Part 7 (1/2)
”In the whole world there are no beings so wretched as myself and these poor children. My husband was indebted to the Prince-Bishop for three years' rent. The first year he could not pay it, on account of the failure of his crops; during the second the Bishop's wild-boars grubbed up all his seed from the ground; and during the third his whole hunting-train galloped over our fields and destroyed our harvest. As my husband had often been threatened by the steward with a distress, he intended to have gone this morning to Frankfort, to sell a fat calf and his last pair of oxen, and with the amount to have paid his rent. But just as he was setting out the Bishop's clerk-of-the-kitchen came, and demanded the calf for his lords.h.i.+p's table. My husband pleaded his poverty, and told him how unjust it would be to take away his calf, which would fetch a high price at Frankfort. The clerk-of-the-kitchen answered, that no peasant had a right to carry any thing out of his master's domain. The steward and his bailiffs then came, and instead of taking my husband's part, he drove off the oxen; the clerk-of-the-kitchen took the calf; the bailiffs turned me and my children out of house and home; and while they were pillaging and carrying off our goods, my husband went into the barn and out his throat in despair. The poor wretch lies under that sheet, and we sit here to watch the body, so that it may not be devoured by the wild-beasts, for the priest has refused to bury it.”
She tore away the white sheet which had concealed the body, and fell to the ground. Faustus started at the horrible sight, while tears gushed from his eyes, and he cried, ”Man, man, is this thy lot?” Then looking up to heaven, ”Oh! didst thou create this unfortunate man merely that a servant of thy religion might drive him to despair and suicide?” He cast the cloth over the body, flung the woman some gold, and said, ”I will go to the Bishop and tell him your melancholy story. I am certain that he will bury your husband, give you back your goods, and punish the villains.”
This circ.u.mstance made so strong an impression upon Faustus, that he and the Devil reached the Bishop's castle before he could collect himself.
They were received with great civility, and shown into a s.p.a.cious hall, where his reverence was at table. The Prince-Bishop was a man in his best years, but so enormously corpulent that fat seemed to have overwhelmed his nerves, his heart, and his very soul. He was only animated while eating; all his sense lay in his palate, and he never knew vexation, except when he was disappointed of a dish which he had ordered.
His table was so well furnished, that Faustus, whom the Devil had often banqueted by means of his spirits, thought to himself that the Bishop surpa.s.sed the master of a thousand arts in his dinners. In the middle of the table stood, amongst other dishes, a large calf's-head,--a favourite morsel with the Bishop. He was engaged, both body and soul, in the feast, and had not yet spoken a single word, when suddenly Faustus exclaimed:
”Gracious sir, do not take it ill of me if I spoil your appet.i.te, but it is impossible for me to look on that calf's-head without telling you of a shocking affair which has this day occurred in the neighbourhood of your palace. I hope, from your humanity and Christian mildness, that you will cause those aggrieved to be recompensed, and take care in future that your officers do not again outrage humanity, as they have done in this affair.”
The Bishop raised his eyes in wonder, looked at Faustus, and emptied his gla.s.s.
Faustus related the story with warmth and feeling; none of those present, however, paid any attention to him, and the Bishop continued eating.
Faustus then said: ”I think I am speaking to a Bishop, a shepherd of his flock, and am standing among teachers and preachers of religion and Christian charity? My lord, am I right or not?”
The Bishop eyed him scornfully; then calling for the clerk-of-the-kitchen, he said: ”What hubbub is this about a peasant who has been fool enough to cut his throat?”
The clerk-of-the-kitchen laughed, told the story as Faustus had done, and added: ”I took away his calf because it would grace your lords.h.i.+p's table, and was too good for the Frankfort burghers, to whom he wished to sell it. The steward distrained his goods because he had always been a bad tenant, and for three years had not paid his rent. Thus, my lord, does the case stand; and truly no peasant shall drive any thing good out of your demesne with my consent.”
_Bishop_. Go; you are quite right. (_To Faustus_) What have you now to say? you see that he did his duty in taking the calf; or do you think that the Frankfort citizens ought to eat the fat calves of my land, and I the lean?
Faustus was about to speak.
_Bishop_. Listen! eat, drink, and be silent. You are the first person that has ever spoken of peasants and such rabble at my table. Verily, if your dress did not declare you to be a gentleman, I should be inclined to think that you were sprung from beggars, since you speak so warmly in their favour. Learn that the peasant who does not pay his rent does just as well in cutting his throat, as certain people would do in holding their tongues instead of spoiling my appet.i.te with useless speeches.
Clerk-of-the-kitchen, that is a n.o.ble calf's-head.
_Clerk-of-the-kitchen_. It is the head of Hans Ruprecht's calf.
_Bishop_. So, so! Send it me here, and reach me the pepper. I will cut myself a slice. And you, Mr. What's-your-name, may as well take a piece with me.
The clerk-of-the-kitchen placed the pepper-castor before the Bishop.
