FUST AND HIS FRIENDS

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AN EPILOGUE

(Inside the House of Fust, Mayence, 1457.)

First Friend.Up, up, up—next step of the staircaseLands us, lo, at the chamber of dread!Second Friend.Locked and barred?Third Friend.Door open—the rare case!Fourth Friend.Ay, there he leans—lost wretch!Fifth Friend.His headSunk on his desk 'twixt his arms outspread!Sixth Friend.Hallo,—wake, man, ere God thunderstrike Mayence—Mulct for thy sake who art Satan's, John Fust!Satan installed here, God's rule in abeyance,Mayence some morning may crumble to dust.Answer our questions thou shalt and thou must!Seventh Friend.Softly and fairly! Wherefore a-gloom?Greet us, thy gossipry, cousin and sib!Raise the forlorn brow, Fust! Make room—Let daylight through arms which, enfolding thee, cribFrom those clenched lids the comfort of sunshine!First Friend.So glibThy tongue slides to "comfort" already? Not mine!Behoove us deal roundly: the wretch is distraught—Too well I guess wherefore! Behooves a Divine—Such as I, by grace, boast me—to threaten one caughtIn the enemy's toils,—setting "comfort" at naught.Second Friend.Nay, Brother, so hasty? I heard—nor long since—Of a certain Black Art'sman who,—helplessly boundBy rash pact with Satan,—through paying—why minceThe matter?—fit price to the Church,—safe and soundFull a year after death in his grave-clothes was found.Whereas 't is notorious the Fiend claims his dueDuring lifetime,—comes clawing, with talons aflame,The soul from the flesh-rags left smoking and blue:So it happed with John Faust; lest John Fust fare the same,—Look up, I adjure thee by God's holy name!For neighbors and friends—no foul hell-brood flock we!Saith Solomon "Words of the wise are as goads:"Ours prick but to startle from torpor, set freeSoul and sense from death's drowse!First Friend.And soul, wakened, unloadsMuch sin by confession: no mere palinodes!—"I was youthful and wanton, am old yet no sage:When angry I cursed, struck and slew: did I want?Right and left did I rob: though no war I dared wageWith the Church (God forbid!)—harm her least ministrant—Still I outraged all else. Now that strength is grown scant,"I am probity's self"—no such bleatings as these!But avowal of guilt so enormous, it balksTongue's telling. Yet penitence prompt may appeaseGod's wrath at thy bond with the Devil who stalks—Strides hither to strangle thee!Fust.Childhood so talks.—Not rare wit nor ripe age—ye boast them, my neighbors!—Should lay such a charge on your townsman, this FustWho, known for a life spent in pleasures and laborsIf freakish yet venial, could scarce be inducedTo traffic with fiends.First Friend.So, my words have unloosedA plie from those pale lips corrugate but now?Fust.Lost count me, yet not as ye lean to surmise.First Friend.To surmise? to establish! Unbury that brow!Look up, that thy judge may read clear in thine eyes!Second Friend.By your leave, Brother Barnabite! Mine to advise!—Who arraign thee, John Fust! What was bruited erewhileNow bellows through Mayence. All cry—thou hast truckedSalvation away for lust's solace! Thy smileTakes its hue from hell's smoulder!Fust.Too certain! I sucked—Got drunk at the nipple of sense.Second Friend.Thou hast ducked—Art drowned there, say rather! Faugh—fleshly disport!How else but by help of Sir Belial didst winThat Venus-like lady, no drudge of thy sortCould lure to become his accomplice in sin?Folk nicknamed her Helen of Troy!First Friend.Best beginAt the very beginning. Thy father,—all knew,A mere goldsmith ...Fust.Who knew him, perchance may know this—He dying left much gold and jewels no few:Whom these help to court with, but seldom shall missThe love of a leman: true witchcraft, I wis!First Friend. Dost flout me? 'T is said, in debauchery's guildAdmitted prime guttler and guzzler—O swine!—To honor thy headship, those tosspots so swilledThat out of their table there sprouted a vineWhence each claimed a cluster, awaiting thy signTo out knife, off mouthful: when—who could supposeSuch malice in magic?—each sot woke and foundCold steel but an inch from the neighbor's red noseHe took for a grape-bunch!Fust.Does that so astoundSagacity such as ye boast,—who surroundYour mate with eyes staring, hairs standing erectAt his magical feats? Are good burghers unversedIn the humors of toping? Full oft, I suspect,Ye, counting your fingers, call thumbkin their first,And reckon a groat every guilder disbursed.What marvel if wags, while the skinker fast brimmedTheir glass with rare tipple's enticement, should gloat—Befooled and beflustered—through optics drink-dimmed—On this draught and that, till each found in his throatOur Rhenish smack rightly as Raphal? For, note—They fancied—their fuddling deceived them so grossly—That liquor sprang out of the table itselfThrough gimlet-holes drilled there,—nor noticed how closelyThe skinker kept plying my guests, from the shelfO'er their heads, with the potable madness. No elfHad need to persuade them a vine rose umbrageous,Fruit-bearing, thirst-quenching! Enough! I confessTo many such fool-pranks, but none so outrageousThat Satan was called in to help me: excessI own to, I grieve at—no more and no less.Second Friend.Strange honors were heaped on thee—medal for breast,Chain for neck, sword for thigh: not a lord of the landBut acknowledged thee peer! What ambition possessedA goldsmith by trade, with craft's grime on his hand,To seek such associates?Fust.Spare taunts! Understand—I submit me! Of vanities under the sun,Pride seized me at last as concupiscence first,Crapulosity ever: true Fiends, every one,Haled this way and that my poor soul: thus amerced—Forgive and forget me!First Friend.Had flesh sinned the worst,Yet help were in counsel: the Church could absolve:But say not men truly thou barredst escapeBy signing and sealing ...Second Friend.On me must devolveThe task of extracting ...First Friend.Shall Barnabites apeUs Dominican experts?Seventh Friend.Nay, Masters,—agapeWhen Hell yawns for a soul, 't is myself claim the taskOf extracting, by just one plain question, God's truth!Where 's Peter Genesheim thy partner? I askWhy, cloistered up still in thy room, the pale youthSlaves tongue-tied—thy trade brooks no tattling forsooth!No less he, thyfamulus, suffers entrapping,Succumbs to good fellowship: barrel a-broachRuns freely nor needs any subsequent tapping:Quoth Peter, "That room, none but I dare approach,Holds secrets will help me to ride in my coach."He prattles, we profit: in brief, he assuresThou hast taught him to speak so that all men may hear—Each alike, wide world over, Jews, Pagans, Turks, Moors,The same as we Christians—speech heard far and nearAt one and the same magic moment!Fust.That 's clear!Said he—how?Seventh Friend.Is it like he was licensed to learn?Who doubts but thou dost this by aid of the Fiend?Is it so? So it is, for thou smilest! Go, burnTo ashes, since such proves thy portion, unscreenedBy bell, book and candle! Yet lately I weenedBalm yet was in Gilead,—some healing in storeFor the friend of my bosom. Men said thou wast sunkIn a sudden despondency: not, as before,Fust gallant and gay with his pottle and punk,But sober, sad, sick as one yesterday drunk!Fust.Spare Fust, then, thus contrite!—who, youthful and healthy,Equipped for life's struggle with culture of mind,Sound flesh and sane soul in coherence, born wealthy,Nay, wise—how he wasted endowment designedFor the glory of God and the good of mankind!That much were misused such occasions of graceYe well may upbraid him, who bows to the rod.But this should bid anger to pity give place—He has turned from the wrong, in the right path to plod,Makes amends to mankind and craves pardon of God."Yea, friends, even now from my lips theHeureka—Soul saved!" was nigh bursting—unduly elate!Have I brought Man advantage, or hatched—so to speak—aStrange serpent, no cygnet? 'T is this I debateWithin me. Forbear, and leave Fust to his fate!First Friend.So abject, late lofty? Methinks I spy respite.Make clean breast, discover what mysteries hideIn thy room there!Second Friend.Ay, out with them! Do Satan despite!Remember what caused his undoing was pride!First Friend.Dumb devil! Remains one resource to be tried!Second Friend.Exorcise!Seventh Friend.Nay, first—is there any remembersIn substance that potent "Ne pulvis"—a psalmWhereof some live spark haply lurks 'mid the embersWhich choke in my brain. Talk of "Gilead and balm"?I mind me, sung half through, this gave such a qualmTo Asmodeus inside of a Hussite, that, queasy,He broke forth in brimstone with curses. I'm strongIn—at least the commencement: the rest should go easy,Friends helping. "Ne pulvis et ignis" ...Sixth Friend.All wrong!Fifth Friend.I 've conned till I captured the whole.Seventh Friend.Get along!"Ne pulvis et cinis superbe te geras,Nam fulmina" ...Sixth Friend.Fiddlestick! Peace, dolts and dorrs!Thus runs it "Ne Numinis fulmina feras"—Then "Hominis perfidi justa sunt sorsFulmen et grando et horrida mors."Seventh Friend. You blunder ... "Irati ne."Sixth Friend.Mind your own business!Fifth Friend.I do not so badly, who gained the monk's leaveTo study an hour his choice parchment. A dizzinessMay well have surprised me. No Christian dares thieve,Or I scarce had returned him his treasure. These cleave:"Nos pulvis et cinis, trementes, gementes,Venimus"—some such word—"ad te, Domine!Da lumen, juvamen, ut sancta sequentesCor ... corda" ... Plague take it!Seventh Friend.—"erecta sint spe:"Right text, ringing rhyme, and ripe Latin for me!Sixth Friend.A Canon's self wrote it me fair: I was temptedTo part with the sheepskin.Seventh Friend.Didst grasp and let goSuch a godsend, thou Judas? My purse had been emptiedEre part with the prize!Fust.Do I dream? Say ye so?Clouds break, then! Move, world! I have gained my "Pou sto"!I am saved: Archimedes, salute me!Omnes.Assistance!Help, Angels! He summons ... Aroint thee!—by name,His familiar!Fust.Approach!Omnes.Devil, keep thy due distance!Fust.Be tranquillized, townsmen! The knowledge ye claimBehold, I prepare to impart. Praise or blame,—Your blessing or banning, whatever betide me,At last I accept. The slow travail of years,The long-teeming brain's birth—applaud me, deride me,—At last claims revealment. Wait!Seventh Friend.Wait till appearsUncaged Archimedes cooped-up there?Second Friend.Who fears?Here 's have at thee!Seventh Friend.Correctly now! "Pulvis et cinis" ...Fust.The verse ye so value, it happens I holdIn my memory safe frominitiumtofinis.Word for word, I produce you the whole, plain enrolled,Black letters, white paper—no scribe's red and gold!Omnes.Aroint thee!Fust.I go and return.(He enters the inner room.)First Friend.Ay, 't is "ibis"No doubt: but as boldly "redibis"—who 'll say?I rather conjecture "in Orco peribis!"Seventh Friend.Come, neighbors!Sixth Friend.I 'm with you! Show courage and stayHell's outbreak? Sirs, cowardice here wins the day!Fifth Friend. What luck had that student of Bamberg who venturedTo peep in the cell where a wizard of noteWas busy in getting some black deed debenturedBy Satan? In dog's guise there sprang at his throatA flame-breathing fury. Fust favors, I note,An ugly huge lurcher!Seventh Friend.If I placed relianceAs thou, on the beads thou art telling so fast,I 'd risk just a peep through the keyhole.Sixth Friend.ApplianceOf ear might be safer. Five minutes are past.Omnes.Saints, save us! The door is thrown open at last!Fust (re-enters, the door closing behind him).As I promised, behold I perform! Apprehend youThe object I offer is poison or pest?Receive without harm from the hand I extend youA gift that shall set every scruple at rest!Shrink back from mere paper-strips? Try them and test!Still hesitate? Myk,-was it thou who lamentedstThy five wits clean failed thee to render arightA poem read once and no more?