We doubt whether any popular legend has ever taken deeper root among
the common people and spread farther in the world than the story of Dr.
Faustus and his reckless compact with the Evil One. We do not intend to
compare it, of course, to those ancient traditions which seem to have
constituted a tie of relationship between the most distant nations in
times anterior to history. These are mostly of a mythological
character,--as, for instance, those referring to the existence of
elementary spirits. Their connection with mankind has, in the earliest
times, occupied the imagination of the most widely different races. A
certain analogy we can easily explain by the affinity of human hearts
and human minds. But when we find that exactly the same tradition is
reëchoed by the mountains of Norway and Sweden in the ballad of "Sir
Olaf and the Erl-king's Daughter," which the milkmaid of Brittany sings
in the lay of the "Sieur Nann and the Korigan," and in a language
radically different from the Norse,--when, here and there, the same
_forms_ of superstition meet us in the ancient popular poetry of the
Servians and modern Greeks, which were familiar to the Teutonic and
Cambrian races of early centuries,--must we not believe in a primeval
intimate connection between distant nations? are we not compelled to
acknowledge that there must have existed, in those remote times, means
of communication unknown to us?
We repeat, however, that, in calling the legend of Dr. Faustus the most
widely-spread we know of, we cannot allude to these primitive
traditions, the circulation of which is perfectly mysterious. We speak
of such popular legends as admit of their origin being traced. Among
these the Faustus-tradition may be called comparatively new. To us
Americans, indeed, whose history commences only with the modern history
of Europe, a period of three hundred years seems quite a respectable
space of time. But to the Germans and the Scandinavians, from whose
popular lore the names of Horny Siegfried and Dietric of Berne,
(Theodoric the Great,) and of Roland, are not yet completely erased, a
story of the sixteenth century must appear comparatively modern.
The popularity of the legend of Faustus, although of German origin,
was, almost from its first rise, not confined to German lands. The
French, Dutch, and English versions of the poor Doctor's adventurous
life are but very little younger than his German biographies; and it
was about the same time that he was made the subject of a tragedy by
Marlowe, one of the most gifted of Shakspeare's dramatic predecessors.
We are not afraid of erring, when we ascribe the uncommon popularity
and rapid circulation of this legend principally to its deep and
intrinsic _moral_ interest. Faustus's time of action was exactly the
period of the great religious reformation which shook all Europe.
During the sixteenth century, even the untaught and illiterate classes
learned to watch more closely over the salvation of their souls than
when they felt themselves safe beneath the guardianship of the Holy
Mother Church. And to those who remained under the guidance of the
latter, the dangers of learning and independent thinking, and of
meddling with forbidden subjects, were pointed out by the monks with
two-fold zeal. It cannot, therefore, surprise us, that the life and
death of a famous contemporary, who for worldly goods and worldly
wisdom placed his soul at stake, excited a deep and general interest.
In one feature, indeed, his history bears decidedly the stamp of the
great moral revolution of the time: we mean its awful end. There are two
legends of the Middle Ages--and perhaps many more--in which the
fundamental ideas are the same. The two Saints, Cyprianus, (the "Magico
Prodigioso" of Calderon,) and Bishop Theophilus, (the hero of Conrad of
Würzburg,) were both tempted by the Devil with worldly goods and
worldly prosperity, and allured into the pool of sin perhaps deeper
than Faustus; but repentance and penitence saved them, and secured to
them finally a place among the saints of the Church. But for Faustus
there is no compromise; his awful compact is binding; and whatever hope
of his salvation modern poetry has excited for the unfortunate Doctor
is, to say the least, in direct contradiction of the popular legend.
Faustus was the Cagliostro of the sixteenth century. It is not an easy
task to find the few grains of historical truth referring to him, among
the chaff of popular fiction that several centuries have accumulated
around his name. A halo so mysterious and miraculous surrounds his
person, that not only have various other famous individuals, who lived
long before or after him, been completely amalgamated with him, but
even his real existence has been denied, and not much over a hundred
years after his death he was declared by scholars to be a mere myth. A
certain J.C. Duerr attempted to prove, in a learned "Dissertatio
Epistolica de Johanne Fausto," (printed at Altorf, in 1676,) that the
magician of that name had never existed, and that all the strange
things which had been related of him referred to the printer John
Faust, or Fust,--who had, indeed, been confounded with him before,
although he lived nearly a century earlier. And when we think of the
superstitious fear and monkish prejudice with which the great invention
of printing was at first regarded, such a confusion of two persons of
similar name, and both, in the eyes of a dark age, servants of Satan,
cannot surprise us. Our John Faustus was also sometimes confounded with
two younger contemporaries, one of whom was called Faustus Socinus, and
made Poland the chief theatre of his operations; the other, George
Sabellicus, expressly named himself Faustus Junior, also Faustus Minor.
Both were celebrated necromancers and astrologers, who probably availed
themselves of the advantage derived from the adoption of the famous
name of Faustus.[1]
A second attempt to prove the historical nonentity of Dr. Faustus was
made at Wittenberg, in the year 1683. Some of his popular biographers
had claimed for him a professorship at that celebrated university, or
at least brought him into connection with it,--a pretension which the
actual professors of that learned institution thought rather
prejudicial to their honor, and which they were desirous of seeing
refuted. Stimulated, as it would seem, by a zeal of this kind, J.G.
Neumann wrote a "Dissertatio de Fausto Praestigiatore," in which he not
only tried to prove that Dr. Faustus had never been at Wittenberg, but
pronounced his whole story fabulous. An attempt like this would not
surprise us in our own time, the age of historical skepticism; but the
seventeenth century gave credit to narratives having much slighter
foundation. Although this dissertation was full of historical mistakes
and erroneous statements, it made some sensation, as is proved by its
four successive editions. It was also translated into German. All
Neumann's endeavors, however, could not stand against the testimony of
contemporaries, who partly had known Faustus personally, partly had
heard of him from living witnesses, and allude to his death as an
occurrence of recent date.
