The horrible death of the Pope, and the frightful figure of the Devil, whom Faustus had hitherto only seen majestic and comely, made so strong an impression upon him, that he hastened from the villa to Rome; and, having packed up his things, instantly departed, with perturbed mind and beating heart. His spirit had become so weak from all that he had seen and heard, that he who once dared to defy the Eternal in thought scarcely ventured now to look Satan in the face, though he still had absolute dominion over him. Hatred and contempt for men, cruel doubt, indifference to every thing which occurred around him, murmurings at the insufficiency of his moral and physical powers, were the rewards of his experience and the fruits of his life; yet he consoled himself with the idea that what he had witnessed authorised in him these gloomy sentiments, and confirmed him in the opinion, that there either existed on earth no connexion between man and his Creator, or that, if any did exist, such connexion ran so confusedly and equivocally through the labyrinth of life, that it was impossible for the eye of man to follow it. He yet flattered himself with the delusion, that his crimes, when added to the vast mass of earthly wickedness, would be like a drop of water falling into the ocean. The Devil willingly permitted him to repose in this dream, in order that the blow he intended for him might fall with greater violence. Faustus resembled those men of the world who abandon themselves to their pleasures without thinking of the consequences; and at length, worn out and dejected, look morosely on the world, and judge of the human race according to their own sad experience, without reflecting that they have only trodden the worst paths of life, and seen the worst part of the creation. In a word, he was on the point of becoming a philosopher of the species of Voltaire, who, whenever he found the bad, always held it forth to public view; and, with unexampled industry, always endeavoured to keep the good in the background.
Faustus was lying in a sweet morning slumber on the frontiers of Italy, when a portentous dream depicted itself to his soul in the liveliest colours; and this dream was followed by a frightful apparition. He saw the Genius of Man, whom he had once before seen. He saw him upon a vast and blooming island, surrounded by a stormy sea, wandering up and down, and looking very anxiously upon the raging billows. The ocean was covered with innumerable barks, in which men, aged and young, children, women, and maidens, of all the nations of the world, were struggling against the tempest, in order to reach the island. When they arrived there, their first care was to bring to land different building materials, which they flung together confusedly. After an immense number had gained the shore, the Genius marked out, upon the most elevated part of the island, the plan of a vast edifice; and each of the crowd, young and old, weak or strong, took, according to his or her strength, a piece from the mass of materials, and, directed by those whom the Genius had chosen, carried it, and deposited it at the proper place. All worked with pleasure, with courage, and without relaxation; and the fabric had already risen high above the ground, when they were suddenly attacked by numerous foes, who advanced out of a dark ambush in three columns. At the head of each of these columns stood a general. The first bore a glittering crown upon his head; on his brazen shield was written the word Power; and in his right hand he held a sceptre, which, like the rod of Mercury, had a snake and a scourge twisted round it. Before him went a fierce hyena, holding in its jaws a book, on the back of which was written My Word. His troops were armed with swords, spears, and other implements of destruction. The second column was commanded by a majestic matron, whose noble figure was clothed in a sacerdotal robe. On her right stood Superstition, a gloomy-eyed spectre, bearing in his hand a bow formed from the bones of the dead, and on his back a quiver filled with poisoned arrows. On her left hovered a wild, fantastically clothed figure, called Fanaticism, bearing a blazing torch. These two phantoms, with menacing gestures and frightful grimaces, led the noble matron in chains, like a prisoner. Before them went Ambition, whose head was adorned with a triple crown; in his hand was an episcopal staff, and on his mailed breast shone the word Religion. Fanaticism and Superstition waited, with the utmost impatience, until Religion should give them the signal to vent their fury, which they could scarcely restrain. The army was a confused and howling rabble, and each soldier carried a dagger and a flaming torch. The chief of the third column advanced with bold and haughty steps; he was clothed in the simple dress of the sages, and was called Philosophy. He bore in his hand, as did all his followers, a golden cup, filled with foaming and intoxicating liquor. These two last armies howled and screamed so frightfully, that even the bellowing of the waters and the roar of the tempest were no longer audible.
When the three columns arrived near the labourers, they united, by the directions of their generals, and attacked them furiously with their murderous weapons. The most courageous of the workmen flung away their implements of labour, and drew their swords, which hung at their belts, in order to drive their foes back. The others, in the mean time, endeavoured, with redoubled zeal, to complete the fabric they had begun. The Genius protected his brave warriors and his industrious labourers with a huge glittering shield, which was handed to him from the sky; but he could not cover the whole of the countless multitude. He saw with deep sorrow thousands of his people sink to the earth beneath the swords and poisoned darts of their adversaries. Many allowed themselves to be ensnared by the invitations and allurements of those who offered them the enchanted cup to refresh themselves with; and, in their intoxication, they soon destroyed the laborious work of their hands.
