Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1866-05-17

A pcrsonage, and yet none ever saw him.
His coyen hoof, his twisted horns, his snit
Of black, his cleaning eyes, his limbs Of
fame. are but the poets dream, the pain
ter's color. Mepbistophclcs is but the
creature Of our fancy. and exists but in the
fear, the passions, the desires Of mankind.
H. j. born in hearts where love is linked
with license, in minds whore pride weds
with folly, in souls where piety unites with
intolerance We never meet the roaring
lion in our path yet our hearts are torn by
his fanps ard lacerated by his claws. We
n yer see the ssrdonic cavalier; yet We hear
his spccious whisperings in our ears. The
sunlight Of truth shines forever upon us
yet we sit in the cold shadow Of error. We
put the cup Of pleasure TO our liDs, and
quaf, instead Of cooling draughts, the fiery
fioshe. Of soaring excess We long for
forbidden delights and when the feDd Up.
portunity places them within our reach, We
sign the compact Of our misery to obtain
them. The charmed circle this unholT
spirit draws around his fatal power is traced
along the devious line that marks our weak.
ness and our ignorance. Storm as we NAV.
he stands intrenched within our souls, defy
ing all our wrath. But he shrinks and
cruches before us when, bold and fearless,
We lift the cross Of truth. and bid him hy
the upborne might ,of our intelligence. =
ephistopheles is an uDholy spirit, nesting
in the hearts of myriads Of poor human
beings who never heard of Goethe. Long
after the mimic scene in which he shares
shall have been forgot, long after the
sirens who have warbled poor Gretchen S
joys and sorrows shall have mouldered in
their ves,--long after the witching beau
ty of the Frenchman's harmony shall have
been forever hushed, long after the very
language in which the German poet poT-
trayed him shall have passed into oblivion,
will Mephistopheles carry his diaboisms
into the souls Of human kind, and hold
there his mystic reign. Yet there are those,
and you find Asmodeus is one, who dream
Of a day when the Mephistephelean dynasty
is to be overthrown, when the sappers and
miners of the great army of human pro-
gress are to hesiege him 10 his strong-holds
and to lead him captive in eternal bondage.
Of all the guides who lead that mighty
host. none rank above the Faust Of whom
tradition tells such wondrous tales. Not
the bewigged and motley parsonage Goun0d
has sung, not the impassioned lover Goethe
drew. but the great genius who first tanght
mankind to stamp its wisdom in imperish-
able charaters. and to bequeath it unto races
yet to rise. The Faust of history shall long
outlive the Faust Of wild romance The
victim in the transient poem shall be con-
queror in the unwritten chronicles of time.
My dear Madam, let us draw around us a
charmed circle; not with the trenehant
point Of murderous steel but with the type
that Faust gave to the world. Within its
bounds. intelligence and thought shall guard
us safe from Mephistophees. Come he in
whatever guise he may, its subtle potency
shall, like Ithurel's spear, compel him TO
display his real form in all its native ugi-
ness and dread. And we must pass away;
yet we may leave behind, secure in the de-
fence we thus may raise, the dear ones that
we love, to be the parents of an angel race
that, in the distant days to come. shall
tread the sod above our lonr. .fnrgotten dust.