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ih,Googlc 


I 


OUT  OP 


HISS  ESTHES  BERKELEY 


[HARVARD  COLLEGE  LlBRARYjgi 


jM,Googlc 


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FAUST 

JOHANN  WOLFGANG  VON  GOETHE 

TRANSLATBD,   IN   THE  OBICmAL   MFTRES,   BY 

BAYARD    TAYLOR 

TWO   VOLUMES   IN   ONE 
VOL.   I. 

Wer  die  Didilkuiut  will  vcMeh«, 
MuB  iiu  Und  <kr  DichtrniE  gtheo  I 
Wa  dm  DichCi  will  veniihen, 
UoH  ID  LiicDlen  Lüde  gchrn. 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

CfK  nibet^itit  fvtit  Cambcilgi 


ih,Googlc 


JAN  3  01979 


-7i    i-'^:. 


ih,Googlc 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  twenty  years  since  I  first  determined  to 
attempt  the  translation  of  ßausl,  in  the  origi- 
nal metres.  At  that  time,  although  more  than  a 
score  of  English  translations  of  the  First  Part, 
and  three  or  four  of  the  Second  Part,  were  in  ex- 
istence, the  experiment  had  not  yet  been  made. 
The  prose  version  of  Hayward  seemed  to  have 
been  accepted  as  the  standard,  in  default  of  any« 
thing  more  satisfactory :  the  English  critics,  gener- 
ally sustaining  the  translator  in  his  views  concern- 
ing the  secondary  importance  of  form  in  Poetry, 
practically  discouraged  any  further  attempt ;  and 
no  one,  familiar  with  rhythmical  expression  through 
the  needs  of  his  own  nature,  had  devoted  the  ne- 
cessary love  and  patience  to  an  adequate  repro- 
duction of  the  great  work  of  Goethe's  life. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  the  first  to  undertake  the  task, 
and  the  publication  of  his  translation  of  the  First 
Part  (in  1856)  induced  me,  for  a  time,  to  give  up 
my  own  design.     No  previous  English  version  ex-  ■ 


ih,Googlc 


iv  FAUST- 

hibited  such  abnegation  of  the  translator's  own 
tastes  and  habits  of  thought,  such  reverent  desire 
to  present  the  original  in  its  purest  form.  The 
care  and  conscience  with  which  the  work  had  been 
performed  were  so  apparent,  that  I  now  state  with 
reluctance  what  then  seemed  to  me  to  be  its  only 
deficiencies,  —  a  lack  of  the  lyrical  fire  and  flu- 
ency of  the  original  in  some  passages,  and  an 
occasional  lowering  of  the  tone  through  the  use 
of  words  which  are  literal,  but  not  equivalent. 
The  plan  of  translation  adopted  by  Mr.  Brooks 
was  so  entirely  my  own,  that  when  further  resi- 
dence in  Germany  and  a  more  careful  study  of 
both  parts  of  Fnust  had  satisfied  me  that  the  field 
was  still  open,  — that  the  means  furnished  by  the 
poetical  affinity  of  the  two  languages  had  not  yet 
been  exhausted,  —  nothing  remained  for  rae  but  to 
follow  him  in  all  essential  particulars.  His  exam- 
ple confirmed  me  in  the  belief  that  there  were  few 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  a  nearly  literal  yet  thor- 
oughly rhythmical  version  of  Faust,  which  might 
not  be  overcome  by  loving  labor.  A  comparison 
of  seventeen  English  translations,  in  the  arbitrary 
metres  adopted  by  the  translators,  sufficiently 
showed  the  danger  of  allowing  license  in  this 
respect :  the  white  light  of  Goetlie's  thought  was 
thereby  passed  through  the  tin.ed  glass  of  other 
minds,  and  assumed  the  coloring  of  each.  More- 
over, the  plea  of  selecting  different  metres  in  the 
hope  of  producing  a  similar  effect  is  unreasonably 
where  tlie  identical  metres  are  possible. 


ih,Googlc 


The  value  of  form,  in  a  poetical  work,  is  the 
first  question  to  be  considered.  No  poet  ever 
understood  this  question  more  thoroughly  than 
Goethe  himself,  or  expressed  a  more  positive  opin- 
ion in  regard  to  it  The  alternative  modes  of 
translation  which  he  presents  (reported  by  Riemer, 
quoted  by  Mrs.  Austin,  in  her  "  Characteristics  of 
Goethe,"  and  accepted  by  Mr.  Hayward),*  are 
quite  independent  of  his  views  concerning  the 
value  of  form,  which  we  find  given  elsewhere,  in 
the  clearest  and  most  emphatic  manner.f     Poetry 

•  " '  There  are  two  iiiMiins  of  translation,'  says  he  :  '  Ihe 
me  requires  that  the  author,  of  a  foreign  nation,  be  brought 
to  >is  in  such  a  manner  that  we  may  regard  him  as  our  own  ; 
the  other,  on  (he  contrary,  demands  of  us  that  we  transport 
ourselves  over  to  him,  and  adopt  his  situation,  his  mode  of 
speaking,  and  his  peculiarities.  The  advantages  of  both  are 
sufficiently  known  to  all  instructed  persons,  from  masterly 

Is  it  necessary,  however,  that  there  should  always  be  this 
alternative  i  Where  the  languages  are  kindred,  and  equally 
capable  of  all  varieties  of  metrical  expression,  may  not  both 
these  "maxims"  be  observed  in  the  same  translation? 
Goethe,  It  is  true,  was  of  the  opinion  that  Fitust  ought  to  be 
given,  in  French,  in  the  manner  of  Cl<fment  Marot ;  but  this 
was  undoubtedly  because  he  fell  the  inadequacy  of  modern 
French  to  express  the  naive,  simple  realism  of  many  pas- 
sages. The  same  objection  does  not  apply  to  EnglisK 
There  are  a  few  archaic  expressions  in  fiiust,  but  no  more 
than  are  still  allowed —  nay,  frequently  encouraged  —  in  tl.j 
English  of  our  day. 

t  ■■  You  are  riglit,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  there  are  great  and 
mysterious  agencies  included  in  the  various  forms  of  Poetry 
If  the  substance  of  my  '  Roman  Elegies '  were  to  be  «x- 


ih,Googlc 


is  not  simply  a  fashion  of  expression :  it  is  tht 
form  of  expression  absolutely  required  by  a  ce^ 
tain  class  of  ideas.  Poetry,  indeed,  may  be  dis- 
tinguished from  Prose  by  the  single  circumstance, 
that  it  is  the  utterance  of  whatever  in  man  cannot 
be  perfectly  uttered  in  any  other  than  a  rhythmical 
fonn :  it  is  useless  to  say  that  the  naked  meaning 
is  independent  of  the  form :  on  the  contrary,  the 
form  contributes  essentially  to  the  fulness  of  the 
meaning.  In  Poetry  which  endures  through  its  own 
inherent  vitality,  there  is  no  forced  union  of  these 

pressed  in  the  tone  and  meisure  of  Byron's  ■  Don  Juan,'  it 
would  reallj'  have  an  atrodoua  effect."  —  Erkermann. 

"  The  rhylhni,"  said  Goeihe,  "  is  an  unconscious  result  of 
the  poetic  mood.  If  one  sliould  stop  to  consider  it  mechan- 
ically, «then  about  to  write  a  poem,  one  would  become  be> 
wildered  and  accomplish  notliing  of  real  poetical  value." — 
IbUL 

"  AH  that  it  pvttie  in  eharaclrr  ihoutd  bt  rhylhmically  treated  I 
Such  is  my  conviction ;  and  if  even  a  lort  of  poclic  prose 
•hould  be  gradually  introduced,  it  would  only  show  that  the 
distinction  between  prose  and  poetry  had  been  completely 
lost  sight  ot"  —  GettAt  la  Schiller,  im. 

Tycho  Mommsen,  in  his  excellent  esaay,  Ihe  JCiaui  da 
Dtultchtn  Ueitrtttteri  au  nmerrti  Sprachm,  goes  so  far  as  to 
say  :  "  The  metrical  or  rhymed  modelling  of  a  poetical  work 
is  so  essentially  the  germ  of  its  being,  that,  rather  than  by 
giving  it  up,  we  might  hope  to  construct  a  similar  work  of 
art  before  (he  eyes  of  our  countrymen,  by  giving  up  or 
changing  the  substance.  The  immeasurable  result  which 
has  followed  works  wherein  the  form  has  been  retained  — 
such  aa  the  Homer  of  Voss,  and  the  Shakespeare  of  Tieck 
and  Schlegel  —  is  an  iDcontrovertible  evidence  of  the  vital- 
ity of  the  endeavor." 


ih,Googlc 


two  elements.  They  are  as  intimately  blended, 
and  with  the  same  mysterious  beauty,  as  the  sexes 
in  the  ancient  Hermaphroditus.  To  attempt  to 
represent  Poetry  in  Prose,  is  very  much  like  at- 
tempting to  translate  music  into  speech* 

The  various  theories  of  translation  from  the 
Greek  and  Latin  poets  have  been  admirably  stated 
by  Dryden  in  his  Preface  to  the  "  Translations 
irom  Ovid's  Epistles,"  and  I  do  not  wish  to  con- 
tinue the  endless  discussion,  —  especially  as  our 
literature  needs  examples,  not  opinions.  A  recent 
expression,  however,  carries  with  it  so  much  au- 
thority, that  I  feel  bound  to  present  some  consid- 
erations which  the  accomplished  scholar  seems  to 
have  overlooked.  Mr.  Lewest  justly  says :  "  The 
effect  of  poetry  is  a  compound  of  music  and  sug- 
gestion ;  this  music  and  this  suggestion  are  inter- 
mingled in  words,  which  to  alter  is  to  alter  the 
effect  For  words  in  poetry  are  not,  as  in  prose, 
simple  representatives  of  objects  and  ideas :  they 
are  parts  of  an  organic  whole,  —  they  are  tones  in 
the  harmony."  He  thereupon  illustrates  the  effect 
of  translation  by  changing  certain  well-known 
English  stanzas  into  others,  equivalent  in  meaning, 
but  lacking  their  felicity  of  words,  their  grace  and 
melody.  1  cannot  accept  this  illustration  as  valid, 
because  Mr.  Lewes  purposely  omits  the  very  qual- 

•  "Goethe"»  poems  exerdse  a  great  iway  over  me,  not 
only  by  their  meaning,  but  also  by  Iheir  rhythm.  It  is  a  lan- 
gaage  which  stimulates  me  to  compoMtion."  —  BtithsMiu 

t  Life  of  Goetbe  (Book  VL). 


ih,Googlc 


ity  which  an  honest  translator  should  exhaust  his 
skill  in  endeavoring  to  reproduce.  He  turns  away 
from  thec'v^  /«/word  or  phrase  in  the  English  lines 
he  quotes,  whereas  the  translator  seeks  precisely 
that  one  best  word  or  phrase  (having  all  the  re- 
sources of  his  language  at  command),  to  represent 
what  is  said  in  another  language.  More  than  this, 
his  task  is  not  simply  mechanical ;  he  must  feel, 
and  be  guided  by,  a  secondary  inspiration.  Sur- 
rendering himself  to  the  full  possession  of  the 
spirit  which  shall  speak  through  him,  he  receives, 
also,  a  portion  of  the  same  creative  power,  Mr. 
Lewes  reaches  this  conclusion :  "  If,  therefore,  we 
reflect  what  a  poem  Faust  is,  and  that  it  contains 
almost  every  variety  of  style  and  metre,  it  will  be 
tolerably  evident  that  no  one  unacquainted  with 
the  original  can  form  an  adequate  idea  of  it  from 
translation,"*  which  is  certainly  correct  of  any 
translation  wherein  something  of  the  rhythmical 
variety  and  beauty  of  the  original  is  not  retained. 
That  very  much  of  the  rhythmical  character  may 
be  retained  in  English,  was  long  ago  shown  by 
Mr.  Carlyle,t  in  the  passages  which  he  translated, 

•  Mr.  Lewes  gives  the  following  advice:  "The  English 
reader  would  perhaps  best  succeed  who  should  tirst  read 
Dr.  Anster's  brilliant  paraphrase,  atid  then  carefully  go 
through  Hayward's  prose  translaiion."  This  is  singularly 
at  variance  with  the  view  he  has  just  expressed.  Dr. 
Anster's  version  is  an  almost  incredible  dilution  of  the 
original,  written  in  othtr  metres;  while  Hayward's  enCirelj 
omits  the  element  of  poetry. 

t  Foreign  Review,  i8l8. 


ih,Googlc 


both  literally  and  rhythmically,  from  the  Helena 
(Part  Second).  In  fact,  we  have  so  many  in- 
stances of  the  pyossibility  of  reciprocally  transfer- 
ling  the  finest  qualities  of  English  and  German 
poetry,  that  there  is  no  sufficient  excuse  for  an 
unmetrical  translation  of  Faust.  I  refer  especially 
to  such  subtile  and  melodious  lyrics  as  "  The  Cas- 
tle by  the  Sea,"  of  Uhland,  and  the  "  Silent  Land  " 
of  Sails,  translated  by  Mr.  Longfellow  ;  Goethe's 
"Minstrel"  and  "Coptic  Song,"  by  Dr.  Hedge; 
Heine's  "Two  Grenadiers,"  by  Dr.  Fu mess,  and 
many  of  Heine's  songs  by  Mr.  Leiand  ;  and  also 
to  the  German  translations  of  English  lyrics,  by 
Freiligrath  and  Strodtmann." 

I  have  a  more  serious  objection,  however,  to 
Ut^e   against    Mr.    Hayward's  prose    translation. 


Freiligrath  can  thus  give  us  Walter  Scott :  — 

"  Konml,  wie  d«  Wi 

d  kommt. 

WennWUdereniiu 

»dudf 

Wenn  Floilen  icnp 

ScJineUhenn,Khne 

ih«.b. 