John Faustus, or rather, after the German form of his name, Faust, was
born in the last quarter of the fifteenth century, probably not before
the year 1490. According to the oldest "Volksbuch" (People's Book)
which bears his name,[2] his parents then lived at Roda, in the present
Duchy of Saxe-Weimar. The same place is likewise named as his native
village by G.R. Widmann, his first regular biographer, who says that
his father was a peasant.[3] Although these two works are the
foundation of the great number of later ones referring to the same
subject, some of these latter deviate with respect to Faustus's
birthplace. J.N. Pfitzer, for instance, who, seventy years after
Widmann, published a revised and much altered edition of his book,
makes Faust see the light at Saltwedel, a small town belonging then to
the principality of Anhalt, and must have had his reasons for this
amendment. A confusion of this kind may, indeed, have early arisen from
a change of residence of our hero's parents during his infancy. But the
oldest Volksbuch was written nearly forty years after the death of
Faustus, and Widmann's work appeared even ten years later,--both,
indeed, professing to be founded on the Doctor's writings, as well as
on an autobiographical manuscript, discovered in his library after his
death. Perhaps, however, the assertion of two of his contemporaries,
one of whom was personally acquainted with him, is more entitled to
credit in this respect. Joh. Manlius and Joh. Wier--the latter in his
biography of Cornelius Agrippa--name Kundlingen, in Würtemberg, as his
birthplace.
Manlius, in his work, "Collectanea Locorum Communium," (Basel, 1600,)
speaks of him as of an acquaintance. He says that Faustus studied at
Krakow, in Poland, where there was a regular professorship of Magic, as
was the case at several universities. Others let him make his studies
at Ingolstadt, and acquire there the honors of a Doctor of Medicine.
Both these statements may be true, as also that he was for some time
the companion and pupil of Cornelius Agrippa, of Nettesheim, the
celebrated scholar, whose learning and mysterious researches after the
philosopher's stone brought him, like many other wise men of the age,
into suspicion of witchcraft. Agrippa had a pet dog, black, like the
mystical companion of Dr. Faustus, and, in the eyes of a superstitious
multitude, like him, the representative of the Evil One. Black dogs
seem to have been everywhere considered as rather suspicious creatures.
The Pope Sylvester II. had also a favorite black poodle, in whom the
Devil was supposed to have taken up his abode. According to Wier,
however, Agrippa's black dog was quite a harmless beast, and remarkable
only for the childlike attachment which the great philosopher had for
him. It may be worth remarking, that this writer, although he speaks of
Faustus in his biography of Agrippa, makes no mention of his ever
having been a friend or scholar of the latter.
In several of the old stories of Faustus, we read that he had a cousin
at Wittenberg, who took him as a boy to his house, brought him up, and
made him his heir when he died. If this was true, it would be more
probable that he was a native of Saxony than of Suabia. It is, however,
more probable that this narrative rests on one of the numerous cases
found in old writings in general, and above all in the history of
Faustus, in which the names Wittenberg and Würtemberg are confounded.
Our hero's abode at the former place was very probably merely that of a
traveller; he left there, as we shall soon see, a very unenviable
reputation. It is true that Saxony was the principal scene of the
Doctor's achievements; but this very circumstance makes it improbable
that he was born and brought up there, as it is well known that "a
prophet hath no honor in his own country."
Faust's studies were not confined to medicine and the physical
sciences. He was also considered eminent as a philologist and
philosopher. Physiology, however, with its various branches and
degenerate offshoots, was the idol of the scholars of that age, and of
Faustus among the rest. A passionate desire to fathom the mysteries of
Nature, to dive into the most hidden recesses of moral and physical
creation, had seized men of real learning, and seduced them into
mingling absurd astrological and magical fancies with profound and
scholarlike researches. The deepest thinkers of their time, like
Nostradamus, Cardan, Cornelius Agrippa, Paracelsus, Thomas Campanella,
flattered themselves that they could enter, by means of art and
science, into communion with good or evil spirits, on whose aid they
depended for obtaining knowledge, fame, wealth, and worldly honors and
enjoyments. Faustus was one of those whom a passion for inquiry, in
league with a powerful, sensual nature, led astray. What had been
originally an honest thirst for knowledge, a deep interest in the
supernatural, became gradually a morbid craving after the miraculous,
the pretension of having attained the unattainable, and the attempt to
represent it by means of vulgar jugglery.
Dr. Faustus seems at first to have settled as a practising physician,
and at this period of his life Wagner appears as his _famulus_; for we
never find this _Philister_ among scholars as a companion of the
travelling Faustus, although his connection with him was apparently
lasting. According to the popular legend, the Doctor made him his heir,
and expressly obtained for him Auerhahn, (Heathcock,) a familiar spirit
in the shape of a monkey. This was a sort of caricature of
Mephistopheles, who became, through his ludicrous clumsiness, a
pet-devil of the populace in the puppet-shows, particularly in Holland.
Widmann calls Wagner _Waiger_; while in all other publications
referring to him he bears his right name, Christoph Wagner.
What city it was where Faustus lived before the reputation of
witchcraft made him the subject of so much talk remains unsettled.
Wittenberg and Ingolstadt are alternately named. Some of his
biographers relate, that he led a loose and profligate life, and soon
wasted his cousin's inheritance. Others represent him as a deep,
secluded student, laying hold of one science after another, and
unsatisfied by them all, until he found, by means of his physical and
chemical experiments, the secret path to the supernatural, and, in
order to reap their full fruits, allied himself with the hellish
powers. Faustus himself tells us, in his "Mirakel-, Kunst-, und
Wunder-buch," (or rather, the author of this book makes him tell us,)
how his intercourse with the Devil commenced almost accidentally and
against his intentions:--
"I, Doctor Johann Faust, who apply myself to the Free Arts, having read
many kinds of books from my youth, happened once to light upon a book
that contained various conjurations of the spirits. Feeling some desire
to enlarge my ideas on these things, having, indeed, at the beginning,
small belief that the prescriptions of that book would so soon be
verified, I tried them only for an experiment. Nevertheless, I became
aware that a mighty spirit, named Astaroth, presented himself before
me, and asked me wherefore I had cited him. Then, hurried as I was, I
did not know how to make up my mind otherwise than to demand that he
should be serviceable to me in various wishes and desires, which he
promised _conditionale_, asking to make a compact with me. To do this I
was at first not inclined; but as I was only provided with a bad
_circle_, being merely experimenting, I did not dare to bid him
defiance, but was obliged to yield to the circumstances. I therefore
made up my mind, inasmuch as he would serve me, and would be bound to
me a certain number of years. This being settled, this spirit presented
to me another, named Mochiel, who was commanded to serve me. I asked
him how quick he was. Answer: 'Like the wind.' 'Thou shalt not serve
me! get thee back to whence thou camest!' Now came Aniguel; he
answered, that he was as quick as the bird in the air. 'Thou art still
too slow,' I replied; 'begone!' At the same moment a third stood before
me, named Aziel; this one, too, I asked how quick he was. 'Quick as the
thought of man.' 'Right for me! thee will I keep!' And I accepted him.