Those who bore torches made their way with their daggers, and hurled the torches into the unfinished edifice, when the flames, rearing up, threatened to reduce it to ashes. The Genius looked mournfully upon the slain, and on those who had been intoxicated by the deceitful beverage; but he encouraged the rest, and inspired them, by his firmness and his dignity, with strength and patience. They extinguished the flames; replaced what the others had overturned; and laboured, amid death and destruction, with so much zeal, that, in spite of the fury and malignity of their foes, they raised at length a vast and sublime temple. The Genius then healed the wounded, comforted the weary, praised the bold warriors, and conducted them all, amid songs of triumph, into the temple. The foes stood confounded at the enormous work; and, after they had in vain attempted to shatter its solidity, they retreated, with rage in their hearts. Faustus now found himself upon the island. The field around the majestic building was covered with dead bodies of all ages and of both sexes; and those who had tasted of the enchanted cup walked coolly among the corpses, disputed with each other, and laughed at and criticised the structure of the temple. Faustus went past them, and as he approached the edifice he read over the entrance the following words: “Mortal, if thou hast bravely struggled, and hast remained faithful, enter, and learn to know thy noble destiny.”
At these words he felt his heart leap with joy, and he hoped to be now able to penetrate the obscurity which had so long tormented him. With bold and daring pace he ran up the lofty steps, and caught a glimpse of the interior of the edifice, which seemed filled with the roseate colours of morning. He heard the soft voice of the Genius, and was about to enter; but the gate of brass closed before him with a harsh sound, and he recoiled in terror. His desire to penetrate into the secrets of the temple was increased by the impossibility. All of a sudden he felt wings, and rising high into the air, he precipitated himself furiously against the brazen gate, was hurled back, and started out of his sleep just as he was on the point of touching the ground. He opened his eyes in dismay. A ghastly figure, wrapped in a winding-sheet, drew back the curtains of his bed. He recognised the features of his old father, who, gazing upon him for a moment, said, in a lamentable voice:
“Faustus! Faustus! never yet did father beget a more unfortunate son; and in this feeling I have just died. For ever—ah! for ever!—must the gulf of damnation lie between thee and me.”
The portentous dream and this horrible apparition filled the soul of Faustus with affright. He sprang from his bed, and opened the window to inhale the fresh air. Before him lay the enormous Alps, whose tops were just gilded by the rising sun. He surveyed them for some time, and at last fell into a profound reverie. He trembled as he thought of his nocturnal vision, and was endeavouring to explain to himself its most prominent passages, when, falling anew into his cruel doubts, he exclaimed:
“Whence came those monsters who attacked the industrious labourers? By whom were they authorised to disturb and destroy them while engaged in their noble occupation? Who permitted it? Was he who permitted it unable, or did he not wish, to hinder it? And why did the Supreme Genius protect and save only a part of them who were assailed by those cannibals? Were some predestined to perish, in order that the others might triumph and taste repose? Who, then, will dare to tell me that I am not one of those who are born with destruction for their lot? What evil had those unfortunates committed, and why should those be esteemed criminal who, pressed by a burning thirst, endeavoured to quench it by tasting the enchanted cup?”
Faustus wandered for a long time in a maze of doubt; but, remembering the apparition of his father, it brought back to his mind his long-forgotten family. He instantly determined to return to them; to become again a member of society; to resume his business; and to get rid of his infernal companion. He pursued his journey towards home like many others, who, mistaking the ardour of insensate youth for genius, enter upon the career of the world with high pretensions, and, having quickly exhausted the little fire which their souls possess, soon find themselves a burden to their kindred and their friends, at the very place from whence they started. Faustus brooded over all this, while he rode silently and moodily by the side of the Devil.
The latter left him to his reflections, laughed inwardly at his resolution, and shortened the time with the sweet idea of soon being able to breathe the pleasant vapours of hell. He determined to have a bitter laugh at Satan, who had represented to him as a man of superior strength of mind this Faustus, whom he now saw completely dejected even before he knew the horrors of his fate. He compared his present downcast and timid looks with the haughty and bold glances he had cast upon him when he first made him appear before his magic circle. His hatred against him increased, and he rejoiced in his black soul when he saw Worms lie before them in the plain.