Schntller  kommt  AI 

HKupJiDE  und  Bub' 

uxIXaam 

HtrruiHiVaill.1" 

It  Strodtmann  thus  reproduce  Tennyson :  — 
**  £«  ailt  der  Strahl  auf  Bins  i">d  Thai, 
Und  ichiKnge  Gipdl,  nich  in  Sagen  : 
Viel'  Lkhiermhn  »uf  blauen  Seen, 

Bergab  die  Wioentüne  jsEen  I 
Blaa.  Hflfthom,  blu.  in  WiederhaK  enchanend: 
Bb^  Horn  —  antwortet,  Ech«,  hiUend,  hillend,  huOoid !  " 

—  it must  be  a  dull  earwhich  would  be  satisfied  with  the 
of  rhythm  and  rhyme. 


ih,Googlc 


Where  all  the  restraints  of  verse  are  flung  asid^ 
we  should  expect,  at  least,  as  accurate  a  reproduc- 
tion of  the  sense,  spirit,  and  tone  of  the  original, 
as  the  genius  of  our  language  will  permit.  So  far 
from  having  given  us  such  a  reproduction,  Mr. 
Hayward  not  only  occasionally  mistakes  the  exact 
meaning  of  the  German  text,*  but,  wherever  two 
phrases  may  be  used  to  express  the  meaning  with 
equal  fidelity,  he  very  frequently  selects  that  which 
has  the  less  grace,  strength,  or  beauty.t  For  there 
are  few  things  which  may  not  be  said,  in  English, 
in  a  twofold  manner,  —  one  poetic,  and  the  other 
prosaic     In   German,  equally,  a  word  which  in 

•  On  hii  second  page,  the  line  Mrin  Litd  irtönt  der  tat- 
itItannttH  Menge,  "My  song  sounds  to  the  unknown  multi- 
tude," is  translated :  "  My  sorrma  voices  itself  to  the  strange 
throng."  Other  English  translators,  I  notice,  have  followed 
Mr.  Hayward  in  mistaking  Liid  for  Lrid. 

t  I  take  bui  one  out  of  numerous  instances,  for  the  sake 
of  illustration.  The  close  of  the  Soldier's  Song  (Pan  I. 
Scene  IL)  is:  — 

"  Kfibn  il  du  Mähen. 
Hnrlicfa  der  Lohn  I 
Und  die  Soldil« 

Litetalljr : 


This  Mr.  Hayward  translates :  — 


ih,Googlc 


ordinary  use  has  a  bare  prosaic  character  may 
receive  a  fairer  and  finer  quality  from  its  place  in 
verse.  The  prose  translator  should  certainly  be 
able  to  feel  the  manifestation  of  this  law  in  both 
languages,  and  should  so  choose  his  words  a3  to 
meet  dieir  reciprocal  requirements.  A  man,  how- 
ever, frtio  is  not  keenly  sensible  to  the  power  and 
beauty  and  value  of  rhythm,  is  likely  to  overlook 
these  delicate  yet  most  necessary  distinctions. 
The  author's  thought  is  stripped  of  a  last  grace  ia 
passing  through  his  mind,  and  frequenüy  presents 
very  much  the  same  resemblance  to  the  original  as 
an  unhewn  shaft  to  the  fluted  column.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  unconsciously  illustrates  his  lack  of  a  refined 
appreciation  of  vtrx,  "in  giving,"  as  he  says,  "« 
sari  of  rhythmkai  arrangemaii  to  the  lyrical  parts," 
his  object  being  "to  convey  some  notion  of  the 
variety  of  versification  which  fortns  cme  great 
charm  of  the  poem."  A  literal  translation  is  al- 
ways possible  in  the  unrhymed  passages ;  but  even 
here  Mr,  Hayward's  ear  did  not  dictate  to  him  the 
necessity  of  preserving  the  original  rhythm. 

While,  therefore,  I  heartily  recognize  his  lofty 
appreciation  of  Faust,  —  while  I  honor  him  for  the 
patient  and  conscientious  labor  he  has  bestowed 
upon  his  translation,  —  I  cannot  but  feel  that  he 
has  himself  illustrated  the  unsoundness  of  his  ar- 
gument Nevertheless,  the  circumstance  that  his 
prose  translation  of  Faust  has  received  so  much 
acceptance  proves  those  qualities  of  the  original 
work  which  cannot  be  destroyed  by  a  test  so  vio- 


ih,Googlc 


lent  From  the  cold  bare  outline  thus  produced, 
the  reader  unacquainted  with  the  German  language 
would  scarcely  guess  what  glow  of  color,  what  rich- 
ness of  changeful  life,  what  fluent  grace  and  energy 
of  movement  have  been  lost  in  the  process.  We 
must,  of  course,  gratefully  receive  such  an  outline, 
where  a  nearer  approach  to  the  fonn  of  the  origi- 
nal is  impossible,  but,  until  the  latter  has  been 
demonstrated,  we  are  wrong  to  remain  content 
with  the  cheaper  substitute. 

It  seems  to  me  that  in  all  discussions  upon  this 
subject  the  capacities  of  the  English  language 
have  received  but  scanty  justice.  The  intellectual 
tendencies  of  our  race  have  always  been  somewhat 
conservative,  and  its  standards  of  literary  taste 
or  belief,  once  set  up,  are  not  varied  without  a 
struggle.  The  English  ear  is  suspicious  of  new 
metres  and  unaccustomed  forms  of  expression : 
there  are  critical  detectives  on  the  track  of  every 
author,  and  a  violation  of  the  accepted  canons  is 
followed  by  a  summons  to  judgment  Thus  the 
tendency  is  to  contract  rather  than  to  expand  the 
acknowledged  excellences  of  the  language."     The 

*  I  cannot  resist  the  temptition  of  quoting  the  followiiig 
passage  from  Jacob  Grimm  :  "  No  one  of  all  the  modern 
languages  has  acquired  a  greater  force  and  strength  than  the 
English,  through  the  derangement  and  relinquishment  of  its 
ajicient  lanr»  of  sound.  The  unteachablc  (nevertheless  learn- 
ablt)  profusion  of  its  middie-tones  has  conferred  upon  it  an 
intrinsic  power  of  expression,  such  as  no  other  human  tongue 
ever  possessed.  Its  entire,  thoroughly  intellectual  and  won- 
derfully sunxssful  foundation  and  perfected  development 


ih,Googlc 


difficulties  in  the  way  of  a  nearly  literal  translation 
of  Faust  in  the  original  metres  have  been  exagger- 
ated, because  certain  affinities  between  the  two 
languages  have  not  been  properly  considered. 
With  all  the  splendor  of  versification  in  the  work, 
it  contains  but  few  metres  of  which  the  English 
tongue  is  not  equally  capable.  Hood  has  famil- 
iarized us  with  dactylic  (triple)  rhymes,  and  they 
are  remarkably  abundant  and  skilful  in  Mr.  Low- 
ell's "  Fable  for  the  Critics  " :  even  the  unrhymed 
iambic  hexameter  of  the  Helena  occurs  now  and 
then  in  Milton's  Samson  Agonis/es.  It  is  true  that 
the  metrical  foot  into  which  the  German  language 
most  naturally  falls  is  the  trochaic^  while  in  English 
it  is  the  iambU :  it  is  true  that  German  is  rich, 
involved,  and  tolerant  of  new  combinations,  while 

»sued  from  a  marvelloiii  union  of  the  two  noblest  tongues 
of  Europe,  the  Germanic  and  the  Romanic.  Their  mutual 
relation  in  the  English  language  is  well  known,  since  the 
former  furnished  chiefly  (he  material  basil,  while  ihe  latter 
added  the  intellectual  conceptions.  The  English  language, 
by  and  through  which  ihe  greatest  and  most  eminent  poet 
of  modem  times  —  as  contrasted  with  ancient  classical 
poelry  —  (of  course  I  can  refer  only  to  Shakespeare}  was 
begoiien  and  nourished,  has  a  just  claim  lo  be  called  a  lan- 
guage of  the  world ;  and  it  appears  to  be  destined,  like  ttie 
English  race,  to  a  higher  and  broader  sway  in  all  quarters 
of  the  earth.  For  in  richness,  in  compact  adjustment  of 
parts,  and  in  pure  intelligence,  none  of  the  living  languaReS 
can  lie  compared  with  it,  —  not  even  our  German,  which  is 
divided  even  as  we  are  divided,  and  which  must  cast  oif  myny 
knpeTfectionB  before  it  can  boldly  enter  on  its  career.-  -- 
Utitr  JtK  Ursfruttg  dtr  Sfratht. 


ih,Googlc 


English  is  simple,  direct,  and  rather  shy  of  com- 
pounds ;  but  precisely  these  differences  are  so 
modified  in  the  German  of  Faust  that  there  is  a 
mutual  approach  of  the  two  languages.  In  Faust, 
the  iambic  measure  predominates ;  the  s^le  is 
compact ;  the  many  licenses  which  the  author 
allows  himself  are  all  directed  towards  a  shorter 
mode  of  construction.  On  the  other  hand,  Eng- 
lish metre  compels  the  use  of  inversions,  admits 
many  verbal  liberties  {»^hibited  to  prose,  and  so 
inclines  towards  various  flexible  features  of  its 
sister-tongue  that  many  lines  of  Faust  may  be 
repeated  in  English  without  the  slightest  change 
of  meaning,  measure,  or  rhyme.  There  are  words, 
it  is  true,  with  so  delicate  a  bloom  upon  them  that 
it  can  in  no  wise  be  preserved ;  but  even  such 
words  will  always  lose  less  when  they  carry  with 
them  their  rhythmical  atmosphere.  TTie  flow  of 
Goethe's  verse  is  sometimes  so  similar  to  that  of 
the  corresponding  English  metre,  that  not  only  its 
hannonies  and  ctesural  pauses,  but  even  its  punc- 
tuation, may  be  easily  retained. 

I  am  satisfied  that  the  difference  between  a 
translation  of  Faust  in  prose  or  metre  is  chiefly 
one  of  labor,  —  and  of  that  labor  which  is  success- 
ful in  proportion  as  it  is  joyously  performed.  My 
own  task  has  been  cheered  by  the  discovery,  that 
the  more  closely  I  reproduced  the  language  of  the 
original,  the  more  of  its  rhythmical  character  was 
transferred  at  the  same  time.  If,  now  and  then, 
there  was  an  inevitable  alternative  of  meaning  or 


ih,Googlc 


music,  I  gave  the  preference  to  the  former.  By 
the  term  "  original  metres  "  I  do  not  mean  a  r^id, 
unyielding  adherence  to  every  foot,  line,  and 
rhyme  of  the  German  original,  although  this  has 
veiy  nearly  been  accomplished.  Since  the  greater 
part  of  the  work  is  written  in  an  irregular  measure, 
the  lines  varying  from  three  to  six  feet,  and  the 
rhymes  arranged  according  to  the  author's  will,  I 
do  not  consider  that  an  occasional  change  in  the 
number  of  feet,  or  order  of  rhyme,  is  any  violation 
of  the  metrical  plan.  The  single  sUght  liberty  I 
have  taken  with  the  lyrical  passages  is  in  Marga- 
ret's song,  —  "The  King  of  Thule,"  —  in  which, 
I^  omitting  the  alternate  feminine  rhymes,  yet  re- 
taining the  metre,  I  was  enabled  to  make  the  trans- 
lation strictly  literal.  If,  in  two  or  three  instances, 
I  have  left  a  line  unrhymed,  I  have  balanced  the 
omission  by  giving  rhymes  to  other  lines  which 
Stand  unrhymed  in  the  original  text  For  the  same 
reason,  I  make  no  apology  for  the  imperfect 
rhymes,  which  are  frequently  a  translation  as  well 
as  a  necessity.  With  all  its  supreme  qualities, 
^auH  is  tar  from  being  a  technically  perfect  work.* 

■  "Ai  preaent,  everything  runs  in  technical  grooves,  and 
the  critica]  gentlemen  begin  to  wrangle  whether  in  a  rhyme 
an  t  ihonld  correspond  with  an  j-  and  not  with  st.  \t  I  were 
young  and  reckless  enough,  I  would  purposely  ofTend  all 
■udi  technical  caprices  :  I  would  use  alliteration,  assonance, 
&lae  rhyme,  just  according  to  my  own  will  or  convenience  — 
but,  at  the  same  time,  I  would  attend  to  the  main  thing,  and 
endeavor  to  say  lo  many  good  things  that  every  0ne  would 
be  attracted  to  read  and  remember  them."  —  Goitki,'\a  183L 


ih,Googlc 


xvi  FAUST. 

The  feminine  and  dactylic  rhymes,  which  have 
been  for  the  most  part  omitted  by  all  metrical 
translators  except  Mr.  Brooks,  are  indispensable. 
The  characteristic  tone  of  many  passages  would 
be  nearly  lost,  without  them.  They  give  spirit  and 
grace  to  the  dialogue,  point  to  the  aphoristic  por- 
tions (especially  in  the  Second  Part),  and  an  ever- 
changing  music  to  the  lyrical  passages.  The 
English  language,  though  not  so  rich  as  the 
German  in  such  rhymes,  is  less  deficient  than 
is  generally  supposed.  The  difficulty  to  be  over- 
come is  one  of  construction  rather  than  of  the 
vocabulary.  The  present  participle  can  only  be 
used  to  a  limited  extent,  on  account  of  its  weak 
terminadon,  and  the  want  of  an  accusative  form 
to  the  noun  also  restricts  the  arrangement  of 
words  in  English  verse.  1  cannot  hope  to  have 
been  always  successful ;  but  I  have  at  least  la- 
bored long  and  patiently,  bearing  constantly  in 
mind  not  only  the  meaning  of  the  original  and 
the  mechanical  structure  of  the  lines,  but  also 
that  subtile  and  haunting  music  which  seems  to 
govern  rhythm  instead  of  being  governed  by  it. 

The  ^Second  Part  of  Faust  has  been  translated 
five  times  into  English  (by  Birch,  Bernays,  Mac- 
donald,  Archer  Gurney,  and  Ansler),  but  not  one 
of  the  versions  has  ever  been  published  in  the 
United  States.  Inasmuch  as  this  part  was  in- 
cluded in  Goethe's  original  design,  the  First  Part, 
althougU  apparently  complete  as  a  tragic  episode, 
is  in  reality  but  a  fragment,  wherein  the  deeper 


ih,Googlc 


problems  upon  which  the  work  is  based  are  left 
unsolved.  1  consider,  therefore,  that  the  Second 
Part  is  necessary  (as  necessary,  indeed,  as  the 
/'aradiso  to  the  Divina  Commedia  of  Danle);  and 
my  aim,  in  the  second  volume  of  this  translation, 
will  be  to  make  that  necessity  clear,  alike  to  the 
English  reader  and  to  those  who  follow  various 
German  and  English  critics  in  disparaging  the 
original. 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


CONTENTS. 