—who repentedstVile pelf had induced thee to banish from sightThe characters none but our clerics indite?Take and keep!First Friend.Blessed Mary and all Saints about her!Second Friend.What imps deal so deftly,—five minutes sufficeTo play thus the penman?Third Friend.By Thomas the Doubter,Five minutes, no more!Fourth Friend.Out on arts that enticeSuch scribes to do homage!Fifth Friend.Stay! Once—and now twice—Yea, a third time, my sharp eye completes the inspectionOf line after line, the whole series, and findsEach letter join each—not a fault for detection!Such upstrokes, such downstrokes, such strokes of all kindsIn the criss-cross, all perfect!Sixth Friend.There 's nobody mindsHis quill-craft with more of a conscience, o'er-scratchesA sheepskin more nimbly and surely with ink,Than Paul the Sub-Prior: here 's paper that matchesHis parchment with letter on letter, no linkOverleapt—underlost!Seventh Friend.No erasure, I think—No blot, I am certain!Fust.Accept the new treasure!Sixth Friend.I remembered full half!Seventh Friend.But who other than I(Bear witness, bystanders!) when he broke the measureRepaired fault with "fulmen"?Fust.Put bickerings by!Here 's for thee—thee—and thee, too: at need a supply(Distributing Proofs.)For Mayence, though seventy times seven should muster!How now? All so feeble of faith that no faceWhich fronts me but whitens—or yellows, were juster?Speak out lest I summon my Spirits!Omnes.Grace—grace!Call none of thy—helpmates! We 'll answer apace!My paper—and mine—and mine also—they varyIn nowise—agree in each tittle and jot!Fust, how—why was this?Fust.Shall such "Cur" miss a "quare"?Within, there! Throw doors wide! Behold who complotTo abolish the scribe's work—blur, blunder and blot!(The doors open, and the Press is discovered in operation.)Brave full-bodied birth of this brain that conceived theeIn splendor and music,—sustained the slow dragOf the days stretched to years dim with doubt,—yet believed thee,Had faith in thy first leap of life! Pulse might flag——Mine fluttered how faintly!—Arch-moment might lagIts longest—I bided, made light of endurance,Held hard by the hope of an advent which—dreamed,Is done now: night yields to the dawn's reassurance:I have thee—I hold thee—my fancy that seemed,My fact that proves palpable! Ay, Sirs, I schemedCompletion that 's fact: see this Engine—be witnessYourselves of its working! Nay, handle my Types!Each block bears a Letter: in order and fitnessI range them. Turn, Peter, the winch! See, it gripesWhat 's under! Let loose—? draw! In regular stripesLies plain, at one pressure, your poem—touched, tinted,Turned out to perfection! The sheet, late a blank,Filled—ready for reading,—not written butPrinted!Omniscient omnipotent God, thee I thank,Thee ever, thee only!—thy creature that shrankFrom no task thou, Creator, imposedst! CreationRevealed me no object, from insect to Man,But bore thy hand's impress: earth glowed with salvation:"Hast sinned? Be thou saved, Fust! Continue my plan,Who spake and earth was: with my word things began."As sound so went forth, to the sight be extendedWord's mission henceforward! The task I assign,Embrace—thy allegiance to evil is ended!Have cheer, soul impregnate with purpose! CombineSoul and body, give birth to my concept—called thine!"Far and wide, North and South, East and West, have dominionO'er thought, wingèd wonder, O Word! Traverse worldIn sun-flash and sphere-song! Each beat of thy pinionBursts night, beckons day: once Truth's banner unfurled,Where 's Falsehood? Sun-smitten, to nothingness hurled!"More humbly—so, friends, did my fault find redemption.I sinned, soul-entoiled by the tether of sense:My captor reigned master: I plead no exemption,From Satan's award to his servant: defenceFrom the fiery and final assault would be—whence?By making—as man might—to truth restitution!Truth is God: trample lies and lies' father, God's foe!Fix fact fast: truths change by an hour's revolution:What deed's very doer, unaided, can showHow 't was done a year—month—week—day—minute ago?At best, he relates it—another reports it—A third—nay, a thousandth records it: and stillNarration, tradition, no step but distorts it,As down from truth's height it goes sliding untilAt the low level lie-mark it stops—whence no skillOf the scribe, intervening too tardily, rescues—Once fallen—lost fact from lie's fate there. What scribe—Eyes horny with poring, hands crippled with desk-use,Brains fretted by fancies—the volatile tribeThat tease weary watchers—can boast that no bribeShuts eye and frees hand and remits brain from toiling?Truth gained—can we stay, at whatever the stage,Truth a-slide,—save her snow from its ultimate soilingIn mire,—by some process, stamp promptly on pageFact spoiled by pen's plodding, make truth heritageNot merely of clerics, but poured out, full measure,On clowns—every mortal endowed with a mind?Read, gentle and simple! Let labor win leisureAt last to bid truth do all duty assigned,Not pause at the noble but pass to the hind!How bring to effect such swift sure simultaneousUnlimited multiplication? How spreadBy an arm-sweep a hand-throw—no helping extraneous—Truth broadcast o'er Europe? "The goldsmith," I said,"Graves limning on gold: why not letters on lead?"So, Tuscan artificer, grudge not thy pardonTo me who played false, made a furtive descent,Found the sly secret workshop,—thy genius kept guard onToo slackly for once,—and surprised thee low-bentO'er thy labor—some chalice thy tool would indentWith a certain free scroll-work framed round by a borderOf foliage and fruitage: no scratching so fine,No shading so shy but, in ordered disorder,Each flourish came clear,—unbewildered by shine,On the gold, irretrievably right, lay each line.How judge if thy hand worked thy will? By reviewing,Revising again and again, piece by piece,Tool's performance,—this way, as I watched. 'T was through glueingA paper-like film-stuff—thin, smooth, void of crease,On each cut of the graver: press hard! at release,No mark on the plate but the paper showed double:His work might proceed: as he judged—space or speckUp he filled, forth he flung—was relieved thus from troubleLest wrong—once—were right never more: what could checkAdvancement, completion? Thus lay at my beck—At my call—triumph likewise! "For," cried I, "what hindersThat graving turns Printing? Stamp one word—not oneBut fifty such, phœnix-like, spring from death's cinders,—Since death is word's doom, clerics hide from the sunAs some churl closets up this rare chalice." Go, runThy race now, Fust's child! High, O Printing, and holyThy mission! These types, see, I chop and I changeTill the words, every letter, a pageful, not slowlyYet surely lies fixed: last of all, I arrangeA paper beneath, stamp it, loosen it!First Friend.Strange!Second Friend.How simple exceedingly!Fust.Bustle, my Schœffer!Set type,—quick, Genesheim! Turn screw now!Third Friend.Just that!Fourth Friend.And no such vast miracle!Fust."Plough with my heifer,Ye find out my riddle," quoth Samson, and patHe speaks to the purpose. Grapes squeezed in the vatYield to sight and to taste what is simple—a liquidMere urchins may sip: but give time, let ferment—You 've wine, manhood's master! Well, "rectius si quidNovistis im-per-ti-te!" Wait the event,Then weigh the result! But, whate'er Thy intent,O Thou, the one force in the whole variationOf visible nature,—at work—do I doubt?—From Thy first to our last, in perpetual creation—A film hides us from Thee—'twixt inside and out,A film, on this earth where Thou bringest aboutNew marvels, new forms of the glorious, the gracious,We bow to, we bless for: no star bursts heaven's domeBut Thy finger impels it, no weed peeps audaciousEarth's clay-floor from out, but Thy finger makes roomFor one world's-want the more in Thy Cosmos: presumeShall Man, Microcosmos, to claim the conceptionOf grandeur, of beauty, in thought, word or deed?I toiled, but Thy light on my dubiousest step shone:If I reach the glad goal, is it I who succeedWho stumbled at starting tripped up by a reed,Or Thou? Knowledge only and absolute, gloryAs utter be Thine who concedest a sparkOf Thy spheric perfection to earth's transitoryExistences! Nothing that lives, but Thy markGives law to—life's light: what is doomed to the dark?Where 's ignorance? Answer, creation! What height,What depth has escaped Thy commandment—to Know?What birth in the ore-bed but answers arightThy sting at its heart which impels—bids "E'en so,Not otherwise more or be motionless,—grow,"Decline, disappear!" Is the plant in defaultHow to bud, when to branch forth? The bird and the beast—Do they doubt if their safety be found in assaultOr escape? Worm or fly, of what atoms the leastBut follows light's guidance,—will famish, not feast?In such various degree, fly and worm, ore and plant,All know, none is witless: around each, a wallEncloses the portion, or ample or scant,Of Knowledge: beyond which one hair's breadth, for allLies blank—not so much as a blackness—a pallSome sense unimagined must penetrate: plainIs only old license to stand, walk or sit,Move so far and so wide in the narrow domainAllotted each nature for life's use: past itHow immensity spreads does he guess? Not a whit.Does he care? Just as little. Without? No, withinConcerns him? he Knows. Man Ignores—thanks to TheeWho madest him know, but—in knowing—beginTo know still new vastness of knowledge must beOutside him—to enter, to traverse, in feeHave and hold! "Oh, Man's ignorance!" hear the fool whine!How were it, for better or worse, didst thou gruntContented with sapience—the lot of the swineWho knows he was born for just truffles to hunt?—Monks' Paradise—"Semper sint res uti sunt!"No, Man's the prerogative—knowledge once gained—To ignore,—find new knowledge to press for, to swerveIn pursuit of, no, not for a moment: attained—Why, onward through ignorance! Dare and deserve!As still to its asymptote speedeth the curve,So approximates Man—Thee, who, reachable not,Hast formed him to yearningly follow Thy wholeSole and single omniscience!Such, friends, is my lot:I am back with the world: one more step to the goalThanks for reaching I render—Fust's help to Man's soul!Mere mechanical help? So the hand gives a tossTo the falcon,—aloft once, spread pinions and fly,Beat air far and wide, up and down and across!My Press strains a-tremhle: whose masterful eyeWill be first, in new regions, new truth to descry?Give chase, soul! Be sure each new capture consignedTo my Types will go forth to the world, like God's bread—Miraculous food not for body but mind,Truth's manna! How say you? Put case that, insteadOf old leasing and lies, we superiorly fedThese Heretics, Hussites ...First Friend.First answer my query!If saved, art thou happy?Fust.I was and I am.First Friend.Thy visage confirms it: how comes, then, that—wearyAnd woe-begone late—was it show, was it sham?—We found thee sunk thiswise?Second Friend.—In need of the dramFrom the flask which a provident neighbor might carry!Fust.Ah, friends, the fresh triumph soon flickers, fast fades!I hailed Word's dispersion: could heartleaps but tarry!Through me does Print furnish Truth wings? The same aidsCause Falsehood to range just as widely. What raidsOn a region undreamed of does Printing enableTruth's foe to effect! Printed leasing and liesMay speed to the world's farthest corner— gross fableNo less than pure fact—to impede, neutralize,Abolish God's gift and Man's gain!First Friend.Dost surmiseWhat struck me at first blush? Our Beghards, Waldenses,Jeronimites, Hussites—does one show his head,Spout heresy now? Not a priest in his sensesDeigns answer mere speech, but piles fagots instead,Refines as by fire, and, him silenced, all 's said.Whereas if in future I pen an opusculeDefying retort, as of old when rash tonguesWere easy to tame,—straight some knave of the Huss-SchoolPrints answer forsooth! Stop invisible lungs?The barrel of blasphemy broached once, who bungs?Second Friend.Does my sermon, next Easter, meet fitting acceptance?Each captious disputative boy has his quirk"An cuique credendum sit?" Well, the Church kept "ans"In order till Fust set his engine at work!What trash will come flying from Jew, Moor, and TurkWhen, goosequill, thy reign o'er the world is abolished!Goose—ominous name! With a goose woe began:Quoth Huss—which means "goose" in his idiom unpolished—"Ye burn now a Goose: there succeeds me a SwanYe shall find quench your fire!"Fust.I foresee such a man.