This spirit has served me long, as has been made known by many
writings."
Whether it was this quick Aziel, or Astaroth himself, who became
Faustus's travelling-companion under the name of Mephistopheles, or
whether the prince of the lower regions in person condescended to play
that part, we do not know; but in all popular stories of the Doctor,
his servant bears the latter name,--while in the various books in
which, under the name of _Hoellenzwang_, the system of his magic is
laid down, he is called Aziel.
In possession of such a power, Faustus soon became tired of his lonely
study. He craved the world for his theatre. His travels seem in reality
to have been very extensive, while in the popular stories a magic
mantle carried him over the whole globe. Conrad Gesner, the great
physiologist, who speaks of him with some respect as a physician,
comparing him with Theophrastus Paracelsus, reckons him among the
_scholastici vagantes_, or _fahrende Schueler_, an order of men already
considerably in the decline, and grown disreputable at that period. As
early as the thirteenth century, we find the custom in Germany, of
young clergymen who did not belong to any monkish order travelling
through the land to get a living,--here by instructing in schools for a
certain period,--there by temporarily serving in churches as
choristers, sacristans, or vicars,--often, too, as clerks and copyists
to lawyers or other private men. When they could no longer find a
livelihood at one place, they went to another. Their offices became, in
course of time, of the most varied and unsuitable order. They were
generally received and treated with hospitality, and this may have been
one reason why all kinds of adventurers were ready to join them. Their
unstable mode of life easily explains their frequenting the society of
other vagabonds, who traversed the country as jugglers,
treasure-diggers, quacks, or sorcerers, and that their clerical dignity
did not prevent their occasionally adopting these professions
themselves. The Chronicle of Limburg, in speaking of the Diet of
Frankfurt in 1397, says: "The number of princes, counts, noblemen,
knights, and esquires, that met there, amounted to five thousand one
hundred and eighty-two"; adding: "Besides these, there were here four
hundred and fifty persons more, such as _fahrende Schueler_, wrestlers,
musicians, jumpers, and trumpeters." The character of the clergy having
sunk so low, the Church declared itself against the custom, and at
several German councils theological students were expressly forbidden
to lead this roving life. It required, however, considerable time for
the ancient custom to become extinct, and we learn, among others, from
Conrad Gesner, that it still existed at the time of the Reformation.
The part played by Faustus was at first in some degree respectable, and
that of a scholar. An old Erfurt Chronicle tells us that he had come to
that city and obtained permission from the university to deliver a
course of lectures on Homer. A dark rumor of his magic powers had
preceded him; the students, therefore, thronged to hear him, and,
deeply interested, requested him to let them see the heroes of Homer by
calling them from their graves. Faustus appointed another day for this,
received the excited youths in a dark chamber, commanded them to be
perfectly silent, and made the great men of the Greek bard rise up, one
by one, before their eyes. At length Polyphemus appeared; and the
one-eyed Cyclops, with his red hair, an iron spear in his hand, and, to
designate him at once as a cannibal, two bloody human thighs in his
mouth, looked so hideous, that the spectators were seized with horror
and disgust, the more so that the wily magician professed to have some
difficulty in dismissing the monster. Suddenly a violent shake of the
whole house was felt; the young men were thrown one over another, and
were seized with terror and dismay. Two of the students insisted upon
having already felt the teeth of the Cyclops.--This ridiculous story
was soon known throughout the city, and confirmed the suspicions of the
Franciscan monks and magistrates, that the learned guest was in league
with the Evil One. It is said that Faustus had previously offered to
procure for them the manuscripts of the lost comedies of Terence and
Plautus, and to leave them for a short time in their hands, to be
copied,--but that the fathers of the city and of the university
declined, because they believed this could be done only by sorcery, or
with the help of Satan. Now they sent to him the Guardian of the
Convent, Dr. Klinger, in order to convert him and to have masses read
for him, for the purpose of delivering him from his hellish connection.
But Faustus opposed, was by the clergy solemnly delivered to the Devil,
and, in consequence, banished from the city by the magistrates.
We do not know whether it was for similar juggleries, that, when at
Wittenberg, the Elector John the Steadfast ordered him to be arrested,
as Manlius relates. He saved himself by flight. Melancthon, in one of
his letters, mentions having made his acquaintance; the whole tone of
the allusion, however, expresses contempt.
The character of the miracles he performed soon ceased to have the
literary tincture of the one related above, and they became mere vulgar
juggleries and exhibitions of legerdemain, suited to the taste of the
multitude. Scholars turned their backs on him, and we find him only
among tipplers and associates of the lowest kind. At one of their
carousals his half-intoxicated companions asked him for a specimen of
his witchcraft. He declared himself willing to gratify them in any
request. They then demanded that he should make a grape-vine full of
ripe fruit grow out of the table around which they sat. Faustus
enjoined complete silence, ordered them to take their knives and keep
themselves in readiness for cutting the fruit, but not to stir before
he gave them leave. And, behold, before the eyes of the gaping youths,
while they themselves were enveloped in a magic mist, there arose a
great vine, with as many bunches of grapes as there were persons in the
room. Suddenly the obscuring mist dissolved, and each one saw the
others with their hands at their own noses, ready to cut them off, as
the promised grapes. But the vine and the magician had disappeared, and
the disenchanted drunkards were left to their own rage.
The reader will be aware that this is the tale of which Goethe availed
himself in representing Faustus's visit to Auerbach's cellar at
Leipzig. Whether it really occurred there is not stated; but that
Faustus was said to have been at Leipzig, and even in Auerbach's
cellar, is an historical fact, attested by two pictures still extant at
this famous old tavern, where many of our curious American travellers
may have seen them. These pictures, which have been retouched and
renovated more than once,--last in 1759,--are marked at the top with
the date 1525. Whether this means the year in which they were painted,
or that in which Faustus performed the great feat which the scene
represents, remains uncertain. As it occurred in the beginning of his
career, upon which we may assume him to have entered somewhere between
1520 and 1525, the date is quite likely to refer to the time of the
feat; but, to judge from the costumes and several other signs, the
pictures cannot have been painted much later. They were evidently made
expressly for the locality, sloping off on both sides at the top, to
suit the shape of the vault. The German inscription at the foot of one
of the pictures indicates that it was written after the Doctor's death,
which must have occurred between 1540 and 1550; but it is probable that
these verses were added at a later time, the more so as the traces of
an older inscription, now no longer legible, may still be discovered.
