge_.  The document is by no means a bad one, gentlemen; but the
adverse party has long ago given me one of equal weight.

The Devil continued counting till he had told out a thousand; he then
stopped.

_Judge_.  In truth, I had overlooked this circumstance.  Such vouchers,
however, are not to be withstood.

He then gathered up the gold and secured it in his coffer.

_Faustus_.  I hope now that right and law will go together.

_Judge_.  Master Faustus, you understand the art of appeasing the
bitterest enemies.

Faustus, whom the servility of the Judge as much offended as his former
rudeness, whispered to the Devil, in going away, "Do thou avenge justice
on this wretch."

Thereupon he left his friend, without waiting for his thanks, and went
about with the Devil to discharge his debts.  He then paid visits to his
other friends, showered gold upon them by handfuls, even on those who had
forsaken him in his adversity; and he felt happy in being able to give
unbridled scope to his generosity and greatness of soul.  The Devil,
however, who saw deeper into things than Faustus, laughed within himself
at the consequences.

They now went to the hotel, Faustus, recollecting the conduct of his
wife, once again fell into an exceedingly ill humour.  He could not
pardon her for having ceased to lament his departure the moment she had
seen the gold and jewels.  Till now he had imagined that she loved him
more than all the treasures of the earth; but what he had just observed
forced him to believe the contrary, and his affection for her was turned
to bitterness.  The Devil, who perceived where the shoe pinched,
willingly allowed Faustus to torment himself with these gloomy thoughts,
so that he might tear himself from that sweet tie by which nature still
gently fettered him.  He foresaw, with secret rapture, the dreadful
anguish which would one day arise in the bosom of the headstrong Faustus,
when the future should disclose to him all the horrors which he was now
about to perpetrate.

They dined in the public room, in company with some professors of law and
divinity, who, to the great delight of the Devil, soon fell into a
violent dispute concerning the nun Clara.  The flame of that controversy
was still at its full height; party-spirit raged in all houses, and the
present disputants talked so loudly, and said so many ridiculous things,
that Faustus soon forgot his ill humour.  But when a doctor of theology
asserted that it was possible for Satan to have carried his wickedness so
far as to have brought the nun into certain circumstances by means of the
dream, the Devil burst into a bellowing laugh; and Faustus immediately
thought of a scheme by which he might revenge himself, in a signal
manner, upon the Archbishop, who had paid so little attention to his
discovery.  He hoped then to involve the thread of the theological and
political war at Mayence in such confusion that no human power would be
able to unravel it.  After dinner he asked the demon whether it would be
possible for him, under the figure of the Dominican, to pass that night
with the lovely Clara.  The Devil assured him that nothing was more easy;
and, if he chose, the abbess herself should usher him into the nun's
cell.  Faustus, who had always considered the abbess to be a strict,
pious, and conscientious woman, laughed in scorn at these last words of
the Devil.

_Devil_.  Thy wife, O Faustus, set up a shriek of despair when thou didst
tell her of thy intended departure; but when the glitter of gold and
dress burst upon her view, the sorrows of her heart vanished at once.  I
repeat, that the abbess herself shall introduce thee to the cell of the
nun, and I will employ no supernatural means.  Thou thyself shalt see how
the old gudgeon will swallow the hook.  Come, we will pay her a visit
under the pious figures of two nuns.  I know the manners and ways of the
nuns, ay, and of the monks too, of Germany, well enough to ape them.  I
will represent the Abbess of the Black Nuns, and thou shalt be her
friend, Sister Agatha.

At this moment Faustus's friend came, full of joy, to inform him of the
happy issue of the law-suit.  He was about to thank Faustus and the Devil
upon his knees; but Faustus said, "Spare your thanks, and take care of my
wife and family during my absence."  He then whispered into the ear of
the Devil, "It is time to think of the Judge."