First Friend.Up, up, up—next step of the staircaseLands us, lo, at the chamber of dread!

First Friend.Up, up, up—next step of the staircase

Lands us, lo, at the chamber of dread!

Second Friend.Locked and barred?

Third Friend.Door open—the rare case!

Fourth Friend.Ay, there he leans—lost wretch!

Fifth Friend.His headSunk on his desk 'twixt his arms outspread!

Fifth Friend.His head

Sunk on his desk 'twixt his arms outspread!

Sixth Friend.Hallo,—wake, man, ere God thunderstrike Mayence—Mulct for thy sake who art Satan's, John Fust!Satan installed here, God's rule in abeyance,Mayence some morning may crumble to dust.Answer our questions thou shalt and thou must!

Sixth Friend.Hallo,—wake, man, ere God thunderstrike Mayence

—Mulct for thy sake who art Satan's, John Fust!

Satan installed here, God's rule in abeyance,

Mayence some morning may crumble to dust.

Answer our questions thou shalt and thou must!

Seventh Friend.Softly and fairly! Wherefore a-gloom?Greet us, thy gossipry, cousin and sib!Raise the forlorn brow, Fust! Make room—Let daylight through arms which, enfolding thee, cribFrom those clenched lids the comfort of sunshine!

Seventh Friend.Softly and fairly! Wherefore a-gloom?

Greet us, thy gossipry, cousin and sib!

Raise the forlorn brow, Fust! Make room—

Let daylight through arms which, enfolding thee, crib

From those clenched lids the comfort of sunshine!

First Friend.So glib

Thy tongue slides to "comfort" already? Not mine!Behoove us deal roundly: the wretch is distraught—Too well I guess wherefore! Behooves a Divine—Such as I, by grace, boast me—to threaten one caughtIn the enemy's toils,—setting "comfort" at naught.

Thy tongue slides to "comfort" already? Not mine!

Behoove us deal roundly: the wretch is distraught

—Too well I guess wherefore! Behooves a Divine

—Such as I, by grace, boast me—to threaten one caught

In the enemy's toils,—setting "comfort" at naught.

Second Friend.Nay, Brother, so hasty? I heard—nor long since—Of a certain Black Art'sman who,—helplessly boundBy rash pact with Satan,—through paying—why minceThe matter?—fit price to the Church,—safe and soundFull a year after death in his grave-clothes was found.

Second Friend.Nay, Brother, so hasty? I heard—nor long since—

Of a certain Black Art'sman who,—helplessly bound

By rash pact with Satan,—through paying—why mince

The matter?—fit price to the Church,—safe and sound

Full a year after death in his grave-clothes was found.

Whereas 't is notorious the Fiend claims his dueDuring lifetime,—comes clawing, with talons aflame,The soul from the flesh-rags left smoking and blue:So it happed with John Faust; lest John Fust fare the same,—Look up, I adjure thee by God's holy name!

Whereas 't is notorious the Fiend claims his due

During lifetime,—comes clawing, with talons aflame,

The soul from the flesh-rags left smoking and blue:

So it happed with John Faust; lest John Fust fare the same,—

Look up, I adjure thee by God's holy name!