One of these curious paintings represents Faustus in company with
students and musicians sitting around a table covered with dishes and
bottles. Faustus is lifting his goblet with one hand, and with the
other beating time on the table to the music. At the bottom we read the
following verse in barbarous Latin:--
"Vive. Bibe. Obgregare. Memor Fausti hujus, et hujus
Poenae. Aderat claudo haec. Ast erat ampla
Gradu. 1525."[4]
The other picture shows us the same jolly party risen from table, and
all expressing their wonder and astonishment, as Dr. Faustus is just
riding out of the door on a wine-tub. Beneath it is the following
inscription in German:--
"Dr. Faustus zu dieser Frist
Aus Auerbach's Keller geritten ist,
Auf einem Fass mit Wein geschwind,
Welches gesehn manch Mutterkind.
Solches durch seine subtilne Kunst hat gethan,
Und des Teufels Lohn empfangen davon.
1525."[5]
On neither of the two pictures does Mephistopheles appear, unless he is
meant to be represented in the shape of the black dog. It is not,
however, Goethe's poodle that meets us here, but a sleek little
creature with a collar around his neck, looking very much like a wooden
toy-dog.
Most of the tricks and pranks reported of Dr. Faustus are of the same
absurd kind, though not all of so harmless a character. According to
the popular legend, he travelled like a great lord, had the spirits
pave the highways for him when he rode in the post-coach,--it seems,
then, that he did not always use his mantle,--and lived in the taverns
at which he stopped with an unheard-of luxury. On his departure, he
paid the hosts in a princely manner; but scarcely was he out of sight,
when the gold in the receiver's hand was changed to straw, or to round
slices of gilded horn,--a shabby trick indeed, as he could have as much
money as he liked.
How much we have to believe of all these popular stories we may learn
from Dr. Phil. Begardi's "Zeyger der Gesundtheyt," (Guide to Health,) a
book published in 1539, at Worms, at a time when Faustus seems to have
already disappeared from Germany, after having lost caste there
completely, and when he was trying his fortune in other countries.
"There is still another famous man," says Begardi, "whose name I would
rather not mention at all, only that he himself would not wish to
remain hidden or unknown. For he was roving, _some years ago_, through
all the different countries, principalities, and kingdoms, and has made
known his name and his great skill, boasting not only of his medical
science, but likewise of Chiromancy, Necromancy, Physiognomy, Visions
in Crystals, and more arts of the kind. And he called himself Faustus,
a celebrated experienced master, _philosophum philosophorum_, etc. But
the number of those who have complained to me of having been cheated by
him is very great. Well, his promises were likewise very great, just
like those of Thessalus, (in Galen's time,) and his reputation like
that of Theophrastus; but in deeds he was, I hear, found small and
deceitful. But in taking and receiving money he was never slow, and was
off before any one knew it."
Thus we see the historical Faustus, the esteemed scholar, the skilful
physician, gradually merged in the juggler, the quack, the adventurer,
and the impostor. The popular legend follows him to foreign countries.
His magic mantle carries him, in eight days, over the whole world, and
even into the Infernal regions. He is honorably received at the
Emperor's court at Innspruck, introduces himself invisibly at Rome,
into the Vatican, where the Pope and his cardinals are assembled at a
banquet, snatches away his Holiness's plate and cup from before his
mouth, and, enraged at his crossing himself, boxes his ears. In the
puppet-shows he figures mostly at the court of the Duke of Parma. In
Venice his daring spirit presumed too far. He announced an exhibition
of a flight to heaven. But Mephistopheles, who had hitherto satisfied
his most extravagant demands, though often with grumbling, would not
permit _that_ feat. In the midst of a staring, wondering multitude,
Faustus rose to a certain height by means of his own Satanic skill,
acquired in his long intercourse with the Devil. But now the latter
showed that he was still his master. He suddenly hurled him from on
high, and he fell half dead upon the ground. The twenty-four years of
the compact, however, were not yet ended, and he was therefore restored
to life by the same hellish power.
In a very trite, popular ballad, which we find in "Des Knaben
Wunderhorn," we see, that, when the travellers came to Jerusalem, the
Devil declined still another request. Faustus wishes him to make a
picture of Christ crucified, and to write under it his holy name. But
the Devil declared that he would rather give him back his signature
than be obliged to do _such_ a thing, and succeeded in turning the
Doctor's mind from the subject by showing him, instead, a picture of
Venus.
Popular imagination seems to have been inexhaustible in stories of this
kind. But, after the twenty-four years of vile enjoyments, the hour of
retribution came at last. According to our scanty historical notices,
Faustus died an unnatural death: he was found dead in his bed, at his
birthplace, Kundlingen, with his neck twisted. How such a death must
have confirmed all the superstitious rumors about him the reader will
easily conceive. But, according to the popular legend, his end was
still more terrible. He seems to have returned to his own country, and
scholars, worthy young men, surround him once more, and become much
attached to him. From this one would suppose him to have been at
Wittenberg, or Ingoldstadt, or any university city, but, instead of
this, we find him in a little Saxon village, called Rimlich. The
twenty-fourth year draws to its close. At last, at the eleventh hour,
Faustus bethinks himself to repent; but it is too late. His end,
related in the simple language of the Volksbuch, is truly awful. He
dismisses his sympathizing friends, bidding them not to be disturbed by
any noises in the night. At midnight a terrible storm arises; it
reaches its height amid thunder and lightning. The friends hear a
fearful shriek. They rise and pray. But when, in the morning, they
enter his room, they are horror-struck at seeing his limbs scattered
round, and the walls, against which the fiend had dashed him to pieces,
covered with his blood. His body was found in the court-yard on a
dung-hill.
The horror of this end made a peculiarly awful impression on the
popular mind. During the Thirty Years' War, it once happened that a
troop of Catholic soldiers broke into a village in Saxony, on the Elbe,
named Breda. They were just about to plunder one of the principal
houses, when the judge of the place, who, it seems, was a shrewd man,
stepped out and told them that this village was the one where Dr.
Faustus was carried off by the Devil, and that in this very house the
blood of the Doctor was still to be seen on the walls. The soldiers
were seized with terror, and left the village.
