When Faustus and the Devil entered upon the fertile soil of France, it was groaning beneath the oppression of that cruel and cowardly tyrant Louis the Eleventh, who was the first that ever styled himself “the most Christian king.” The Devil had determined not to give Faustus the slightest information beforehand concerning this prince. He had resolved to drive him to despair, and then overwhelm him with the most frightful blow a mortal can receive who has rebelliously transgressed the bounds which a powerful hand has drawn around him.

The Devil had learnt from one of his spies that the most Christian king was meditating a masterpiece of state policy; or, in other words, was on the point of getting rid of his brother, the Duke de Berry, in order that a province which had been granted to him might revert to the crown. The malicious fiend resolved to make Faustus a spectator of this horrid scene. They rode through a wood of oaks contiguous to a castle, and saw among the trees a Benedictine monk, who seemed to be telling his rosary. The Devil rejoiced inwardly at this sight; for he read upon the countenance of the monk that he was imploring the Mother of God to assist him in the great enterprise which his abbot had intrusted him with, and likewise to save him from all danger. This monk was Faber Vesois, confessor of the king’s brother. The Devil did not disturb him in his pious meditations, but went on to the castle with Faustus. They were received with all the respect generally shown to persons of distinction who come to visit a prince. The duke passed his days here in the company of his beloved Monserau, thinking of no harm, and expecting no misfortune. His agreeable manners soon gained him the good-will of Faustus, who was delighted to see a scion of royalty think and act like a man; for he had been accustomed to see among the German princes nothing but pride, coldness, and that foolish ceremony which is only intended to make visitors appear contemptible in their own eyes. Some days were very pleasantly spent in hunting and other amusements, and the prince gained more and more upon the heart of Faustus. The only thing that displeased him in the prince was the weakness he displayed in regard to his confessor, the Benedictine. He loaded him with so much tenderness, and submitted with so much complaisance to his will, and the monk always looked so studiously devout, that Faustus could not conceive how a man so frank himself could prize such a hypocrite. The Devil, however, soon let him into the secret by informing him of the duke’s connexion with Monserau. His love for this fair lady was equalled by his fear of hell; and, Madame de Monserau having a husband still living, he was not altogether easy in respect to his amours with her. As he neither wished to renounce her nor expose himself to eternal punishment, he greedily caught at the baits which the monks hang out in order to make themselves masters of the minds of men; and when the dread of hell tormented him too much, he allayed his fears by receiving absolution for his sins; while he thought it impossible for him to be too grateful to a man who encouraged him to enjoy the present, and tranquillised him in respect to the future. “Thou seest, O Faustus,” said the Devil, “what men have made of religion. Its abuse has often been associated with crimes and horrors, but is nevertheless used by the wicked to cajole and appease their rebellious consciences.”

The conduct of the prince in this respect did him little honour in the opinion of Faustus, who had long ago parted with his own conscience, and this last remark of the Devil’s operated strongly upon his mind; however, he permitted things to go on in their own way, and chiefly thought of passing his time pleasantly.

They were one evening at table in excellent humour; the Devil was diverting the company with his pleasant stories, and Faustus was employed in saying soft things to a pretty French widow, who listened to him very complaisantly; when all of a sudden, Death, in his most frightful shape, came to disturb the festival. The Benedictine caused a basket of extraordinarily large peaches, which he had just received as a present, to be brought in at dessert; and, selecting one of the finest, he offered it to the prince with a smiling and benignant air. The prince divided it with his beloved, and both ate of the peach without the slightest suspicion. They then rose from table; the monk gave his benediction to all, and hurried away. The Devil was about to commence a new story, when Madame de Monserau uttered a loud shriek. Her lovely features were distorted, her lips became blue, and the paleness of death covered her countenance. The prince rushed to her assistance; but the terrible poison began likewise to operate upon him; he fell at her feet, and cried, “Listen, O Heaven: my brother, my cruel brother, has assassinated me by the hand of that monster. He who caused his father to die of hunger in order to avoid being poisoned, has now bribed the minister of religion to poison me.”

Faustus ran out of the room to seize the confessor, but he had fled; a troop of horse were waiting for him in the forest, and accompanied him in his flight. Faustus returned; but Death had seized his victims, and they had ceased to struggle with him. Faustus and the fiend instantly quitted the place.

Devil. Well, Faustus, what think you of the deed committed by the Benedictine in the name of the most Christian king?

Faustus. I am almost inclined to believe that our bodies are animated by fiendish spirits, and that we are only their instruments.

Devil. What a debasing employment for an immortal spirit to have to animate such an ill-contrived machine! Although I am a haughty demon, yet, believe me, I would rather animate a swine that wallows in the mire than one of ye, who roll in all manner of vice, and yet have the confidence to call yourselves images of the Most High.

Faustus was silent; for the adventures he was every day compelled to witness forced him, against his inclination, to believe in the moral worthlessness of man. They travelled forward, and found every where hideous monuments of the cruelty of Louis the Eleventh. Faustus frequently made use of the Devil’s gold and treasure to stop the bleeding wounds which the hand of the tyrant had inflicted.

At length they arrived at Paris. Upon entering the city they found every thing in commotion. The people were rushing in crowds down one particular street; they followed the populace, and arrived in front of a scaffold covered with black cloth, and which communicated, by means of a door, with an adjoining building. Faustus asked what was the cause of all this; and he was told “that the rich Duke of Nemours was just going to be executed.” “And for what?” “The king has commanded it: there is a report, indeed, that he had hostile designs against the royal house, and that he intended to murder the dauphin; but as he has only been tried in his dungeon by judges named by the king, we know nothing for certain.”

“Say, rather,” exclaimed another of the bystanders, “that it is his property which costs him his life; for our sovereign, in order to make us a great and celebrated nation, cuts off the heads of all our wealthy men, and would serve us in the same manner if we were to find fault with his proceedings.”

The Devil left the horses at the nearest inn, and then led Faustus through the crowd. They saw the duke, accompanied by his children, enter a chamber hung round with black, where a monk waited to receive his last confession. The father had his eyes fixed upon his sons, and could not look to heaven. After he had confessed himself, he laid his trembling hands upon the heads of the children, who were sobbing, and said, “May the blessing of an unhappy father, who falls a victim to tyranny and avarice, be your safeguard through life; but, alas, ye are the heirs of misfortune. Your rights and pretensions will infallibly doom you to long sufferings; ye are born for misery, and I shall die in this conviction.” He wished to say something more; but the guards silenced him, and hurried him out upon the scaffold.

The tyrannical king had given orders that the duke’s children should be placed under the scaffold, so that the blood of their father might drop through the boards upon their white robes. The cries which the wretched parent uttered at the moment his darlings were torn from him struck terror to the hearts of all around. Tristan alone, who was the executioner, and the king’s most intimate friend, looked on with perfect coolness, and felt the sharpness of the axe. Faustus imagined that the groans of the unhappy parent would excite Heaven to avenge outraged humanity. He lifted his tearful eyes towards the bright blue sky, which seemed to smile upon the horrid scene. For a moment he felt himself strongly tempted to command the Devil to rescue the duke from the hands of the executioner; but his troubled and agitated mind was incapable of coming to any resolution. The duke fell upon his knees; he heard the shrieks and lamentations of his children who were beneath the scaffold; his own infamous death no longer occupied his mind; he felt for the last time, and felt only for these unfortunates; big tears hung in his eyes, his lips trembled; the executioner gave the fatal blow, and the boiling blood of the father trickled down upon the trembling children. Bathed with paternal gore, they were then led upon the scaffold. They were shown the livid headless trunk, were made to kiss it, and then re-conducted to their prison, where they were chained up against the damp wall, so that whenever they took repose the whole weight of their bodies rested on the galling fetters. To increase their misery, their teeth were torn out from time to time.

Faustus, overwhelmed by the frightful scene he had witnessed, returned shuddering to the inn, and commanded the Devil to annihilate the tyrant who thus made a sport of human suffering.

Devil. I will not annihilate him, for that would be against the interest of hell; and why should the Devil put a stop to his cruelties when by some they are viewed with patience? If I were to further the projects of thy blind rage, who would escape thy vengeance?

Faustus. Should I not be performing a noble part, if, like unto another Hercules, I were to roam the world, and purge its thrones of such monsters?