For neighbors and friends—no foul hell-brood flock we!Saith Solomon "Words of the wise are as goads:"Ours prick but to startle from torpor, set freeSoul and sense from death's drowse!

For neighbors and friends—no foul hell-brood flock we!

Saith Solomon "Words of the wise are as goads:"

Ours prick but to startle from torpor, set free

Soul and sense from death's drowse!

First Friend.And soul, wakened, unloadsMuch sin by confession: no mere palinodes!

First Friend.And soul, wakened, unloads

Much sin by confession: no mere palinodes!

—"I was youthful and wanton, am old yet no sage:When angry I cursed, struck and slew: did I want?Right and left did I rob: though no war I dared wageWith the Church (God forbid!)—harm her least ministrant—Still I outraged all else. Now that strength is grown scant,

—"I was youthful and wanton, am old yet no sage:

When angry I cursed, struck and slew: did I want?

Right and left did I rob: though no war I dared wage

With the Church (God forbid!)—harm her least ministrant—

Still I outraged all else. Now that strength is grown scant,

"I am probity's self"—no such bleatings as these!But avowal of guilt so enormous, it balksTongue's telling. Yet penitence prompt may appeaseGod's wrath at thy bond with the Devil who stalks—Strides hither to strangle thee!

"I am probity's self"—no such bleatings as these!

But avowal of guilt so enormous, it balks

Tongue's telling. Yet penitence prompt may appease

God's wrath at thy bond with the Devil who stalks

—Strides hither to strangle thee!

Fust.Childhood so talks.—

Not rare wit nor ripe age—ye boast them, my neighbors!—Should lay such a charge on your townsman, this FustWho, known for a life spent in pleasures and laborsIf freakish yet venial, could scarce be inducedTo traffic with fiends.

Not rare wit nor ripe age—ye boast them, my neighbors!—

Should lay such a charge on your townsman, this Fust

Who, known for a life spent in pleasures and labors

If freakish yet venial, could scarce be induced

To traffic with fiends.

First Friend.So, my words have unloosed

A plie from those pale lips corrugate but now?

Fust.Lost count me, yet not as ye lean to surmise.

First Friend.To surmise? to establish! Unbury that brow!Look up, that thy judge may read clear in thine eyes!

First Friend.To surmise? to establish! Unbury that brow!

Look up, that thy judge may read clear in thine eyes!

Second Friend.By your leave, Brother Barnabite! Mine to advise!

—Who arraign thee, John Fust! What was bruited erewhileNow bellows through Mayence. All cry—thou hast truckedSalvation away for lust's solace! Thy smileTakes its hue from hell's smoulder!

—Who arraign thee, John Fust! What was bruited erewhile

Now bellows through Mayence. All cry—thou hast trucked

Salvation away for lust's solace! Thy smile

Takes its hue from hell's smoulder!

Fust.Too certain! I sucked—Got drunk at the nipple of sense.

Fust.Too certain! I sucked

—Got drunk at the nipple of sense.

Second Friend.Thou hast ducked—

Art drowned there, say rather! Faugh—fleshly disport!How else but by help of Sir Belial didst winThat Venus-like lady, no drudge of thy sortCould lure to become his accomplice in sin?Folk nicknamed her Helen of Troy!

Art drowned there, say rather! Faugh—fleshly disport!

How else but by help of Sir Belial didst win

That Venus-like lady, no drudge of thy sort

Could lure to become his accomplice in sin?

Folk nicknamed her Helen of Troy!

First Friend.Best begin

At the very beginning. Thy father,—all knew,A mere goldsmith ...

At the very beginning. Thy father,—all knew,

A mere goldsmith ...

Fust.Who knew him, perchance may know this—He dying left much gold and jewels no few:Whom these help to court with, but seldom shall missThe love of a leman: true witchcraft, I wis!

Fust.Who knew him, perchance may know this—

He dying left much gold and jewels no few:

Whom these help to court with, but seldom shall miss

The love of a leman: true witchcraft, I wis!

First Friend. Dost flout me? 'T is said, in debauchery's guildAdmitted prime guttler and guzzler—O swine!—To honor thy headship, those tosspots so swilledThat out of their table there sprouted a vineWhence each claimed a cluster, awaiting thy sign

First Friend. Dost flout me? 'T is said, in debauchery's guild

Admitted prime guttler and guzzler—O swine!—

To honor thy headship, those tosspots so swilled

That out of their table there sprouted a vine

Whence each claimed a cluster, awaiting thy sign

To out knife, off mouthful: when—who could supposeSuch malice in magic?—each sot woke and foundCold steel but an inch from the neighbor's red noseHe took for a grape-bunch!

To out knife, off mouthful: when—who could suppose

Such malice in magic?—each sot woke and found

Cold steel but an inch from the neighbor's red nose

He took for a grape-bunch!

Fust.Does that so astoundSagacity such as ye boast,—who surround

Fust.Does that so astound

Sagacity such as ye boast,—who surround

Your mate with eyes staring, hairs standing erectAt his magical feats? Are good burghers unversedIn the humors of toping? Full oft, I suspect,Ye, counting your fingers, call thumbkin their first,And reckon a groat every guilder disbursed.

Your mate with eyes staring, hairs standing erect

At his magical feats? Are good burghers unversed

In the humors of toping? Full oft, I suspect,

Ye, counting your fingers, call thumbkin their first,

And reckon a groat every guilder disbursed.

What marvel if wags, while the skinker fast brimmedTheir glass with rare tipple's enticement, should gloat—Befooled and beflustered—through optics drink-dimmed—On this draught and that, till each found in his throatOur Rhenish smack rightly as Raphal? For, note—

What marvel if wags, while the skinker fast brimmed

Their glass with rare tipple's enticement, should gloat

—Befooled and beflustered—through optics drink-dimmed—

On this draught and that, till each found in his throat

Our Rhenish smack rightly as Raphal? For, note—

They fancied—their fuddling deceived them so grossly—That liquor sprang out of the table itselfThrough gimlet-holes drilled there,—nor noticed how closelyThe skinker kept plying my guests, from the shelfO'er their heads, with the potable madness. No elf

They fancied—their fuddling deceived them so grossly—

That liquor sprang out of the table itself

Through gimlet-holes drilled there,—nor noticed how closely

The skinker kept plying my guests, from the shelf

O'er their heads, with the potable madness. No elf

Had need to persuade them a vine rose umbrageous,Fruit-bearing, thirst-quenching! Enough! I confessTo many such fool-pranks, but none so outrageousThat Satan was called in to help me: excessI own to, I grieve at—no more and no less.

Had need to persuade them a vine rose umbrageous,

Fruit-bearing, thirst-quenching! Enough! I confess

To many such fool-pranks, but none so outrageous

That Satan was called in to help me: excess

I own to, I grieve at—no more and no less.

Second Friend.Strange honors were heaped on thee—medal for breast,Chain for neck, sword for thigh: not a lord of the landBut acknowledged thee peer! What ambition possessedA goldsmith by trade, with craft's grime on his hand,To seek such associates?

Second Friend.Strange honors were heaped on thee—medal for breast,

Chain for neck, sword for thigh: not a lord of the land

But acknowledged thee peer! What ambition possessed

A goldsmith by trade, with craft's grime on his hand,

To seek such associates?

Fust.Spare taunts! Understand—

I submit me! Of vanities under the sun,Pride seized me at last as concupiscence first,Crapulosity ever: true Fiends, every one,Haled this way and that my poor soul: thus amerced—Forgive and forget me!

I submit me! Of vanities under the sun,

Pride seized me at last as concupiscence first,

Crapulosity ever: true Fiends, every one,

Haled this way and that my poor soul: thus amerced—

Forgive and forget me!

First Friend.Had flesh sinned the worst,

Yet help were in counsel: the Church could absolve:But say not men truly thou barredst escapeBy signing and sealing ...

Yet help were in counsel: the Church could absolve:

But say not men truly thou barredst escape

By signing and sealing ...

Second Friend.On me must devolveThe task of extracting ...

Second Friend.On me must devolve

The task of extracting ...

First Friend.Shall Barnabites apeUs Dominican experts?

First Friend.Shall Barnabites ape

Us Dominican experts?

Seventh Friend.Nay, Masters,—agape

When Hell yawns for a soul, 't is myself claim the taskOf extracting, by just one plain question, God's truth!Where 's Peter Genesheim thy partner? I askWhy, cloistered up still in thy room, the pale youthSlaves tongue-tied—thy trade brooks no tattling forsooth!

When Hell yawns for a soul, 't is myself claim the task

Of extracting, by just one plain question, God's truth!

Where 's Peter Genesheim thy partner? I ask

Why, cloistered up still in thy room, the pale youth

Slaves tongue-tied—thy trade brooks no tattling forsooth!

No less he, thyfamulus, suffers entrapping,Succumbs to good fellowship: barrel a-broachRuns freely nor needs any subsequent tapping:Quoth Peter, "That room, none but I dare approach,Holds secrets will help me to ride in my coach."