Faustus whispered into the ear of the Devil; and at the moment the Bishop ran his knife into the calf's-head, the Devil changed it to the head of Hans Ruprecht, which, wild, horrible, and b.l.o.o.d.y, now stared the Bishop in the face. His reverence let fall his knife, and sank back in a feinting fit; while the whole company sat in lifeless horror and stupefaction.
_Faustus_. My Lord Bishop, and ye most reverend gentlemen, learn from this to practise Christian charity as well as to preach it.
He hurried away with the Devil.
The _sang-froid_ of the Bishop and his table-companions, and the brutal manner in which he spoke of the fate of the unfortunate suicide, sowed the first seeds of gloomy horror in the breast of Faustus. He revolved in his mind his former experience, as well as what he had seen since he had roamed about with the Devil, and perceived, whichever way he turned, nothing but hard-heartedness, deceit, tyranny, and a willingness to commit crime for the sake of gold, preferment, or luxury. He wished to seek for the cause of all this in man himself; but his own unquiet and doubtful spirit, and his imagination, which always avoided difficulties within its reach, began already in dark dissatisfaction to make the Creator of mankind, if not the author, yet, by his sufferance of all these horrors, at least the accomplice. These impious ideas only required the aid of a few more horrible scenes to derange his understanding entirely; and the Devil inwardly rejoiced in being able to afford a future opportunity for that purpose. Faustus hoped soon to cure himself of this sadness at the court of the renowned prince, and his companion willingly left him in this delusion. About evening they arrived at a city, at the entrance of which they perceived a crowd of people a.s.sembled round a tower, in which culprits condemned to death were accustomed to pa.s.s the last night of their lives. Faustus, observing that the people were looking up to the ironed windows with the deepest sorrow, asked the cause of this a.s.semblage. Whereupon a hundred voices gave him an answer.
”Dr. Robertus, our father, the friend of freedom, the protector of the people, the avenger of the oppressed, sits imprisoned in yonder tower.
The cruel tyrannical Minister, once his friend, has now condemned him to death; and to-morrow he is to be executed, because he dared to uphold our privileges.”
These words sunk deep into the soul of Faustus. He conceived a high opinion of a man who, at the risk of his own life, had dared to stand forward as the avenger of his fellow-creatures. As he himself had just been a witness of the consequences of oppression, he commanded the Devil to carry him to this doctor. The Devil took him aside, and then flew up with him into the tower, and entered the cell of the avenger of the people. Faustus saw before him a man whose daring and gloomy physiognomy was truly disgusting. But the romantic imagination of Faustus pictured, at first sight, the form of a great man, from what he had heard and from what he saw before him. The doctor did not seem much surprised at their sudden appearance. Faustus approached him, and said:
”Doctor Robertus, I come to hear your story from your own mouth; not that I have any doubt, for your appearance confirms all that has been told me of you; I am now convinced that you fall a sacrifice to that tyranny which oppresses the race of man, and which I abhor as much as you do. I come likewise to offer you my a.s.sistance, which, contrary to all appearances, can extricate you from this dreadful situation.”
The doctor looked coldly upon him, let his face sink into his hands, and replied:
”Yes, I fall a victim to power and tyranny; and, what is most grievous to me, through the means of a false friend, who sacrifices me more to his fear and envy than to his despotic principles. I know not who ye are, and whether ye can save me; but I wish that men of your appearance should know Dr. Robertus, who is to bleed to-morrow in the cause of freedom.
From my earliest youth the n.o.ble spirit of independence, which man is bound to thank for every thing great that he is capable of, fired my breast; from my early youth the numerous examples of tyranny and oppression which I saw with my eyes, or read of in history, roused my soul and inflamed me to fury. Often did I shed tears because I felt myself unable to avenge the sufferings of mankind. To increase my misery, I read in the history of the Greeks and Romans what advancement man made in virtue when tyrants were put down, and he was left to follow the bent of his own nature. Think not that I am one of those fools whose idea of freedom is that every one should do as he pleases. Full well I know that the capacities of men are different, and that their situations in life must be different; but when I considered the laws which should secure to each individual his life and property, I found nothing but a wild chaos, which tyrannical power had artfully mixed up in order to make herself the sole and arbitrary mistress of the happiness and the existence of the subject. After this discovery, the whole human race appeared to me as a flock of sheep, which a band of robbers had conspired to plunder and devour by means of laws enacted by themselves, and to which they themselves are not amenable: for where is the law that fetters the rulers of the earth? Is it not madness that those very people who, by their situations, are most liable to the abuse of their pa.s.sions, are subservient to no law, and acknowledge no tribunal which can call them to account? Misery is near, and promised vengeance is far off; and that chimes-in but poorly with the feelings and nature of man.” Faustus earnestly listened to all this, looked furious, and struck his forehead with his hand. The Devil was quite enraptured with the orator, who continued: