with a Dominican?  We must therefore

advise the monk to follow the example of the holy Anthony, and, like him, to oppose the temptations of the fiend with the weapons of prayer and fasting.  It is, however, much to be lamented, that Satan should have so little respect for the Archbishop as to make the instrument of his wiles assume the figure of one of his reverence’s family.”  The Chapter conducted itself in this case exactly in the same manner as hereditary princes do whose fathers live too long.  But what served more completely to confuse the case was a report from the nunnery.  The nuns had assembled in the refectory, and were busied in dressing up a Madonna for the next festival, hoping to surpass by its magnificence their rivals the black nuns, when suddenly the old porteress entered, told the licentious story, and added, that the Dominican, whose name she had forgot, would certainly be burnt alive, for that the Chapter had even then assembled for the purpose of trying him.  Whilst the porteress was relating the tale with its various circumstances, the faces of the young nuns were violently flushed, and Sin, who never loses an opportunity

of corrupting innocent hearts, shot into their blood, and hastily pictured the dangerous scene to their imaginations.  Fury and consternation, in the mean time, deformed the features of the old ones.  The abbess trembled and leaned on her staff, while the spectacles fell from her face.  But when the porteress added, that it was the sister Clara whom the fiend had brought to the Dominican in his dream, a dreadful shriek filled the whole hall.  Clara alone remained tranquil, and when the uproar had ceased, she said, smiling: “Dear sisters, why do you shriek so fearfully?  I myself dreamt that I passed the night with Father Gebhardt, my confessor; and if it was the work of the fiend” (here she and all the rest made the sign of the cross), “why, we must give him the discipline.”  “The Father Gebhardt!” cried the porteress; “now, all ye saints and angels, that is the very person who dreamt of you; that is he whom they are about to burn.”  The porteress having thus expressed herself, this second version of the dream was immediately circulated through the city.  The Madonna was allowed to remain

naked, for the sisters cared now very little if the black nuns bore away the palm.  The abbess did all in her power to spread the news abroad, the housekeeper followed her example, the porteress harangued an audience beneath the gateway, and Clara candidly replied to the yet more candid questions of her companions.  The last trumpet could not have diffused in Mayence more terror and confusion than did this extraordinary tale.

No sooner did the Dominican prior hear of this accident than he ran to the assembled Chapter, and gave, by his information, a new turn to the affair.  The Archbishop would willingly have suppressed the whole business; but it was now time for the Chapter to take it up, and all the canons were unanimously of opinion, that so strange a circumstance ought to be communicated to the Holy Father at Rome.  They now became infuriated, and nothing but the midday bell had power to separate them.  From that moment, all Mayence, clergy and laity, divided into two parties; and for many years nothing was heard, spoken, or dreamt of, but the Devil, the white nun, and Father

Gebhardt.  The matter was argued from the pulpit of every sect: mountebanks, Capuchins, and dog-doctors, made it their theme; while the lawyers, after having taken the depositions of the nun and the father, and confronted them with each other, wrote folio volumes concerning the sinful and unsinful chances of the dream.  Was this a time for Faustus and his discoveries to succeed?

In Frankfort, which is at the present day the asylum of science, Faustus, however, hoped for better fortune.  He offered his Bible to the reverend Town Council for two hundred gold guilders; but, as a large sum had just been expended in purchasing five hogsheads of prime Rhenish for the council cellar, his demand came rather unseasonably.  He paid his court to the town-clerk, to the speaker, and to the senators,—from the proud patrician to the yet prouder head of the shoemaker guild.  He was promised by all favour, protection, and assistance.

At length he attached himself to the then presiding mayor, from whom he for a long time gained nothing; but, as if in recompense, the lady-mayoress

kindled a violent passion in his susceptible heart.  One evening the mayor assured him that the council, on their next day of meeting, would come to a determination, by virtue of which the assembled members would most probably pay down the sum for the Bible.  Faustus replied, that his children might very possibly die of hunger before so enlightened an assembly had decided; and, maddened with despair, he now returned to his solitary apartment.  In this moment he suddenly recollected his magic formula.  The thought of running some bold risk, and of purchasing independence of man by an alliance with the Devil, rushed more vividly than ever through his brain.  Yet the idea terrified him.  With hasty steps, furious gestures, and fearful cries, he strode up and down the chamber, struggling with his rebellious spirit, which urged him to penetrate the surrounding darkness; still his soul shuddered and was unresolved.  The clock struck eleven from the neighbouring tower.  Black night hung about the earth.  The north-wind howled, and clouds obscured the face of the full

moon.  Nature now appeared in a second chaos.  A night more suited to bewilder an excited imagination could not be conceived.  Yet was the beam of his mind balanced.  In one scale hung religion and its firm supporter—the hope of immortality; while thirst for independence and knowledge, pride, pleasure, malevolence, and bitterness filled the other.

At length Faustus, according to the custom of magic, drew the horrible circle which was for ever to remove him from the providential care of the Omnipotent, and from the sweet ties of humanity.  His eyes sparkled, his heart beat louder, and his yellow tresses stood erect on his head.  At this moment he thought he saw his aged father and his blooming wife and children wring their hands in despair, and fall down upon their knees to pray for him to that Being whom he was about to renounce.  “It is their misery, it is their situation, that maddens me,” he wildly shrieked, and stamped on the ground with his foot.  He now became enraged at the weakness of his heart, and advanced towards the circle; the storm rattled

against the windows, the foundation of the house trembled: a noble angelic figure appeared before him, exclaiming, “Stay, Faustus!” and the following colloquy ensued:

Faustus.  Who art thou, that disturbest my daring work?

Figure.  I am the Genius of Man, and will save thee, if thou art to be saved.

Faustus.  What canst thou give me to assuage my thirst for knowledge, and my desire for freedom and enjoyment?

Figure.  Humility, resignation in suffering, content, and a proper estimation of thyself; above all, an easy death, and light in the world to come.

Faustus.  Begone, vision of my heated fancy!  I know thee by the cunning with which thou wouldst deceive the wretches whom thou hast made subservient to power.  Begone, and hover around the brows of