No less he, thyfamulus, suffers entrapping,

Succumbs to good fellowship: barrel a-broach

Runs freely nor needs any subsequent tapping:

Quoth Peter, "That room, none but I dare approach,

Holds secrets will help me to ride in my coach."

He prattles, we profit: in brief, he assuresThou hast taught him to speak so that all men may hear—Each alike, wide world over, Jews, Pagans, Turks, Moors,The same as we Christians—speech heard far and nearAt one and the same magic moment!

He prattles, we profit: in brief, he assures

Thou hast taught him to speak so that all men may hear

—Each alike, wide world over, Jews, Pagans, Turks, Moors,

The same as we Christians—speech heard far and near

At one and the same magic moment!

Fust.That 's clear!

Said he—how?

Seventh Friend.Is it like he was licensed to learn?Who doubts but thou dost this by aid of the Fiend?Is it so? So it is, for thou smilest! Go, burnTo ashes, since such proves thy portion, unscreenedBy bell, book and candle! Yet lately I weened

Seventh Friend.Is it like he was licensed to learn?

Who doubts but thou dost this by aid of the Fiend?

Is it so? So it is, for thou smilest! Go, burn

To ashes, since such proves thy portion, unscreened

By bell, book and candle! Yet lately I weened

Balm yet was in Gilead,—some healing in storeFor the friend of my bosom. Men said thou wast sunkIn a sudden despondency: not, as before,Fust gallant and gay with his pottle and punk,But sober, sad, sick as one yesterday drunk!

Balm yet was in Gilead,—some healing in store

For the friend of my bosom. Men said thou wast sunk

In a sudden despondency: not, as before,

Fust gallant and gay with his pottle and punk,

But sober, sad, sick as one yesterday drunk!

Fust.Spare Fust, then, thus contrite!—who, youthful and healthy,Equipped for life's struggle with culture of mind,Sound flesh and sane soul in coherence, born wealthy,Nay, wise—how he wasted endowment designedFor the glory of God and the good of mankind!

Fust.Spare Fust, then, thus contrite!—who, youthful and healthy,

Equipped for life's struggle with culture of mind,

Sound flesh and sane soul in coherence, born wealthy,

Nay, wise—how he wasted endowment designed

For the glory of God and the good of mankind!

That much were misused such occasions of graceYe well may upbraid him, who bows to the rod.But this should bid anger to pity give place—He has turned from the wrong, in the right path to plod,Makes amends to mankind and craves pardon of God.

That much were misused such occasions of grace

Ye well may upbraid him, who bows to the rod.

But this should bid anger to pity give place—

He has turned from the wrong, in the right path to plod,

Makes amends to mankind and craves pardon of God.

"Yea, friends, even now from my lips theHeureka—Soul saved!" was nigh bursting—unduly elate!Have I brought Man advantage, or hatched—so to speak—aStrange serpent, no cygnet? 'T is this I debateWithin me. Forbear, and leave Fust to his fate!

"Yea, friends, even now from my lips theHeureka—

Soul saved!" was nigh bursting—unduly elate!

Have I brought Man advantage, or hatched—so to speak—a

Strange serpent, no cygnet? 'T is this I debate

Within me. Forbear, and leave Fust to his fate!

First Friend.So abject, late lofty? Methinks I spy respite.Make clean breast, discover what mysteries hideIn thy room there!

First Friend.So abject, late lofty? Methinks I spy respite.

Make clean breast, discover what mysteries hide

In thy room there!

Second Friend.Ay, out with them! Do Satan despite!Remember what caused his undoing was pride!

Second Friend.Ay, out with them! Do Satan despite!

Remember what caused his undoing was pride!

First Friend.Dumb devil! Remains one resource to be tried!

Second Friend.Exorcise!

Seventh Friend.Nay, first—is there any remembersIn substance that potent "Ne pulvis"—a psalmWhereof some live spark haply lurks 'mid the embersWhich choke in my brain. Talk of "Gilead and balm"?I mind me, sung half through, this gave such a qualm

Seventh Friend.Nay, first—is there any remembers

In substance that potent "Ne pulvis"—a psalm

Whereof some live spark haply lurks 'mid the embers

Which choke in my brain. Talk of "Gilead and balm"?

I mind me, sung half through, this gave such a qualm

To Asmodeus inside of a Hussite, that, queasy,He broke forth in brimstone with curses. I'm strongIn—at least the commencement: the rest should go easy,Friends helping. "Ne pulvis et ignis" ...

To Asmodeus inside of a Hussite, that, queasy,

He broke forth in brimstone with curses. I'm strong

In—at least the commencement: the rest should go easy,

Friends helping. "Ne pulvis et ignis" ...

Sixth Friend.All wrong!

Fifth Friend.I 've conned till I captured the whole.

Seventh Friend.Get along!

"Ne pulvis et cinis superbe te geras,Nam fulmina" ...

"Ne pulvis et cinis superbe te geras,

Nam fulmina" ...

Sixth Friend.Fiddlestick! Peace, dolts and dorrs!Thus runs it "Ne Numinis fulmina feras"—Then "Hominis perfidi justa sunt sorsFulmen et grando et horrida mors."

Sixth Friend.Fiddlestick! Peace, dolts and dorrs!

Thus runs it "Ne Numinis fulmina feras"—

Then "Hominis perfidi justa sunt sors

Fulmen et grando et horrida mors."

Seventh Friend. You blunder ... "Irati ne."

Sixth Friend.Mind your own business!

Fifth Friend.I do not so badly, who gained the monk's leaveTo study an hour his choice parchment. A dizzinessMay well have surprised me. No Christian dares thieve,Or I scarce had returned him his treasure. These cleave:

Fifth Friend.I do not so badly, who gained the monk's leave

To study an hour his choice parchment. A dizziness

May well have surprised me. No Christian dares thieve,

Or I scarce had returned him his treasure. These cleave:

"Nos pulvis et cinis, trementes, gementes,Venimus"—some such word—"ad te, Domine!Da lumen, juvamen, ut sancta sequentesCor ... corda" ... Plague take it!

"Nos pulvis et cinis, trementes, gementes,

Venimus"—some such word—"ad te, Domine!

Da lumen, juvamen, ut sancta sequentes

Cor ... corda" ... Plague take it!

Seventh Friend.—"erecta sint spe:"Right text, ringing rhyme, and ripe Latin for me!

Seventh Friend.—"erecta sint spe:"

Right text, ringing rhyme, and ripe Latin for me!

Sixth Friend.A Canon's self wrote it me fair: I was temptedTo part with the sheepskin.

Sixth Friend.A Canon's self wrote it me fair: I was tempted

To part with the sheepskin.

Seventh Friend.Didst grasp and let goSuch a godsend, thou Judas? My purse had been emptiedEre part with the prize!

Seventh Friend.Didst grasp and let go

Such a godsend, thou Judas? My purse had been emptied

Ere part with the prize!

Fust.Do I dream? Say ye so?Clouds break, then! Move, world! I have gained my "Pou sto"!

Fust.Do I dream? Say ye so?

Clouds break, then! Move, world! I have gained my "Pou sto"!

I am saved: Archimedes, salute me!

Omnes.Assistance!Help, Angels! He summons ... Aroint thee!—by name,His familiar!

Omnes.Assistance!

Help, Angels! He summons ... Aroint thee!—by name,

His familiar!

Fust.Approach!

Omnes.Devil, keep thy due distance!

Fust.Be tranquillized, townsmen! The knowledge ye claimBehold, I prepare to impart. Praise or blame,—

Fust.Be tranquillized, townsmen! The knowledge ye claim

Behold, I prepare to impart. Praise or blame,—

Your blessing or banning, whatever betide me,At last I accept. The slow travail of years,The long-teeming brain's birth—applaud me, deride me,—At last claims revealment. Wait!

Your blessing or banning, whatever betide me,

At last I accept. The slow travail of years,

The long-teeming brain's birth—applaud me, deride me,—

At last claims revealment. Wait!

Seventh Friend.Wait till appearsUncaged Archimedes cooped-up there?

Seventh Friend.Wait till appears

Uncaged Archimedes cooped-up there?

Second Friend.Who fears?

Here 's have at thee!Seventh Friend.Correctly now! "Pulvis et cinis" ...

Here 's have at thee!

Seventh Friend.Correctly now! "Pulvis et cinis" ...

Fust.The verse ye so value, it happens I holdIn my memory safe frominitiumtofinis.Word for word, I produce you the whole, plain enrolled,Black letters, white paper—no scribe's red and gold!

Fust.The verse ye so value, it happens I hold

In my memory safe frominitiumtofinis.

Word for word, I produce you the whole, plain enrolled,

Black letters, white paper—no scribe's red and gold!

Omnes.Aroint thee!

Fust.I go and return.

(He enters the inner room.)

First Friend.Ay, 't is "ibis"No doubt: but as boldly "redibis"—who 'll say?I rather conjecture "in Orco peribis!"

First Friend.Ay, 't is "ibis"

No doubt: but as boldly "redibis"—who 'll say?

I rather conjecture "in Orco peribis!"

Seventh Friend.Come, neighbors!