Pbkliidi  on  thk  St*gb     . 

PfM>LCICUK  IN  Hkavkn     . 

SCKKX    !•  Night  (Famfi  Mmulcgiu) 

IL  Bbfori  thi  Citv-Gatb 

lU.  Thk  Study  (Tie Exoreüm) 

IV.  Thk  Study  (TTie  Camfact) . 

V.  AuIKBACH'S  CllXAK 

VL  WiTCHKS'  KiTCHIN 

VII.  A  Street  . 

VIII  EVININO 

IX.  PROHBNADB 

X  Tm  Nuohbok's  Houn 

XL  Strut     .... 

XII.  Garden 

XIIL  A  Gardbn-Arbor    . 

XiV.  Forest  amd  Cavern  . 


138 
146 
148 


ih,Googlc 


XI  CONTENTS. 

XV,    Margaret's  Room 154 

XVI.    Martha's  Garden      ....  156 

XVIL    At  the  Fountain 163 

XVIII.     Donjon  [Margarefs  Pnytr)         .        .  166 

XIX.     VlGKT  {VaUttHti/s DeaiA)        ...  168 

XX.    Cathedral 175 

XXI.    Walpürois-Niokt 178 

XXII.    Obbron  and  Titania's  Golden  Wei>- 

">'NG 19S 

XXIII.  Drearv  Day 303 

XXIV.  Night       .       . 206 

XXV.    DuNCBON 207 

NOTES 317 

APPENDIX. 

I.    Thb  Faust-Legend 337 

IL    Chronology  of  Faust     ...       -  345 

IIL    Scene  FROM  Marlowe's  "Faustus"         .  354 


ih,Googlc 


AN  GOETHE. 


pRHABENER  Geist,  im  Gästerreick  verloren  / 

Wi>  immer  Deine  iickte  Wohnung  sey, 
Zum  höh'ren  Schaffen  bist  Du  neugeboren. 
Und  sinkst  dort  die  voll're  Litanei. 
Von  jenem  Streben  das  Du  auserkitren, 
Vom  reinsten  j£ther,  drin  Du  athmest  frei, 
0  nei^  Dich  tu  gnädigem  Erwiedem 
Des  kitten  Wiederhalls  von  Deinen  Liedern  / 


Den  alten  Musen  die  bestäubten  Kronen 

Nahmst  Du,  tu  neuem  Glant,  mit  kühner  Hand: 

Du  löst  die  Rätksel  ältester  ^onen 

Durch  jüngeren  Glauben,  helleren  Verstand, 


ih,Googlc 


aii  AN  GOETHE. 

Und  Markst,  mo  rtg^  Meiuckengeisler  wokMeti, 
Du  gatae  Erde  Dir  zum  Vaterland; 
Und  Deint  Jünger  sehn  in  Dir,  verwundert. 
Verkörpert  schon  das  werdende  Jahrhundert. 


Was  Du  gesunffH,  A  lUr  Lust  und  KtapH, 
Des  Lebens  WiederspriUhe,  neu  vermählt,  — 
Die  Harfe  tausendstimmig  frisch  geschlagen. 
Die  Skakspeare  einst,  di*  einst  Homer  getoöklt,  — 
Darf  ich  infiemde  Klänge  übertragen 
Das  Alles,  wo  so  Mancher  schon  gefehlt  t 
Last  Deinen  Geist  in  meiner  Stimme  klingen. 
Und  was  Du  sangst,  iass  mich  es  Dir  nachsingen  / 
B.  T. 


ih,Googlc 


DEDICATION." 


AGAIN  ye  come,  ye  hovering  Formst    I  find  ye, 
As  early  to  my  clouded  sight  ye  shone  [ 
Shad  1  attempt,  this  once,  to  seize  and  bind  ye? 
Still  o'er  my  heart  is  that  illusion  thrown  F 
Ye  crowd  more  near !    Then,  be  the  reign  assigned  y^ 
And  away  me  from  your  misty,  shadoyry  zone  I 
My  bosom  thrills,  with  youthful  passion  shaken, 
From  magic  airs  that  round  your  march  awaken. 

Of  joyous  days  ye  bring  the  blissful  vision ; 

The  dear,  familiar  phantoms  rise  again, 

And,  like  an  old  and  half-extinct  tradition. 

First  Love  returns,  with  Friendship  in  his  train. 

Renewed  is  Pain :  with  mournful  repetition 

Life  tracks  his  devious,  labyrinthine  chain, 

And  names  the  Good,  whose  cheating  fortune  tore  them 

From  happy  hours,  and  left  me  to  deplore  them. 

They  hear  no  longer  these  succeeding  measures, 
The  souls,  to  whom  my  earliest  songs  I  sang : 
Dispersed  the  friendly  troop,  with  all  its  pleasures. 
And  still,  alas !  the  echoes  first  that  rang  I 
VOL.  I.  1 


ih,Googlc 


3  FAUST. 

I  bring  the  unknown  multiiude  my  treasures ; 
Their  very  plaudits  give  my  heart  a  pang. 
And  those  beside,  ivliose  joy  my  Song  so  flattered, 
If  still  they  live,  wide  through  the  world  are  scattered. 

And  grasps  me  now  a  long-unwonted  yeamlDg 
For  that  serene  and  solemn  Spirit-Land: 
My  song,  to  faint  .£olian  murmurs  turning. 
Sways  like  a  barp-string  by  the  breezes  fanned. 
1  thrill  and  tremble;  tear  on  tear  is  burning. 
And  the  stern  heart  is  tenderly  unmanned. 
What  1  possess,  I  see  tar  distant  lying. 
And  what  I  lost,  grows  real  and  undying' 


ih,Googlc 


PRELUDE  ON  THE  STAGE.* 


l:;er.     Dramatic  Poet.     Merry-Andrew, 


YOU  two,  who  oft  a  helping  hand 
Have  lent,  in  need  and  tribulation, 
Come,  let  me  know  your  expectation 
Uf  this,  our  enterprise,  in  German  land ! 
I  ivish  the  crowd  to  feel  itself  well  treated. 
Especially  since  it  lives  and  lets  me  live ; 
'I  he  posts  are  set,  the  booth  of  boards  completed,s 
And  each  awaits  the  banquet  1  shall  give. 
Already  there,  with  curious  eyebrows  raised. 
They  sit  sedate,  and  hope  to  be  amazed. 
1  know  how  one  the  People's  taste  may  flatter, 
Yet  here  a.  huge  embarrassment  I  feel : 
What  they're  accustomed  to,  is  no  great  matter. 
Uut  then,  alas !  they  've  read  an  awful  deal. 
How  shall  we  plan,  that  all  be  fresh  and  new,  — 
Important  matter,  yet  attractive  too? 
For  't  is  my  pleasure  to  behold  them  surging. 
When  to  our  booth  the  current  sets  apace. 
And  with  tremendous,  oft-repeated  urging, 
Squeeze  onward  through  the  narrow  gate  of  grace: 
By  daylight  even,  they  push  and  cram  in 


ih,Googlc 


4  FAUST. 

Tu  reach  the  seller's  box,  a  fighting  host, 

And  as  for  bread,  around  a  baker's  door,  in  famin 

To  get  a  ticket  break  their  necks  almost 

This  miracle  alone  can  work  the  Poet 

On  men  so  various ;  now,  my  friend,  pray  show  it 


Speak  not  to  mc  of  yonder  motley  masses. 
Whom  but  to  see,  puts  out  the  fire  of  Song ! 
Hide  from  my  view  the  surging  crowd  that  passes, 
And  in  its  wtiirlpool  forces  us  along! 
No,  lead  me  where  some  heavenly  silence  glasses 
The  purer  joys  that  round  the  Poet  throng,  — 
Where  Love  and  Friendship  still  divinely  fashion 
The  bonds  that  bless,  the  wreaths  that  crown  liis  passion! 

Ah,  every  utterance  from  the  depths  of  feeling 
The  timid  lips  have  stammeringly  expressed,  — 
Now  failing,  now,  perchance,  success  revealing,  — 
Gulps  the  wild  Moment  in  its  greedy  breast; 
Or  oft,  reluctant  years  Its  warrant  sealing. 
Its  perfect  stature  stands  at  last  confessed  I 
What  dazzles,  for  the  Moment  spends  its  spirit; 
What 's  genuine,  shall  Posterity  Inherit 

MERRY-ANDREW. 

Posterity!    Don't  name  the  word  to  met 

If  /  should  choose  to  preach  Posterity, 

Where  would  you  get  cotemporary  fun? 

That  men  will  have  it,  there 's  no  blinking ;  ' 

A  fine  young  fellow's  presence,  to  my  thinking. 

Is  something  worth,  lo  every  one. 

Who  genially  his  nature  can  outpour. 

Takes  from  the  People's  moods  no  irritation ; 

The  wider  circle  he  acquires,  the  more 


ih,Googlc 


PS  ELUDE.  5 

Securely  works  his  inspiratioa. 
Then  pluck  np  heart,  and  give  lu  sterling  c<^  1 
Let  Fancy  be  with  her  attendants  fitted,  — 
Sense,  Reason,  Sentiment,  and  Passion  jmn,  — 
But  have  a  care,  lest  Folly  be  omitted  I 

MANAGER. 

Chiefly,  enough  of  bddent  prepare  I 

They  come  to  look,  and  they  prefer  to  stare.* 

Reel  off  a  host  of  threads  before  their  faces, 

So  that  they  gape  in  stupid  wonder:  then 

By  sheer  diffuseness  you  have  won  their  graces, 

And  are,  at  once,  roost  popular  of  men. 

Only  by  mass  you  touch  the  mass ;  for  any 

Will  finally,  himself,  his  bit  select : 

Who  offers  much,  brings  something  unto  many^ 

And  each  goes  home  content  with  the  effect. 

If  you  've  a  piece,  why,  just  in  pieces  give  it : 

A  hash,  a  stew,  will  bring  success,  believe  itl 

T  is  easily  displayed,  and  easy  to  invent. 

What  use,  a  Whole  compactly  to  present  ? 

Yonr  hearers  pick  and  pluck,  as  soon  as  they  receive  itl 


Yon  do  not  feel,  how  such  a  trade  debases  ; 
How  ill  it  suits  the  Artist,  proud  and  true! 
The  botching  work  each  fine  pretender  traces 
Is,  I  perceive,  a  principle  with  you. 

UANAGER. 

Such  a  reproach  not  in  the  least  offends; 
A  roan  who  some  result  intends 
Must  use  the  tools  that  best  are  fitting. 
Reflect,  soft  wood  is  given  to  you  for  splitting 
And  then,  observe  for  whoro  you  write  I 


ih,Googlc 


6  FAUST. 

If  one  comes  bored,  exhausted  quite. 

Another,  satiate,  leaves  the  banquet's  tapers. 

And,  worst  of  all,  full  many  a  wight 

Is  fresh  from  reading  of  the  daily  papers. 

Idly  to  us  they  come,  as  to  a  masquerade, 

Mere  curiosity  their  spirits  wanning : 

The  ladies  with  themselves,  and  with  their  finery,  aid. 

Without  a  salary  their  parts  performing. 

What  dreams  are  yours  in  high  poetic  places? 

You  're  pleased,  forsooth,  full  houses  to  behold  ? 

Draw  near,  and  view  your  patrons'  faces ! 

The  half  are  coarse,  the  half  are  cold. 

One,  when  the  play  is  out,  goes  home  to  cards; 

A  wild  night  on  a  wench's  breast  another  chooses : 

Why  should  you  rack,  poor,  foolish  bards, 

For  ends  like  these,  the  gracious  Muses? 

1  tell  you,  give  but  more  —  more,  ever  more,  they  ask: 

Thus  shall  you  hit  the  mark  of  gain  and  glory. 

Seek  to  confound  your  auditory  I 

To  satisfy  them  is  a  task.  — 

What  ails  you  now?    Is  't  suffering,  or  pleasure? 

POET. 

Go,  find  yourself  a  more  obedient  slave  I 

What !  shall  the  Poet  that  which  Nature  gave, 

The  highest  right,  supreme  Humanity, 

Forfeit  so  wantonly,  to  swell  your  treasure? 

Whence  o'er  the  heart  his  empire  free  ? 

The  elements  of  Life  how  conquers  he? 

Is  't  not  his  heart's  accord,  urged  outward  far  and  dim, 

To  wind  the  world  in  unison  with  him  ? 

When  on  the  spindle,  spun  to  endless  distance, 

By  Nature's  listless  hand  the  thread  is  twirled, 

And  the  discordant  tones  of  all  existence 

In  sullen  jangle  are  together  hurled. 


ih,Googlc 


PRELUDE.  3 

Who,  then,  the  changeless  orders  of  creation 
Divides,  and  kindles  into  rhythmic  dance? 
Who  brings  the  One  to  join  the  genera)  ordinatioD, 
Where  it  may  throb  in  grandest  consonance? 
Who  bids  the  storm  to  passion  stir  the  bosom? 
In  brooding  souls  the  sunset  bum  above? 
Who  scatters  every  fairest  April  blossom 
Along  the  shining  path  of  Love? 
Who  braids  the  noteless  leaves  to  crowns,  requiting 
Desert  with  tune,  in  Action's  every  field  ? 
Who  makes  Olympus  sure,  the  Gods  uniting? 
The  might  of  Man,  as  in  the  Bard  revealed. 

HER  KV-A.V  DREW. 

So,  these  fine  forces,  in  conjunction. 

Propel  the  high  poetic  function, 

As  in  a  love-adventure  they  might  play  1 

You  meet  by  accident ;  you  feel,  you  stay, 

And  by  degrees  your  heart  is  tangled ; 

Bliss  grows  apace,  and  then  its  course  is  jangled; 

You  're  ravished  quite,  then  comes  a  touch  of  woe. 

And  there's  a  neat  romance,  completed  ere  you  know! 

Let  us,  then,  such  a  drama  give ! 

Grasp  the  exhaustless  life  that  all  men  live ! 