They rode towards the celebrated city; and when they were about half a mile distant from it, they perceived a gibbet, to which was suspended a tall, slender youth. Faustus lifted up his eyes and gazed upon him. The evening wind blew freshly among his long hair, which half-concealed his face, and swung his body to and fro. Faustus burst into tears at this spectacle, and cried, with trembling voice:
“Poor youth! hanging at the cursed tree before thou hadst reached the flower of life! What sin hast thou committed, which induced the tribunal of men to cut thee off so soon?”
Devil (in a solemn and impressive tone). Faustus, this is thy work.
Faustus. My work!
Devil. Thy work. Look at him closer. He is thy eldest son.
Faustus looked up, recognised him, and sunk from his horse.
Devil. Cry and groan! The hour approaches in which I must remove the thick veil from before thine eyes, and blow away, with a single breath, the labyrinth in which thou hast so long wandered. I will fling light upon the moral world, and show thee how thou hast outraged it by each of thy actions. I, a devil, will show thee what are the consequences when a worm like thyself dares to stop the wheel of so exact and so enormous a machine. Dost thou remember the youth whom I, at our departure from Mayence, saved from drowning by thy command? I gave thee warning, but thou wouldst obey the rash impulse of thy heart. If thou hadst permitted that miscreant to perish, thy son would not now be rotting on yon gibbet. He on whose account thou didst change the order of things, insinuated himself, shortly after thy departure, into the society of thy young wife. The glitter of the gold which we had left her in such abundance, attracted him much more than her youth and beauty. It was no difficult thing for him to win the affections of her who had been forsaken by thee; and in a short time he gained such influence over her, that she delivered up herself and all she possessed to his will and control. Thy old father endeavoured to oppose his shameless sway; but the young man insulted him and beat him: the poor old man sought an asylum in the workhouse, where he died, a few days ago, of grief for thee and thy family. Thy son, having taken his grandfather’s part, and threatened the life of his mother’s seducer, was by him turned out of the house also. The boy wandered among the woods and wildernesses till he was half famished. Arriving at length in this city, and being ashamed to beg, he stole a few pence from the poor-box in a church, in order to assuage his hunger; but he committed this theft so artlessly, that several people perceived him, and the most worshipful magistrate, in consideration of his youth, sentenced him only to be hanged: he was accordingly hanged; although he protested, with tears, that for the last four days he had swallowed nothing but grass. Thy daughter is at Frankfort, where she subsists upon the earnings of vice; thy second son is in the profligate service of an infamous prelate. The young man whom thou didst save from death robbed thy wife not long ago of her last stiver; thy friend whom we preserved from beggary refused thy old father the slightest assistance, and spurned thy children from his door when they came to him for bread. And I will now show thee thy family, in order that thou mayest see to what a state thou hast reduced them. I will then bring thee here again, and hold reckoning with thee; for I am no longer thy slave—thou art mine. The worm of despair begins to gnaw within thee; thou art no longer fit to live, and hell only is fit to receive thee.
The Devil seized the wretched man, flew with him to Mayence, and showed him his wife and two youngest children sitting at the gate of the Franciscan convent in expectation of the remnant of the monks’ supper. When the mother beheld Faustus, she screamed, “O Heaven! Faustus! your father—” then, covering her eyes with her hands, she fell into a swoon. The children ran to him, clung about him, and cried for bread.
Faustus. Devil, decide upon my fate: let it be more frightful than the heart of man can support or conceive, but supply these unfortunate creatures with bread, and rescue them from misery and hunger.
Devil. I have plundered for thee the earth of its treasures; thou hast sacrificed them to thy infamous pleasures, without once thinking of these wretches. Feel now thy folly; thou hast spun the web of their destiny, and thy hungry, beggarly, miserable brood will transmit to their remotest posterity the misery of which thou art the cause. Thou didst beget children—wherefore hast thou not been a father to them? Wherefore hast thou sought happiness where mortal never yet found it? Look at them once more. In hell thou shalt see them again; and they will there curse thee for the inheritance which thou didst entail upon them.
He tore him from his miserable family at the moment the wife was about to embrace his knees, and to ask his pardon. Faustus wished to comfort her; but the Devil grasped him, and placed him once more beneath the gibbet at Worms.