The Judge wished after dinner to gratify his beloved wife by counting the
gold pieces in her presence.  He unlocked the coffer, and started back in
a tremor at the sight of its contents: the gold pieces were changed into
large rats, which sprang out, and fell furiously upon his face and hands.
The Judge, who had a great aversion to these animals, rushed out of the
room; but they pursued him, fastening on his heels.  He hurried from the
house, and ran through the streets; but still they were close behind him.
He fled into the fields; but they allowed him no rest, and at last forced
the terrified wretch to seek shelter in the stone tower where the tolls
are gathered, and which stands in the middle of the Rhine.  Here he
thought himself safe from farther pursuit; but rats and mice hot from
hell are not to be terrified by water: they swam through, fell upon him,
and ate him up alive.  His wife, in her terror and astonishment, told the
history of the transformation of the gold pieces by which her unfortunate
husband had allowed himself to be dazzled; and from that time there has
not been in the whole diocese of Mayence a single instance of a judge or
a man in office taking a bribe.  The Devil could not have foreseen this,
or he certainly would have let the scoundrel go unpunished.

Faustus and the Devil stood in their disguises before the gate of the
convent of White Nuns.  The portress ran as fast as she could in order to
inform the abbess of the unexpected visitors.  The abbess received them
with conventual greetings, to which the Devil answered in a similar tone.
Sweetmeats and wines were then brought in, and while partaking of them
the two abbesses talked together, of cloister affairs, and of the wicked
world; and the Devil, with a deep sigh, turned the discourse to Clara's
accident.  Clara, who, on account of her rank, was the pet-lamb of the
cloister, stood near the abbess, and laughed beneath her veil.  Faustus
observed this, and, looking at her, really thought he had never seen a
more charming rogue wear the sacred veil.  The Devil at length gave the
conversation a serious turn, and led the abbess to conclude that he had
something weighty to confide to her.

_Abbess_ (_to Clara_).  You may go, my lamb, to the nuns in the garden,
and divert yourself with them; I will send you out some sweetmeats, so
that you may celebrate the coming of our venerable sister.

Clara bounded away.  After a few words, which the Devil uttered in a
disturbed and thoughtful kind of tone, so that he might thereby arouse
the curiosity of the abbess, he came to the point.

_Devil_.  Ah, dear sister, how much do I pity you!  It is true, and that
ought in some degree to comfort you, that the whole city and the entire
district are convinced of your holiness, your piety, and the strictness
of your discipline.  In a word, you possess all the virtues requisite for
a bride of heaven.  But, alas, the world will be the world still; and the
Fiend often infuses evil thoughts into the minds of worldly men, so that
through them he may disturb those saints who are thorns in his side.  No,
no; the wicked Devil cannot bear that you should bring up your lambs in
untainted purity.  I pity you, as I said before, and still more the
little innocents who are at present confided to your care.  What will
become of them when they lose you?

_Abbess_.  Kind sister, be of good cheer; though I am old, I am yet,
thanks to Heaven, sound and hearty, and the little inconveniences which
attend a uniform course of devotion and penitence prolong life rather
than shorten it.  So, at least, the physician of the convent tells me
when I complain to him.

The Devil looked at her attentively.

"Have you, then, had no anticipation of what is hanging over your head?
no warning vision?  Has nothing occurred in the convent to make you look
forward to the future with anxiety?  It is customary for pious souls to
be informed by certain signs when any disaster menaces them."

_Abbess_.  You frighten me so, that I tremble in my whole body.  But let
me reflect;--yes, yes, I am very restless, and dream of raw heads and
bloody bones; and some days ago--ah, yes!--that certainly was a sign and
a warning--some few days ago I went with my lap-dog, which you see there,
to walk in the garden.  I was alone; the nuns were at some distance,
telling stories beneath the linden-trees.  All at once the gardener's
great mastiff sprung upon _Piety_, for that is the name of my pet.  I
shuddered from head to foot, and crossed myself again and again; but that
would avail nothing.  At last I struck at the hideous brute with my
staff,--yes, I struck with all my strength the filthy hound who would
thus profane the cloister; and I continued striking until the staff,
which his reverence the Archbishop delivered to me upon my consecration
as abbess, broke in two.  Was that a sign or a warning, think ye?

The Devil and Faustus pretended to be shocked.

_Devil_.  Ah, the very worst in the world.  All now is but too clear and
manifest.  Did not I tell you how it would turn out, Sister Agatha?

Faustus made a humble bow of assent.

_Abbess_.  For Heaven's sake, speak, or I shall run mad.