Each  shares  therein,  though  few  may  comprehend : 

Where'er  you  touch,  there 's  interest  without  end.    ' 

In  motley  pictures  little  light, 

Much  error,  and  of  truth  a  glimmering  mite. 

Thus  the  best  beverage  is  supplied. 

Whence  all  the  world  is  cheered  and  edified. 

Then,  at  your  play,  behold  the  fairest  flower 

Of  youth  collect,  to  hear  the  revelation  ! 

Each  tender  soul,  with  sentimental  power. 

Sucks  melancholy  food  from  your  creation ; 

And  now  in  this,  now  that,  the  leaven  works. 


ih,Googlc 


6  FAUST. 

For  each  beholds  what  in  his  bosom  hirks. 

They  still  are  moved  at  once  to  weeping  or  to  htughter. 

Still  wonder  at  your  flints,  enjoy  the  show  they  see : 

A  mind,  once  fonned,  is  never  suited  after ; 

One  yet  In  growth  will  ever  grateful  be. 

POET. 

Then  give  me  back  that  lime  of  pleasures, 

While  yet  in  joyous  growth  I  sang,  — 

When,  like  a  fount,  the  crowding  measures 

Uninterrupted  gushed  and  sprang  I 

Then  bright  mist  veiled  the  world  before  me, 

In  opening  buds  a  marvel  woke, 

As  I  the  thousand  blossoms  broke, 

Which  every  valley  richly  bore  me  I 

I  nothing  had,  and  yet  enough  for  youth  — 

Joy  in  Illusion,  ardent  thirst  for  Truth. 

Give,  unrestrained,  the  old  emotion, 

The  bliss  that  touched  the  verge  of  pain, 

The  strength  of  Hate,  Love's  deep  devotion,  ••« 

O,  give  me  back  my  youth  again ! 

UERRY-ANDREW. 

Youth,  good  ray  friend,  you  certainly  require 
When  foes  in  combat  sorely  press  you  j 
When  lovely  maids,  in  fond  desire, 
Hang  on  your  bosom  and  caress  you ; 
When  from  the  hard-won  goal  the  wreath 
Beckons  afar,  the  race  awaiting; 
When,  after  dancing  out  your  breath, 
You  pass  the  night  in  dissipating :  — 
But  that  familiar  harp  with  soul 
To  play,  —  with  grace  and  bold  expression. 
And  towards  a  self  .erected  goal 
To  walk  with  many  a  sweet  digression,  — 


ih,Googlc 


This,  aged  Sirs,  belongs  to  you,' 
And  we  no  less  revere  you  for  that  reason : 
Age  childish  makes,  they  say,  but 't  is  not  true ; 
We  're  only  genuine  children  still,  in  Age's  season  I 

MANAGER. 

The  words  you  've  bandied  are  sufficient ; 

T  is  deeds  that  I  prefer  to  see : 

In  compliments  you're  both  proficient, 

But  might,  the  while,  more  useful  be. 

What  need  to  talk  of  Inspiration  ? 

'T  is  no  companion  of  Delay. 

If  Poetry  be  your  vocation, 

Let  Poetry  your  will  obey  I 

Full  well  you  know  what  here  is  wanting ; 

The  crowd  for  strongest  drink  is  panting, 

And  such,  forthwith,  1  'd  have  ycu  brew. 

What's  left  undone  to-day.  To-morrow  will  not  da 

Waste  not  a  day  in  vain  digression : 

With  resolute,  courageous  trust 

Seize  every  possible  impression, 

And  make  it  firmly  your  possession ; 

You  11  then  work  on,  because  you  must. 

Upon  our  German  stage,  you  know  it, 

Each  tries  his  hand  at  what  he  will ; 

So,  take  of  traps  and  scenes  your  fill, 

And  all  you  find,  be  sure  to  show  it  1 

Use  both  the  great  and  lesser  heavenly  light,— 

Squander  the  stars  in  any  number, 

Beasts,  birds,  trees,  rocks,  and  all  such  lumber, 

Fire,  water,  darkness.  Day  and  Night  t 

Thus,  in  our  booth's  contracted  sphere, 

The  circle  of  Creation  will  appear, 

And  move,  as  we  deliberately  impel, 

From  Heaven,  across  the  World,  to  HeU  1 ' 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


PROLOGUE  IN   HEAVEN.' 


The   Lord.     The  Heavenly   Hosts.     After- 

viards   Mephistopheles. 

{7%i  Three  Archangels  came  fonaard.) 

RAPHAEL. 

THE  sun-orb  singa,  in  emulation, 
'Mid  brother-spheres,  his  ancient  round : 
His  path  predestined  through  Creation 
He  ends  with  step  of  thunder- sound. 
TTie  angels  from  his  visage  splendid 
Draw  power,  whose  measure  none  can  say; 
The  lofty  works,  uncomprehended. 
Are  bright  as  on  the  earliest  day. 


And  swift,  and  swift  beyond  conceiving, 
The  splendor  of  the  world  goes  round. 
Day's  Eden-brightness  still  relieving 
The  awful  Night's  intense  profound: 
The  ocean-tides  in  foam  are  breaking, 
Against  the  rocks'  deep  bases  hurled, 
And  both,  the  spheric  race  partaking. 
Eternal,  swift,  arc  onw.ird  whirled  I 


ih,Googlc 


13  FAUST. 

MICHAEL. 

,  And  rival  storms  abroad  are  surging 
From  sea  to  land,  from  land  to  sea. 
A  chain  of  deepest  action  forging 
Round  all,  in  wrathful  energy. 
There  flames  a  desolation,  blaiing 
Before  the  Thunder's  crashing  way : 
Yet,  Lord,  Thy  messengers  are  praising 
The  gentle  movement  of  Thy  Day, 

THE  THREE. 

Though  still  by  them  nncomprehended. 
From  these  the  angels  draw  their  power. 
And  all  Thy  works,  sublime  and  splendid, 

Are  bright  as  in  Creation's  hour.* 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Since  Thou,  O  Lord,  deign'st  to  approach  again 

And  ask  us  how  we  do,  in  manner  kindest, 

And  herelofore  to  meet  myself  wert  fain. 

Among  Thy  menials,  now,  my  face  Thou  findest 

Pardon,  this  troop  I  cannot  foUoiv  after  "^ 

With  lofty  speech,  though  by  them  Bcomed  and  spumed 

My  pathos  certainly  would  move  Thy  bughter. 

If  Thou  hadst  not  all  merriment  unlearned. 

Of  suns  and  worlds  I  've  nothing  to  be  quoted ; 

How  men  torment  themselves,  is  all  I  've  noted. 

The  little  god  o'  the  world  sticks  to  the  same  old  way, 

And  is  as  whimsical  as  on  Creation's  day. 

Life  somewhat  better  might  content  him. 

But  for  the  gleam  of  heavenly  light  which  Thou  hast 

lent  him : 
He  calls  it  Reason  —  thence  his  power 's  increased. 
To  be  far  beastlier  than  any  beast. 
Saving  Thy  Gracious  Presence,  he  to  me 


ih,Googlc 


PROLOGUE  IN  HEA  VEN.  3 

A  long'legged  gr^isshoppier  appears  to  be, 
That  springing  flies,  and  flying  springs. 
And  in  the  grass  the  same  old  ditty  sings. 
Would  he  stili  lay  among  the  grass  he  grows  in! 
Each  bit  of  dung  he  seeks,  to  stick  his  nose  in. 

THE  LORD. 

Hast  thon,  then,  nothing  more  to  mention  ? 
Com'st  ever,  thus,  with  ill  intention? 
Find'st  nothing  right  on  earth,  eternally? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

No,  Lord !  I  find  things,  there,  still  bad  as  they  can  be; 

Man's  misery  even  to  pity  moves  my  nature ; 

1  've  scarce  the  heart  to  plague  the  wretched  creature. 


Know'st  Faust? 


THE  LORD. 
MEPHISTOPMELES. 

The  Doctor  Faust? 


THE  LORD. 

My  servant,  he! 

UEPHISTOPHZLES. 

Forsooth !    He  serves  you  after  strange  devices  : 
No  earthly  meat  or  drink  the  fool  suffices : 
His  spirit's  ferment  far  aspiretli ; 
Half  consdous  of  his  frenzied,  crazed  unrest, 
The  fairest  stars  from  Heaven  he  requireth, 
From  Earth  the  highest  raptures  and  the  best, 
And  all  the  Near  and  Far  that  he  desireth 
Fails  to  subdue  the  tumult  of  his  breasL 

THE  LORD. 

rtiongh  Still  confused  his  service  unto  Me, 
I  MKHt  shall  lead  him  to  a  clearer  morning. 


ih,Googlc 


Sees  not  the  gardener,  even  while  buds  his  tree. 
Both  flower  and  fruit  the  future  year»  adoraing? 

MEPH ISTOPHELES. 

What  will  you  bet  ?    There  's  still  a  chance  to  gain  him, 
If  unto  me  full  leave  you  give, 
Gently  upon  my  road  to  train  him ! 


As  long  as  he  on  earth  shall  live, 
So  long  I  make  no  prohibition. 
While  Man's  desires  and  aspirations  stir. 
He  cannot  choose  but  err." 

MEPmSTOPHELES. 

My  thanks  !  I  find  the  dead  no  acquisition, 

And  never  cared  to  have  them  in  my  keeping. 

I  much  prefer  the  cheeks  where  ruddy  blood  is  leaping, 

And  when  a  corpse  approaches,  close  my  house : 

It  goes  with  me,  as  with  the  cat  the  mouse. 

THE  LORD. 

Enough !    What  thou  hast  asked  is  granted. 

Turn  off  this  spirit  from  his  fountain-head ; 

To  trap  him,  let  thy  snares  be  planted. 

And  him,  with  thee,  be  downward  led; 

Then  stand  abashed,  when  thou  art  forced  to  say; 

A  good  man,  through  obscurest  aspiration. 

Has  still  an  instinct  of  the  one  true  way." 

HEFHISTOPHELES. 

Agreed !    But 't  is  a  short  probation. 

About  my  bet  I  feel  no  trepidation. 

If  I  fulfil  my  expectation. 

You  11  let  me  triumph  with  a  swelling  breast : 


ih,Googlc 


PROLOGUE  Itf  HEAVEN.  15 

Dust  shall  he  eat,  and  with  a  zest. 

As  did  a  certain  snake,  my  near  relation. 

THE  LORD. 

Therein  thou  'rt  free,  according  to  thy  merits ; 

The  like  of  thee  have  never  moved  My  hate. 

Of  ail  the  bold,  denying  Spirits, 

The  waggish  knave  least  trouble  doth  create. 

Man's  active  nature,  flagging,  seeks  too  soon  the  Ievel| 

Unqualified  repose  he  learns  to  crave; 

Whence,  willingly,  the  comrade  him  1  gave, 

Who  works,  excites,  and  must  create,  as  Devil. 

But  ye,  God's  sons  in  love  and  duty, 'J 

Enjoy  the  rich,  the  ever-living  Beauty! 

Creative  Power,  that  works  eternal  schemes, 

Clasp  you  in  bonds  of  love,  relaxing  never, 

And  what  in  wavering  apparition  gleams 

Fix  in  its  place  with  thoughts  that  stand  forever  I 

(HameH  cltaes:  Iht  Archangels  leparait.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES  {solus). 

I  like,  at  times,  to  hear  The  Ancient's  word, 
And  have  a  care  to  be  most  civil : 
It 's  really  kind  of  such  a  noble  Lord 
So  humanly  to  gossip  with  the  Devil  1 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


FIRST  PART  OF  THE  TRAGEDY. 


\A   Ufiy-arcieJ,   narmti,    Gothic   chamber.      Faust,  in  a 
chair  at  hit  dak,  reitUu. ) 

FAUST," 

I'VE  Studied  now  Philosophy 
And  Jurisprudence,  Medicine,  — 
And  even,  alas !  Theolc^,  — 
From  end  to  end,  with  labor  keen ; 
And  here,  poor  fool !  with  all  my  lore 
I  stand,  no  wiser  than  before : 
I  'm  Magister — yea,  Doctor  —  high t, 
And  straight  or  cross-wise,  wrong  or  right, 
These  ten  years  long,  with  many  woes, 
I  've  led  my  scholars  by  the  nose,  — 
And  see,  that  nothing  can  be  known  1 
That  knowledge  cuts  me  to  the  bone. 
I  'm  cleverer,  true,  than  those  fops  of  teachers, 
Doctors  and  Magisters,  Scribes  and  Preachers; 
Neither  scruples  nor  doubts  come  now  to  smite  me, 
Nor  Hell  nor  Devil  car  longer  affright  me. 
For  this,  all  pleasure  am  1  foregoing; 
I  do  not  pretend  to  aught  worth  knowing. 


ih,Googlc 


i8  PAUST. 

I  do  not  pretend  I  could  be  a  teacher 
f o  help  or  convert  a  fellow-creafwr«. 
Then,  too,  I  've  neither  lands  nor  gold. 
Nor  the  world's  least  pomp  or  honor  hold  — 
No  dog  would  endure  such  a  cursl  existence  I 
Wherefore,  from  Magic  I  seek  assistance, 
That  many  a  secret  perchance  I  reach 
Through  spirit-power  and  spirit-Kpeech, 
And  thus  the  bitter  task  forego 
Of  saying  the  things  I  do  not  know,  — 
That  1  may  detect  the  inmost  force 
Which  binds  the  world,  and  guides  its  course; 
Its  germs,  productive  powers  explore. 
And  rummage  in  empty  words  no  more! 

O  full  and  splendid  Moon,  whom  J 

Have,  from  this  desk,  seen  climb  the  sky 

So  many  a  midnight,  —  would  thy  glow 

For  the  last  time  beheld  my  woe ! 

Ever  thine  eye,  most  mournful  friend. 

O'er  books  and  papers  saw  me  bend; 

But  would  that  I,  on  mountains  grand, 

Amid  thy  blessed  light  could  stand. 

With  spirits  through  mountain<avems  hover, 

Float  in  thy  twilight  the  meadows  over, 

And,  freed  from  the  fumes  of  lore  that  swathe  me, 

To  health  in  thy  dewy  fountains  bathe  me ! 