Sixth Friend.I 'm with you! Show courage and stayHell's outbreak? Sirs, cowardice here wins the day!

Sixth Friend.I 'm with you! Show courage and stay

Hell's outbreak? Sirs, cowardice here wins the day!

Fifth Friend. What luck had that student of Bamberg who venturedTo peep in the cell where a wizard of noteWas busy in getting some black deed debenturedBy Satan? In dog's guise there sprang at his throatA flame-breathing fury. Fust favors, I note,

Fifth Friend. What luck had that student of Bamberg who ventured

To peep in the cell where a wizard of note

Was busy in getting some black deed debentured

By Satan? In dog's guise there sprang at his throat

A flame-breathing fury. Fust favors, I note,

An ugly huge lurcher!

Seventh Friend.If I placed relianceAs thou, on the beads thou art telling so fast,I 'd risk just a peep through the keyhole.

Seventh Friend.If I placed reliance

As thou, on the beads thou art telling so fast,

I 'd risk just a peep through the keyhole.

Sixth Friend.ApplianceOf ear might be safer. Five minutes are past.

Sixth Friend.Appliance

Of ear might be safer. Five minutes are past.

Omnes.Saints, save us! The door is thrown open at last!

Fust (re-enters, the door closing behind him).As I promised, behold I perform! Apprehend youThe object I offer is poison or pest?Receive without harm from the hand I extend youA gift that shall set every scruple at rest!Shrink back from mere paper-strips? Try them and test!

Fust (re-enters, the door closing behind him).

As I promised, behold I perform! Apprehend you

The object I offer is poison or pest?

Receive without harm from the hand I extend you

A gift that shall set every scruple at rest!

Shrink back from mere paper-strips? Try them and test!

Still hesitate? Myk,-was it thou who lamentedstThy five wits clean failed thee to render arightA poem read once and no more?—who repentedstVile pelf had induced thee to banish from sightThe characters none but our clerics indite?

Still hesitate? Myk,-was it thou who lamentedst

Thy five wits clean failed thee to render aright

A poem read once and no more?—who repentedst

Vile pelf had induced thee to banish from sight

The characters none but our clerics indite?

Take and keep!

First Friend.Blessed Mary and all Saints about her!

Second Friend.What imps deal so deftly,—five minutes sufficeTo play thus the penman?

Second Friend.What imps deal so deftly,—five minutes suffice

To play thus the penman?

Third Friend.By Thomas the Doubter,Five minutes, no more!

Third Friend.By Thomas the Doubter,

Five minutes, no more!

Fourth Friend.Out on arts that enticeSuch scribes to do homage!

Fourth Friend.Out on arts that entice

Such scribes to do homage!

Fifth Friend.Stay! Once—and now twice—

Yea, a third time, my sharp eye completes the inspectionOf line after line, the whole series, and findsEach letter join each—not a fault for detection!Such upstrokes, such downstrokes, such strokes of all kindsIn the criss-cross, all perfect!

Yea, a third time, my sharp eye completes the inspection

Of line after line, the whole series, and finds

Each letter join each—not a fault for detection!

Such upstrokes, such downstrokes, such strokes of all kinds

In the criss-cross, all perfect!

Sixth Friend.There 's nobody minds

His quill-craft with more of a conscience, o'er-scratchesA sheepskin more nimbly and surely with ink,Than Paul the Sub-Prior: here 's paper that matchesHis parchment with letter on letter, no linkOverleapt—underlost!

His quill-craft with more of a conscience, o'er-scratches

A sheepskin more nimbly and surely with ink,

Than Paul the Sub-Prior: here 's paper that matches

His parchment with letter on letter, no link

Overleapt—underlost!

Seventh Friend.No erasure, I think—

No blot, I am certain!

Fust.Accept the new treasure!

Sixth Friend.I remembered full half!

Seventh Friend.But who other than I(Bear witness, bystanders!) when he broke the measureRepaired fault with "fulmen"?

Seventh Friend.But who other than I

(Bear witness, bystanders!) when he broke the measure

Repaired fault with "fulmen"?

Fust.Put bickerings by!Here 's for thee—thee—and thee, too: at need a supply

Fust.Put bickerings by!

Here 's for thee—thee—and thee, too: at need a supply

(Distributing Proofs.)

For Mayence, though seventy times seven should muster!How now? All so feeble of faith that no faceWhich fronts me but whitens—or yellows, were juster?Speak out lest I summon my Spirits!

For Mayence, though seventy times seven should muster!

How now? All so feeble of faith that no face

Which fronts me but whitens—or yellows, were juster?

Speak out lest I summon my Spirits!

Omnes.Grace—grace!Call none of thy—helpmates! We 'll answer apace!

Omnes.Grace—grace!

Call none of thy—helpmates! We 'll answer apace!

My paper—and mine—and mine also—they varyIn nowise—agree in each tittle and jot!Fust, how—why was this?

My paper—and mine—and mine also—they vary

In nowise—agree in each tittle and jot!

Fust, how—why was this?

Fust.Shall such "Cur" miss a "quare"?Within, there! Throw doors wide! Behold who complotTo abolish the scribe's work—blur, blunder and blot!

Fust.Shall such "Cur" miss a "quare"?

Within, there! Throw doors wide! Behold who complot

To abolish the scribe's work—blur, blunder and blot!

(The doors open, and the Press is discovered in operation.)

Brave full-bodied birth of this brain that conceived theeIn splendor and music,—sustained the slow dragOf the days stretched to years dim with doubt,—yet believed thee,Had faith in thy first leap of life! Pulse might flag——Mine fluttered how faintly!—Arch-moment might lag

Brave full-bodied birth of this brain that conceived thee

In splendor and music,—sustained the slow drag

Of the days stretched to years dim with doubt,—yet believed thee,

Had faith in thy first leap of life! Pulse might flag—

—Mine fluttered how faintly!—Arch-moment might lag

Its longest—I bided, made light of endurance,Held hard by the hope of an advent which—dreamed,Is done now: night yields to the dawn's reassurance:I have thee—I hold thee—my fancy that seemed,My fact that proves palpable! Ay, Sirs, I schemed

Its longest—I bided, made light of endurance,

Held hard by the hope of an advent which—dreamed,

Is done now: night yields to the dawn's reassurance:

I have thee—I hold thee—my fancy that seemed,

My fact that proves palpable! Ay, Sirs, I schemed

Completion that 's fact: see this Engine—be witnessYourselves of its working! Nay, handle my Types!Each block bears a Letter: in order and fitnessI range them. Turn, Peter, the winch! See, it gripesWhat 's under! Let loose—? draw! In regular stripes

Completion that 's fact: see this Engine—be witness

Yourselves of its working! Nay, handle my Types!

Each block bears a Letter: in order and fitness

I range them. Turn, Peter, the winch! See, it gripes

What 's under! Let loose—? draw! In regular stripes

Lies plain, at one pressure, your poem—touched, tinted,Turned out to perfection! The sheet, late a blank,Filled—ready for reading,—not written butPrinted!Omniscient omnipotent God, thee I thank,Thee ever, thee only!—thy creature that shrank

Lies plain, at one pressure, your poem—touched, tinted,

Turned out to perfection! The sheet, late a blank,

Filled—ready for reading,—not written butPrinted!

Omniscient omnipotent God, thee I thank,

Thee ever, thee only!—thy creature that shrank

From no task thou, Creator, imposedst! CreationRevealed me no object, from insect to Man,But bore thy hand's impress: earth glowed with salvation:"Hast sinned? Be thou saved, Fust! Continue my plan,Who spake and earth was: with my word things began.

From no task thou, Creator, imposedst! Creation

Revealed me no object, from insect to Man,

But bore thy hand's impress: earth glowed with salvation:

"Hast sinned? Be thou saved, Fust! Continue my plan,

Who spake and earth was: with my word things began.

"As sound so went forth, to the sight be extendedWord's mission henceforward! The task I assign,Embrace—thy allegiance to evil is ended!Have cheer, soul impregnate with purpose! CombineSoul and body, give birth to my concept—called thine!

"As sound so went forth, to the sight be extended

Word's mission henceforward! The task I assign,

Embrace—thy allegiance to evil is ended!

Have cheer, soul impregnate with purpose! Combine

Soul and body, give birth to my concept—called thine!

"Far and wide, North and South, East and West, have dominionO'er thought, wingèd wonder, O Word! Traverse worldIn sun-flash and sphere-song! Each beat of thy pinionBursts night, beckons day: once Truth's banner unfurled,Where 's Falsehood? Sun-smitten, to nothingness hurled!"

"Far and wide, North and South, East and West, have dominion

O'er thought, wingèd wonder, O Word! Traverse world

In sun-flash and sphere-song! Each beat of thy pinion

Bursts night, beckons day: once Truth's banner unfurled,

Where 's Falsehood? Sun-smitten, to nothingness hurled!"

More humbly—so, friends, did my fault find redemption.I sinned, soul-entoiled by the tether of sense:My captor reigned master: I plead no exemption,From Satan's award to his servant: defenceFrom the fiery and final assault would be—whence?

More humbly—so, friends, did my fault find redemption.

