There is hope for people who have gone down into the hells of greed
and economic oppression (at least, I hope there is, for we are such
a people ourselves), but there is no hope for a people that does not
exult in the abstract idea of the peasant scoring off the prince.
There is hope for the idle and the adulterous, for the men
that desert their wives and the men that beat their wives.
But there is no hope for men who do not boast that their
wives bully them.
The first idea, the idea about the man at the bottom coming out on top,
is expressed in this puppet-play in the person of Dr. Faustus'
servant, Caspar. Sentimental old Tones, regretting the feudal times,
sometimes complain that in these days Jack is as good as his master.
But most of the actual tales of the feudal times turn on the idea
that Jack is much better than his master, and certainly it is so
in the case of Caspar and Faust. The play ends with the damnation
of the learned and illustrious doctor, followed by a cheerful and
animated dance by Caspar, who has been made watchman of the city.
But there was a much keener stroke of mediaeval irony earlier
in the play. The learned doctor has been ransacking all
the libraries of the earth to find a certain rare formula,
now almost unknown, by which he can control the infernal deities.
At last he procures the one precious volume, opens it at the proper page,
and leaves it on the table while he seeks some other part of his
magic equipment.
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