Ah,  me  I  this  dungeon  still  I  see. 

This  drear,  accursed  masonry, 

Where  even  the  welcome  daylight  strait»' 

But  duskly  through  the  painted  panes. 

Hemmed  in  by  many  a  toppling  heap 

Of  books  worm-eaten,  gray  with  dust. 

Which  to  the  vaulted  ceiling  creop. 


ih,Googlc 


Against  the  Einoky  paper  thnist, — 
With  glasses,  boxes,  round  roe  stacked, 
And  instruments  together  burled. 
Ancestral  lumber,  stuffed  and  packed — 
Such  is  my  world :  and  what  a  world  I 

And  do  I  ask,  wherefore  my  heart 
Falters,  oppressed  with  unknown  oeeds  i 
Why  some  inexplicable  smart 
All  movement  of  my  life  impedes? 
Alaa !  in  living  Nature's  stead, 
Where  God  His  human  creature  set. 
In  smoke  and  mould  the  fleshless  dead 
And  bones  of  beasts  surround  me  yet  I 

Fly!    Up,  and  seek  the  broad,  free  landl  ■! 
And  this  one  Book  of  Mystery 
From  Nostradamus'  very  hand," 
Is 't  not  sufficient  company  ? 
When  I  the  starry  courses  know, 
And  Nature's  wise  instruction  seek, 
With  light  of  power  my  soul  shall  glow. 
As  when  to  spirits  spirits  speak. 
*T  is  vain,  this  empty  brooding  here, 
Though  guessed  the  holy  symbols  be : 
Ye,  Spirits,  tome  —  ye  hover  near — 
Oh,  if  you  hear  me,  answer  mel 

/Zf  ofieni  iht  Book,  and  ptrciivts  the  sign  of  tie  Matrocot 
Ha!  what  a  sudden  rapture  leaps  from  this 
I  view,  through  all  my  senses  swiftly  flowing! 
I  feel  a  youthful,  holy,  vital  bliss 
In  every  vein  and  fibre  newly  glowing. 
Was  it  a  God,  who  traced  this  sign. 
With  calm  across  my  tumult  stealing 


ih,Googlc 


My  troubled  heart  to  joy  ujiseaJii^, 

With  impulse,  mystic  and  divine. 

The  powers  of  Nature  here,  around  my  path,  revealing? 

Am  1  a  Godf —  so  clear  mine  eyes! 

In  these  pure  features  1  beliold 

Creative  Nature  to  my  soul  unfold. 

What  says  the  sage,  now  first  1  rect^iie : 

"  The  spiril-world  no  closures  fasten ; 

Thy  sense  is  shut,  thy  heart  is  dead : 

Disciple,  up  I  untiring,  hasten 

To  bathe  thy  breast  in  moming-red ! " 

{He  (enUrn flairs  the  tign.) 
How  each  the  Whole  its  substance  gives, 
Each  in  the  other  works  and  lives ! 
like  heavenly  forces  rising  and  descending, 
Their  golden  ums  reciprocally  lending, 
With  wings  that  winnow  blessing 
From  Heaven  through  Earth  I  see  them  pressin|^ 
Filling  the  All  with  harmony  unceasing ! 
How  grand  a  show !  but,  ah  !  a  show  alone. 
Thee,  boundless  Nature,  how  make  thee  my  own? 
Where  you,  ye  breasts?     Founts  of  all  Being,  shining, 
Whereon  hang  Heaven's  and  Earth's  desire, 
Whereto  our  withered  hearts  aspire,  — 
Ye  flow,  ye  feed :  and  am  I  vainly  pining  ? 

(He  turns  the  leaves  impatiently,  and  fertthvs  thi  sign  if  th* 

Eartk'Spirit.Y* 
How  otherwise  upon  me  works  this  sign! 
Thou,  Spirit  of  the  Earti«,  art  nearer: 
Even  now  my  powers  are  loftier,  clearer; 
I  glow,  as  drunk  with  new-made  wine : 
New  strength  and  heart  to  meet  the  world  incite  me, 
The  woe  of  earth,  the  bliss  of  earth,  invite  me. 


ih,Googlc 


And  though  the  shock  of  storms  may  smite  me, 

No  crash  of  shipwreck  shall  have  power  to  fright  me  1 

Clouds  gather  over  me  — 

The  moon  conceals  her  light  — 

The  lamp 's  extinguished  1  — 

Mists  rise,  —  red,  angry  rays  are  darting 

Around  my  head  i  —  There  falls 

A  horror  from  the  vaulted  roof. 

And  seizes  me  t 

1  feel  thy  presence,  Spirit  I  invoke! 

Reveal  thyself! 

Ha  1  in  my  heart  what  rending  stroke ! 

With  new  impulsion 

My  senses  heave  in  this  convulsion ! 

1  feel  thee  draw  my  heart,  absorb,  exhaust  me : 

Thou  must!  thou  musti  and  though  my  life  it  cost  met 

\Ht  lehei  Ikt  toeiy  and  mysterimaly  preneunct!  fkt  lipi  ef  tht 
Spirit.     A  ruddy  ßame  flashei:  tht  Spirit  apptars  in  Iht 


FAUST  (loiM  atirrted  htad\. 
Terrible  to  see  1 

Me  hast  thou  long  with  might  attracted, 
Long  from  my  sphere  thy  food  exacted. 
And  now  — 

FAUST. 

Woe !    I  endure  not  thee  t 


To  view  me  is  thine  aspiration. 

My  vcnce  to  hear,  my  countenance  to  see ; 


ih,Googlc 


22  FAUST. 

Thy  powerful  yearning  moveth  me. 

Here  am  I !  —  what  mean  perturbation 

Thee,  superhuman,  shakes?    Thy  soul's  high  calliDg^ 

where  ? 
Where  is  the  breast,  which  from  itself  a  world  did  bear, 
And  shaped  and  cherished  —  which  with  joy  expanded, 
To  be  our  peer,  with  us,  the  Spirits,  banded  ? 
Where  art  thou,  Faust,  whose  voice  has  pierced  to  me. 
Who  towards  me  pressed  with  all  thine  energy? 
He  art  thou,  who,  my  presence  breathing,  seeing, 
Trembles  through  all  the  depths  of  being, 
A  writhing  worm,  a  terror-stricken  form? 

FAUST. 

Thee,  fonn  of  flame,  shall  I  then  fear? 
Yes,  I  am  Faust ;  1  am  thy  peer  1 

SPIRIT. 

In  the  tides  of  Life,  in  Action's  stom,» 

A  fluctuant  wave, 

A  shuttle  free. 

Birth  and  the  Grave, 

An  eternal  sea, 

A  weaving,  flowing 

Life,  all-glowing. 
Thus  at  Time's  humming  loom  't  is  my  hand  premres 
The  garment  of  Ufe  which  the  Deity  wears  [ 

FAUST. 

Thou,  who  around  the  wide  world  wendest, 
Thou  busy  Spirit,  how  near  I  feel  to  thee  ! 

SPIRIT. 

Thou  'rt  like  the  Spirit  which  ihou  comprehcndest, 
Not  me ! 

[Düaffiari.) 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  I,  3 

FAUST  [overmkiltHttti. 

Not  thee  I 

Whom  thi.n? 

I,  inuge  o(  the  Godhead ! 

Not  even  like  thee ! 

[A  iiinci.) 

0  Death !  —  I  know  it  —  't  is  my  Famulus !  ■• 
My  fairest  luck  finds  no  fruition : 

In  all  the  fulness  of  my  vision 

The  soulless  sneak  disturbs  me  thus ! 

[Enter  WaGN  eR,  iit  dnsiing-ginaii  and  nigkl-atf,  a  lamp  i 

Ait  hand.     FaUST  lurtis  impatiimly.) 
WAGNER." 

I'ardon,  I  heard  your  declamation ; 
'T  was  sure  an  old  Greek  tragedy  you  read? 
Id  such  an  art  1  crave  some  preparation, 
Since  now  it  stands  one  in  good  stead. 

1  've  often  heard  it  said,  a  preacher 
Might  lean),  with  a  comedian  for  a  teacher. 

FAUST. 

Yes,  when  the  priest  comedian  is  by  nature, 
As  haply  nov  and  then  the  case  may  be. 

WAGNER. 

Ah,  when  one  studies  thus,  a  prisoned  creature, 
That  scarce  the  world  on  holidays  can  see,  — 
Scarce  through  a  glass,  by  rare  occasion. 
How  shall  one  lead  it  by  persuasion  7 

FAUST. 

You  II  ne'er  attain  it,  save  you  know  the  feeling, 
Save  from  the  soul  it  rises  clear, 
Serene  in  primal  strength,  compelling 


ih,Googlc 


24 


FAUST. 


The  hearts  and  minds  of  all  who  hear. 

You  sit  forever  gluing,  patching ; 

You  cook  the  scraps  from  others'  fare ; 

And  from  your  heap  of  ashes  hatching 

A  starveling  flame,  ye  blow  it  bare ! 

Take  children's,  monkeys'  gaze  admiring, 

If  such  your  taste,  and  be  content ; 

But  ne'er  from  heart  to  heart  you  11  speak  inspiring, 

Save  your  own  heart  is  eloquent  J 

WAGNER. 

Yet  through  delivery  orators  succeed ; 
I  feel  that  I  am  far  behind,  indend. 

FAUST- 

Seek  thou  the  honest  recompense ! 

Beware,  a  tinkling  fool  Co  be  1 

With  little  art,  clear  wit  and  sense 

Suggest  their  own  delivery ; 

And  if  thou  'rt  moved  to  speak  in  earnest, 

What  need,  that  after  words  thou  yearnest? 

Yes,  your  discourses,  with  their  glittering  show. 

Where  ye  for  men  twist  shredded  thought  like  paper,"" 

Are  unrefreshing  as  the  winds  that  blow 

The  rustling  leaves  through  chill  autumnal  vapor  I 

WAGNER. 

Ah,  God !  but  Art  is  long,'' 

And  Life,  alas !  is  fleeting. 

And  oft,  with  leal  my  critic-duties  meeting. 

In  head  and  breast  tliere  's  something  wrong. 

fiow  hard  it  is  to  compass  the  assistance 

Whereby  one  rises  to  the  source ! 

And,  haply,  ere  one  travels  half  the  course 

Must  the  poor  devil  quit  existence. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

Is  parchment,  then,  the  holy  fount  before  thee, 
A  draught  wherefrom  thy  tliirst  forever  slakes? 
No  true  refreshment  can  restore  thee. 
Save  what  from  thine  own  soul  spontaneous  breaks. 

WAGNER. 

Pardon!  a  great  delight  is  granted 
When,  in  the  spirit  of  the  ages  planted. 
We  mark  how,  ere  our  time,  a  sage  has  thought. 
And  then,  how  far  his  work,  and  grandly,  we  have 
broughL 

FAUST. 

O  yes,  up  to  the  stars  at  last ! 
Listen,  my  friend :  the  ages  that  are  past 
Are  now  a  book  with  seven  seals  protected : 
What  you  the  Spirit  of  the  Ages  call 
Is  nothing  but  the  spirit  of  you  all. 
Wherein  the  Ages  are  reflected. 
So,  oftentimes,  you  miserably  mar  it ! 
At  the  first  glance  who  sees  it  runs  away. 
An  offal-barrel  and  a  lumber-garret. 
Or,  at  the  best,  a  Punch-anti-Judy  play," 
With  maxims  most  pragmatical  and  hitting, 
As  in  the  mouths  of  puppets  are  befitting! 

WAGNER. 

But  then,  the  world — the  human  heart  and  brainl 
Of  these  one  covets  some  slight  apprehension. 

FAUST. 

Yes,  of  the  kind  which  men  attain  ! 

Who  dares  the  child's  true  name  in  public  mention  ? 

The  few,  who  thereof  something  really  learned, 


ih,Googlc 


z6  FAUST. 

Unwisely  frank,  with  heans  that  spumed  concealing, 
And  to  the  mob  laid  bare  each  thought  and  feeling 
Have  evermore  been  crucified  and  burned.'^ 
I  pray  you,  Friend,  't  is  now  the  dead  of  night ; 
Our  converse  here  must  be  suspended. 

WAGKER. 

I  would  have  shared  your  watches  with  delight, 
That  so  our  learned  talk  might  be  extended,* 
To-morrow,  though,  I  '11  ask,  in  Easter  leisure. 
This  37id  the  other  question,  at  your  pleasure. 
Most  zealously  I  seek  for  erudition  : 
Much  do  1  know — but  to  know  all  is  my  ambition. 

\Lvii 
FAUST  (setui). 

That  brain,  alone,  not  loses  hope,  whose  choice  is 
To  stick  in  shallow  trash  forevermore,  — 
Which  digs  with  eager  hand  for  buried  ore. 
And,  when  it  finds  an  angle-worm,  rejoices ! 

Dare  such  a  human  voice  disturb  the  flow. 

Around  me  here,  of  spirit-presence  fullest? 

And  yet,  this  once  my  thanks  I  owe 

To  thee,  of  all  earth's  sons  the  poorest,  dullest ! 

For  thou  hast  torn  me  from  that  desperate  state 

Which  threatened  soon  to  overwhelm  my  senses; 

The  apparition  was  so  giant-great. 

It  dwarfed  and  withered  all  my  soul's  pretences ! 

I,  im.iEe  of  the  Godhead,  who  began  — 
Deeming  Eternal  Truth  secure  in  nearness  — 
To  sun  myself  in  heavenly  lij^hi  and  clearness. 
And  laid  aside  the  earthly  man;  — 
I,  more  than  Cherul>,  whose  free  force  had  planned 
To  flow  through  Nature's  veins  in  glad  pulsation. 


ih,Googlc 


To  reach  beyond,  enjoying  in  crealioa 
The  life  of  Gods,  behold  my  expiation! 
A  thunder-word  hath  swept  me  from  my  stand.'' 

With  thee  I  dare  not  venture  to  compare  me. 

Though  1  possessed  the  power  to  draw  thee  near  m^ 

The  power  to  keep  thee  was  denied  my  hand. 

When  that  ecstatic  moment  held  me, 

I  fell  myself  so  smallj.so  great; 

But  thou  hast  ruthlessly  repelled  me 

Back  upon  Man's  uncertain  fate. 