Devil. Short-sighted man, does not your own corrupt nature prove that you must have these kings? And would not new monsters arise out of their ashes? There would then be no end of murder; the people would be divided, and thousands would fall the victims of civil war. You see here millions of bipeds like yourself, who suffer a man like themselves to despoil them of their property, to flay them alive, and to murder them at his pleasure. Did not they witness the execution of this duke, who died innocent as any lamb? Did they not gaze with pleasure, mingled with agony and grief, upon the tragic spectacle? Does not that prove they deserve their lot, and are unworthy of a better? Could they not crush the tyrant at a blow? If they have the power of relieving themselves in their own hands, wherefore should we pity their sufferings?

Here the disputation ceased.

Faustus shortly afterwards became acquainted with a gentleman of sense and education, who had an excellent character for probity. Faustus and the Devil pleased him so much, that he invited them to come and pass some days with him on his estate at a short distance from Paris, where he lived with his family, which consisted of his wife and his daughter, who was about sixteen years old, and lovely as an angel. At the sight of this divine object Faustus was like one enchanted, and felt, for the first time, the sweet torments of delicate love. He confided his sufferings to the Devil, who instantly offered to assist him, and laughed at the pretended delicacy of his sentiments. Faustus owned that it was repugnant to his feelings to violate the laws of hospitality. The Devil replied: “Well, Faustus, if you wish to have the gentleman’s consent, I will engage to procure it. For what do you take him?”

Faustus. For an honest man.

Devil. It is a great pity, O Faustus, that you are so liable to deception. And so you really believe him to be an honest man! I admit that all Paris is of the same opinion. What do you think he loves best in the world?

Faustus. His daughter.

Devil. I know something which he loves more.

Faustus. And what is that?

Devil. Gold; and you ought to have seen that long ago. But since I have been obliged to open to thee the treasures of the earth, and thou hast had them at thy disposal, thou hast resembled the torrent which inundates the fields, caring very little where its waters flow, or where they are received. How much hast thou lost at play with this gentleman?

Faustus. Let them reckon who care more for the dross than I.

Devil. He who tricked you can tell to a ducat.

Faustus. Tricked!

Devil. Yes, tricked you. He saw how little you cared for money, and has made a noble harvest out of you. Think not that the table of this miser would be so well provided, and that he would be so prodigal of the richest wines, and that thou wouldst see so many guests around him, provided thy gold did not work these miracles. At every moment he trembles lest we should leave his house. I see by thy astonishment that thou hast been a spendthrift all thy life, and that thou hast never felt this thirst for gold, which can extinguish all the desires of the heart, and even the most pressing wants of nature. Follow me, but tread softly.

They descended a staircase, went through several subterranean passages, and came at last to an iron door. The Devil then said to Faustus: “Look through the key-hole.” Faustus perceived in a vault, illumined by the feeble light of a lamp, the gentleman seated by the side of a strong-box, in which were many sacks of money, which he was looking at with tenderness. He then flung the money he had won from Faustus into another box, and wept because he saw there was not sufficient to fill it. The Devil said softly to Faustus: “For the sum which is wanting to fill that box, he will sell thee his daughter.”

Faustus was incredulous. The Devil waxed wroth, and said impatiently:

“I will show thee that gold has such irresistible power over the minds of men, that even at this moment some fathers and mothers belonging to the village are in the neighbouring wood selling for money their babes and sucklings to the emissaries of the king, although they are well aware that the poor little things are destined to be slaughtered, in order that the king may drink their blood, with the foolish hope of renovating and refreshing the corrupt tide which flows in his own veins.

Faustus (with a shudder). Then the world is worse than hell, and I shall quit it without regret. But I will be convinced with my own eyes before I credit any thing so horrible.

They now went into the wood, and concealed themselves among the bushes, where they perceived the emissaries of the king in conference with some men and women, and the priest of the parish. Four little children were stretched upon the grass, one of them crying pitiably. The mother lifted it up and gave it pap, in order to quiet it; whilst the others crept upon the ground, and played with the flowers. The emissaries counted money into the hands of the husbands; the priest had his share, and the children were delivered up. The echoes of the wood repeated for a long time the cries of the little wretches as they were carried away. The mothers groaned; but the men said to them, “Here is gold; let us go to the public-house and buy wine, and drink to a fresh offspring. It is better that the king should eat the brats now they are young than flay them when they are old, or tie them up in a sack and fling them into the Seine. It would have been much better for us if we had been devoured as soon as we were born.”

The priest comforted them, and said:

“They had done a meritorious act, and one which was pleasing to the Mother of God, to whom the king was entirely devoted.” He added, “that subjects were born for the king; and that, as he reigned upon earth as Heaven’s vicegerent, he had a right to dispose of them according to his pleasure, and that they were bound to revere the slightest of his fancies as a sacred law.”

The peasants then went to the public-house, where they spent half the blood-money in drink, and kept the rest to pay the king’s taxes.

The Devil now looked at Faustus with an air of mockery, and said, “Hast thou still doubts whether the gentleman will sell thee his daughter? Thou at least wilt not eat her.”

Faustus. I swear by the black hell which at this moment appears to me a paradise when compared with the earth, that I will henceforward give boundless scope to all my passions, and, by ravaging and destroying, believe that I am acting consistently to such a monster as man. Fly, and purchase me his daughter: she is doomed to destruction, as is every thing that breathes.

This was exactly the disposition in which the Devil had long been desirous to see Faustus, in order that he might precipitate him to the end of his career, and thereby ease himself of a grievous burden, and cease to be the slave of a thing so contemptible as man was in his eyes. That very evening he began to sound the father; and the next morning, whilst they walked together, he made proposals to him, and showed him gold and jewels, which the miser gazed at with rapture; but which, however, he would not take until he had made a parade of his virtue. At every objection the old hypocrite started, the Devil augmented the sum; and at last he bade so high that the miser accepted it, after much ceremony, laughing secretly at the madman who flung away his gold so foolishly. The contract was made, and the father led Faustus to his daughter; and as he could prove that her parent was a consenting party, she fell a willing victim.

The father in the mean time went with his gold and a lamp to the vault where he kept his treasure, and which was known to none of his family. He was overjoyed in having obtained sufficient to fill his second strong-box. From fear of being followed, he closed the door hastily behind him, forgetting that it went with a spring-lock, and that he had left the key on the outside. The lamp was extinguished by the wind of the door, and he found himself suddenly involved in profound darkness. The air of the vault was thick and damp, and he soon felt a difficulty in his respiration. He now first perceived that he had not the key with him, and death-like anguish shot coldly through his heart. He had still strength and instinct sufficient to find his box; he laid the gold in it, and staggered back to the door, where he considered whether he should cry out or not. He was cruelly agitated by the alternative of discovering his secret, or of making this vault his tomb. But his cries would have been to no purpose; for the cavern had no connexion with the inhabited part of the house, and he had always so well chosen his time, that no one had ever yet seen him when he crept to the worship of his idol. After having for a long time struggled with himself, without coming to any resolution, the terrible images which assailed his imagination, joined to the thickness of the air, totally disordered his brain. He sunk to the earth, and rolling himself to the spot where his box stood, he hugged it in his arms, and became raving mad. He struggled with despair and death at the moment of the ruin of his daughter, whose innocence he had bartered for gold. Some days after, when all the corners of the house had been closely searched, chance led a servant to the cavern; it was opened, and the unfortunate wretch was found lying, a blue and ghastly corpse, upon his dear-bought treasure. The Devil informed Faustus upon their return to Paris of the issue of this affair, and Faustus believed that, on this occasion, Providence had justified itself.