Night sunk dark upon the earth. Faustus stood gazing on the remains of his unfortunate son; madness glowed in his brain, and he cried, in the wild tone of despair:
“Devil, let me bury this poor victim; take then my life, and bear me to hell, where I shall never again see men in flesh and bone. I have learnt to know them; I am disgusted with them, with their destination, with the world, and with life. Since one good action brings on my head such inexpressible evils, I have reason to believe that the wicked only have a right to happiness. If such be the order of things in this world, hurl me at once into hell. Its darkness is a thousand times preferable to the light of day.
Devil. Not so fast, Faustus. In the first place, I take away from thee thy mighty magic rod, and confine thee in the narrow circle which I draw around thee. Here shalt thou listen to me, and howl and tremble. I will unfold to thee the consequences of thy deeds, and will assassinate thee through downright despair.
“Fool! thou sayest thou hast learnt to know man! Where? How and when hast thou attained this knowledge? Hast thou ever sounded his nature? Hast thou separated from him that which he has acquired, and which is foreign to him? Hast thou distinguished that which proceeds from his heart, from that which is merely the affect of an imagination corrupted by artifice? Hast thou compared the wants and the desires resulting from his nature, with those which he owes to civilisation? Hast thou considered man in his proper shape, where each of his movements bears the stamp of his inward disposition? Thou hast taken the mask of society for his natural figure; and thou hast only known that man whom his titles, his rank, his riches, his power, and his acquirements have corrupted. Thou hast only known him who has sacrificed his nature to thy own idol,—to vanity. Thou hast merely frequented palaces and courts, where men spurn away the unfortunate, and laugh at the complaints of the oppressed, whilst they are dissipating in revel-rout and roar that which they have robbed them of. Thou hast seen the sovereigns of the world; thou hast seen tyrants surrounded by their parasites and their infamous courtesans; and thou hast seen priests who make use of religion as an instrument of oppression. Such are the men thou hast seen, and not him who groans under the heavy yoke, and comforts himself with the hope of futurity. Thou hast passed by with disdain the hut of the poor and simple man, who does not even know your artificial wants by name, who gains his bread by the sweat of his brow, shares it faithfully with his wife and children, and rejoices, at the last moment of his life, in having completed his long and laborious task. If thou hadst opened his door, thou wouldst not indeed have found a vain ideal of heroic and over-refined virtue, which is only the offspring of your vices and your crimes; but thou wouldst have seen a man who, in meekness and resigned magnanimity, shows more force of soul, than do your renowned heroes in their blood-stained fields of battle, or your ministers in their perfidious cabinets. If it were not for these, and for your priests, and above all for your false philosophers, the gates of hell would soon be closed. Canst thou say that thou knowest man, when thou hast only sought for him in the paths of vice and crime? Dost thou know thyself? I will make your wounds yet deeper, and pour poison into them. But if I had a thousand human tongues, and were to keep thee here confined for as many years, I should still be unable to enumerate to thee all the frightful consequences of thy actions and thy temerity. Know now the result of thy life, and remember, that I have scarcely fulfilled one of thy insensate desires without having forewarned thee to check it. It is by thy command that I have interrupted the course of things, and committed crimes which I myself could scarcely have imagined; so that, devil as I am, I am not so bad as thyself.
“Dost thou remember the nun Clara, and the voluptuous night which thou didst pass with her? But how canst thou have forgotten her? Listen now to the consequences. A short time after thy departure, the Bishop, who was her friend and protector, died; and she, having become a mother, was condemned, as an object of public horror, to be starved with her child in a dark dungeon. In her ravenous hunger she fell upon the newly-born, ate of thy flesh and her own, and prolonged her existence as long as there was a bone for her to gnaw. In what had she sinned?—she who did not comprehend her crime; she who did not know, or even suspect, the author of her ignominy and her frightful death. Feel now the result of one single moment of pleasure, and tremble! Hast thou not strengthened the delusion which condemned her? Must not hell now bear the reproach of thy crime? Those people condemned the child as the spawn of Satan, and murdered the mother under the idea that she had been possessed by him; and through this thy deed thou hast bewildered their minds, and those of their posterity.
“Thou wast not more fortunate with the Prince Bishop. He caused, it is true, Hans Ruprecht to be buried, and provided for his family. He likewise, by the trick I played him, lost his fat, and became the most mild and merciful of princes; but he so relaxed the band of social order by his over-indulgence, that his subjects soon became a horde of drunkards, sluggards, ruffians, and highwaymen. The present Bishop is obliged to be their executioner, and to disperse and destroy a hundred families, in order that the rest, terrified by their example, may again become humanised, and submit to the laws. The furies themselves could not do half the injury to these people which those now do to whom the Bishop has been obliged to intrust the sword of justice and the power of vengeance.