What  shall  I  shun  ?     Whose  guidance  lx>nx>W  ? 

Shall  I  accept  that  stress  and  strife? 

Ah  !  every  deed  of  ours,  no  less  than  every  sorrow, 

Impedes  the  onward  march  of  life. 

Some  alien  substance  more  and  more  is  cleaving 
To  all  the  mind  conceives  of  grand  and  fair ; 
When  this  world's  Good  is  won  by  our  achieving, 
The  Better,  then,  is  named  a  cheat  and  snare. 
The  fine  emotions,  whence  our  lives  we  mould, 
Lie  in  the  earthly  tumult  dumb  and  cold. 
U  hopeful  Fancy  once,  in  daring  flight. 
Her  longings  to  the  Infinite  expanded. 
Yet  now  a  narrow  space  contents  her  quite. 
Since  Time's  wild  wave  so  many  a  fortune  stranded. 
Care  at  the  bottom  of  the  heart  is  lurking: 
Her  secret  pangs  in  silence  working. 
She,  restless,  rocks  herself,  disturbing  joy  and  rest ; 
In  newer  masks  her  face  is  ever  drest, 
By  turns  as  house  and  land,  as  wife  and  child,  pre- 
sented,— 
As  water,  tire,  as  poison,  steel : 
We  dread  the  blows  we  never  feel, 
Aiid  what  we  never  lose  is  yet  by  us  lamented  I 


ih,Googlc 


,8  FAUST. 

\  um  not  like  the  Gods !    That  truth  is  felt  too  deep : 
The  worm  am  I,  that  in  the  dust  doth  creep, — 
That,  while  in  dust  it  lives  and  seeks  its  bread. 
Is  crushed  and  buried  by  the  wanderer's  tread. 

Is  not  this  dust,  these  walls  within  them  hold, 

The  hundred  shelves,  which  cramp  and  chain  m^ 

The  frippery,  the  trinkets  thousand-fold, 

That  In  this  mothy  den  restrain  me? 

Here  shall  I  tind  the  help  I  need? 

Shall  here  a  thousand  volumes  teach  me  only 

That  men,  self- tortured,  everywhere  must  bleed,  — 

And  here  and  there  one  happy  man  sits  lonely?*" 

What  mean'st  thou  by  that  grin,  thou  hollow  skull, 

Save  that  thy  brain,  like  mine,  a  cloudy  mirror. 

Sought  once  the  shining  day,  and  then,  in  twilight  dull," 

Thirsting  for  Truth,  went  wretchedly  to  Error? 

Ye  instruments,  forsooth,  but  jeer  at  me 

With  wheel  and  cog,  and  shapes  uncouth  of  wonder; 

I  found  (he  portal,  you  the  keys  should  be; 

Your  wards  are  deftly  wrought,  but  drive  no  boltr 

asunder ] 
Mysterious  even  in  open  day. 
Nature  ret^ns  her  veil,  despite  our  clamors: 
That  which  she  doth  not  willingly  display 
Cannot  be  wrenched  from  her  with  levers,  screws,  and 

hammers. 
Ye  ancient  tools,  whose  use  I  never  knew. 
Here,  since  my  father  used  ye,  still  ye  moulder : 
Tiiou,  ancient  scroll,  hast  worn  thy  smoky  hue 
Since  at  this  desk  the  dim  lamp  wont  to  smoulder. 
'T  were  better  far,  had  I  my  little  idly  spent, 
Than  now  to  sweat  beneath  its  burden,  1  confess  it! 
What  from  your  fathers"  heritage  is  lent, 
Eain  it  anew,  to  really  possess  it ! " 


ih,Googlc 


Wliat  serves  not,  is  a  sore  impediineiit : 
The  Moment's  need  creates  the  tbing  to  serve  and  bless 
itt 

Yet,  wherefore  tnrna  my  ga«  to  yonder  point  so  li^tly  ? 
Is  yonder  flask  a  magnet  for  mine  eyes  ? 
Whence,  all  around  me,  glows  the  air  so  brightly. 
As  when  in  woods  at  night  the  mellow  moonbeam  lies? 

I  hail  thee,  wondrous,  rarest  vial ! 
I  take  thee  down  devoutly,  for  the  trial: 
Man's  art  and  wit  I  venerate  in  thee. 
Thou  summary  of  gentle  slumber-juices. 
Essence  of  deadly  finest  powers  :±ad  uses. 
Unto  thy  master  show  thy  favor  free ! 
t  see  thee,  and  the  stings  of  pain  diminish; 
I  grasp  tbee,  and  my  struggles  slowly  finish : 
My  spirit's  flood-tide  ebbeth  more  and  more. 
Out  on  the  open  ocean  speeds  my  dreaming ; 
The  glassy  flood  before  my  feet  is  gleaming, 
A  new  day  beckons  to  a  newer  shore ! 

A  fiery  chariot,  borne  on  buoyant  pinions. 

Sweeps  near  me  now  1     I  soon  shall  ready  be 

To  pierce  the  ether's  high,  unknown  dominions. 

To  reach  new  spheres  of  pure  activity  1 

This  godlike  rapture,  this  supreme  existence. 

Do  I,  but  now  a  worm,  deserve  to  track? 

Yes,  resolute  to  reach  some  brighter  distance. 

On  Earth's  fair  sun  I  turn  my  back !  >' 

Yes,  let  me  dare  those  gates  to  flin^  asunder, 

Which  every  man  would  fain  go  slinking  by  ! 

"T  is  time,  through  deeds  this  word  of  truth  to  thunder: 

That  with  the  height  of  Cods  Man's  dignity  may  viel 

Nor  from  that  gloomy  gulf  to  shrink  affrighted. 


ih,Googlc 


30  FAUST. 

Where  Fancy  doth  herself  to  self-bom  pangs  compel,  — 

To  stni^ie  toward  that  pass  benighted. 

Around  whose  narrow  mouth  flame  all  the  fires  <^ 
Hell,— 

To  take  this  step  with  cheerful  resolution. 

Though  Nothingness  ehould  be  the  certain,  swift  con- 
clusion ! 

And  now  come  down,  thou  cup  of  cr)-stal  clearest ! 
Fresh  from  thine  ancient  cover  thou  appearest, 
So  many  years  foigotten  to  my  thought  1 
Thou  shon'st  at  old  ancestral  banquets  cheery, 
The  solemn  guests  thou  madest  merry. 
When  one  thy  wassail  to  the  other  brought. 
The  rich  and  skilful  figures  o'er  thee  wrought. 
The  drinker's  duty,  rhyme-wise  to  explain  them, 
Or  in  one  breath  below  the  mark  to  drain  ihem, 
From  many  a  night  of  youth  my  memory  caught. 
Now  to  a  neighbor  shall  I  pass  thee  never. 
Nor  on  thy  curious  art  to  test  my  wit  endeavor: 
Here  is  a  juice  whence  sleep  is  swiftly  born. 
It  fills  with  browner  flood  thy  crystal  hollow ; 
I  chose,  prepared  it:  thus  1  follow,  — 
With  all  my  soul  the  final  drink  I  swallow, 
A  solemn  festal  cup,  a  greeting  to  the  mom  I 

\Hi  stti  thi  gtbtct  te  k<t  matuh. 

(Chimt  ofbflls  undtkeral  song.] 

CHOKUS  OF  ANGELS." 

Christ  is  arisen ! 
Joy  to  the  Mortal  One, 
Whom  the  unmerited, 
Clinging,  inherited 
Needs  did  imprisou. 


ih,Googlc 


What  hollow  humming,  what  a  sharp,  clear  nlroke, 

Drives  from  my  lip  the  goblet's,  at  thfir  meeting  ? 

Announce  the  booming  bells  already  woke 

The  first  glad  hour  of  Easter's  festal  greeting  ? 

Ye  choirs,  have  ye  begun  the  sweet,  consoling  chant, 

Which,  through  the  night  of  Death,  the  angels  raini»- 

trant 
Sang,  God's  new  Covenant  repeating  ? 


5  OF  WOMEN. 

With  spices  and  precious 
Balm,  we  arrayed  him ; 
Faithful  and  gracious. 
We  tenderly  laid  him: 
linen  to  bind  him 
Cleanlily  wound  we: 
Ah  1  when  we  would  lind  him, 
Christ  no  more  found  we .' 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS. 

Christ  is  ascended  1 
Bliss  hath  invested  him,  — 
Woes  that  molested  him, 
Trials  that  tested  him. 
Gloriously  ended ! 

FAUST. 

Why,  here  in  dust,  entice  me  with  your  speli. 
Ye  gentle,  powerful  sounds  of  Heaven  ? 
Peal  rather  there,  where  tender  natures  dwell. 
Your  messages  I  hear,  but  faith  has  not  been  g 
The  dearest  child  of  Faith  is  Miracle. 
I  venture  not  to  soar  to  yonder  regions 
Whence  the  glad  tidings  hither  float ; 


ih,Googlc 


And  yet,  from  childhood  up  tuniliar  with  the  note, 

To  Life  it  now  renews  the  old  allegiance. 

Once  Heavenly  Love  sent  down  a  burning  kiss 

Upon  my  brow,  in  Sabbath  silence  holy; 

And,  filled  with  mystic  presage,  chimed  the  church-bell 

slowly. 
And  prayer  dissolved  me  in  a  fervent  bliss.^ 
A  sweet,  uncomprehended  yearning 
Drove  forth  my  feet  through  woods  and  meadows  free, 
And  while  a  thousand  tears  were  burning, 
I  felt  a  world  arise  for  me. 

These  chants,  to  youth  and  all  its  sports  appealing, 
Proclaimed  the  Spring's  rejoicing  holiday; 
And  Memory  holds  me  now,  with  childish  feeling. 
Back  from  the  last,  the  solemn  way. 
Sound  on,  ye  hymns  of  Heaven,  so  sweet  and  n.ilil ! 
My  tears  gush  forth  :  the  Earth  takes  back  her  child  ! 

CHORUS  OF  DISCIPLES. 
Has  He,  victoriously. 
Burst  from  the  vaulted 
Grave,  and  all-g!oriously 
Now  sits  exalted  f 
Is  He,  in  glow  of  birth. 
Rapture  creative  near  ? » 
Ah!  to  the  woe  of  earth 
Still  are  we  native  here. 
We,  his  aspiring 
Followers,  Him  we  miss ; 
Weeping,  desiring. 
Master,  Thy  bliss! 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS. 

Christ  is  arisen, 

Out  of  Corruption's  womb : 


ih,Googlc 


SCEfi^E  I. 

Borat  ye  the  prison. 
Break  from  your  gloom  t 
Praising  and  pleading  him, 
Lovingly  needing  him. 
Brotherly  feeding  him. 
Preaching  and  speeding  him. 
Blessing,  succeeding  Him, 
Thus  is  the  Master  near,  — 
Thus  is  He  here ! 


ih,Googlc 


BEFORE  THE   CITY-CATE.js 

(Pedeitriatii  of  all  iinds  tome  forth.) 

SEVERAL  APPRENTICES. 

^\  7  H Y  do  you  go  that  way  ? 

OTHERS. 

We  're  for  the  Hunters'-lodge,  to-day. 

THE  FIRST. 

We  II  saunter  to  the  Mill,  in  yonder  hoUow. 

AN  APPRENTICE. 

Go  to  the  River  Tavern,  I  should  say. 


SECOND 

But  then,  it 's  not  a  pleasant  way. 

THE  OTHERS. 

And  what  will  _yi>i(f 

A  THIRD. 

As  goes  the  crowd,  I  follow. 

A  FOURTH.  r 

Come  «p  to  Burgdorf  ?    There  you  II  find  good  cheer, 
The  finest  lasses  and  the  best  of  beer, 
And  jolty  rows  and  squabbles,  trust  me  \ 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  II. 

A  FIFTH. 

You  swaggering  fcUow,  is  your  hide 

A  third  time  itching  to  be  tried  ? 

1  won't  go  there,  your  jolly  rows  disgust  me  I 

SERVANT-GIKL. 

No,  —  not    I'U  turn  and  go  to  town  again. 

ANOTHEK. 

We  II  surely  fiitd  him  by  those  poplars  yonder. 

That 's  no  great  luck  for  me,  't  is  plain. 
Vou  II  have  him,  when  and  where  you  wander : 
His  partner  in  the  dance  you  '11  be,  — 
But  what  is  all  your  fun  to  me  ? 

THE  OTHER. 

He 's  surely  not  alone  to-day : 

He  'II  be  with  Ctirly-bead,  1  heard  him  say. 


Deuce  !  how  they  step,  the  buxom  wenches  ! 
Come,  Brother  I  we  must  see  them  lo  the  benches. 
A  strong,  old  beer,  a  pipe  that  stings  and  bites, 
A  girl  in  Sunday  clothes,  —  these  three  are  my  dF:li^ht& 

citizen's  daughter. 
Just  see  those  handsome  fellows,  there  ! 
It's  really  shameful,  I  declare;  — 
To  loUow  servant-giris,  when  they 
Might  have  the  most  genteel  society  to-day ! 


J  STUDENT  {lo  Ike  Firsi). 
Not  quite  so  fast !     Two  others  come  behind,  - 
Those,  dressed  so  prettily  aud  neatly. 


ih,Googlc 


My  neighbor  's  one  of  them,  I  find, 
A  girl  that  takes  my  heart,  completery. 

They  go  their  way  with  looks  demure. 
But  they'll  accept  us,  after  all,  I  'm  sure. 

THE  FIRST. 

No,  Brother !  not  for  me  their  fonnal  ways. 
Quick !  lest  our  game  escape  us  in  the  press : 
The  hand  that  wields  the  broom  on  Saturdays 
Will  best,  on  Sundays,  fondle  and  caress. 

CITIZEN. 

He  suits  me  not  at  all,  our  new-made  Burgomaster  I 

Since  he 's  installed,  his  arrogance  grows  faster. 

How  has  he  helped  the  town,  I  say? 

Things  worsen,  — what  improvement  names  he? 

Obedience,  more  than  ever,  claims  he. 

And  more  than  ever  we  must  pay ! 

BEGGAR  {liHgl). 

