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.