The fiend having learnt that the Parliament were about to decide upon a case unexampled and disgraceful to humanity, he thought it advisable that Faustus should hear it. The fact was this: a surgeon, returning late one night to Paris with his faithful servant, heard, not far from the highway, the groans and lamentations of a man. His heart led him to the spot, where he found a murderer broken alive upon the wheel, who conjured him, in the name of God, to put an end to his existence. The surgeon shuddered with horror and fright; but recovering himself, he thought whether it would not be possible for him to reset the bones of this wretch, and preserve his life. He spoke a few words to his servant, took the murderer from the wheel, and laid him gently in the chaise. He then carried him to his house, where he undertook his cure, which he at last accomplished. He had been informed that the Parliament had offered a reward of one hundred louis-d’ors to any one who would discover the person who had taken the assassin from the wheel. He told the murderer of this when he sent him away, and, giving him money, he advised him not to stay in Paris. The very first thing which this monster did was to go to the Parliament and betray his benefactor, for the sake of the hundred louis-d’ors. The cheeks of the judges, which so seldom change colour, became pallid at this denunciation; for he informed them with the greatest effrontery that he was the very assassin, who, having been broken alive upon the place where he had committed the murder, had been saved by the compassion of the surgeon. The latter was sent for; and the Devil conducted Faustus into the hall of judgment exactly at the moment he appeared. The attorney-general informed the surgeon of what he was accused; but the surgeon, being certain of his servant’s fidelity, stoutly denied the charge. He was advised to confess, because a most convincing witness could be brought against him. He bade them produce him. A side-door opened, and the murderer stepped coolly into the court, and, looking the surgeon full in the face, undauntedly repeated his accusation, without forgetting a single circumstance. The surgeon shrieked, “O monster! what can have urged thee to this horrible ingratitude?”

Murderer. The hundred louis-d’ors, which you told me of when you sent me away. Did you think that I was satisfied with merely recovering the use of my limbs? I was broken alive on the wheel for a murder which I committed for ten crowns, and I was not fool enough to lose gaining a hundred louis without running any risk.

Surgeon. Thou wretch! thy cries and groans touched my heart. I took thee down from the wheel, comforted thee, and bound up thy wounds. I fed thee with mine own hand, till thou couldst use thy shattered joints. I gave thee money, which thou canst not yet have spent. I discovered to thee, from regard to thy own safety, the reward which had been offered by the Parliament; and I swear to thee, by Heaven above, that if thou hadst told me of thy devilish intention, I would have sold my last rag, and have furnished thee with the sum, in order that so horrible a piece of ingratitude might remain for ever unknown to the world. Gentlemen, judge between me and him; I confess myself guilty.

President. You have grievously offended justice by endeavouring to preserve the life of him whom the law, for the common safety, had condemned to die; but for this once strict justice shall be silent, and humanity only shall sit in judgment. The hundred louis-d’ors shall be yours, and the murderer shall be again broken upon the wheel.

Faustus, who during the whole of this strange trial had been snorting like a madman, gave now such a thundering huzza, that the whole gallery echoed. The Devil, who observed that the last impression was about to destroy the first, soon led him to another scene.

Some surgeons, doctors of medicine, and naturalists had formed a secret society, for the purpose of inquiring into the mechanism of the human body, and the effect of the soul upon matter. In order to satisfy their curiosity, they inveigled, under all sorts of pretences, poor men and women into a house at some distance from the city, the upper part of which was constructed in such a manner that it was impossible to discover from without what was going forward within. Having tied their victims with strong cords down upon a long table, and having placed a gag in their mouths, they then removed their skin and their flesh, and laid bare their muscles, their nerves, their hearts, and their brains. In order to come at what they sought, they fed the wretches with strengthening broths, and caused them to die slowly under the slashing of their knives and lancets. The Devil knew that they intended this night to assemble, and said to Faustus, “Thou hast seen a surgeon, who, for the sake of humanity, or for love of his art, cured an assassin whom justice had broken on the wheel; I will now show thee physicians, who, in pursuit of secrets which they will not discover, skin their fellow-creatures alive. Thou appearest incredulous! Follow me, and I will convince thee. We will represent two doctors.”

He led him to a solitary house. They entered the laboratory, which the rays of the sun never penetrated. Here they saw the surgeons dissecting a miserable being, whose flesh quivered beneath their fratricidal hands, and whose bosom heaved with the most painful agony. They were so engaged with their object, that they never once perceived the Devil and Faustus. The latter, feeling his nerves thrill with horror, rushed out, struck his forehead with his hand, and commanded the fiend to tear down the house upon their heads, and bury them and their deed beneath its ruins.

Devil. Why this rage, O Faustus? Dost thou not perceive that thou art acting, in respect to the moral world, in the same manner as they act in regard to the physical world? They mangle the flesh of the living; and thou, by my destructive hand, exercisest thy fury upon the whole creation.

Faustus. Outcast fiend! dost thou think my heart is made of stone? Dost thou think that I can see unmoved the torments of yon poor flayed and butchered wretch? But if I can neither dry his tears nor cure his wounds, I can avenge him, and put him out of pain. Away! away! do as I have bid thee, or dread my wrath!

The Devil obeyed with pleasure. He shook the house to its foundation, and down it toppled with a hideous noise, and overwhelmed the wicked doctors. Faustus hurried to Paris, without attending to the look of wild exultation which the Devil cast upon him.

Faustus, having heard much talk of the prisons which the most Christian king had caused to be built for the purpose of receiving those whom he dreaded, had a strong desire to see the interior of them. The Devil willingly undertook to satisfy his curiosity; and although the guards were forbidden, under pain of death, to permit any strangers to enter these habitations of horror, yet the golden arguments which the Devil used procured him and his companion a ready admittance. They saw there cages of iron, in which it was impossible for a man to stand upright, or sit down, or place himself in any easy posture. The wretches who were compelled to tenant these iron dwellings had their limbs galled by heavy chains. The keeper said, confidentially, that when the king was in good health, he frequently walked in the gallery, in order to enjoy the song of his nightingales; for thus did he call these wretched victims. Faustus asked some of the unfortunates the cause of their captivity; and he heard stories which pierced him to the heart. At last, coming to a cage wherein was a venerable-looking old man, he put the same question to him, and the prisoner answered, in a plaintive tone:

“Whoever you are, let my sad story serve you as a warning never to assist a tyrant in his cruelties. You behold in me the Bishop of Verdun, who first gave to the king the idea of these horrible cages, and was the very first to be shut up in one of them after they were completed. Here have I, for fourteen years, done penance for my sins, praying daily to God to end my torments by death.”

Faustus. Ha, ha! Your excellence, then, like another Perillus, has found a Phalaris. Do you know that story? You shake your head. Well, I will tell it you.

“This Perillus, who was neither a bishop nor a Christian, constructed a brazen bull, which he showed to the tyrant Phalaris as a masterpiece of invention, and assured him that it was constructed in such a manner, that, if his majesty would shut up a man in it, and then heat it red-hot by a fire laid beneath it, the shrieks of the tormented man would exactly resemble the bellowings of a bull, which would doubtless afford his majesty great pleasure. ‘My dear Perillus,’ said the tyrant, ‘I am much indebted to you; but it is right that the artist should prove his own work.’ He then made Perillus creep into the beast’s belly; and when the fire was laid beneath it, he did in reality bellow like a bull. Thus did Phalaris, a thousand years ago, play very much the same part with Perillus which the most Christian king has been playing with you, most reverend Bishop of Verdun.”

Bishop. I wish I had heard this story twenty years ago; I should then have taken warning from it.

Faustus. You see that history may sometimes be useful, even to a bishop. I weep for the fate of your companions in misery; but I laugh at yours.

Faustus wished now to see this king, whose horrible deeds had so heated his imagination, that he could hardly represent him to himself under a human figure. The Devil told him that it would be impossible for them in their present forms to enter the Castle of Plessis du Parc, where cowardice and fear kept the tyrant a prisoner. He added, that no one, with the exception of some necessary domestics, the physician, the confessor, and one or two astrologers, could enter without a particular order.

Faustus. Then let us assume other figures and dresses.

Devil. Good; I will instantly remove two of his guards, and we will do their duty. This is an excellent time to see the tyrant. The fear of death is already avenging upon his cowardly spirit the thousands whom he has slaughtered. Day and night he only thinks of putting off the moment which is to terminate his existence, and death seems to him more hideous every second. I will make you a witness of his torments.