Good  gentlemen  and  lovely  ladles. 
So  red  of  cheek  and  fine  of  dress. 
Behold,  how  needful  here  your  aid  is. 
And  see  and  lighten  my  distress ! 
Let  me  not  vainly  sing  my  ditty ; 
He  's  only  glad  who  gives  away ; 
A  holiday,  that  shows  your  pity. 
Shall  be  for  me  a  harvcat-day ! 


On  Sundays,  holidays,  there  's  naught  I  take  delight  in, 

Uke  gossiping  of  war,  and  war's  array. 

When  dowii  in  Turkey,  far  away. 

The  foreign  people  are  a-fighting. 

One  at  the  window  sits,  with  glass  and  friends, 


ih,Googlc 


,4nd  sees  all  sorts  of  ships  go  down  the  river  glidiog : 
And  blesses  then,  as  home  he  wends 
At  ni^t,  our  times  of  peace  abiding. 

THIRD  CITIZEN. 

Yes,  Neighbor!  that's  my  notion,  too: 

Why,  let  them  break  their  heads,  let  loose  their  pas^ona, 

And  mix  things  madly  through  and  through, 

So,  here,  we  keep  our  good  old  fashions ! 

OLD  WOMAN  (to  lit  Cilitfit's  Daughlir\ 

Dear  me,  bow  fine!     So  handsome,  and  so  youngt 
Who  would  n't  lose  his  heart,  that  met  you? 
Don't  be  so  proud  I     I  'U  hold  my  tongue. 
And  what  you  'd  Uke  I  '11  undertake  to  get  you. 

CmZEN'S  DAUGHTER. 

Come,  Agatha  I    I  shun  the  witch's  sight 

Before  folks,  lest  there  be  misgiving ; 

'T  is  true,  she  showed  me,  on  Saint  Andrew's  Night,* 

My  future  sweetheart,  just  as  he  were  living. 

THE  OTHER. 

She  showed  me  mine,  in  crystal  clear,^ 
With  several  wild  young  blades,  a  soldier-lover: 
I  seek  him  everywhere,  I  pry  and  peer. 
And  yet,  somehow,  his  face  I  can't  discover. 

SOLDIERS. 
Castles,  with  lofty 
Ramparts  and  toweis, 
Maidens  disdainful 
In  Beauty's  array. 
Both  shall  be  ours  I 
Bold  is  the  venture, 
Splendid  the  pay  I 


ih,Googlc 


Lads,  let  the  trumpet» 
For  us  be  suing, — 
Calling  to  pleasure, 
Calling  to  ruin. 
StcHmy  our  life  is ; 
Such  is  its  boon ! 
Maidens  and  castles 
Capitulate  soon. 
Bold  is  the  venture, 
Splendid  the  pay! 
And  the  soldiers  go  marching 
Marching  away ! 

Faust  and  Wagner. 

FAUST. 

Released  from  ice  are  brook  and  river  ^ 

By  the  quickening  glance  of  the  gracious  Spring; 

The  colors  of  hope  to  the  valley  cling. 

And  weak  old  Winter  himself  must  shiver. 

Withdrawn  to  the  mountains,  a  crownless  king; 

Whence,  ever  retreating,  he  sends  again 

Impotent  showers  of  sleet  that  darkle 

In  belts  across  the  green  o'  the  plain. 

But  the  suD  will  permit  no  white  to  sparkle ; 

Everj'where  form  in  development  movcth  : 

He  will  brighten  the  world  with  ihe  tints  he  lovetb, 

And,  lacking  blossoms,  blue,  yellow,  and  red. 

He  takes  these  gaudy  people  instead. 

Turn  thee  about,  and  from  this  height 

Back  on  the  town  direct  thy  sight. 

Out  of  the  hollow,  gloomy  gale, 

The  motley  throngs  L'ome  forth  elate  ■ 

E^ch  will  the  joy  of  the  simsliine  hoard. 

To  honor  the  Day  of  the  Risen  Lord  I 


ih,Googlc 


SCEATS  //. 

They  feel,  themselves,  their 
From  the  low,  dark  rooms,  scarce  habitable ; 
From  the  bonds  of  Work,  from  Trade's  restriction; 
From  the  pressing  weight  of  roof  and  gable ; 
From  the  narrow,  crushing  streets  and  alleys  ; 
From  the  churches'  solemn  and  reverend  night. 
All  come  forth  to  the  cheerful  light. 
How  lively,  see !  the  multitude  sallies. 
Scattering  through  gardens  and  lields  remote. 
While  over  the  river,  that  broadly  dallies. 
Dances  so  many  a  festive  boat; 
'And  overladen,  nigh  to  sinking. 
The  last  full  wherry  takes  (he  stream. 
Yonder  afar,  from  the  hill-paths  blinking. 
Their  clothes  are  colors  that  softly  gleam. 
I  hear  the  noise  of  the  village,  even ; 
Here  is  the  People's  proper  Heaven ; 
Here  high  and  low  contented  see  I 
Here  I  am  Man, — dare  man  to  be  ! 

WAGNER. 

To  stroll  with  you.  Sir  Doctor,  flatters ; 

T  is  honor,  profit,  unto  me. 

But  1,  alone,  would  shun  these  shallow  matterS; 

Since  all  that 's  coarse  provokes  my  enmity. 

This  fiddling,  shouting,  ten-pin  rolling 

I  hate,  — these  noises  of  the  throng: 

They  rave,  as  Satan  were  their  sports  conlroUiDg, 

And  call  it  mirth,  and  call  it  song ! 

PEASANTS,  UNDER  THE  LINDEN-TREE. 
(.Da««  aHdSp„g.) 

All  for  the  dance  the  shepherd  dressed," 
In  ribbons,  wreath,  and  gayest  vest 
Himself  with  care  arraying : 


ih,Googlc 


Around  the  linden  lass  and  lad 
Already  fooled  it  like  mad  : 

Hurrah !  hurrah ! 

Hurrah  —  tarara-la ! 

The  fiddle-bow  was  playing. 

He  broke  the  ranks,  no  whit  afraid, 
And  with  his  elbow  punched  a  maid. 

Who  stood,  the  dance  surveying; 
The  buxom  wench,  she  turned  and  said: 
"  Now,  you  1  call  a  stupid-head ! " 

Hunah !  hurrah ! 

Hurrah — tarara-la ! 

"  Be  decent  while  you  're  staying ! " 

Then  round  the  circle  went  their  flight, 
They  danced  to  left,  they  danced  to  right : 

Their  kirtles  all  were  playing. 
They  first  grew  red,  and  then  grew  warm. 
And  rested,  panting,  arm  in  arm,  — 

Hurrah  I  hurrah  t 

Hurrah  —  tarara-la  I 

And  hips  and  elbows  slrajdng. 

Now,  don't  be  so  familiar  here  1 
How  many  a  one  has  fooled  his  dear. 

Waylaying  and  betraying! 
And  yet,  he  coaxed  her  soon  aside, 
And  round  the  linden  sounded  wide: 

Hurrah !  hurrah ! 

Hurrah  —  tarara-la ! 

And  the  fiddle-bow  was  playing. 

OLD  PEASANT. 

Sir  Doctor,  it  is  good  of  you," 
That  tlius  you  condescend,  to-day, 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  II. 

Among  this  crowd  of  merry  folk, 

A  highly- learned  man,  to  stray. 

Th«n  also  take  the  finest  can, 

We  fill  with  fresh  wine,  for  your  sake: 

I  offer  it,  and  humbly  wish 

That  not  alone  your  thirst  it  slake,  — 

That,  as  the  drops  below  its  brink, 

So  many  days  of  life  you  drink ! 

FAUST. 

I  take  the  cup  you  kindly  reach, 

With  thanlcs  and  health  to  all  and  each. 

( Tht  PivpU  gather  in  a  circle  aiaiil  Aim.) 

OLD  PEASANT. 

In  truth,  t  is  well  and  fitly  timed, 
That  now  our  day  of  joy  you  share, 
Who  heretofore,  in  evil  days. 
Gave  us  so  much  of  helping  care. 
Still  many  a  man  stands  living  here, 
Saved  by  your  father^s  skilful  hand. 
That  snatched  him  from  the  fever's  rage 
And  stayed  the  plague  in  all  the  land. 
Then  also  you,  though  but  a  youth," 
Went  Into  every  house  of  pain : 
Many  the  corpses  carried  forth. 
But  you  in  health  came  out  again. 
No  test  or  trial  you  evaded : 
A  Helping  God  the  helper  aided. 


Health  to  the  man,  so  skilled  and  tried, 
That  for  our  help  he  long  may  bide  1 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

To  Him  above  bow  down,  my  friend», 
Who  teaches  help,  and  succor  sends ! 

(He  gees  on  with  Wagner.) 

WAGNER. 

With  what  a  feeling,  thou  great  man,  must  thou 

Receive  the  people's  honest  veneration! 

How  lucky  he,  whose  gifts  his  station 

With  such  advantages  endow  ! 

Thou  'rt  shown  to  all  the  younger  generation : 

Each  asks,  and  presses  near  to  gaze ; 

The  fiddle  stops,  the  dance  delays. 

Thou  goest,  they  stand  in  rows  to  see. 

And  all  the  caps  are  lifted  high  ; 

A  little  more,  and  they  would  bend  the  knee 

As  if  the  Holy  Host  came  by. 

FAUST. 

A  few  more  steps  ascend,  as  far  as  yonder  stone!  — 
Here  from  our  wandering  will  we  rest  contented. 
Here,  lost  in  thought,  I  've  lingered  oft  alone, 
When  foolish  fasts  and  prayers  my  life  tormented. 
Here,  rich  in  hope  and  firm  in  faith. 
With  tears,  wrung  hands  and  sighs,  1  've  striven. 
The  end  of  that  far-spreading  death 
Entreating  from  the  Lord  of  Heaven  ! 
Now  like  contempt  the  crowd's  applauses  seem : 
Couldst  thou  but  read,  within  mine  inmost  spirit. 
How  littie  now  I  deem 
That  sire  or  son  such  praises  merit! 
My  father's  was  a  sombre,  brooding  brain, 
Which  through  the  holy  spheres  of  Nature  ^oped  and 
wandered. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  II. 

And  hoaestly,  in  his  own  fashion,  pondered 

With  labor  whimsical,  and  pain: 

Who,  in  his  dusky  vork-shop  bending, 

With  proved  adepts  in  company. 

Made,  from  his  recipes  unending. 

Opposing  substances  agree. 

There  was  a  Uon  red,  a  wooer  daring," 

Within  the  Lily's  tepid  bath  espoused, 

And  both,  tormented  then  by  tiame  unsparing. 

By  turns  in  either  bridal  chamber  housed. 

If  then  appeared,  with  colors  splendid, 

The  young  Queen  in  her  crystal  shell. 

This  was  the  medicine  —  ihe  patients'  woes  soon  e 

And  none  demanded :  who  got  well  ? 

Thus  we,  our  hellish  boluses  compounding. 

Among  these  vales  and  hills  surrounding. 

Worse  than  the  pestilence,  have  passed. 

Thousands  were  done  to  death  from  poison  of  my  gi 

And  I  must  hear,  by  all  the  living. 

The  shameless  murderers  praised  at  last ! 

WAGNER. 

Why,  therefore,  yield  to  such  depression? 
A  good  man  iloes  his  honest  share 
In  exercising,  with  the  strictest  care. 
The  art  bequeathed  to  his  possession! 
Dost  thou  Üiy  father  honor,  as  a  youth  ? 
Then  may  his  teaching  cheerfully  impel  thee : 
Dost  thou,  as  man,  increase  the  stores  of  truth  ? 
Then  may  thine  own  son  afterwards  excel  thee. 


O  happy  he,  who  still  renews 

The  hope,  from  Error's  deeps  to  rise  forever  I 

That  which  one  does  not  know,  one  needs  to  us 


ih,Googlc 


44 


FAUST. 


And  what  one  knows,  one  uses  never. 

But  let  us  not,  by  such  despondence,  so 

The  fortune  of  this  hour  embitter ! 

Mark  how,  beneath  the  evening  sunlight's  glow, 

The  green-embosomed  houses  glitter ! 

The  glow  retreats,  done  is  the  day  of  toil , 

It  yonder  hastes,  new  fields  of  life  exploring; 

Ah,  that  no  wing  can  lift  me  from  the  soil. 

Upon  its  track  to  follow,  follow  soaring  1 

Then  would  1  see  eternal  Evening  gild 

The  silent  world  beneath  me  glowing. 

On  fire  each  mountain-peak,  with  peace  each   valley 

filled. 
The  silver  brook  to  golden  rivers  flowing. 
The  mountain-chain,  with  all  its  gorges  deep. 
Would  then  no  more  impede  my  godlike  motion ; 
And  now  before  mine  eyes  expands  the  ocean 
With  all  its  bays,  in  shining  sleep  I 
Yet,  finally,  the  weary  god  is  sinking ; 
The  new-born  impulse  fires  my  mind,  — 
I  ha.sten  on,  his  beams  eternal  drinking. 
The  Day  before  me  and  the  Night  behind. 
Above  me  heaven  unfurled,  the  floor  of  waves  beneath 

A  glorious  dream !  though  now  the  glories  fade. 

Alas  !  the  wings  thai  lift  the  mind  no  aid 

Of  wings  to  lift  the  body  can  bequeath  me. 

Yet  in  each  soul  is  born  the  pleasure 

Of  yearning  onward,  upward  and  away. 

When  o'er  our  heads,  lost  in  the  vaulted  aiure, 

The  lark  sends  down  his  flickering  lay,  — 

When  over  crags  and  piny  highlands 

The  poising  eagle  slowly  soars. 

And  over  plains  and  lakes  and  islands 

The  crane  sails  by  to  other  shores. 


ih,Googlc 


WAGNER. 

I  've  had,  myself,  at  times,  some  odd  caprices, 

But  never  yet  such  impulse  felt,  as  this  is. 

One  soon  fatigues,  on  woods  and  fields  to  look, 

Nor  would  I  beg  the  bird  his  wing  to  spare  us ; 

How  otherwise  the  mental  raptures  bear  us 

From  page  to  page,  from  boolt  to  book ! 

Then  winter  nights  take  loveliness  untold. 

As  warmer  life  in  every  limb  had  crowned  you ; 

And  when  your  hands  unroll  some  parchment  rare  and 

old, 
All  Heaven  descentls,  and  opens  bright  around  yon !  < 

FAUST. 