The story of Faustus's adventurous life and shocking death, with its
impressive lessons, appears at first to have been kept extant only by
oral tradition. Nearly forty years passed before it was written down
and printed. But then, indeed, the book was received with so much
favor, that not only several new and enlarged editions appeared in a
short time, but many similar works were published soon after, which,
though founded on the oldest Volksbuch (of 1588) and Widmann's
"Histories," were yet abundant in new facts and inventions. And that
not to the illiterate classes alone was the subject interesting is
proved by the circumstance that a Latin version of the first Volksbuch
was advertised, and (probably) appeared. On the title-pages of all
these books it is expressly stated that they were written as a warning
to, and for the edification of, Christian readers. In 1712, a book was
published at Berlin, under the title, "Zauberkünste und Leben Dr.
Fausti," (The Magic Arts and Life of Dr. Faust,) as the author of which
Christoph Wagner was named. Wagner himself became the subject of a
biographical work.
Of still greater effect was Faustus's history on the stage. Through the
whole of the seventeenth, as well as the first half of the eighteenth
century, it remained one of the favorite subjects of puppet-shows,
popular melodramas, exhibitions of _ombres chinoises_, and pantomimes.
The more the awful event, with its moral lessons, receded into the
background of time, the more it lost its serious and impressive
character, until it became a mere burlesque, and _Hanswurst_ and
_Casperle_ its principal figures.
The "Historie" had scarcely appeared, when it was translated into
Dutch, and the later publication of other similar works did not prevent
the demand for several new editions. These Dutch books were
illustrated, as were also the _newer_ German ones. Only a little later,
two French versions were published, one of which was even reprinted at
Paris as late as 1712.
In Holland, our hero excited no small interest even among the artists.
There are extant several portraits of Faustus painted by Rembrandt,--
whether ideal, or copied from older pictures, is not known. Another
Dutch painter, Christoph von Sichem, represented two scenes from the
life of the celebrated magician; and of these productions engravings
still exist. On the one, we see Faustus and Mephistopheles,--the
latter dressed like a monk, as, according to the popular tales,
he mostly appeared. On the other, Wagner and Auerhahn, (or Auerhain,)
--the latter in the shape of a monkey. There is a striking contrast
between Faustus and Wagner. The first is a well-dressed man, in
deep meditation; globes and instruments of science surround him;--
the other the impersonation of vulgarity. Various scenes from
Faustus's life adorn the walls. Christoph von Sichem was born in
1580, and flourished at Amsterdam during the first quarter of the
seventeenth century. These pictures were consequently made when the
whole interest of the public for Faustus and his companions was still
fresh.
Some books seem to have been published by Faustus during his
lifetime,--at least, his biographers allude to them; but it was only
after his death that the work which gave his name its chief reputation
became known. This was his peculiar System of Magic, called "Faust's
Hoellenzwang" (Compulsion of Hell). Wagner, who was said to be his
heir, published it first under the title of "Dr. Johannis Faust's
_Magia Celeberrima_, und _Tabula Nigra_, oder _Hoellenzwang_." It
contained all the different forms of conjuration, as well for the
citation as for the dismissal of spirits. There are, besides this,
several other similar works extant, such as his "Schwarzer
Mohrenstern," "Der schwarze Rabe," the "Mirakel-, Kunst-, und
Wunder-buch," already mentioned, and several more, containing about the
same matter, and most of them written in his name. Of all these
productions only manuscripts are known to remain, although they are all
professedly copies of printed works. The most singular thing is, that,
while they are represented as having been published after the
magician's death, some of them are, nevertheless, marked with dates as
early as 1509, 1510, and 1511,--and with the names of Lion, (Lyons,)
London, etc., as the places where they were printed. These
circumstances make their authenticity very doubtful, even if we allow
for mistakes made by the copyists.
Although so large a part of Faustus's life was, according to the
popular legend, spent in Italy, we are not aware that this legend was
ever current among the Italian people. Some unfortunate attempts have
been made to engraft the story of Don Giovanni upon this German stock,
but, as it seems to us, by very arbitrary arguments and conclusions.
The career of a mere rake, who shuns no means of gratifying his low
appetites, has little analogy with that of an originally honest
inquirer, led astray by the want of faith and his sensual nature. The
only resemblance is in the end. There was at first more apparent
success in the endeavor to transplant the tale to Spain, where
Calderon's "Magico Prodigioso" was taken by some critics for a
representation of it. The foundation of Calderon's drama, as mentioned
before, is rather the legend of St. Cyprianus. More may be said in
favor of the radical identity of the stories of Faustus with some
popular legends of the Poles, referring to a necromancer called
Twardowski. But Polish scholars will not admit this; at least, they
object to giving up their great magician, and some attempts have even
been made from that side to prove that theirs is the original whom the
Germans appropriated under the name of _Faust_.
The most interesting result of the publication of the Volksbuch
appeared in England, where it fell, for the first, and in a hundred and
fifty years the only time, into the hands of a poet. Mr. Collier, in
his "History of English Dramatic Poetry," says,--"In 1588, a ballad of
the Life and Death of Dr. Faustus was licensed to be printed"; and
adds,--"This would, according to the language of the time, have meant
any composition in verse, even the play," (of Marlowe,) and
subsequently mentions the same circumstance with reference to "the old
romance of Dr. Faustus." On this, Mr. A. Dyce (Works of Christopher
Marlowe, 1850, I. p. xvi., note) remarks,--"When Mr. Collier states
that the old romance of Faustus was entered into the Stationers' books
in 1588, (according to a note on Henslowe's Diary, p. 42,) he meant, I
apprehend, the old _ballad_." If we bear in mind that the first German
History of Dr. Faustus did not appear before the same year, we should
also conclude that he must have meant the ballad, as a translation
could hardly have been made in so short a time. But considering, on the
other hand, that the tragedy, which cannot have been composed later
than 1589 or 1590, (as the poet, who was murdered in 1593, wrote
several pieces after the one in question,) is evidently and without the
least doubt founded on the Volksbuch, often adopting the very language
of its English version, we must conclude that a translation of the
German work was made immediately after its appearance, or possibly even
from the manuscript,--which Spiess, the German editor, professes to
have obtained from Spires. Although the word "ballad" was not properly
employed for prose romances, it may have been thus used in Henslowe's
Diary by mistake. We are not aware that any _old_ English version of
this "History of Dr. Faustus" is now extant; that from which Mr. Dyce
quotes is of 1648. Marlowe's tragedy was first entered in the
Stationers' books in 1600-1, but brought upon the stage many years
before. In 1597, it had already been played so often that additions
were required. Philips, who wrote about fifty years later, remarks,
that, "of all that Marlowe hath written to the stage, his 'Dr. Faustus'
has made the greatest noise with its devils and such-like tragical
sport." In course of time it was "made into a farce, with the Humors of
Harlequin and Scaramouch," and represented through the whole kingdom,
like similar compositions, with immense applause.