The Devil instantly put his project into execution, and they found themselves standing sentinels in the interior of the castle, where reigned the mournful silence of the tomb. Thither had he, before whom millions trembled, banished himself, in order to escape from the vengeance of the relations of the murdered. Although he could thus fly from the sight of his subjects, he could not escape the cutting remorse of his own heart, nor the pains of his emaciated body. In vain did he implore Heaven to grant him health and repose; in vain did he attempt to bribe it by presents to saints, to priests, and to churches; in vain did he cover himself with relics from all parts of the world: that frightful sentence, thou shall die, seemed always ringing in his ears. He scarcely ventured to move out of his chamber, lest he should find an assassin in one of those whom he might meet. If anguish drove him into the free air, he went armed with lance and dagger, just as if he had strength to use either. Four hundred guards watched day and night around the stronghold of the half-dead monster; three times every hour did their hoarse calls, echoing from post to post, break the solemn stillness, and remind the tyrant of the flight of time. All around his castle gibbets were erected; and the hangman, Tristan, his only true friend, went about the country every day, and returned at night with fresh victims, in order, by their execution, to diminish the fears of the tyrant, who from time to time would walk in an apartment which was only separated from the torture-room by a thin partition. There he listened to the groans and shrieks of the wretches on the rack, and found in the sufferings of others a slight alleviation of his own. Wearing on his hat a leaden image of the Virgin,—his pretended protectress,—he drank the blood of murdered sucklings, and allowed himself to be tormented by his physician, whom he requited with ten thousand crowns a month.

This was the wretch whom Faustus saw; and his heart rejoiced when he contemplated the paleness of his cheeks, and the farrows which anguish and despair had made in his brow. He was on the point of leaving this abode of monotonous horror, when the Devil whispered him to remain until the next day, and he would see a singular spectacle. The king had heard that a hermit lived in Calabria, who was honoured as a saint through all Sicily. This fool had, from his fourteenth to his fortieth year, dwelt upon a naked rock, where, exposed to the rains and tempests of heaven, he martyred his body by stripes and fasting, and refused his mind all cultivation. But, the rays of sanctity concealing his stupidity, he soon saw the prince and the peasant at his feet. Louis had requested the King of Sicily to send him this creature, because he hoped to be cured by him. The hermit was now on the road; and as he brought with him the holy oil of Rheims, to anoint the tyrant’s body, the latter imagined that all his disorders would soon vanish, and he should become young again. The happy day arrived: the Calabrian boor approached the castle; the king received him at the gate, fell at his feet, and asked him for life and health. The Calabrian played his part in so ridiculous a manner, that Faustus could not avoid laughing aloud at the farce. Tristan and his myrmidons were advancing to seize him, and he would doubtlessly have paid for laughing with his life, had not the Devil rescued him from their claws, and flown away with him. When they arrived at Paris, Faustus said:

“Is it by this contemptible, superstitious, tottering object, that the bold sons of France allow themselves to be enslaved? He is a mere skeleton in purple, who can scarcely cough out of his asthmatic throat the desire to live; yet they tremble before him, as if he were a giant, whose terrible arms could encircle the whole earth. When the lion, enfeebled by age, lies languishing in his den, the most insignificant beasts of the forests are not afraid of him, but approach and mock the fallen tyrant.”

Devil. It is this which chiefly distinguishes the king of men from the king of beasts. The latter is only formidable as long as he can use his own strength; but the former, who binds the strength of his slaves to his will, is as powerful when lying on the bed of sickness, as when, in the vigour of health, he is at the head of his armies. Are you not now convinced that men are only guided by folly, which dooms them to be slaves? Break their chains to-day, and they would forge themselves others to-morrow. Do what you can, they will always go on in the same eternal circle, and are condemned for ever to seize the shadow for the reality.

The Devil, having shown Faustus all that was remarkable in and about the capital of France, took him to Calais; and, crossing the Channel, they arrived in London at the very moment that hideous abortion, the Duke of Gloucester, made himself Protector of the kingdom, and was endeavouring to take away the crown from the children of his brother, the late king. He had removed the father by means of poison, and had already persuaded the queen (who, upon the first discovery of his projects, had fled for refuge, with her children, to Westminster Sanctuary) to deliver up to him the youthful heir of the throne, together with his brother York. Faustus was present when Doctor Shaw, by the command of the Protector, informed the astonished people from the pulpit, that the yet living mother of the duke and the deceased king had admitted various lovers; that the late king was the offspring of such adultery; and that no one of the royal line, except the Protector, could boast of a legitimate birth. He saw those noblemen executed who would not accede to the execrable plot; and the Devil conducted him into the Tower at the very moment when Tyrrell and his assistant murdered the lawful king and his brother, and buried them beneath the threshold of the dungeon. He was a witness of the base submission of the Parliament, and of the coronation of the frightful tyrant. He witnessed the negotiation of the queen to support the murderer of her sons in his usurped throne, by giving him the hand of her eldest daughter, in order that she herself might still retain a shadow of sovereignty; although at the same time she had entered into a secret alliance with the Earl of Richmond, who was destined to be her avenger. Faustus felt himself so enraged, that not all the charms of the blooming Englishwomen could keep him any longer in this cursed isle, which he quitted with hatred and disgust; for neither in Germany nor in France had he seen crimes committed with so much coolness and impunity. When they were on the point of embarking, the Devil said to him:

“These people will groan for a time beneath the yoke of despotism; they will then sacrifice one of their kings upon the scaffold of freedom, in order that they may sell themselves to his successors for gold and titles. In hell there is very little respect paid to these gloomy islanders, who would suck the marrow from all the carcasses in the universe, if they thought to find gold in the bones. They boast of their morality, and despise all other nations; yet if you were to place what you call virtue in one scale, and vice, with twopence, in the other, they would forget their morality, and pocket the money. They talk of their honour and integrity, but never enter into a treaty but with a firm resolution of breaking it as soon as a farthing is to be gained by so doing. After death, they inhabit the most pestilential marsh of the kingdom of darkness, and their souls are scourged without mercy. None of the other damned will have any communication with them. If the inhabitants of the Continent could do without sugar and coffee, the sons of proud England would soon return to the state in which they were when Julius CÆsar, Canute of Denmark, or William the Conqueror, did them the honour to invade their island.”

Faustus. For a devil, thou knowest history passably well.

Hereupon he led him to Milan, where they saw the Duke Galeas Sforza murdered on St. Stephen’s day in the cathedral; Faustus having previously heard the assassins loudly beseeching St. Stephen and St. Ambrose to inspire them with the courage necessary for so noble a deed.

In Florence, the seat of the Muses, they saw the nephew of the great Cosmo, the father of his country, murdered in the church of Santa Reparata, at the altar, just at the moment when the priest raised the host in his hands; for the Archbishop of Florence, Salviati, had informed the murderers that this was to be the signal. He had been bribed to assist in this enterprise by the Pope, who was determined to annihilate the Medicis, in order to rule sole sovereign in Italy.

In the north of Europe they saw wild barbarians and drunken ruffians murdering and pillaging like the more civilised Europeans. In Spain they found upon the throne deceit and hypocrisy wearing the mask of religion. They saw, at an auto-da-fÉ, men and women immolated in the flames to the mild Deity of the Christians; and they heard the grand inquisitor, Torquemada, boast to Ferdinand and Isabella that, since the establishment of the holy tribunal, it had tried eighty thousand suspected persons, and had burnt six thousand convicted heretics. When Faustus first saw the ladies and cavaliers assembled in the grand square, dressed in their richest habits, he imagined that he had come just in time for some joyous festival; but when he heard the condemned wretches howling and lamenting in the midst of a mob of monks who were at their devotions, he was convinced that religion, when misused, makes man the most execrable monster on the earth. He, however, began to imagine that all these horrors were the necessary consequences of man’s nature, who is an animal that must either tear his fellow-creatures to pieces, or be torn to pieces by them.

The Devil, perceiving that Faustus was amazed and confounded by these scenes, said to him:

“Thou seest how the courts of Europe resemble each other in wickedness and crime. Let us now go to Rome, and see whether the ecclesiastical government goes on better.”

The malicious Leviathan flattered himself that Alexander the Sixth, who wore at that time the triple crown, and held in his hands the keys of heaven and of hell, would give the finishing blow to the harassed spirit of Faustus, and would enable him to return below with his victim. For a long time he had been weary of staying on the earth; for although he had in the course of many thousand years so often traversed it, he still saw merely the same beings and the same actions. From this we may learn that there is something so annoying in uniformity, that even the wild horrors of Satan’s hall are to be preferred to it.

