[i21] Roscoe’s German Novelists, vol. i. To which the curious may add (1.) Faust: dans l’Histoire et dans la, Legende par Ristelhüber. Didier. 1863. (2.) Faustus: his life, death, and doom, a romance in prose; from the German. London: Kent and Co., 1864. (3.) Auerbach’s Volksbuchlein. München, 1839.

[i22] See notes to Manfred.

[i23] Martin.

Faust

[1] Apollyon, Beelzebub, Satan.

[2] A cant word for a sword.

[3] Dudelsack. A bagpipe.

[4] Rabenstein. Place of execution.

notes

Note I.

And this mysterious magic page

From Nostradamus’ hand so sage.

Nostradamus was born at St. Remy, a town of Provence, in 1503, and was a great friend of Julius Scaliger. He must thus have been likewise a cotemporary of the famous alchymist Cornelius Agrippa, whom, as we have seen (Vide Introd. Remarks), Del-Rio makes a companion of Dr. Faust. Like a worthy son of the sixteenth century, Nostradamus was convinced that he could make no progress in the art of healing bodily diseases unless he began ab ovo with the study of the stars; and this it was that led him away from his own profession of medicine into the sublime regions of astronomy and astrology, to which allusion is made in the text. He was particularly famous for his prophetic almanacs, which were held in universal estimation. The title of his principal work is “The true Prophecies and Prognostications of Michael Nostradamus, physician to Henry II., Francis II., Charles IX., Kings of France, and one of the best astronomers that ever were, a work full of curiosity and learning.” The English translation is from the hand of Theophilus de Garenciennes, a naturalised Frenchman, and Oxonian Doctor of Physic. The common edition is London, 1672.

Note II.

He sees the sign of the Macrocosm.

The macrocosm is a Greek word signifying the big world, the universe, as contrasted with the little world, the microcosm or man, made in the likeness of God, and therefore in the likeness of his great manifestation, the universe. The terms were in familiar use with the theosophists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; as may be seen from the title-page of a great physico-metaphysical book by our countryman, Robert Fludd, printed at Oppenheim 1617-19, “Utriusque Cosmi, majoris scilicet et minoris, Metaphysica, Physica atque technica Historia, in duo volumina, secundum, Cosmi differentiam divisa; auctore Roberto Fludd, alias de Fluctibus, Armigero, et in Medicina Doctore Oxoniensi,” etc. The book is rare; but the curious may find a beautiful copy in the Library of the Writers to the Signet, Edinburgh.

Note III.

The key of Solomon the wise

Is surest spell to exorcise.

Solomon was a magician among the Jews, for the same reason that Roger Bacon has acquired that reputation amongst us—on account of his great wisdom. The Jewish exorcists, of whom mention is made in several passages of the New Testament (Matthew xii. 27), used to invoke the evil spirit by the name of Solomon (Joseph. Antiq. 8, 2, 5, apud Bretschneider Dogmatik, vol. i. p. 764), and the cabalistic talmudists were, of course, not negligent in taking advantage of this popular belief for giving authority to their occult science of numbers. Accordingly, we find Solomon, in the Middle Ages, looked upon as the patriarch and patron-saint of the Magic Art; and many curious books, under his name, were in common circulation among its Professors. It is to the title of these books that the text alludes, “Clavicula Solomonis,” or Key of Solomon, supposed to be of supreme power in compelling spirits to obey the will of man. They are now become exceedingly rare, but some notice of them will be found in Reichard’s work von Geistern, and in Horst’s Zauber-Bibliothek.

Note IV.

Let the Salamander glow,

Undene twine her crested wave,

Silphe into ether flow,

And Kobold vex him, drudging slave!

Here we have the four elemental spirits, of which Mr. Pope has discoursed so learnedly to Mrs. Anabella Fermor in his preface to “The Rape of the Lock.” With Silphs and Salamanders I may suppose the English reader sufficiently acquainted, as they have been almost naturalised on British ground; Undenes and Kobolds still remain more closely attached to their German soil. The former, sometimes called Wasser-Nixen, are a sort of Teutonic Nymphs or Sirens, familiar now to a large class of English readers, from Heine’s ballad of the Lurley, and Fouque’s beautiful extravaganza of Undine; the latter, seemingly from a Greek original, κόβαλος, well known to the readers of Aristophanes, are called gnomes by Pope, and appear as brownies in many a Scotch ballad. For special details of their character and proceedings the German work of Henning’s von Geistern may be consulted, p. 800, and Horst’s Zauber-Bibliothek, vol. iv. p. 250.

Note V.

Bend thee this sacred

Emblem before,

Which the powers of darkness

Trembling adore.

“Jam experimento comprobatum est nullum malum dæmonem, nullum inferiorum virtutum, in his quæ vexant aut obsident homines, posse huic nomini resistere quando nomen Jesu debitâ, pronunciatione illis proponitur venerandum; nec solum nomen, sed etiam illius signaculum Crucem pavent.”—Agrippa de Occult. Philos., lib. iii. c. 12.

Note VI.

The pentagram, stands in your way.

“Inter alios plurimos characteres, duo tantum sunt veri et præcipui, quorum primus constat ex duobus trigonis super se invicem ita depictis ut Hexagonum constituant. Alterum dicunt esse priori potentiorem et efficaciorem et esse pentagonon.”—Paracelsus de Characteribus apud Horst, Z. B. vol. iii. p. 74. The figure thus accurately described by the oracular Bombastus occurs almost as frequently as the sign of the cross, in almost all the old books on magic, and is drawn thus:

The Platonists (let Proclus serve for an example) seem to have derived from the Pythagoreans a strange mixture of religious mysticism with a great enthusiasm for the mathematical sciences; and this same pentagonal figure very probably derives not a little of its supreme efficacy from the fact of its having been transmitted to us from the most ancient times. Poetry is not the only thing that receives a sacredness from age.

Note VII.

When left you Rippach? you, must have been pressed

For time. Supped you with Squire Hans by the way?

“Rippach is a village near Leipzig; and to ask for Hans von Rippach, a fictitious personage, was an old joke amongst the students. The ready reply of Mephistopheles, indicating no surprise, shows Siebel and Altmayer that he is up to it. Hans is the German Jack.”—Hayward.

Note VIII.

Cat-Apes.

These nimble little animals, which play such a distinguished part in this Witch Scene, are denominated in the original “Meer-katzen,” literally “Sea-cats;” of which Adelung (in voce) gives the following account:—“A name given to a certain kind of monkeys with a cat’s tail, of which there are many species,—Cebus, Linnæi. They are so called from coming across the sea from warm countries.” I originally intended to retain the German phrase “Sea-cat;” but afterwards had no hesitation to adopt the happy translation given by the writer in Blackwood’s Magazine, vol. vii. There is something mystical in the idea of an animal half cat and half ape, which agrees wonderfully with the witch-like antic character of this whole scene. Besides, the term “Cat-ape” is far more expressive of the nature of the animal than that in the original.

Note IX.

And we will strew chopped straw before the door.

A German custom prevalent among the common people, when they suspect the virginity of a bride. The ceremony is performed on the day before the marriage.—Vide Adelung in voce Häckerling.

Note X.

And good Sir Urian is the guide.

“Sir Urian is a name which was formerly used to designate an unknown person, or one whose name, even if it were known, it was not thought proper to mention. In this sense it was sometimes applied to the devil. In the Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach, the unprincipled Prince of Partartois is called Urian.”—Bayard Taylor.