I sinned, soul-entoiled by the tether of sense:

My captor reigned master: I plead no exemption,

From Satan's award to his servant: defence

From the fiery and final assault would be—whence?

By making—as man might—to truth restitution!Truth is God: trample lies and lies' father, God's foe!Fix fact fast: truths change by an hour's revolution:What deed's very doer, unaided, can showHow 't was done a year—month—week—day—minute ago?

By making—as man might—to truth restitution!

Truth is God: trample lies and lies' father, God's foe!

Fix fact fast: truths change by an hour's revolution:

What deed's very doer, unaided, can show

How 't was done a year—month—week—day—minute ago?

At best, he relates it—another reports it—A third—nay, a thousandth records it: and stillNarration, tradition, no step but distorts it,As down from truth's height it goes sliding untilAt the low level lie-mark it stops—whence no skill

At best, he relates it—another reports it—

A third—nay, a thousandth records it: and still

Narration, tradition, no step but distorts it,

As down from truth's height it goes sliding until

At the low level lie-mark it stops—whence no skill

Of the scribe, intervening too tardily, rescues—Once fallen—lost fact from lie's fate there. What scribe—Eyes horny with poring, hands crippled with desk-use,Brains fretted by fancies—the volatile tribeThat tease weary watchers—can boast that no bribe

Of the scribe, intervening too tardily, rescues

—Once fallen—lost fact from lie's fate there. What scribe

—Eyes horny with poring, hands crippled with desk-use,

Brains fretted by fancies—the volatile tribe

That tease weary watchers—can boast that no bribe

Shuts eye and frees hand and remits brain from toiling?Truth gained—can we stay, at whatever the stage,Truth a-slide,—save her snow from its ultimate soilingIn mire,—by some process, stamp promptly on pageFact spoiled by pen's plodding, make truth heritage

Shuts eye and frees hand and remits brain from toiling?

Truth gained—can we stay, at whatever the stage,

Truth a-slide,—save her snow from its ultimate soiling

In mire,—by some process, stamp promptly on page

Fact spoiled by pen's plodding, make truth heritage

Not merely of clerics, but poured out, full measure,On clowns—every mortal endowed with a mind?Read, gentle and simple! Let labor win leisureAt last to bid truth do all duty assigned,Not pause at the noble but pass to the hind!

Not merely of clerics, but poured out, full measure,

On clowns—every mortal endowed with a mind?

Read, gentle and simple! Let labor win leisure

At last to bid truth do all duty assigned,

Not pause at the noble but pass to the hind!

How bring to effect such swift sure simultaneousUnlimited multiplication? How spreadBy an arm-sweep a hand-throw—no helping extraneous—Truth broadcast o'er Europe? "The goldsmith," I said,"Graves limning on gold: why not letters on lead?"

How bring to effect such swift sure simultaneous

Unlimited multiplication? How spread

By an arm-sweep a hand-throw—no helping extraneous—

Truth broadcast o'er Europe? "The goldsmith," I said,

"Graves limning on gold: why not letters on lead?"

So, Tuscan artificer, grudge not thy pardonTo me who played false, made a furtive descent,Found the sly secret workshop,—thy genius kept guard onToo slackly for once,—and surprised thee low-bentO'er thy labor—some chalice thy tool would indent

So, Tuscan artificer, grudge not thy pardon

To me who played false, made a furtive descent,

Found the sly secret workshop,—thy genius kept guard on

Too slackly for once,—and surprised thee low-bent

O'er thy labor—some chalice thy tool would indent

With a certain free scroll-work framed round by a borderOf foliage and fruitage: no scratching so fine,No shading so shy but, in ordered disorder,Each flourish came clear,—unbewildered by shine,On the gold, irretrievably right, lay each line.

With a certain free scroll-work framed round by a border

Of foliage and fruitage: no scratching so fine,

No shading so shy but, in ordered disorder,

Each flourish came clear,—unbewildered by shine,

On the gold, irretrievably right, lay each line.

How judge if thy hand worked thy will? By reviewing,Revising again and again, piece by piece,Tool's performance,—this way, as I watched. 'T was through glueingA paper-like film-stuff—thin, smooth, void of crease,On each cut of the graver: press hard! at release,

How judge if thy hand worked thy will? By reviewing,

Revising again and again, piece by piece,

Tool's performance,—this way, as I watched. 'T was through glueing

A paper-like film-stuff—thin, smooth, void of crease,

On each cut of the graver: press hard! at release,

No mark on the plate but the paper showed double:His work might proceed: as he judged—space or speckUp he filled, forth he flung—was relieved thus from troubleLest wrong—once—were right never more: what could checkAdvancement, completion? Thus lay at my beck—

No mark on the plate but the paper showed double:

His work might proceed: as he judged—space or speck

Up he filled, forth he flung—was relieved thus from trouble

Lest wrong—once—were right never more: what could check

Advancement, completion? Thus lay at my beck—

At my call—triumph likewise! "For," cried I, "what hindersThat graving turns Printing? Stamp one word—not oneBut fifty such, phœnix-like, spring from death's cinders,—Since death is word's doom, clerics hide from the sunAs some churl closets up this rare chalice." Go, run

At my call—triumph likewise! "For," cried I, "what hinders

That graving turns Printing? Stamp one word—not one

But fifty such, phœnix-like, spring from death's cinders,—

Since death is word's doom, clerics hide from the sun

As some churl closets up this rare chalice." Go, run

Thy race now, Fust's child! High, O Printing, and holyThy mission! These types, see, I chop and I changeTill the words, every letter, a pageful, not slowlyYet surely lies fixed: last of all, I arrangeA paper beneath, stamp it, loosen it!

Thy race now, Fust's child! High, O Printing, and holy

Thy mission! These types, see, I chop and I change

Till the words, every letter, a pageful, not slowly

Yet surely lies fixed: last of all, I arrange

A paper beneath, stamp it, loosen it!

First Friend.Strange!

Second Friend.How simple exceedingly!

Fust.Bustle, my Schœffer!Set type,—quick, Genesheim! Turn screw now!

Fust.Bustle, my Schœffer!

Set type,—quick, Genesheim! Turn screw now!

Third Friend.Just that!

Fourth Friend.And no such vast miracle!

Fust."Plough with my heifer,Ye find out my riddle," quoth Samson, and patHe speaks to the purpose. Grapes squeezed in the vat

Fust."Plough with my heifer,

Ye find out my riddle," quoth Samson, and pat

He speaks to the purpose. Grapes squeezed in the vat

Yield to sight and to taste what is simple—a liquidMere urchins may sip: but give time, let ferment—You 've wine, manhood's master! Well, "rectius si quidNovistis im-per-ti-te!" Wait the event,Then weigh the result! But, whate'er Thy intent,

Yield to sight and to taste what is simple—a liquid

Mere urchins may sip: but give time, let ferment—

You 've wine, manhood's master! Well, "rectius si quid

Novistis im-per-ti-te!" Wait the event,

Then weigh the result! But, whate'er Thy intent,

O Thou, the one force in the whole variationOf visible nature,—at work—do I doubt?—From Thy first to our last, in perpetual creation—A film hides us from Thee—'twixt inside and out,A film, on this earth where Thou bringest about

O Thou, the one force in the whole variation

Of visible nature,—at work—do I doubt?—

From Thy first to our last, in perpetual creation—

A film hides us from Thee—'twixt inside and out,

A film, on this earth where Thou bringest about

New marvels, new forms of the glorious, the gracious,We bow to, we bless for: no star bursts heaven's domeBut Thy finger impels it, no weed peeps audaciousEarth's clay-floor from out, but Thy finger makes roomFor one world's-want the more in Thy Cosmos: presume

New marvels, new forms of the glorious, the gracious,

We bow to, we bless for: no star bursts heaven's dome

But Thy finger impels it, no weed peeps audacious

Earth's clay-floor from out, but Thy finger makes room

For one world's-want the more in Thy Cosmos: presume

Shall Man, Microcosmos, to claim the conceptionOf grandeur, of beauty, in thought, word or deed?I toiled, but Thy light on my dubiousest step shone:If I reach the glad goal, is it I who succeedWho stumbled at starting tripped up by a reed,

Shall Man, Microcosmos, to claim the conception

Of grandeur, of beauty, in thought, word or deed?

I toiled, but Thy light on my dubiousest step shone:

If I reach the glad goal, is it I who succeed

Who stumbled at starting tripped up by a reed,

Or Thou? Knowledge only and absolute, gloryAs utter be Thine who concedest a sparkOf Thy spheric perfection to earth's transitoryExistences! Nothing that lives, but Thy markGives law to—life's light: what is doomed to the dark?

Or Thou? Knowledge only and absolute, glory

As utter be Thine who concedest a spark

Of Thy spheric perfection to earth's transitory

Existences! Nothing that lives, but Thy mark

Gives law to—life's light: what is doomed to the dark?

Where 's ignorance? Answer, creation! What height,What depth has escaped Thy commandment—to Know?What birth in the ore-bed but answers arightThy sting at its heart which impels—bids "E'en so,Not otherwise more or be motionless,—grow,

Where 's ignorance? Answer, creation! What height,

What depth has escaped Thy commandment—to Know?

