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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And lo! the fools sat in council, and idiots clamoured in the judgment-chamber.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another feeling softly whispered—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(The hermit took his pitcher and went to a fountain.)

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

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

Faustus. Devil!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hermit. St. George.

Faustus. Here’s his health.

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

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

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

The hermit then crossed himself.

Faustus. Do you call eating and drinking crimes?

Hermit. They may tempt us to commit crimes.

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

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

Faustus. Are you happy, brother?

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

Devil. How do you obtain your food?

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

Faustus. And what do you give them in return?

Hermit. I pray for them.

Faustus. Are they bettered by your prayers?

Hermit. They think so, and I hope so.

Devil. Brother, you are a rogue.

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

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

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

Devil. Ho, ho! you know that? (Looking at Faustus.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Old Faustus. “My son, stay at home and support thyself honourably,” says Scripture.

Faustus. And die of hunger, says Experience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The unhappy friend looked humbly to the ground.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Faustus. We can settle the whole business standing. (To the Devil) Produce the document which we have found.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Devil looked at her attentively.

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

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

The Devil and Faustus pretended to be shocked.

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

Faustus made a humble bow of assent.

Abbess. For Heaven’s sake, speak, or I shall run mad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Faustus bowed with humility.

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

Abbess. But the advice—the advice!

Devil. I am ashamed to tell it you aloud.

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

Devil (softly into her ear). He advised me to contrive so that this dangerous nun should commit the sin of * * *

Abbess (crossing herself). Blessed Ursula! Why, that is the work of the Devil, and leads directly to hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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