On the way to Rome they passed by two hostile armies encamped face to face. The one was commanded by Malatesta of Rimini, the other by a papal general. The crafty Alexander was now endeavouring, either by poisoning, secret assassination, or open war, to deprive all the Italian noblemen of their property, in order that he might convert their castles and domains into principalities for his illegitimates. He began with the weakest, and had despatched this little army to eject Malatesta from his fief of Rimini. Faustus and the Devil, riding along the road, perceived upon an eminence contiguous to the papal camp two men, magnificently dressed, engaged in a furious combat. Moved by curiosity, Faustus advanced to the spot; the fiend followed him; and they perceived, by the rage of the antagonists, that nothing less than the death of one of them would end the struggle. But what appeared to Faustus most extraordinary was a milk-white goat, adorned with ribbons of various colours, which a page seemed to hold as the prize of victory, as he stood, with the utmost coolness, near the two raging warriors. Many cavaliers had assembled upon the height, and awaited the issue of the affair. Faustus approached one of them, and asked, with his German simplicity, whether the gentlemen were fighting for that handsome goat. He had observed that the two champions, whenever they paused to take breath, looked at the goat with much tenderness, and each seemed, according to knightly custom, to entreat it to assist him in his danger. The Italian, turning to Faustus, coolly answered, “Yes, certainly; and I hope our general will punish with death the audacious knight who dared to remove from his tent the handsomest goat in the world, at the time he was gone to reconnoitre the enemy’s camp.” Faustus stepped back, shook his head, and scarcely knew whether he was dreaming or awake. The Devil let him remain for some time in this perplexity; he then took him aside, and whispered certain things in his ear, which made Faustus blush, and which will not bear repetition. The duel in the mean time went on as hotly as ever, until the sword of the papal general found an opening in the knight’s mail, and laid him wallowing in blood upon the ground. He yielded up his soul amidst curses and imprecations, and took, with his last look, a tender farewell of the pretty animal. The general was congratulated by the surrounders, and the page delivered him the goat. He called it “his dearest, his best-beloved,” and loaded it with the most tender caresses.

Faustus departed from the place of combat, and was hesitating between a desire to laugh and a feeling of disgust, when the Devil said to him:

“This duel has made thee acquainted with the papal general; but he who commands the hostile army does not deserve thy attention less. The one has risked his life for love of a white goat; and the other has already poisoned and strangled with his own hand, in order that he might get possession of their property, two of his wives, sprung from the best families in Italy. He is now on the point of marrying a third; and she will, in all probability, experience the same fate. Both of these personages are otherwise very religious men,—attend processions, make vows to Heaven, and implore it for assistance. For which side do you think it will now declare?”

Faustus gave the Devil a wild look, and left the malicious question unanswered; but the Devil, who wished to punish him for having formerly boasted of the moral worth of man, failed not to make some bitter jokes upon the amours of the papal general and the conjugal tenderness of Malatesta of Rimini.

The sight of Rome and its majestic ruins, over which the mighty spirit of the old Romans seemed yet to hover, filled Faustus with wonder; and, as he was well acquainted with the history of those lords of the ancient world, the remembrance of their heroic actions elevated his soul to a pitch of enthusiasm. But the modern inhabitants of this celebrated city soon inspired him with very different sentiments. By the Devil’s advice, they announced themselves as German noblemen, whom curiosity to see the magnificence of Rome had brought there. But their retinue, their pomp, and their demeanour, caused a suspicion to be entertained that they were of more consequence than they pretended to be. Friars and matrons, quacks and harlequins, flocked to them, as soon as the noise of their arrival had echoed through all the haunts of those who get their livelihood by administering to the crimes and the weaknesses of men. They offered them their several female relations, and depicted their charms and various attractions with such fiery eloquence, that Faustus, besieged on every side, knew not which to prefer. As these wretches uttered religious maxims in the same breath with the most stimulant descriptions of voluptuousness, Faustus imagined himself authorised in believing that they merely made use of religion to appease the cravings of passion, revolted by their shameful deeds and wickedness.

The next day after their arrival, Faustus and the Devil were invited to dinner by the Cardinal CÆsar Borgia, one of the many illegitimates of the Pope. He received them in the most splendid manner, and promised to introduce them to his holiness. They went on horseback, attended by a retinue of servants, to the Vatican, and Faustus and the Devil kissed the toe of the Pope: the German performed this act of devotion with all the fervour of a good Christian Catholic; but the Devil muttered to himself, “If Alexander knew who I am, I should, most probably, see him at my own feet.” After the usual ceremonies were over, the Pope invited them into his private apartments, where he spoke to them very freely, and made them acquainted with his other illegitimates, the famous Lucretia; Francisco Borgia, Duke of Candia, &c.

The Pope found the society of the handsome and well-made Leviathan so much to his liking, that, from the first interview, he showed him particular favour, which grew at length, as we shall see, to the closest intimacy. Faustus attached himself to Cardinal Borgia, who gave him such a glowing description of the pleasures and temptations of Rome, that he hardly knew whether he was in the Vatican or in the Temple of Venus. The Cardinal made him more nearly acquainted with his sister, who was married to Alphonso of Arragon. This siren displayed voluptuousness and sensuality in a form and face so attractive and charming, that Faustus stood before her like one enchanted.

Faustus and the Devil went one evening to the Vatican to see a play, which astonished the young German more than any thing he had yet seen at the papal court. It was the Mandragola which was represented. The noble Machiavel had composed this licentious and satirical piece, in order to lay before the eyes of the court of Rome a striking picture of the boundless corruption of the clergy, and to prove that to be the sole cause of the dissolute lives of the laity. But he deceived himself in his honourable design: the Mandragola was applauded, not on account of its morality, which was not understood, but of its licentiousness. Faustus heard the Pope and the cardinals, the nuns and the ladies, praising certain things which, in his opinion, the most dissolute of the Roman emperors would not have permitted upon their theatre. But real scenes yet more abominable soon put an end to his astonishment; and he perceived that the actions of Alexander and his children infinitely surpassed all that which the annals of the human race had hitherto consigned to infamy and abhorrence. Lucretia was pleased yet more by Faustus’s rich presents than his fine face and form. By this intimate connexion with her, he discovered her incestuous intercourse with her two brothers, the Cardinal and Francisco; which she also extended to the Pope her father. The only one whom she treated ill was Alphonso, who had the honour to be her spouse. Faustus now guessed the cause of the implacable hatred which the Cardinal entertained against his brother Francisco: it arose from jealousy at his sister’s preferring the latter to himself; and he often swore to take vengeance upon his brother.

It was the custom of Faustus, after having the whole day wallowed in the shameful pleasures of the court and city, to pester the Devil’s ears with complaints of the wickedness of men. He was shocked at their crimes, although he himself had neither strength nor desire to resist any of his inclinations. He generally concluded his sermonising by asking, “How could such a monster ever have been elected Pope?”

The Devil, who perfectly knew how that event had been brought about (for one of the princes of hell had been at the election), would tell him how “Alexander bought up the votes of the cardinals by magnificent promises; and being called upon, after his installation, to fulfil them, he either banished or caused to be privately assassinated all those who had any claims upon him.”

Faustus. I can easily conceive that the cardinals were sufficiently corrupt to make him Pope; but how the people can submit to his decrees is beyond my comprehension.

Devil. The Romans are perfectly content with him. He protects the populace, and ravages and pillages the great. Can they wish for a better Pope than one who sanctifies their crimes by his own example; and who, besides the indulgences he distributes, shows by his actions that men have no reason to be terrified at any crime?

The Pope having, at a consistorial court, elevated his eldest illegitimate, Francisco, to the dignity of General of the Papal See, the Cardinal instantly formed the Christian resolution of putting his brother out of the way, and thereby opening a more extensive field to his own ambition. Vanosa, his mother, had informed him that the Pope intended to raise a throne for Francisco upon the ruin of the Italian princes; and through him, as his eldest-born, execute all the projects which he had formed for the prosperity and aggrandisement of his family. The Cardinal, who had always certain assassins in his pay, sent for his faithful Dom Michelotto, and thus addressed him:

