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 bloody, 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 assembled round a tower, in which culprits condemned to death were accustomed to pass 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 assemblage. 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 assistance, which, contrary to all appearances, can extricate you from this dreadful situation.”