"Washington, however, in his public letter to Congress (unless Mr. Jared Sparks has improved this passage), says," &c.
"I know not whether my readers will concur with me in liking Washington's own and though home-spun, excellent cloth, much better than the 'Cobweb schemes and gauze coverings' which have, it seems, been manufactured in its place."
A complete errata to Mr. Sparks's editions of Washington, Franklin, and Gouverneur Morris, would occupy several volumes; and we do not remember one instance in which his alterations were justifiable, or in which they were really an improvement in point of style. The reprobation with which Mr. Sparks has been visited by the learned and judicious of his own country and England will be a warning to future laborers in the same field. The works edited by Mr. Sparks are no longer, we believe, regarded by historical students as of the slightest value as authorities, and no faithfulness or excellence which may be displayed in future works from his hand will retrieve his lost reputation.
These volumes will be reprinted immediately by the Appletons.
FAUST OF WITTENBERG AND FUST OF MENTZ.
It were well if writers on the origin of typography would obey the injunction of Sir Thomas Browne, who thought it not inexpedient for those who seek to enlighten mankind on any particular subject, first to acquire some knowledge thereof themselves, so that the labor of readers should not so generally be profitless. In an article by Bishop McIlvaine, and another in Frazer's Magazine, by an anonymous contributor, the exercise of necromancy is imputed to Fust, the inventor or supposed inventor of printing. Nine of every ten persons who write any thing on the subject fall into the same error; they have something always to say of Fust and the devil; curious anecdotes to rehearse of the multiplication of copies of the Scriptures in Paris and elsewhere; spells and incantations by the inventor of the "black" art to describe, &c. But this is all induced by ignorance of the facts. John Fust, the putative inventor of printing, was a shrewd silversmith, and we suspect a knavish one, for without having any thing to do with the invention of the "art preservative of arts," he managed to rob another of the credit and profit of it. He was, however, never in Paris; he was never in his lifetime accused of the exercise of magical arts; he simply endeavored to make as much money as he could in Germany by underselling the copyists in the book market. All stories in which necromancy is attributed to him or to any other printer; all accounts of the opposition of the priests to typography as an infernal invention; in fine, the whole popular idea of Faust and the devil, is a modern contrivance, and originated in this manner: Some bookmaker, about the year 1580, undertook to write a history of printing; he had an indistinct recollection of Professor Faustus of the University of Wittenberg, and in his book blended as many of his adventures as he could remember with the memoirs of John Fust the printer; and from that day a succession of ignorant chroniclers have considered two men, of totally different characters, living at different times, as one individual.
Faust, the necromancer, was born in the duchy of Weimer in 1491, twenty-five years after the printer is understood to have died. He is mentioned by Melancthon, Wierus, and many other cotemporary writers, and was probably in his time not less distinguished as a magician than Agrippa or Albertus Magnus. It is related of him by Godwin, that he was in his youth adopted by an uncle, dwelling in the city of Wittenberg, who had no children. Here he was sent to college, and was soon distinguished by the greatness of his talents, and the rapid progress he made in every species of learning that was put before him. He was destined by his relative to the profession of theology. But he is said ungraciously to have set at naught his uncle's pious intentions. He went through his examinations with applause, and carried off all the first prizes among sixteen competitors; he therefore obtained the degree of doctor in divinity; but his success only made him proud and headstrong. He disdained his theological eminence, and sighed for distinction as a man of the world. He took his degree as a doctor of medicine, and aspired to celebrity as a practitioner of physic. About the same time he fell in with certain cotemporaries, of tastes similar to his own, and associated with them in the study of Chaldean, Greek, and Arabic science, of strange incantations and supernatural influences, in short, of all the arts of a sorcerer.
Having made such progress as he could by dint of study and intense application, he at length resolved to prosecute his purposes still further by actually raising the devil. He happened one evening to walk in a thick, dark wood, within a short distance from Wittenberg, when it occurred to him that that was a fit place for executing his design. He stopped at a solitary spot where four roads met, and made use of his wand to mark out a large circle, and then two small ones within the larger. In one of these he fixed himself, appropriating the other for the use of his expected visitor. He went over the precise range of charms and incantations, omitting nothing. It was now dark night, between the ninth and tenth hours. The devil manifested himself by the usual signs of his appearance. "Wherefore am I called?" said he, "and what is it that you demand?" "I require," rejoined Faustus, "that you should sedulously attend unto me, answer my inquiries, and fulfil my behests."