“Brave and honest Michelotto, five years have already passed since the accession of my father to the papal chair, and I am not yet what I might have been, had I acted with less delicacy and more prudence. He first made me an archbishop, and now I am become a cardinal; but what is that for a spirit which burns with a desire to distinguish itself, and which aspires to glory! My revenues scarcely supply me with absolute necessaries, and it is impossible for me to reward, according to the wish of my heart, those friends who have rendered me essential services. Art thou not, O Michelotto, a striking example of it thyself? Have I been able to acquit myself towards thee in the manner which my obligations to thee demand? But shall we always languish in this shameful inactivity; and shall we wait till fortune or chance do something for those who will do nothing for themselves? Dost thou think that the monotonous life I lead in the conclave and in the church was intended for a spirit like mine? Am I born for all these ridiculous and superstitious ceremonies? If nature had not by foolish caprice brought my brother into the world before me, would not all those situations, all those honours, by which men are alone enabled to perform great actions, have fallen to my lot? Does my brother know how to profit by the advantages which the Pope and blind Fortune fling in his way? Let me once occupy his place, and my name shall soon resound through all Europe. Nature stamped me for a hero, and him for a priest; therefore I must seek to repair the negligence of Fortune if I wish to fulfil my destiny. Compare him and me, and who will say we are sprung from the same father? But be he my brother—and it little matters; for the man who wishes to rise above the rest should forget tenderness and relationship—those puny bonds of nature—and should not hesitate to dip his hands in the sacrifice of any one whose existence may be an obstacle to his noble views. It is thus that all great men act; it is thus that the founder of immortal Rome acted. In order that Rome might arrive at the height of grandeur to which his genius wished to carry it, he did not hesitate to stab his brother; and, in order that CÆsar Borgia may attain immortality, his brother Francisco must bleed beneath thy knife, most courageous Michelotto. Yes; for although it would be easy for me, in the darkness of the night, to assassinate him myself and remain unsuspected, I reserve for thee this deed, in order that thou mayst have a greater right to share with me my grandeur and my future fortunes. To-morrow I shall go to Naples to assist, in quality of legate, at the coronation of the king. Vanosa, my mother, who, between you and me, is weary of seeing her enterprising CÆsar a cardinal, gives this evening a supper to myself, my brother, and a few friends. Francisco will go late at night to an assignation in which he and I mutually share; and I ill know Michelotto if ever he finds his way back to his palace. My name is CÆsar, and I will be all or nothing.”

Michelotto grasped the cardinal’s hand, thanked him for his confidence, assured him of his fidelity, and went his way in order to get some of his companions to assist him in the affair.

Faustus and the Devil were also invited to the supper. Gaiety reigned among the guests. The good-natured Francisco loaded his brother with caresses, which, however, did not shake his resolution. When they rose from table, CÆsar took leave of his mother, and said he must now go to the Pope and receive his orders for Naples. The two brothers walked with each other a little way, followed by Faustus and the Devil. Francisco soon took leave of his brother, having first told him where he was going. The Cardinal, with a smiling air, wished him much pleasure: hurrying to the Vatican, he finished his business there, and then went to the rendezvous, where he found Michelotto and his ruffians, whom he directed how to proceed. Faustus had not the slightest suspicion of what was going forward; but the Devil, who knew when the horrible drama was to conclude, transported him to the banks of the Tiber at the very moment Michelotto and his assistants flung into the stream the corpse of the murdered Francisco. Faustus would have attacked the assassins, though he was still ignorant who their victim was; but the Devil prevented him, and said:

“Do not approach; keep thyself quiet, and let none of those people see thee; they swarm so at Rome and at the Vatican, that thou wouldst not be safe, even at my side, if they were to perceive that thou didst observe them. The murdered man whom they flung into the water is Francisco Borgia, Duke of Candia; his murderer is his brother, and what thou seest now is only the prelude to actions which will astonish hell itself and make it tremble.”

He then discovered to him the whole of the plot, and repeated to him the Cardinal’s conversation with Michelotto. Faustus replied, with more coolness than the Devil expected:

“Their deeds will not astonish me, however infamous they may be; for what else can we expect from a family where the father lives in incest with his daughter, and the brothers with their sister? But henceforth I will never suffer any one to boast in my presence of the moral worth of man; for, in comparison with man, especially if he be a priest, the worst fiend is innocent as an angel. Oh, why was I not born in happy Arabia, where I might have passed my solitary existence, with a palm-tree for my shelter, and with Nature for my god!”

The body of Francisco being found in the Tiber, his assassination was soon noised about Rome and through all Italy. The Pope was so afflicted at the intelligence, that he abandoned himself to the most frightful despair, and remained three days without eating or drinking; but he did not forget to offer immense rewards for the discovery of the murderers. His daughter, who guessed from whence the blow came, gave her mother intelligence of the severe intentions of the Pope; and Vanosa, at dead of night, went to the Vatican. The Devil, who, in quality of favourite, had remained alone with his holiness whilst his affliction was at its height, hastened away upon the appearance of Vanosa; and having found Faustus, who was consoling the lovely Lucretia, he led him to the door of the Pope’s apartment, where they heard the following dialogue.

“A fratricide! a cardinal!—and thou, mother of them both, dost tell me this with as much coolness as if CÆsar had merely poisoned one of the Colonnas or Orsinis. He has, in murdering his brother, destroyed his own fame, and has undermined the foundation of that monument of grandeur which I was about to raise. But the monster shall not escape punishment; he shall feel my vengeance.”

Vanosa. Rodrigo Borgia, thou hast shared the couch of my mother and myself, and wast the first that dishonoured Lucretia, my daughter and thine. Who can number all those whom thou hast secretly poisoned and assassinated? Yet thou art not less a pope. Rome trembles before thee, and all Christianity adores thee. Every thing depends upon the situation in which men are when they commit crimes. I am the mother of both, Rodrigo, and I knew that CÆsar would murder Francisco.

Pope. Thou wretch!

Vanosa. Am I? If I be, I have become so in thy school. It was right that the timorous and gentle Francisco should give place to the fiery, the enterprising CÆsar, in order that the glittering hopes may be fulfilled which thou didst confide to me upon thy elevation to the papal chair. Francisco was intended by nature to be a monk; my CÆsar to be a conqueror—and I call him so already in prophetic spirit. He alone has power to annihilate the great and petty tyrants of Italy, and to win himself a crown. Appoint him standard-bearer to the papal see, and he will make the Borgias kings of the Italian realms. Is not this thy most ardent wish? All thy poisonings and murders will have been to no more purpose if CÆsar remains a cardinal, than they would have been if yon feeble driveller had lived. Only from CÆsar can I expect protection when thou art no more. He loves his mother; but the other boy neglected me, and only flattered thee, from whom he expected his greatness. CÆsar feels that a woman like me, who could bring forth a hero, can likewise point out to him the way to immortal deeds. Brighten up, Rodrigo, and be wise; for know that the hand which dispatched thy favourite was directed by a daring spirit, who would not hesitate to take thy own life wert thou to remove the veil which has been flung over this deed of necessity.

Pope. The solidity of thy arguments restores me to myself, and thy eloquence exalts my soul, although it makes me shudder. Francisco is dead; CÆsar lives: let him live, and take his brother’s place, since fate will have it so.

He rang the bell, caused refreshments to be brought, and was in excellent spirits.

Francisco was forgotten, and the Pope thought of nothing else than to open to the daring CÆsar a wider field in which he might exercise his dangerous talents. The latter, in the mean time, crowned the King of Naples, with hands yet reeking with fraternal blood. He returned to Rome; and Faustus saw, with a malicious laugh, the cardinals and the ambassadors of Spain and Venice receive the fratricide, whom they knew for such, at the city-gate, and then conduct him in triumph to the Pope, who embraced him with great tenderness. Vanosa laid aside her mourning, and celebrated the day of his return by a festival, at which appeared all the grandees of Rome. CÆsar shortly afterwards changed his cardinal’s hat for a helmet, and was with much pomp and magnificence consecrated Gonfalonier, or Standard-bearer of the Holy See.

The Devil saw, with much pleasure, Faustus endeavouring, by the wildest excesses, to escape the pangs by which his heart was now torn. He remarked how every new scene of horror he was doomed to witness galled his soul, and that he was becoming more and more convinced that all he saw or heard had its origin in the nature of man. The Devil supported him in this idea by sophisms, which later philosophers have worked up into systems. He ransacked the earth of its treasures, and showered gold and precious gems upon his victim; and Faustus, dishonouring the wives and daughters of Rome, believed that he could not sufficiently corrupt the human family, which, in his opinion, was doomed to misfortune and destruction. The lessons he had learnt from Lucretia had long since poisoned his senses. All the sweet ties of humanity, which had so long fettered his heart, were now totally destroyed. He represented the world to himself as a stormy sea, on which the human race is cast, and is tossed here and there by the wind, which drives this man upon a rock, where he is dashed to pieces, and blows the other happily to his haven. But what seemed to Faustus most incomprehensible was, that the shipwrecked mariner should be punished in an after-state for not having guided his vessel better; when the rudder which had been given him to shape his course by was so weak that any extraordinary billow could not fail to shatter it.

