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There too was Auerbach’s Cellar, in which Goethe’s Faust and Mephistopheles are so humorously placed. There was the same drinking-saloon, there the descendant of the old bar-keeper, and there the same characteristic crowd of loafers, as when Faust and Mephistopheles drank there, and when amid songs and jokes, the latter drew all kinds of wine from the gimlet holes in the leaf of the old wooden table. Bayard’s estimate of the people appears to have confirmed that of Mephistopheles who says (scene V.):—

“Before all else I bring thee hither

Where boon companions meet together,

To let thee see how smooth life runs away.

Here, for the folk, each day’s a holiday:

With little wit, and ease to suit them,

They whirl in narrow, circling trails,

Like kittens playing with their tails:

And if no headache persecute them,

So long the host may credit give,

They merrily and careless live.”

The peasantry still crowd the cellar, still sing the old lays, and each day tell over again the old legend of Mephistopheles’ miraculous exit.