“Doctor Robertus, the renowned champion of freedom, the man after thine own heart, was from his earliest youth an enemy to the Minister, whom he hated on account of his talents. Envy and jealousy caused his independence of spirit; and if he had been in the situation of the other, he would have adopted with pleasure the most cruel principles of despotism, for which his wild and ferocious heart was only formed. The honest man was the Minister; Robertus was a monster, who would have set the whole world in a blaze, and has done it partly, in order to satisfy his boundless ambition. Thou didst oblige me to rescue him, and to furnish him with a large sum of money. He made such good use of his freedom, his gold, and the enthusiasm which his miraculous escape had caused among the people, that he soon succeeded in stirring up a dreadful rebellion. He armed the peasants; they murdered the nobility, and desolated the whole land. The noble Minister fell a victim to his revenge; and Robertus, the friend of liberty, the champion of the oppressed, is the author of the calamitous war of the peasants, which by degrees will spread over the whole of Germany, and will ravage it. Murders, assassinations, robberies, and sacrilege are now committed with impunity; and thy noble hero stands at the head of a furious rabble, and threatens to make Germany the cemetery of the human race. Satan himself could not have laboured more effectually for the destruction of mankind, than thou didst when I was forced by thee to rescue this madman from the stroke of justice.
“Let us now return to the court of the German prince, where thou so audaciously didst make thyself the avenger of virtue and oppressed innocence. That prince and his favourite affected virtues which they did not possess; but their actions contributed to the good of the people, because both had sense enough to perceive that the happiness of the people constitutes that of the prince. Does the thirsty traveller know, or does he care, if the spring of which he drinks gushes out of a mountain filled with poison, provided he cools his hot blood without receiving any harm? That hypocrite displeased thee because he did not answer to thy preconceived high opinion, which thou, for certain reasons, didst wish to thrust upon me; and I was compelled to strangle him by thy orders. His infant son was destined to succeed him in the government. His tutors harassed and oppressed the people, once happy under the dominion of his father; they corrupted the heart and the mind of the future regent, who having enervated his body through early pleasure, they rule him now he is come of age, and are his and his people’s tyrants. Hadst thou not compelled me to murder the father, he would have brought up his son in his own maxims; he would have developed his faculties, and have made him a man fit to govern a nation. The numerous subjects who are now groaning beneath iron-handed oppression, and whose misery is all to be imputed to thee, would then have been the happiest in Germany. Let their tears, their despair, and the horrors of an approaching insurrection, reward thee for having rashly exercised the duty of a judge.
“Madman! in obedience to thy command, I burnt the castle of the fierce Wildgrave, with all its inhabitants, with his wife and his infant. What crime had they committed? It was a moment of delight to me. If the infant was consumed on the breast of the mother, it was thy work. If the Wildgrave attacked a neighbouring nobleman as the cause of the conflagration, set fire to his house, and ignominiously whipped him, it was thy work. Thousands have already fallen beneath their reciprocal vengeance, and tranquillity will not be restored to that part of Germany until the hostile families shall be completely exhausted and annihilated. And thus, poor worm, hast thou avenged the innocent; thou, who all thy life hast been wallowing in the grossest sensuality; thou, who didst pull me out of hell merely to satiate thy lusts. Groan and weep; but I will overwhelm thee with fresh horrors.
“By thy order I infused the poison of lust into the heart of the innocent Angelica, she who was the ornament of her sex and of the world. Thou didst enjoy her in the wild intoxication of thy senses, and she scarcely knew what had happened to her. Shudder at the consequences! I, who find pleasure in evil and destruction, think with pity and compassion on her end. She fled from her native place, and a feeling of shame forced her to conceal the state in which she found herself, and to which thou hadst reduced her. Alone, in solitude, and without help, amid agonising throes and deadly pains, she became a mother. The child died as soon as it saw the light of day. She, the wretched victim of thy momentary pleasure, was cast into prison, and publicly executed as an infanticide. Thou shouldst have seen her in the last moments of her life; thou shouldst have seen her pure blood spouting high into the air, when the sword of the executioner separated her lovely neck.”
Faustus gave a loud groan. Despair was raging in his heart.
Devil. The daughter of the miser in France, whom thou didst seduce, and in whose bosom thou didst cause slumbering desire to awake, became shortly afterwards the mistress of the youthful king. She ruled him entirely, and in order that he might not disturb her in her intercourse with another lover, she urged him to the disastrous expedition into Italy, and brought misfortunes upon France which many future reigns will not be able to heal. The flower of the French nobility, and the heroes of the kingdom, are rotting on the sun-scorched plains of Italy; and the king has returned home overwhelmed with shame and ignominy. Thus, wherever thou hast wandered, thou hast scattered around thee the seeds of misery, which have sprung up, and will bear fruit to all eternity.