Marlowe's "Faustus" has been judged rather favorably by modern English
critics. Mr. Hazlitt calls it, "though an imperfect and unequal
performance, Marlowe's greatest work." Mr. Hallam remarks,--"There is an
awful melancholy about Marlowe's Mephistopheles, perhaps more
impressive than the malignant mirth of that fiend in the renowned work
of Goethe." Charles Lamb even preferred Marlowe's "Faustus," as a
whole, to the latter! Mr. Collier calls it "a drama of power, novelty,
interest, and variety." So, indeed, it is; but all that power,
interest, novelty, and variety do not belong to Marlowe, but to the
prose romance, after which he wrote. Indeed, he followed it so
closely,--as every reader can see for himself, by reading the play in
Dyce's edition, and comparing it with the notes under the text,--that
sometimes whole scenes are copied, and even whole speeches, as, for
instance, that of the Emperor Charles V. The coarse buffoonery, in
particular, of which the work is full, is retained word for word. Of
the countless absurdities and prolixities of the Volksbuch, Marlowe
has, of course, omitted a great deal, and condensed the story to the
tenth part of its original length; but the fundamental idea, the plot,
and the characters, belong exclusively to the original. Marlowe's
poetical merit lies partly in the circumstance that he was the first to
feel the depth and power of that idea, partly in the thoughts and
pictures with which some speeches, principally the monologues of
Faustus himself, are interwoven. The Faustus of Marlowe is the Faust of
the legend, tired of learning because it is so unproductive, and
selling his soul, not for knowledge, but for wealth and power. His
investigating conversations with Mephistopheles, his inquiries, and the
answers of the latter, are almost as shallow and childish as those in
the People's Book; and Faustus himself remarks, on the information
which his companion gives him,--
"Those slender trifles Wagner could decide;
Has Mephistopheles no greater skill?"
This latter, indeed, seems to us, in spite of the admiration of English
critics, a decided failure. There is in him no trace of either the
cruel, icy-cold malignity of the fiend of Goethe, or the awful grandeur
of Milton's Tempter. It cannot be said that Marlowe's Devil seduces
Faustus. He is almost on the verge of repentance himself; of the two,
he is decidedly the better Christian. The proposition of the compact
comes from Faustus himself, and Mephistopheles only accepts it.
Marlowe's Faustus knows nothing of the feeling of aversion and disgust
with which Goethe's Faust sees himself bound to his hellish companion;
he calls him, repeatedly, "sweet Mephistopheles," and declares,--
"Had I as many souls as there be stars,
I'd give them all for Mephistopheles."
Mr. Hallam, in comparing Marlowe's production with Goethe's,
remarks,--"The fair form of Margaret is wanting." As if this were all
that was wanting! Margaret belonged, indeed, exclusively to Goethe. But
Helena, the favorite ideal of beauty of all old writers, is introduced
in the popular tale, and so, too, in Marlowe. Faustus conjures up her
spirit at the request of the students. Her beauty is described with
glowing colors; "it would," says the old romance, "nearly have enflamed
the students, but that they persuaded themselves she was a spirit,
which made them lightly passe away such fancies." Not so Faustus;
although he is already in the twenty-third year of his compact, he
himself falls in love with the spirit, and keeps her with him until his
end. In all this, Marlowe follows closely; though he has good taste
enough to suppress the figure of the little Justus Faustus, who was the
fruit of this union.
It now only remains to us to consider the way in which modern poets
have apprehended the idea of the Faust-fable. None of the German dramas
and operas which the seventeenth century produced, though they never
failed to draw large audiences, could be compared, in poetical value,
to Marlowe's tragedy. The German stage of that period was of very low
standing, and the few poets who wrote for it, as, for instance,
Lohenstein, preferred foreign subjects,--the more remote in space and
time, the better. The writers of neither the first nor the second
Silesian school were exactly the men to appreciate the depth of a
legend like that of Faustus,--still less the watery poets of the
beginning of the eighteenth century. Lessing, who, with his sharp,
sound criticism, and his clear perception of the beautiful, led the way
to a higher state of things in literature, appears also to have been
the first to discover the deep meaning buried in the popular farces of
Faustus. He pronounced it worthy the genius of a Shakspeare, and
himself attempted to make it the subject of a tragedy. How much it
occupied his mind we may conclude from the circumstance that he seems
to have made for it two plans, essentially different from each other.
We can only regret that they were never executed. Although Lessing was
not a poetical genius like Goethe, the power and acuteness of his mind
were so eminent, the force of his critical faculties was so
penetrating, that his treatment of a subject of so much depth and
intrinsic poetry would have been of the highest interest. This
expectation is also justified by the few sketches of single scenes
which are all that remain of his plans. One of the latter is, indeed,
also in so far remarkable, as we see from it that Lessing's mind
inclined to the modern view, according to which Faustus ought to be and
would be finally saved. One of the devils describes him, before
temptation, as "a solitary, thinking youth, entirely devoted to
wisdom,--living, breathing, only for wisdom and knowledge,--renouncing
every passion but the one for truth,--highly dangerous to thee [Satan]
and to us all, if he were ever to be a teacher of the people." Satan
resolves at once to seduce and destroy him. But Faustus's good angel
has mercy on him. He buries him in a deep sleep, and creates in his
place a phantom, with which the cheated devils try successfully the
whole process of temptation and seduction. All this appears to Faustus
in a dream. He awakes; the Devil discovers his error, and flies with
shame and fury, and Faustus, thanking Providence for its warning,
clings to truth and virtue more firmly than ever.
The other plan, to judge from the fragment we possess, is less
fanciful, and seems to follow more closely the popular tradition,
according to which the temptations of Faustus were by no means
external, but lay deep in his individual mind. In one of its
lightly-sketched scenes, the poet has evidently availed himself of the
one from the Miracle-Book heretofore mentioned, and, indeed, with a
great deal of force. Faustus, impatient and annoyed at the slow process
of human action, desires the quickest servant from hell, and
successively cites seven spirits. One after another he rejects. The
arrows of the plague, the wings of the winds, the beams of light, are
all not quick enough for him. The fifth spirit rises:--
"_Faustus_. How quick art thou?
