Frankfurt in 1397, says: "The number of princes, counts, noblemen,
knights, and esquires, that met there, amounted to five thousand one
hundred and eighty-two"; adding: "Besides these, there were here four
hundred and fifty persons more, such as _fahrende Schueler_, wrestlers,
musicians, jumpers, and trumpeters." The character of the clergy having
sunk so low, the Church declared itself against the custom, and at
several German councils theological students were expressly forbidden
to lead this roving life. It required, however, considerable time for
the ancient custom to become extinct, and we learn, among others, from
Conrad Gesner, that it still existed at the time of the Reformation.

The part played by Faustus was at first in some degree respectable, and
that of a scholar. An old Erfurt Chronicle tells us that he had come to
that city and obtained permission from the university to deliver a
course of lectures on Homer. A dark rumor of his magic powers had
preceded him; the students, therefore, thronged to hear him, and,
deeply interested, requested him to let them see the heroes of Homer by
calling them from their graves. Faustus appointed another day for this,
received the excited youths in a dark chamber, commanded them to be
perfectly silent, and made the great men of the Greek bard rise up, one
by one, before their eyes. At length Polyphemus appeared; and the
one-eyed Cyclops, with his red hair, an iron spear in his hand, and, to
designate him at once as a cannibal, two bloody human thighs in his
mouth, looked so hideous, that the spectators were seized with horror
and disgust, the more so that the wily magician professed to have some
difficulty in dismissing the monster. Suddenly a violent shake of the
whole house was felt; the young men were thrown one over another, and
were seized with terror and dismay. Two of the students insisted upon
having already felt the teeth of the Cyclops.--This ridiculous story
was soon known throughout the city, and confirmed the suspicions of the