“Thou didst not pay attention to the look I gave thee when I tore down the house upon the cruel physicians at Paris. I had previously told thee that, by my destructive hand, thou didst mangle the moral world worse than they did the flesh of their fellow-creatures. Thou didst pay no attention to that look—hear now the cause of it. Those wretches deserve to perish beneath the ruins of their laboratory; but what evil had the poor people committed who lodged in the lower part of the house, and who were totally ignorant of what was going forward above their heads? Why should an innocent, happy family be crushed along with those monsters? To satisfy thy blind vengeance, I was forced to bury them beneath stones and falling timbers. Judge and avenger at the same time, thou hadst not thought of this. Consider now all the consequences of thy delirium and thy folly; cast thine eyes along the whole chain, extending to the remotest posterity, and then sink beneath the terrible survey. Did I not once tell thee that man is much more rash in his decisions and in his vengeance, than the Devil is in the accomplishment of wickedness?”
Faustus opened his haggard eyes, and looked towards heaven.
Devil. It is deaf to thee. Be proud of having lived a moment when thy atrocity was so great that it almost made the deeds of the devils themselves forgotten. I speak of that moment when thou didst command me to withdraw the veil which concealed the Eternal from thy sight. The angel whose charge it was to register thy sins averted his face, and struck thy name from the Book of Life.
Faustus (springing up). Cursed be thou; cursed be myself; cursed be the hour of my birth; cursed be he who begot me; cursed be the breast which I sucked!
Devil. O the delightful moment! Precious reward of my toils! Hell rejoices at thy curses, and expects a yet more frightful one from thee. Fool! wast thou not born free? Didst thou not bear in thy breast, like all who live in flesh, the instinct of good as well as of evil? Why didst thou transgress, with so much temerity, the bounds which had been prescribed to thee? Why didst thou endeavour to try thy strength with and against Him who is not to be reached? Did not God create you in such a manner, that you were as much elevated above the devils as above the beasts of the earth? Did he not grant you the perceptive faculty of good and evil? Were not your will and choice free? We wretches are without choice, without will; we are the slaves of evil and of imperious necessity; constrained and condemned to all eternity to wish nothing but evil, we are the instruments of revenge and punishment upon you. Ye are kings of the creation, free beings, masters of your destiny, which ye fix yourselves; masters of the future, which only depends upon your actions. It is on account of these prerogatives that we detest you, and rejoice when, by your follies, your impatience, and your crimes, you cease to be masters of yourselves. It is only in resignation, Faustus, that present or future happiness consists. Hadst thou remained what thou wast, and had not doubt, pride, vanity, and voluptuousness torn thee out of the happy and limited sphere for which thou wast born, thou mightst have followed an honourable employment, and have supported thy wife and children; and thy family, which is now sunk into the refuse of humanity, would have been blooming and prosperous; lamented by them, thou wouldst have died calmly on thy bed, and thy example would have guided thy posterity along the thorny path of life.
Faustus. Ah, the greatest torment of the damned is, no doubt, to hear the devil preach penitence.
Devil. It is pleasant enough that you force us to moralise; but, wretch, if the voice of truth and of penitence were to echo down from heaven, you would close your ears to it.
Faustus. Destroy me at once, and do not kill me by thy prattling, which tears my heart without convincing my spirit. Pour out thy venom, and do not distil it upon me drop by drop. I am not to blame if, having sown the seeds of good, bad has arisen from them. A good action has caused the ignominious death of my son, and a good action has precipitated my family into the most profound misery.
Devil. Why dost thou boast to me of thy good deed? How does it deserve that name? I suppose because thou didst give me a command, which, by the by, did not cost thee much. To have made the action meritorious, thou shouldst have cast thyself into the water, and have saved the young man at the risk of thine own life. I brought him to the shore, and disappeared; he would have known thee, and, moved by gratitude, would probably have become the protector, instead of the destroyer, of thy family.