_Devil_.  Contain yourself, dear sister.  Help is to be found, and who
knows but I bring it with me?  Remember that it was the staff which the
Archbishop presented to you upon your being consecrated an abbess which
you broke; and now listen to me attentively.  You know my cousin the
prebend; well, he confided to me a very terrible affair.  He indeed made
me solemnly promise not to tell you; but I know it is best to commit a
little sin, if by its means we can prevent a great one and confound the
projects of Satan.

_Abbess_.  You are perfectly right; and the Fathers of the Church hold
that doctrine, as my confessor has often told me.

_Devil_.  Know, then, that the Archbishop has so far got the upper hand
of the Chapter, that he has brought them to consent to your being deposed
after the lapse of a few months, and his niece Clara being made abbess in
your stead.

"Jesu Maria!" cried the abbess, wrung her hands, and fell into a swoon.
The Devil made a sour face at her exclamation, and Faustus, laughing,
rubbed her wrinkled brows.  After she had recovered herself, she shed a
torrent of tears, and shrieked a thousand curses against the wickedness
of the world.

_Devil_.  Do not despair, dear sister.  For a distant evil there is
always a remedy.

_Abbess_.  And what do you advise me to do?  Wretch that I am!  O
Heavens! what will become of me,--what will become of the nuns?

_Devil_.  I have already said that it is best to commit a slight sin if,
by so doing, we prevent a great one, and you yourself have proved it by
the authority of holy Fathers; but, dear sister, courage and
understanding will be necessary, if you wish to obtain your purpose
without danger to your own soul, by loading another person with the
capital sin.

_Abbess_.  Ah, dear sister, and how is that to be contrived?

_Devil_.  I was once in our convent in almost a similar perplexity.  The
good Sister Agatha here is my witness; and as she saw every thing, and
assisted me, we may speak out before her.

Faustus bowed with humility.

_Devil_.  A nun who, by sinful wit, and yet more sinful beauty, had found
favour among the great and powerful, was, by their assistance, on the
point of rising above me.  Ah! I have felt how grievous are the thoughts
of being forced to obey, after one has for a long time exercised
boundless power.  Well, in the presence of Sister Agatha, I entered into
a consultation with my relation the prebend: he is very knowing in
affairs of conscience and crime, and understands to a hair's-breadth what
is damnable and what is not.  This wise man gave me a piece of advice
which helped me out of my trouble, and for which I shall always have
reason to bless him.  I admit that the expedient at first appeared to me
sinful; but he assured me, and proved to me out of the casuists, that a
little fasting and penance would do away with all that was culpable in
it.

_Abbess_.  But the advice--the advice!

_Devil_.  I am ashamed to tell it you aloud.

_Abbess_.  Then whisper it into my ear.  What the Abbess of the Black
Nuns could do without endangering her salvation, the Abbess of the White
Nuns may do also.

_Devil_ (_softly into her ear_).  He advised me to contrive so that this
dangerous nun should commit the sin of * * *

_Abbess_ (_crossing herself_).  Blessed Ursula!  Why, that is the work of
the Devil, and leads directly to hell.

_Devil_.  Ay, very true, but only the person who commits it; and I was
not advising you to do it.  Remember, dear sister, you are not to be
punished for all the sins which your nuns may choose to commit.

_Abbess_.  But, in Heaven's name, how did you manage this dangerous
affair without being discovered?

_Devil_.  Oh, my situation was much more difficult than yours, for you
are assisted by the report of the dream, which already fills the whole
city.  Suppose, now, you were to let a man, dressed like the Dominican,
slip into Clara's cell, and the signs of the sinful deed were afterwards
to appear, would not the whole world say that it was a trick of the arch
foe of mankind?  Let Satan have the credit of it, and do you remain
sitting in your chair, adorned with that dignity which Heaven has been
pleased to grant you.  I have given you this advice out of friendship,
and for your good; you are now at liberty to do as you please.  At all
events, I will send you some one to-night to personate the Dominican, and
he will only have to return if you are too scrupulous.