"_Fifth Spirit_. As quick as the thoughts of men.
"_Faustus_. That is something!--But the thoughts of men are not always
quick. They are slothful when truth and virtue demand them. Thou canst
be quick, if thou wilt. But who will warrant me thy being always
quick?--No, I trust thee as little as I ought to have trusted
myself.--Ah!--(to the sixth spirit.) Now tell me how quick thou art!
"_Sixth Spirit_. As quick as the vengeance of the Avenger.
"_Faustus_. Of the Avenger? Of what Avenger?
"_Sixth Spirit_. Of the All-powerful, the Terrible, who has kept
vengeance for himself alone, because vengeance is his delight.
"_Faustus_. Devil, thou blasphemest, for I see thou art
trembling!--Quick, thou sayest, as the vengeance of----no! he may not
be named among us! Quick, thou sayest, is his vengeance? Quick? And I
still live? And I still sin?
"_Sixth Spirit_. That he suffereth thee still to sin is the beginning
of his vengeance.
"_Faustus_. Oh that a Devil should teach me this!--But no, his
vengeance is not quick; if thou art no quicker, begone!--(To the
seventh spirit.) How quick art thou?
"_Seventh Spirit_. Unsatisfiable (_unzuvergnuegender_) mortal! If I,
too, am not quick enough for thee------
"_Faustus_. Tell me, then, how quick?
"_Seventh Spirit_. No more nor less than the transition from Good to
Evil.
"_Faustus_. Ha! thou art my devil! Quick as the transition from Good to
Evil!--Yes, that is quick! Nothing is quicker!--Away from here, ye
horrors of Orcus! Away!--Quick as the transition from Good to Evil!--I
have learned how quick that is! I know it!"
Lessing had this fragment printed in the "Literaturbriefe," professedly
as a specimen of one of the old popular dramas, despised at that time
by the higher classes, though Lessing remarks,--"How fond was Germany
once of its Dr. Faustus,--and is so, partly, still!" But even this bold
reformer of German taste seems not to have had the temerity to come
forward at once as the author of a conception so entirely contrary to
the reigning rules and the Frenchified taste by which, at the period of
the "Literaturbriefe," (1759-1763,) Germany was still subjugated.
We do not know whether some of the young poets who took hold of the
subject a short time after were instigated by this fragment of
Lessing's, or whether they were moved by the awakening German Genius,
who, just at that period, was beginning to return to his national
sources for the quenching of his thirst. Between 1770 and 1780, Lenz
and Maler Müller composed, the former his "Hoellenrichter," the latter
his dramatized Life of Dr. Faustus. No more appropriate hero could have
been found for the young "Kraft-Genies" of the "Sturm und Drang
Periode" (Storm and Stress period) of German literature. Schreiber,
Soden, Klinger, Schink, followed them, the last-named with several
productions referring to the subject. In 1786, Goethe communicated to
the world, for the first time, a fragment of that astonishing dramatic
poem which has since been acknowledged, by the whole literary public,
as his masterpiece, and the most remarkable monument of his great
genius.[6] The whole first part of the tragedy, still under the name of
a fragment, was not published before 1808. Since then Germany may be
said to have been inundated by "Fausts" in every possible shape. Dramas
by Nic. Voigt, K. Schoene, Benkowitz,--operas by Adolph Bäurle, J. von
Voss, Bernard, (with music by Spohr,)--tales in verse and prose by
Kamarack, Seybold, Gerle, and L. Bechstein,--and besides these, the
productions of various anonymous writers, followed close upon each
other in the course of the next twenty years. Chamisso's tragedy of
"Faustus," "in one actus," in truth only a fragment, had already
appeared in the "Musenalmanach" of 1804.
To Goethe the legendary literature of his nation had been familiar from
his boyhood. Very early in life, and several years before the
publication of Maler Müller's spirited drama, his mind was powerfully
impressed by the Faust-fable, and the greater part of the present
fragmentary poem was already written and ready for print when Müller's
first sketch, under the title, "Situations in the Life of Dr. Faustus,"
appeared (1776). As the entire poetry of Goethe was more or less
_autobiographical_,--that is, as all his poetical productions reflect,
to a certain extent, his own personal sensations, trials, and
experiences,--he fused himself and his inner life into the mould of
Faustus, with all his craving for knowledge, his passionate love of
Nature, his unsatisfied longings and powerful temptations, adhering
closely in all external action to the popular story, though of course
in a symbolic spirit Goethe had, as he tells us himself, a happy
faculty of delivering himself by poetical production, as well of all
the partly imaginary, partly morbid cares and doubts which troubled his
mind, as of the real and acute sufferings which tormented him, for a
certain period, even to agony. Love, doubt, sorrow, passion,
remorse--all found an egress from his soul into a poem, a novel, a
parable, a dramatic character, or some other form of poetical
expression. He felt as if eased of a burden, after having thus given
his feelings body and shape. Thus his works became his history.
"Faust," in its two parts, is the production of his lifetime. Conceived
in early youth, worked out in manhood, completed in old age, it became
a vehicle for all the various commotions of his existence. There is no
other poem which contains such a diversity of thought and feeling, such
a variety of sentences, pictures, scenes, and situations. For enlarging
on the poetical value of this incomparable work this is not the place.
Closely as Goethe has followed up the popular legend, it is
emphatically and entirely his own production, because it contains his
complete self.
Nearly a quarter of a century passed before this extraordinary poem was
followed by its second part. It is not difficult to trace in this
continuation, published only after the death of the aged poet, the few
scenes which may have been composed contemporarily with or soon after
the first part; but that the whole is conceived and executed in a
totally different spirit not even the most unconditional admirers of
Goethe's genius will deny. There is no doubt that he regarded his
"Faust" only as a beginning, and always contemplated a continuation.
The _rôle_ of Dr. Faustus, the popular magician, was only half-played.
Its most brilliant part, his intercourse with the great of the earth
and the heroes of the past, had not yet commenced. But as, in the
course of advancing life, the poet's views and ideas changed, the
mirror of his soul reflected an altered world to him; and as the second
part of "Faust" is hardly less an image of himself than the first, it
is not unnatural that it is as different from the latter as the Goethe
the septuagenarian was from Goethe the youth.