Faustus. Thou canst torment me, Devil; but thou canst not, from stupidity, or thou wilt not, from wickedness, dispel my doubts. Never have they torn my heart more venomously than at this moment, when I consider the miseries of my existence and of my after-destination. Is human life any thing else than a tissue of crimes, torments, pains, hypocrisy, contradictions, and false virtues? What are free agency, choice, will, and that so much vaunted faculty of distinguishing good from evil, if the passions drown the feeble voice of reason, as the roar of the sea drowns the voice of the pilot whose vessel is about to be dashed against the rocks? Is it possible for man to destroy and root out of his breast the germ of evil which has been designedly introduced there? I hate, more bitterly than ever, the world, my fellow-creatures, and myself. Destined to suffer, why was I born with the desire of being happy? Born for darkness, why was I filled with the desire of seeing light? Why had the slave the thirst for freedom? Why had the worm the wish to fly? Why had I a boundless imagination, the teeming mother of bold desires, daring wishes and thoughts? Tear from my uncertain and doubtful soul the flesh which envelops it; destroy in it all remembrance of its ever having animated a human body: I wish to become henceforward one of you, and only to live in the desire of evil. Ah, Devil, this is not so pleasant to thy ears as the hissing, howling song of despair which thou didst expect. But loosen the enchantment which fetters me in this circle; and let me perform my last sad duty. I will not attempt to escape from thee; if I could, I would not, for the pain of hell cannot be greater than that which I now feel.
Devil. Faustus, I am pleased with thy courage, and I would sooner hear what thou hast said than the wild shriek of despair. Be proud that the force of thy spirit has carried thee even to madness and blasphemy, for which the pain of hell awaits thee. Step out of thy circle; bury that wretched youth; thy part will then be played here, and thou must begin another, which will never end.
Faustus climbed the gibbet, and cut the rope from the neck of his son. He then bore him into a neighbouring field which the plough had lately turned up, and scratching a grave with his hands, he buried the body of the unfortunate youth. He then returned to the Devil, and said, in a wild tone:
“The measure of my wretchedness is full; break now the vase which can hold nothing more; but I have yet courage to struggle with thee for my life. I will not perish like the slave who yields without resistance to the might of his master. Appear to me under whatever form thou wilt, and I will grapple with thee. For freedom, for independence, I once drew thee out of hell; on its verge I will yet assert my right to both; on the verge of the frightful gulf I will use my strength, and remember that I once saw thee tremble before my magic circle, when I threatened to scourge thee with my rod. The tears which thou seest in my eyes ore tears of indignation, of hate, and of disgust. Not the fiend, but my own heart, triumphs over me.
Devil. Insipid braggart! With this form I tear off the mask which belied my courage. Vengeance is at hand, and Leviathan is himself once more!
He stood in gigantic stature before him. His eyes glowed like full-laden thunder-clouds, which reflect the rays of the descending sun. The noise of his breath was like the rushing of the tempest-blast. The earth groaned beneath his iron feet. The storm rustled in his hair, which waved round his head like the tail from the threatening comet. Faustus lay before him like a worm; for the horrible sight had deprived him of his senses and his strength. The Devil uttered a contemptuous laugh, which hissed over the surface of the earth; and seizing the trembling being, he tore him to pieces, as a capricious boy would tear an insect. He strewed the bloody members with fury and disgust about the field, and plunged with the soul into the depths of hell.
The devils were assembled round Satan, who was consulting with his princes concerning the punishments which should be inflicted upon Pope Alexander the Sixth. His crimes, and the last moments of his life, had been unparalleled, so that even the worst devils found themselves at a loss to allot him a punishment suitable to his deserts. The Pope stood before his judges, who treated him as contemptuously as a tribunal of princes treats an accused person who has nothing else to recommend him than his being a man. All of a sudden Leviathan rushed triumphantly into the midst, held the soul of Faustus on high, and then hurled it with violence upon the table, saying:
“There you have Faustus!”
He was received with so loud a bellow of joy, that the damned trembled in their pools: “Welcome, Prince Leviathan! There is Faustus! There is Faustus!”
Satan. Welcome, prince of hell. Welcome, Faustus; we have heard enough of you here.
Leviathan. There he is, Satan; see him yourself. He has plagued me not a little, but he has been a good recruit for us, and I hope that thou art contented with my long sojourn upon earth. But I entreat thee, for many centuries to come, to send me no more on such errands; for I am quite weary of the human race. I must, however, acknowledge that this fellow did not badly support the last hour of his life, hard as it was; but that arose, I suppose, from his having applied himself in his youth to that philosophy which thou hast taught mankind.
Satan. I thank thee, Prince Leviathan; and I promise thee that thou shalt long continue with me among the sweet vapours of this place, and scourge the shades of the great princes of the earth for thy pastime. Hem! a fine fellow, and seems to have had quite enough of men and things. Despair, audacity, hate, rancour, agony, and pride, have torn deep furrows in his soul. He looks even at us and hell without trembling. Faustus, art thou become dumb of a sudden?