The abbess sat like one amazed, and in her confusion began to tell her
Rosary: "_Ave Maria_.  It is certainly allying oneself to the Devil.
Blessed Ursula, illumine my darkness."  She cast her eyes upon the image
of the saint.  "It would certainly be a great scandal to the convent.
_Ave Maria_.  But then it would be placed to Satan's account.  Perhaps,
though, I might be damned for it.  _Pater noster_.  And am I now to
become a servant in the cloister, and in my old days to be tormented by a
superior, after I have so long tormented the nuns?  This little baggage
has already afforded sufficient scandal to the whole town without this.
Alas, when I have no longer authority to box the nuns about, how will
this and that malignant creature revenge herself upon me!  _Ave Maria_.
Well, I have made up my mind, and, for the good of the cloister, I will
continue abbess the remainder of any days, cost what it will."

The Devil applauded her, and the plan was soon arranged.  Upon going away
the Devil said to Faustus:

"Now, what have I done else than ask the pride of this old beldame
whether it is better to risk eternal damnation, or to give up that
tyrannical power over the poor nuns, which the hand of Death will soon
deprive her of?"

Whatever pleasure Faustus derived from the certainty that his desires
would be gratified, he was nevertheless much displeased that the Devil
should always be in the right.  That same evening the abbess herself
introduced him, under the disguise of the Dominican, into Clara's cell
while the nuns were at vespers.  Clara herself soon appeared, and after
she had commended herself to St. Ursula, she laid herself down.  Her
imagination, which had once been directed to a certain object, often
repeated to her in dreams her former vision; and she lay in just such a
transport, when Faustus approached her, and embodied the apparition, upon
which Clara awoke, and still believed herself merely in a dream.  The
abbess in the mean time did penance in her cell, and made a vow to fast
every week for the good of her soul.  But the consequences of this night
were horrible to poor Clara.

                                * * * * *

The next morning Faustus took leave of his family.  Few tears were shed;
but his old father, in a mournful tone, gave him wholesome advice.

As Faustus, with the Devil, rode over the bridge which leads across the
Rhine, thinking of last night's adventure, and making comments upon the
abbess, he saw afar off a man in the water, who seemed upon the point of
drowning, and only feebly struggled against approaching death.  He
commanded Leviathan to save the man.  The Devil answered, with a
significant look:

"Think well of what thou requirest; he is a youth, and perhaps it will be
better for him and for thee that he ends his life here."

_Faustus_.  Thou fiend, only ready for mischief, wouldst thou have me
withstand the sacred feeling of nature?  Hasten and save him, I repeat.

_Devil_.  Canst thou not swim thyself?  No.  Well, the consequences be
thy reward; thou wilt repent of this.

He rushed into the stream, and rescued the youth.  Faustus consoled
himself with the idea of having, by this good act, atoned for the
preceding night of sin; and Leviathan laughed at the consolation.




CHAPTER III.


The Devil now led Faustus through a series of adventures which were to
serve as a prelude to the most afflicting vicissitudes.  What Faustus had
hitherto seen had embittered his heart; but the scenes which now opened
upon him by degrees so wounded his spirit, that his mind was unable
either to support or remedy them; and only one of the worldly great, or,
what is nearly synonymous, a worker and designer of human misery, could
have witnessed them unmoved.

The Devil and Faustus were riding in close conversation along the banks
of the Fulda, when they saw beneath an oak-tree a countrywoman sitting
with her children, appearing to be the lifeless image of agony and dumb
despair.  Faustus, whom sorrow attracted as much as joy, went hurriedly
up to her, and inquired the cause of her grief.  The woman gazed at him
for some time, and it was not until his sympathising look had in some
degree melted her frozen heart that she was able, amidst tears and
sobbings, to explain herself in the following words:

"In the whole world there are no beings so wretched as myself and these
poor children.  My husband was indebted to the Prince-Bishop for three
years' rent.  The first year he could not pay it, on account of the
failure of his crops; during the second the Bishop's wild-boars grubbed
up all his seed from the ground; and during the third his whole
hunting-train galloped over our fields and destroyed our harvest.  As my
husband had often been threatened by the steward with a distress, he
intended to have gone this morning to Frankfort, to sell a fat calf and
his last pair of oxen, and with the amount to have paid his rent.  But
just as he was setting out the Bishop's clerk-of