What birth in the ore-bed but answers aright

Thy sting at its heart which impels—bids "E'en so,

Not otherwise more or be motionless,—grow,

"Decline, disappear!" Is the plant in defaultHow to bud, when to branch forth? The bird and the beast—Do they doubt if their safety be found in assaultOr escape? Worm or fly, of what atoms the leastBut follows light's guidance,—will famish, not feast?

"Decline, disappear!" Is the plant in default

How to bud, when to branch forth? The bird and the beast

—Do they doubt if their safety be found in assault

Or escape? Worm or fly, of what atoms the least

But follows light's guidance,—will famish, not feast?

In such various degree, fly and worm, ore and plant,All know, none is witless: around each, a wallEncloses the portion, or ample or scant,Of Knowledge: beyond which one hair's breadth, for allLies blank—not so much as a blackness—a pall

In such various degree, fly and worm, ore and plant,

All know, none is witless: around each, a wall

Encloses the portion, or ample or scant,

Of Knowledge: beyond which one hair's breadth, for all

Lies blank—not so much as a blackness—a pall

Some sense unimagined must penetrate: plainIs only old license to stand, walk or sit,Move so far and so wide in the narrow domainAllotted each nature for life's use: past itHow immensity spreads does he guess? Not a whit.

Some sense unimagined must penetrate: plain

Is only old license to stand, walk or sit,

Move so far and so wide in the narrow domain

Allotted each nature for life's use: past it

How immensity spreads does he guess? Not a whit.

Does he care? Just as little. Without? No, withinConcerns him? he Knows. Man Ignores—thanks to TheeWho madest him know, but—in knowing—beginTo know still new vastness of knowledge must beOutside him—to enter, to traverse, in fee

Does he care? Just as little. Without? No, within

Concerns him? he Knows. Man Ignores—thanks to Thee

Who madest him know, but—in knowing—begin

To know still new vastness of knowledge must be

Outside him—to enter, to traverse, in fee

Have and hold! "Oh, Man's ignorance!" hear the fool whine!How were it, for better or worse, didst thou gruntContented with sapience—the lot of the swineWho knows he was born for just truffles to hunt?—Monks' Paradise—"Semper sint res uti sunt!"

Have and hold! "Oh, Man's ignorance!" hear the fool whine!

How were it, for better or worse, didst thou grunt

Contented with sapience—the lot of the swine

Who knows he was born for just truffles to hunt?—

Monks' Paradise—"Semper sint res uti sunt!"

No, Man's the prerogative—knowledge once gained—To ignore,—find new knowledge to press for, to swerveIn pursuit of, no, not for a moment: attained—Why, onward through ignorance! Dare and deserve!As still to its asymptote speedeth the curve,

No, Man's the prerogative—knowledge once gained—

To ignore,—find new knowledge to press for, to swerve

In pursuit of, no, not for a moment: attained—

Why, onward through ignorance! Dare and deserve!

As still to its asymptote speedeth the curve,

So approximates Man—Thee, who, reachable not,Hast formed him to yearningly follow Thy wholeSole and single omniscience!Such, friends, is my lot:I am back with the world: one more step to the goalThanks for reaching I render—Fust's help to Man's soul!

So approximates Man—Thee, who, reachable not,

Hast formed him to yearningly follow Thy whole

Sole and single omniscience!

Such, friends, is my lot:

I am back with the world: one more step to the goal

Thanks for reaching I render—Fust's help to Man's soul!

Mere mechanical help? So the hand gives a tossTo the falcon,—aloft once, spread pinions and fly,Beat air far and wide, up and down and across!My Press strains a-tremhle: whose masterful eyeWill be first, in new regions, new truth to descry?

Mere mechanical help? So the hand gives a toss

To the falcon,—aloft once, spread pinions and fly,

Beat air far and wide, up and down and across!

My Press strains a-tremhle: whose masterful eye

Will be first, in new regions, new truth to descry?

Give chase, soul! Be sure each new capture consignedTo my Types will go forth to the world, like God's bread—Miraculous food not for body but mind,Truth's manna! How say you? Put case that, insteadOf old leasing and lies, we superiorly fed

Give chase, soul! Be sure each new capture consigned

To my Types will go forth to the world, like God's bread

—Miraculous food not for body but mind,

Truth's manna! How say you? Put case that, instead

Of old leasing and lies, we superiorly fed

These Heretics, Hussites ...

First Friend.First answer my query!If saved, art thou happy?

First Friend.First answer my query!

If saved, art thou happy?

Fust.I was and I am.

First Friend.Thy visage confirms it: how comes, then, that—wearyAnd woe-begone late—was it show, was it sham?—We found thee sunk thiswise?

First Friend.Thy visage confirms it: how comes, then, that—weary

And woe-begone late—was it show, was it sham?—

We found thee sunk thiswise?

Second Friend.—In need of the dram

From the flask which a provident neighbor might carry!

Fust.Ah, friends, the fresh triumph soon flickers, fast fades!I hailed Word's dispersion: could heartleaps but tarry!Through me does Print furnish Truth wings? The same aidsCause Falsehood to range just as widely. What raids

Fust.Ah, friends, the fresh triumph soon flickers, fast fades!

I hailed Word's dispersion: could heartleaps but tarry!

Through me does Print furnish Truth wings? The same aids

Cause Falsehood to range just as widely. What raids

On a region undreamed of does Printing enableTruth's foe to effect! Printed leasing and liesMay speed to the world's farthest corner— gross fableNo less than pure fact—to impede, neutralize,Abolish God's gift and Man's gain!

On a region undreamed of does Printing enable

Truth's foe to effect! Printed leasing and lies

May speed to the world's farthest corner— gross fable

No less than pure fact—to impede, neutralize,

Abolish God's gift and Man's gain!

First Friend.Dost surmise

What struck me at first blush? Our Beghards, Waldenses,Jeronimites, Hussites—does one show his head,Spout heresy now? Not a priest in his sensesDeigns answer mere speech, but piles fagots instead,Refines as by fire, and, him silenced, all 's said.

What struck me at first blush? Our Beghards, Waldenses,

Jeronimites, Hussites—does one show his head,

Spout heresy now? Not a priest in his senses

Deigns answer mere speech, but piles fagots instead,

Refines as by fire, and, him silenced, all 's said.

Whereas if in future I pen an opusculeDefying retort, as of old when rash tonguesWere easy to tame,—straight some knave of the Huss-SchoolPrints answer forsooth! Stop invisible lungs?The barrel of blasphemy broached once, who bungs?

Whereas if in future I pen an opuscule

Defying retort, as of old when rash tongues

Were easy to tame,—straight some knave of the Huss-School

Prints answer forsooth! Stop invisible lungs?

The barrel of blasphemy broached once, who bungs?

Second Friend.Does my sermon, next Easter, meet fitting acceptance?Each captious disputative boy has his quirk"An cuique credendum sit?" Well, the Church kept "ans"In order till Fust set his engine at work!What trash will come flying from Jew, Moor, and Turk

Second Friend.Does my sermon, next Easter, meet fitting acceptance?

Each captious disputative boy has his quirk

"An cuique credendum sit?" Well, the Church kept "ans"

In order till Fust set his engine at work!

What trash will come flying from Jew, Moor, and Turk

When, goosequill, thy reign o'er the world is abolished!Goose—ominous name! With a goose woe began:Quoth Huss—which means "goose" in his idiom unpolished—"Ye burn now a Goose: there succeeds me a SwanYe shall find quench your fire!"

When, goosequill, thy reign o'er the world is abolished!

Goose—ominous name! With a goose woe began:

Quoth Huss—which means "goose" in his idiom unpolished—

"Ye burn now a Goose: there succeeds me a Swan

Ye shall find quench your fire!"

Fust.I foresee such a man.

TO MRS. ARTHUR BRONSON

To whom but you, dear Friend, should I dedicate verses—some few written, all of them supervised, in the comfort of your presence, and with yet another experience of the gracious hospitality now bestowed on me since so many a year,—adding a charm even to my residences at Venice, and leaving me little regret for the surprise and delight at my visits to Asolo in bygone days?

I unite, you will see, the disconnected poems by a title-name popularly ascribed to the inventiveness of the ancient secretary of Queen Cornaro whose palace-tower still overlooks us:Asolare—"to disport in the open air, amuse one's self at random." The objection that such a word nowhere occurs in the works of the Cardinal is hardly important—Bembo was too thorough a purist to conserve in print a term which in talk he might possibly toy with: but the word is more likely derived from a Spanish source. I use it forlove of the place, and in requital of your pleasant assurance that an early poem of mine first attracted you thither—where and elsewhere, at La Mura as Cà Alvisi, may all happiness attend you!

Gratefully and affectionately yours,

R. B.

Asolo:October15, 1889.

The greater part ofAsolandowas written in 1888–89, though in one instance at least an early poem was included in the collection. The title of the volume is explained in the dedication. The book, by a strange coincidence, was published on the day of Browning's death.

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