Faustus. Not from fear, I assure thee. I have been bold to one much mightier than thyself, and therefore am I here.
Satan. Hey! carry the saucy hound to the pool of the damned; and after being soused therein, let him be well scourged by a legion of my most active pages, in order that he may become a little acquainted with the rules of these regions.
A devil dragged Faustus to the pool; the legion swarmed after him.
Leviathan (perceiving the Pope). Ah! welcome, Pope Alexander. I hope you no longer feel any desire to make a Ganymede of the Devil.
Pope (sighing). No, alas!
Satan. Ha, ha, ha! This is now a good specimen of the men who at present ravage the earth; but let them once get to the new world, and they will make it a theatre of crimes which will put the old one to shame.
Pope. Would that I could be there too!
Satan. A wish truly worthy of a pope; but console thyself,—thy countrymen will murder millions of men for their gold.
Pope. What will men not do for gold?
Faustus came back with his fiendish attendants.
Satan. Well, Faustus, how do you like your bath, and those that rubbed you dry?
Faustus. Maddening and intolerable thought, that the noble and ethereal part of man must expiate the sins of a body formed of clay!
The devils laughed till the vaults reËchoed.
Satan. Bravo, Faustus! I am convinced, from thy words and behaviour, that thou art too good for a man. I am, besides, much indebted to thee for having invented Printing, that art which is so singularly useful to us.
Pope. What, a printer! He gave himself out at my court for a gentleman, and won my daughter Lucretia!
Faustus. Silence, proud Spaniard. I paid her richly; and thou wouldst have prostituted thyself to me for a like sum, if I had been one of thine own stamp. My noble invention will sow more good, and will be more profitable to the human race, than all the popes from St. Peter down to thyself.
Satan. Thou art mistaken, Faustus. In the first place, men will rob thee of the honour of having invented this art.
Faustus. That is worse than damnation.
Satan. Observe now this man: he stands before me, the ruler here, and holds everlasting torments as nothing when compared with the loss of his fame and glory, those chimeras of his overheated brain. In the second place, Faustus, the shades will descend by hundreds of thousands, will fall upon thee, and overwhelm thee with curses, for having converted the little stream which poisoned the human mind into a monstrous flood. I, who am the ruler here, and shall gain by it, am therefore thy debtor; and if thou wilt curse the Eternal, who either could not or would not make thee better, thou shalt escape the torments of this place, and I will make thee a prince of my dark kingdom.
Pope. Let me be the first to curse, O Satan; as a pope, I have an undoubted right to the precedence.
Satan. Observe these men, ye devils, and see how they outdo ye. No, Pope; thou didst it when thy lips kissed the feet of my Leviathan. Choose, Faustus.
Faustus stepped forward; raging despair was engraven in frightful characters on his shadowy face. He—! Who can express what he said?
The devils trembled at his words, and were astonished at his audacity. Since hell first existed, no such stillness had reigned in the dark, frightful kingdom, the abode of eternal misery. Faustus broke it, and required Satan to fulfil his promise.
Satan. Fool! how canst thou imagine that I, ruler of hell, will keep my word, as there is no example of a prince of earth ever having kept his word when he got nothing by so doing? If thou canst forget that thou art a man, forget not that thou standest before the Devil. My fiendish subjects turned pale at thy temerity; thy horrid words made my firm and imperishable throne tremble; and I thought for a moment that I had risked too much. Away! thy presence makes me uneasy; and thou art a proof that man can do more than the Devil can bear. Drag him, ye fiends, into the most frightful corner; let him there languish in solitude, and madden at the recollection of his deeds, and of this moment, which he can never atone for. Let no shade approach him. Go, thou accursed one, and hover alone and abandoned in that land where neither hope, comfort, nor sleep are found. Those doubts which have tormented thee in life shall for ever gnaw thy soul, and no one shall explain to thee that mystery, the pursuit of which has brought thee here. This is the most painful punishment of all to a philosopher like thee. Drag him away, I repeat; torture him. Seize that Pope, and plunge him into the hottest pool; for their equals are not to be found in hell.
After their departure, Satan said to himself, smiling:
“When men wish to represent any thing abominable, they paint the Devil: let us, therefore, in revenge, when we wish to represent any thing infamous, depict man; and philosophers, popes, priests, conquerors, ministers, and authors, shall serve us as models.”