Meanwhile the _literati_ of Germany became exceedingly impatient for
the promised second part; and when the master lingered, and did not
himself come forth with the solution of the mystery, the disciples
attempted to supply him as well as they could. C.C.L. Schoene and J.D.
Hoffmann had both the requisite courage for such an undertaking; and
the first even sent his production, with perfect _naïveté_, to the
great master, as the second part of his own work. C. Rosenkranz and
Gustav Pfitzer--two very honorable names--also wrote after-plays.
We must confess that we have never felt any desire to see "Faust"
continued. It ought to have remained a fragment. Its last scene,
perhaps, surpasses, in sublimity and heart-rending power, anything ever
written. No light of this world can ever entirely clear up the sacred
mystery of the Beyond, but that scene gives us a surety for the
salvation of Margaret, and _hope_ for Faust, to every one who has not
forgotten the words of the Lord in the second Prologue:--
"Draw down this spirit from its source,
And, _canst thou catch him_, to perdition
Carry him with thee in thy course;
But stand abashed, if thou must needs confess
That a good man, though passion blur his vision,
Has of the right way still a consciousness."[7]
By the appearance of the second part of "Faust" the magic spell was
completely broken. No work of Art of a more chilling, disenchanting
character was ever produced. For the striking individuality of the
first part, we have here nothing but abstractions; for its deep poetry,
symbolism; for its glow and thrilling pathos, a plastic finish, hard
and cold as marble; for its psychological truth, a bewildering
mysticism. All the fine thoughts and reflections, and all the abundance
of poetical passages, scattered like jewels through the thick mist of
the whole work, cannot compensate for its total want of interest; and
we doubt whether many readers have ever worked their way through its
innumerable obscure sayings and mystical allegories without feeling
something of the truth of Voltaire's remark: "_Tout genre est permis
hors le genre ennuyeux_."
The impression which the first part of "Faust," the poetical
masterpiece of German literature, made among foreigners, was, though in
some instances ultimately powerful, yet on the whole surprisingly slow.
While the popular legend, in its coarsest shape, had, in its time,
spread with the rapidity of a running fire through all countries, the
great German poet's conception of it, two hundred years later, found no
responding echo in either French or English bosoms. Here and there some
eccentric genius may have taken it up, as, for instance, Monk Lewis,
who, in 1816, communicated the fundamental idea to Lord Byron, reading
and translating it to him _vivâ vocé_, and suggesting to him, in this
indirect way, the idea of his "Manfred." But even the more profound
among the few German scholars then extant in England did not understand
"Faust," and were inclined to condemn it,--as, for instance, Coleridge,
who, as we see from his "Table-Talk," misconceived the whole idea of
the poem, and found fault with the execution, because it was different
from what he fancied he himself would have made of this legend, had he
taken it in hand. The first English translation was published in the
same year as the first French version, that is, in 1825; both were
exceedingly imperfect. Since then several other translations in prose
and verse have appeared in both languages, especially in
English,--though the "twenty or thirty metrical ones" of which Mr. C.T.
Brooks speaks in his preface are probably to be taken as a mere mode of
speech,--and lately one by this gentleman himself, in our very midst.
This latter comes, perhaps, as near to perfection as it is possible for
the reproduction of all idiomatic poetical composition in another
language to do. All this indicates that the time for the just
appreciation of German literature in general and of Goethe in
particular is drawing near at last; that its influence has for some
time been felt is proved, among other things, by that paraphrastic
imitation of "Faust," Bailey's "Festus."
That a poem like "Faust" could not at first be generally understood is
not unnatural. Various interpretations of its seeming riddles have been
attempted; and if the volumes of German "Goethe-Literature" are
numerous enough to form a small library, those of the "Faust-
Literature" may be computed to form the fourth part of it. To
the English reader we cannot recommend highly enough, for the full
comprehension of "Faust," the commentary on this poem which Mr. Lewes
gives in his "Life of Goethe," as perhaps the most excellent portion of
that excellent work. Goethe himself has given many a hint on his own
conception, and as to how far it was the reflex of his own soul. "The
puppet-show-fable of 'Faust,'" he says, "murmured with many voices in
my soul. I, too, had wandered into every department of knowledge, and
had returned disgusted, and convinced of the vanity of science. And
life, too, I had tried under various aspects, and had always come back
sorrowing and unsatisfied." "Faust's character," he says in another
place, "at the height to which the modern elaboration (_Ausbildung_) of
the old, crude, popular tale has raised it, represents a man, who,
feeling impatient and uncomfortable within the general limits of earth,
esteems the possession of the highest knowledge, the enjoyment of the
fairest worldly goods, inadequate to satisfy his longings even in the
least degree, a mind which, turning to every side in search of this
satisfaction, ever recedes into itself with increased unhappiness."--He
remarks, too, that "the approbation which this poem has met with, far
and near, may be owing to the rare peculiarity, that it fixes
permanently the developing process of a human mind, which by everything
that torments humanity is also pained, by all that troubles it is also
agitated, by what it condemns is likewise enthralled, and by what it
desires is also made happy."[8]
If this article were devoted to Goethe's "Faust," instead of the
popular legend of Faustus, of which the former is only the most eminent
apprehension, it would be easy to add to these reasons for the
universal "approbation" which it has won still others, founded on the
great genius of the poet. This, however, would by far exceed our
limits.
[Footnote 1: Some regard Sabellicus and Faustus Socinus as one and the
same person.]
[Footnote 2: _Historie von D. Johann Fausten, aan weltbeschreyten
Zauberer und Schwarzkünstler_, etc. Frankfurt a. M. 1588.]
[Footnote 3: _Wahrhaftige Historien von den greulichen und
abscheulichen Sünden und Lastern, etc., so D. Johannes Faustus, etc.,
bis an sein schreckliches End hat getrieben, etc._, erklärt durch Georg
Rudolf Widmann. Hamburg, 1599.]
[Footnote 4: Live, drink, and be merry, remembering this Faust and his
punishment. It came slowly, but was in ample measure. 1525.]
[Footnote 5: Dr. Faustus on this day From Auerbach's cellar rode away,
Of a barrel of wine astride, Which many mothers'-children eyed; This
through his subtle art achieved, And for it the Devil's reward
received. 1525.]
[Footnote 6: It first appeared in the fourth volume of his Works.
Leipzig. Goeschen. 1786.]
[Footnote 7: Mr. Brooks's translation.]
[Footnote 8: _Kunst und Alterthum_. B. VI. Heft I., II.]