A new scene now presented itself. Alexander had determined on taking the amusements of the chase at Ostia. He was accompanied thither by a vast throng of cardinals, bishops, ladies, and nuns; the latter being summoned from their cloisters, and, by their beauty, rendering the cavalcade a glorious spectacle. The Devil was constantly by the side of the Pope, and Faustus and Lucretia were inseparable. Every one abandoned himself at Ostia to pleasure, and in the course of a few days excesses were committed there from which even Tiberius and Nero might have learnt something. Faustus had now an excellent opportunity of examining man in his nakedness, as the Devil had expressively termed it; but what were all these scenes of wickedness when compared with the plans which the Pope formed with his bastards, by way of relaxation, in the presence of Faustus and the Devil? It was here determined that Alphonso of Arragon, the husband of Lucretia, should be assassinated, in order that they might give the King of France a proof that they were willing to break entirely with the King of Naples, and to assist the former in his usurpation of the crown of Sicily. Louis the Twelfth had already, with the approbation of Alexander, invaded Italy, and the Borgias thereby saw all their projects ripening. Lucretia intrusted this bloody deed to the management of her brother, and already considered herself as a widow. The plan of the ensuing campaign was then adjusted in a very expeditious manner; for it was merely to take possession of all the towns, castles, and domains of the noblemen of Italy, who were one and all of them to be murdered, together with their offspring and relations, in order that not a soul might remain alive who had the slightest claim upon the property, and who might therefore trouble the assassins with future conspiracies. To support the army in the interim, the Pope and CÆsar dictated to Lucretia a list of rich cardinals and prelates, who were to be poisoned successively, and their goods to be taken possession of by the right of inheritance vested in the papal chair.

When this secret council was broken up, the members of it repaired to the grand hall, where supper awaited them. The Pope was so contented with his schemes, and the certainty of their accomplishment, that he committed, in his joy, the most shameful extravagances, and by his example incited his guests to actions similar to what we have read of in the pages of Petronius Arbiter, and other writers of the same character. He, nevertheless, did not entirely forget the cares of the state; for he suddenly asked those present how the revenues of the papal see might be increased, so as to support its numerous army during the approaching campaign. After various projects, Ferrara of Modena, Bishop of Patria, Alexander’s worthy minister, by whom he caused the benefices of the Church to be disposed of to the highest bidder, proposed that indulgences should be sold through Europe, under the pretence of an approaching war with the Turks; adding, like a true papal financier, “that the foolish idea which men entertained, of being able to wash away their sins by means of gold, was the surest source from which the income of a pope arose.”

Lucretia, who lay on the lap of her father, and played with Faustus’s yellow looks, incidentally remarked, with a smile,

“The present list of indulgences contains such insipid, antiquated, and absurd crimes, that it is impossible to turn it to much account. It was composed in stupid and barbarous times; and it is now highly necessary to make a new tariff of sin, for which Rome herself can furnish the most important articles.”

The company, hot with wine, and reeking from their abominations, eagerly caught up this sally of female wantonness; and the Pope commanded each one present to propose some particular sin, and to tax it; recommending them, above all, to choose those which were most in vogue, and which would consequently bring in the most wealth.

Borgia. Holy father, leave this to the cardinals and prelates; they are better versed in crime than any other people.

Ferrara of Modena sat down to fulfil the office of secretary.

A Cardinal. Absolution to each and every priest who commits fornication, let it be with whom it may; with permission to perform all the duties of the Church, and to receive and hold new benefices, provided he pay into the papal treasury nine gold ducats.

Pope. Write down nine gold ducats, Bishop; and then let us drink absolution to those priests who shall pay the sum.

Each guest filled his glass, and exclaimed in chorus, “Absolutio! dispensatio!”

* * * * *

A Nun. Ha; what means all this? Will no one think of us? Holy father, have we alone no claim to your paternal favour? I entreat you to let us be taxed also, in order that we may sin in peace.

Pope. Right, my daughter; and you shall not be dealt with more hardly than the priests. Bishop, write down: Absolution for each nun who shall commit carnal sin, be it with whom it may, within or out of the circle of the cloister; with fall capacity of assuming any conventual dignity when called upon so to do: nine ducats.

Chorus. Absolutio! dispensatio!

A Bishop. Absolution and dispensation to each priest who publicly keeps a mistress: five ducats.

Lucretia then interposed: “Absolution for carnal knowledge, the enormity of which is indicated by fifteen ducats.”

Faustus, whom this scene had horribly mortified, on account of the triumph which it afforded the Devil over him, but who, nevertheless, wished to have a hit at Borgia, exclaimed, with a voice of thunder,

“Absolution to any parricide, matricide, or fratricide, for three ducats.”

Pope. Ho, ho, friend; what are you aiming at now? Will you tax murder lower than fornication?

CÆsar Borgia. Holy father, he does not wish, by too high a penalty, to deter men from the commission of the crime.

Devil. You are well aware, gentlemen, that the poor are incapable of receiving benefit from any of the above-named absolutions and dispensations.

Chorus (amidst shouts of laughter). Damnation to him who has no money!

CÆsar Borgia. Whoever commits theft, be it sacrilege or not, shall have his soul secured from damnation, upon depositing in the papal treasury three parts of what he has stolen.

Chorus. Absolution to all thieves, sacrilegious or not, provided they share their booty with the Pope.

Pope. Thou hast opened a rich mine, CÆsar. Write that down, Bishop.

Faustus. Absolution to any one who shall practise magic, or enter into an alliance with the Devil. How high shall I tax that, father?

Pope. My son, you will not, by this last article, enrich the papal treasury. The fiend does not understand his own advantage; we call upon him in vain.

Faustus. But provided that should so happen, how high, I repeat?

Pope. For rarity’s sake, one hundred ducats.

Faustus. Here they are; and now write me out an absolution, that I may be able to shake it in the face of the Devil, provided I ever sell myself to him.

Chorus. Absolution to him who shall sell himself to the fiend.

A Nun. Most reverend Bishop, since you are writing out the absolution for the magician, be so good as to furnish me with a paper likewise,—you know for what. Here is my rosary; it is worth fifteen ducats; I shall have, therefore, something in bank until another absolution becomes necessary.

Ferrara wrote, and the Pope signed his name beneath.

Devil. Does your holiness imagine that Satan will pay any regard to these scraps of paper?

The grand inquisitor snatched his hand out of the bosom of an abbess, and screamed, with stammering tongue:

“I smell heresy! Who is the atheist? who has uttered that blasphemy?”

The Pope pressed his forefinger softly upon the mouth of the Devil, and said, “Cavalier, these are state secrets: handle them not; for if you do, I myself, with all my authority, shall not be able to protect you.”

Every male in the assembly now opened his purse, either from a wish to pay his court to the Pope, or to quiet his conscience. The Bishop had so many applications, that he was soon obliged to call in other secretaries, to assist him in expediting absolutions. Each applicant took away his particular license, and each sought and found an opportunity of using it during the remainder of the night. Never were sins committed with more quiet minds.

Ferrara of Modena, the next day, caused this tariff to be fairly copied; he then sent it to the press, [249] and caused it to be secretly circulated throughout Christendom.

CÆsar Borgia did not forget the promise which he had made to his sister. Alphonso of Arragon was dispatched on the steps of the Gonfalonier’s palace, at the moment he was about to enter, in order to be present at a play to which all the nobility of Rome had been invited, and which represented the victories of the great CÆsar, whom Borgia intended henceforward to imitate, if not excel. This latter personage shortly after marched out of Rome with his army; and, within the space of a few months, the Devil purloined from the Pope’s pocket the following letter, which he gave Faustus to read:

“Reverend Father,—

“I kiss the feet of your holiness. Victory and fortune have followed my steps, and I drag them behind my car like slaves. I hope now that CÆsar is worthy of his name; for I also can say, Veni, vidi, vici. The Duke of Urbino has fallen into the snare which I laid for him. By virtue of your holiness’ letter, I asked him for his artillery to fight your enemies with. Dazzled by the marks of friendship and affection which I showed him, and which flattered his self-love, he sent to me a gentleman with his consent in writing. Having thus a very decent pretence, I instantly despatched some thousands of men to Urbino, who, by my commands, took possession of that city and of the whole duchy. The duke, unfortunately, escaped; but I revenged myself for his flight upon the powerful and dangerous family of Montefeltro, and annihilated their whole race. Vitelozzo was fool enough to join me, with all his troops, near Camerino. I deceived CÆsar di Varono by promising him honourable conditions if he would evacuate Camerino, and I attacked the city at the very moment he was engaged in signing the articles of capitulation. I had hoped to have exterminated the whole family at once; but the father found means to elude me. However, I strangled his wife, and cut the throats of his two sons; and I flatter myself that despair and grief will soon send the old fellow after them. I left Camerino, and despatched Paul Orsino, Vitelozzo, and Oliverotto, to Sinegaglia, with orders to take the town by storm, so that they might prepare their future grave with their own hands. When I saw them all in the net, I sent forward my trusty Michelotto and his associates, with directions to seize the fools when I should give the signal. I then put myself upon the march, and Orsino, Vitelozzo, and Oliverotto came to meet me, and pay me their respects. They had left all the troops behind them, according to my expectations. I received them with caresses, and went with them into the city; and at the very moment my people fell upon their straggling soldiers, Michelotto and his comrades each seized his man. Thus I made myself master of the domains and fortresses of those whom we deceived by pretending to assist them in subduing their enemies. The following night I caused them to be slaughtered in their dungeons. Michelotto, to whom I intrusted this business, told me, with much laughter, that all the mercy Vitelozzo prayed for was, that he might not be murdered until he had received, from your holiness, absolution for his sins. Who now will tell me that it requires much art to make oneself master of the minds of men? As soon as your holiness shall have put out of the way the Orsinis and the rest, I will send the Pagolas, the Duke of Gravina, and my other prisoners, to bear them company. If Carraccioli, General of the Venetians, whose lovely wife I seized upon her journey, and who now sweetens my labour, should come to Rome with his complaint, send him Michelotto’s brother to be his physician. I hear that he is a turbulent, hot-headed fellow, and therefore it will be as well to get rid of him. The tumult of arms has not made me forget my sister’s widowhood: the envoy of the eldest son of the Duke of Este is already on the way to marry her, in his name. We have now massacred the most dangerous of our foes; if we can win over or exterminate (which is almost the same thing) the houses of Este and Medici, who will then have the audacity to oppose the Borgias in Italy? I kiss the feet of your holiness.

“CÆsar Borgia, Gonfalonier.”

Faustus, after reading this letter, looked angrily upward; but the Devil, without giving him time to moralise, led him to the Vatican, where they found the Pope overjoyed at the success which had attended his weapons. He had already ordered the remaining Orsinis, Alvianis, Santa Croces, and the other cardinals and archbishops, to be arrested, and awaited the event with impatience. All Rome hastened to congratulate him. Those who were marked out for destruction were seized in the Vatican, conducted into different prisons, and privately executed; whilst the myrmidons of the Pope plundered their palaces. The Cardinal Orsini alone was sent to the Castle of Saint Angelo, and was permitted, for a few days, to be supplied with food from his mother’s kitchen; but the Pope, having heard that he possessed a pearl, very precious on account of its extraordinary size, retracted this favour. The mother of the once mighty and flourishing Orsinis went to the Vatican, and offered the Pope the pearl and two thousand crowns if he would liberate her son; when he seized the pearl and the money with one hand, and with the other gave the sign for the cardinal’s execution.

When CÆsar Borgia learnt that the Pope had accomplished his design, he instantly commanded all his own prisoners to be assassinated; and, entering Rome in triumph, shared, with his holiness and the other illegitimates, the booty he had brought with him; and, in return, received his dividend of the confiscated property of the slaughtered cardinals and ecclesiastics.

The marriage of Lucretia was soon afterwards celebrated with more than Asiatic pomp, and the Romans contributed to render it as brilliant as possible. The bells pealed from the churches; the artillery thundered from Saint Angelo; there were bull-fights; the most immoral and indecent comedies were performed; and the delighted populace shouted before the Vatican, “Long live Pope Alexander! long live Lucretia, Duchess of Este!” Faustus huzzaed with the best of them, and said to the Devil: “If these acclamations ascend to heaven with the groans of the assassinated, which will the Eternal believe?” The fiend bowed himself to the earth, and was silent.

In order to crown the festivities of the marriage, Alexander and his daughter commanded a spectacle which must for ever stand unparalleled in the annals of human infamy. The Pope sat, with his daughter, upon a couch, in a vast illuminated hall. Faustus, the Devil, and others who had been invited to this scene, stood around them. Suddenly the doors opened, and in rushed fifty nude courtesans,—more beautiful than the houris in Mahomet’s paradise,—and performed, to the voluptuous sound of flutes and other instruments, a dance which decency forbids us to describe, although it was a Pope who designed the figure. When the dance was ended, his Holiness gave the signal for a combat which we are still less permitted to depict,—he himself holding the prize of victory. They proclaimed Faustus to be the conqueror. Lucretia overwhelmed him with kisses, and crowned him with laurels; while the Pope delivered to him the prize,—a golden goblet, on which Lucretia had caused to be engraven the School of Pleasure. Faustus gave it the very next day to a Venetian monk, in whose possession Aretino saw it a long time afterwards, and illustrated some of its incidents in his sonnets.

The Pope, on the day of his daughter’s marriage, had made an election of cardinals, choosing only the richest prelates for that dignity. CÆsar Borgia, being in want of large sums of money for the next campaign, determined to send some of the newly-elected into the other world, at a festival which his father intended to give at one of his villas. [The details of these marriage-festivities are omitted; inasmuch as the grossness of the spectacle renders it unfit for the general reader. The conduct of Lucretia Borgia has been the subject of much obloquy, which her defenders maintain rests chiefly on inferences from her living in a flagitious court, where she witnessed the most profligate scenes. It is asserted that some of the accusations have no better foundation than the epigrams of Pontano, and other Neapolitan poets, the natural enemies of her family.—Transl.] The Pope went in a coach, with his daughter, the Devil, Faustus, Borgia, and the wife of the Venetian general. Here, after witnessing a gross spectacle, Lucretia retired with Faustus; and Borgia went with the Venetian; and the Pope remained alone with the Devil. His holiness now made to the fiend certain proposals, which so exasperated the Devil that he appeared under a form which no mortal eye had ever yet been able to sustain. The Pope, who knew him immediately, uttered a cry of joy.

“Ah, ben venuto Signor Diavolo! You could not have come to me at a more seasonable time than the present; I have long wished to see you, for I know perfectly well what a deal of use might be made of so powerful a spirit as yourself. Ha, ha, ha! you please me now much better than you did before, you rogue, you! Come, be my friend; assume your former figure, and I will make you a cardinal; for you only can raise me at once to the height which I wish to attain. I entreat you to destroy my foes, procure me money, and drive the French out of Italy, since I have no further occasion for them. This to you will merely be the work of a moment; and you may then ask me for any reward you please. But by all means do not discover yourself to my son CÆsar: he is so great a wretch, that I verily believe he would poison me, his father, in order to become, by thy help, King of Italy and Pope at the same time.”

The Devil, who had at first been a little mortified that his frightful exterior had produced no greater effect, was now unable to refrain from laughing; for what he saw and heard surpassed every thing which had as yet come to the knowledge of hell. But recovering himself, he said, with a serious air, “Pope Alexander, Satan once showed to the Son of the Eternal all the kingdoms of the world, and offered him them, if he would fall down and worship him.”

Pope. I understand you. He was a God, and wanted nothing; had he been a man, and a pope, he would have done what I will now do.

He fell upon his knees, and kissed the fiend’s feet.

The Devil stamped upon the floor, so that the whole villa trembled. Faustus and Lucretia, CÆsar and the Venetian, saw through the door, which had been burst open by the shock, the Pope kneeling with clasped hands before the frightful figure of the Devil, who seized the trembling miscreant, strangled him, and gave his soul to an attendant spirit to be conveyed to hell. Borgia fell to the ground in an agony of terror; and the horrible spectacle brought upon him an illness, which soon sent him after his father. The body of the Pope, frightfully disfigured, was buried with much pomp; and his historians, who are not well acquainted with his tragic end, invented the story, which is partly founded on truth, that he and his son having drunk, by the cupbearer’s mistake, some poisoned wine which had been intended for the cardinals, were thus caught in their own net.