One  impulse  art  thou  conscious  of,  at  best; 

O,  never  seek  to  know  the  other  I 

Two  souls,  alas '.  reside  within  my  breast. 

And  each  withdraws  from,  and  repels,  its  brother. 

One  with  tenacious  organs  holds  in  love 

And  clinging  lust  the  world  in  its  embraces ; 

The  other  strongly  sweeps,  this  dust  above, 

Into  the  high  ancestral  spaces- 

If  there  be  airy  spirits  near,'} 

'Twixt  Heaven  and  Earth  on  potent  errands  fleeing, 

Let  them  drop  down  the  golden  atmosphere, 

And  bear  me  forth  to  new  and  varied  being! 

Yea,  if  a  magic  mantle  once  were  mine. 

To  waft  me  o'er  the  world  at  pleasure, 

I  would  not  for  the  costliest  stores  of  treasure  — 

Not  for  a  monarch's  robe  —  the  gift  resign, 

WAGNER. 

Invoke  not  thus  the  well-known  throng. 
Which  through  the  firmament  diffused  is  faring, 
And  danger  thousand-fold,  our  race  to  wrong. 


ih,Googlc 


46  FAUST. 

In  every  quarter  is  preparing. 

Swift  from  the  North  the  spirit-fangs  so  sharp*« 

Sweep  doivn,  and  with  their  barbed  points  assail  vou; 

Then  from  the  East  they  come,  to  drj'  and  wr.rp 

Your  lungs,  till  breath  and  being  fail  j-ou : 

If  from  the  Desert  sendeth  them  the  South, 

With  fire  on  fire  your  throbbing  forehead  crowning, 

The  West  leads  on  a  host,  to  cure  the  drouth 

Only  when  meadow,  field,  and  you  are  drowning. 

They  gladly  hearken,  prompt  for  injury,  — 

Gladly  obey,  because  they  gladly  cheat  us ; 

From  Heaven  they  represent  themselves  to  be, 

And  lisp  like  angels,  when  with  lies  they  meet  us 

But,  let  us  go !     'T  is  gray  and  dusky  all : 

The  air  is  cold,  the  vapors  fall 

At  night,  one  leams  his  house  to  prize :  — 

Why  stand  you  thus,  with  such  astonished  eyes? 

What,  in  the  twilight,  can  your  mind  so  trouble  P 

FAUST. 

Seest  thou  the  black  dog  coursing  there,  through  com 
and  stubble  ?*> 

WAGNER. 

Long  since :  yet  deemed  him  not  important  in  the  leasL 

FAUST. 

Inspect  him  close :  for  what  tak'st  thou  the  beast  ? 

WAGNER. 

Why,  for  a  poodle  who  has  lost  his  master. 
And  scents  about,  his  track  to  find. 

FAUST. 

Seest  thou  the  spiral  circles,  narrowing  faster. 
Which  he,  approaching,  round  us  seems  to  wind? 


ih,Googlc 


A  streaming  trail  of  fire,  If  I  see  rightJy, 
Follows  his  path  of  mystery. 


It  may  be  that  your  eyes  deceive  you  slightly; 
Naught  but  a  plain  black  poodle  do  I  see. 


It  seems  to  me  that  with  enchanted  cunning 
He  snares  our  feet,  some  future  chain  to  bind 


WAGNER. 

I  see  him  timidly,  tn  doubt,  around  us  nmning. 
Since,  in  his  master's  stead,  two  strangers  doth  he  find 


The  circle  narrows :  he  is  near ! 

WAGNER. 

A  dog  thou  seest,  and  not  a  phantom,  here ! 
Behold  him  stop  —  upon  his  belly  crawl  — 
His  tail  set  waging :  canine  habits,  all ! 

FAUST, 

Come,  follow  us !    Come  here,  at  least ! 

WAGNER. 

'T  is  the  absurdest,  drollest  beast. 
Stand  still,  and  you  will  see  him  wait ; 
Address  him,  and  he  gambols  straight ; 
If  something 's  lost,  he  '11  quickly  bring  it,  ■ — 
Your  cane,  if  in  the  stream  you  fling  iL 


No  doubt  you  're  right :  no  trace  of  mind,  I  own, 
Is  in  the  beast  -.  I  see  but  drill«  alone. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 
WAGNER. 

The  dog,  when  he  's  well  educated, 
Is  by  tlie  wisest  tolerated. 
Yes,  he  deserves  your  favor  thoroughly,  — 
The  clever  scholar  of  the  students,  he ! 
( Tluy  fats  in  the  eity-gaie. ) 


ih,Googlc 


SCEWE  m. 


THE  STUDY. 


FAUST. 
[Enleriag,  with  tie  poodle) 

BEHIND  me,  field  and  meadow  sleeping, 
1  leave  in  deep,  prophetic  night, 
Within  whose  dread  and  holy  keeping 
The  better  soul  awakes  to  light  , 
The  wild  desires  no  longer  win  us. 
The  deeds  of  passion  cease  to  chaia; 
The  love  of  Man  revives  within  us. 
The  love  of  God  revives  again. 

Be  still,  thou  poodle !  make  not  such  racket  and  riot  t 

Why  at  the  threshold  wilt  snuffing  be  ? 

Behind  the  stove  repose  thee  in  quiet! 

My  softest  cushion  I  give  to  thee. 

As  thou,  up  yonder,  with  running  and  leaping 

Amused  us  hast,  on  the  mountain's  crest, 

So  now  1  take  thee  into  my  keeping, 

A  welcome,  but  also  a  silent,  guest 

Ah,  when,  within  our  narrow  chamber 
The  lamp  with  friendly  lustre  glows. 
Flames  in  the  breast  each  faded  ember. 
And  in  the  heart,  itself  that  knows. 
Then  Hope  again  lends  sweet  assistance, 
And  Reason  then  resumes  her  speech : 
One  yearns,  the  rivers  of  existence, 
The  very  fount«  of  Ufe,  to  reach. 
vol- 1.  3  D 


ih,Googlc 


so  f'AUST. 

Saart  not,  poodle  I    To  the  sound  that  rises, 

The  sacred  tones  that  my  soul  embrace, 

This  bestial  noise  is  out  of  place. 

We  are  used  to  see,  that  Una  despises 

What  he  never  comprehends. 

And  the  Good  and  the  Beautiful  \ilipends, 

Finding  them  often  hard  to  measure  : 

Will  the  dog,  like  man,  snarl  his  displeasure? 

But  ah !  1  feet,  thongh  will  thereto  be  stronger. 

Contentment  flows  from  out  my  breast  no  longer. 

Why  roust  the  stream  so  soon  lun  dry  and  fail  us, 

And  burning  thirst  again  assail  us? 

Therein  I  *ve  borne  so  much  probation ! 

And  yet,  this  want  may  be  supplied  us ; 

We  call  the  Sopematursl  to  guide  us ; 

We  pine  and  thirst  for  Revelation, 

Which  nowhere  worthier  is,  more  nobly  sent. 

Than  here,  in  our  New  Testament 

I  feel  impelled,  its  meaning  to  determine,  — 

With  honest  purpose,  once  lor  all. 

The  hallowed  Original 

To  change  to  my  beloved  German. 

\He  eptnt  a  veliane,  and  cemmtticii.^ 
"Tis  written:  "In  the  Beginning  was  the  tVtmi."''' 
Here  am  I  balked  :  who,  now,  can  help  afford  ? 
The  IVardf  —  impossible  so  high  to  rate  it ; 
And  otherwise  must  I  translate  it. 
If  by  the  Spirit  I  am  truly  taught. 
Then  thus  :  "  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Thought-' 
This  first  line  let  me  weigh  completely, 
l,est  my  impatient  pen  proceed  loo  fleetly. 
Is  it  the  Thtmght  which  works,  creates,  indeed  ? 
"  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Pawtr"  I  read. 


ih,Googlc 


SCEJi/E  HI. 

Tet,  as  I  write,  a  warning  is  m^ested, 
That  I  the  sense  may  not  have  fairly  tested. 
The  Spirit  aids  roc  :  row  I  see  the  light  1 
"  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Ad,"  I  write. 

If  I  must  share  my  chamber  with  the^ 

Poodle,  stop  that  howling,  prithee  J 

Cease  to  bark  and  bellow .' 

Such  a  noisy,  disturbing  fellov 

1  '11  DO  longer  suffer  near  me. 

One  of  us,  dost  hear  me  1 

Mast  leave,  I  fear  me. 

No  longer  guest-right  I  besknr ; 

The  door  is  open,  art  free  to  go. 

But  what  do  1  see  in  the  creature? 

Is  that  in  the  course  of  nature  ? 

Is 't  actual  fact  ?  or  Fancy's  shows  ? 

How  long  and  broad  my  poodle  gvowsl 

He  rises  mightily : 

A  canine  form  that  cannot  t>e  1 

What  a  spectre  I  've  harbored  thns! 

He  resembles  a  hippopotamus, 

With  fiery  eyes,  teeth  terrible  to  see: 

O,  now  am  I  sure  of  thee  ! 

For  all  of  thy  half-hellish  brood 

The  Key  of  Solomon  is  good.« 

SPISITS  ((»  t^  cfrridm). 
Some  one,  within,  is  caughti 
Sixif  without,  follow  him  notl 
Like  the  fox  in  a  snare. 
Quakes  the  old  helV-lynx  there. 
Take  heed  —  kwk  about ! 
Back  and  forth  hover. 
Under  and  over. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

And  he  '11  work  himself  oat 
If  your  aid  can  avail  him. 
Let  it  not  fail  him  ; 
For  he,  without  measure, 
Has  wrought  for  our  pleasure. 

FAUST. 

First,  to  encounter  the  beast. 

The  Words  of  the  Four  be  addressed  .■  *• 

Salamander,  shine  glorious ! 

Wave,  Undine,  as  bidden ! 

Sylph,  be  thou  hidden  ! 

Gnome,  be  laborious  \ 

Who  knows  not  their  sense 
(These  elements),  — 
Their  properties 
And  power  not  sees,  — 

No  mastery  he  inherit« 
Over  the  Spirits, 

Vanish  in  flaming  ether. 

Salamander ! 

Flow  foamingly  together, 

Undine ! 

Shine  in  meteor-sheen, 

Sylph ! 

Bring  help  to  hearth  and  shelf. 

Incubus \     Incubus  I 

Step  forward,  and  finish  thus ' 

Of  the  Four,  no  feature 

Lurks  in  the  creature. 

Quiet  he  lies,  and  gtins  disdain  : 

Not  yet,  it  seems,  have  I  given  him  p^n. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  III.  53 

Now,  to  undisguise  thee," 
Hear  me  exorcise  theet 
Art  thou,  my  gay  one. 
Hell's  fugitive  stray-one  ? 
The  sign  witness  now. 
Before  which  they  bow, 
The  cohorts  of  Hell ! 

With  hair  all  bristling,  it  begins  to  swelL 

Base  Being,  hearest  thou  ? 
Knowest  and  fearest  thou 
The  One,  unoriginale,*" 
Named  inexpressibly, 
Through  all  Heaven  impermeatev 
Pierced  irredressibly ! 

Behind  the  stove  still  banned. 

See  it,  an  elephant,  expand ! 

It  fills  the  space  entire, 

Mist-like  melting,  ever  foster. 

T  is  enough  :  ascend  no  higher,  — 

Lay  thyself  at  the  feet  of  the  Master  I 

Thou  seest,  not  vain  the  threats  I  bring  thee: 

With  holy  fire  1 11  scorch  and  sting  thee ! 

Wait  not  to  know 

The  threefold  dazzling  glow  ! 

Wait  not  to  know 

The  strongest  art  within  my  hands! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  ^ 
\tokili  iht  vap^  h  dUsifaling,  aepi  forth  frmn  behind  thi  itevt. 

in  thi  aatumt  ef  a  Travilling  Scholar). 
Why  such  a  noise?    What  are  my  lord's  commands* 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

This  was  the  poodle's  reaJ  core, 

A  travelling  scholar,  then?    The  casus  is  divertinj 

MEPHISTOPH  ELES. 

The  teamed  gentleman  I  bow  before : 

You  've  made  me  roundly  sweat,  that 's  certain  t 


HBPHISTOFKELES. 

A  question  small,  it  seems, 
For  one  whose  mind  the  Word  so  much  despises ; 
Who,  scorning  all  external  gleams. 
The  depths  of  being  only  prizes. 

FAUST, 

With  all  you  gentlemen,  the  name  's  a  test, 

Whereby  the  nature  usually  is  expressed. 

Cleady  the  latter  it  implies 

In  names  like  Beelzebub,  Destroyer,  Father  of  Ues.s* 

Who  art  thou,  then  ? 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Part  of  that  Power,  not  understood, 
Which  always  wiUs  the  Bad,  and  always  works  the  Good. 

FAUST. 

What  hidden  sense  in  ihis  enigma  lies  ? 

MEPHISTOPKELES. 

I  am  the  Spirit  that  Denies  I" 

And  justly  so :  for  all  things,  from  the  Void 

Called  forth,  deserve  to  be  destroyed ; 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  III.  55 

T  were  better,  then,  were  oanght  created. 
Thus,  all  which  you  as  Sin  have  rated, — 
Destruction,— aught  with  Evil  blent, — 
That  is  my  proper  element 

FAUST. 

Thou  nam'st  thyself  a  part,  yet  show'st  complete  to  me  ? 

HEPHISTOP  HELES. 

The  modest  truth  I  speak  to  thee. 

If  Man,  that  microcosmic  fool,  can  see 

Himself  a  whole  so  frequently, 

Part  of  the  Part  am  I,  once  All,  in  primal  Night,  — 

Part  of  the  Darkness  which  brought  forth  the  Light, 

The  haughty  Light,  which  now  disputes  the  space. 

And  claims  of  Mother  Night  her  ancient  place. 

And  yet,  the  struggle  fails ;  since  Light,  ho we'er  it  weaves. 

Still,  fettered,  unto  bodies  cleaves : 

It  flows  from  bodies,  bodies  beautifies  i 

By  bodies  is  its  course  impeded ; 

And  so,  but  little  time  is  needed. 

I  hope,  ere,  as  the  bodies  die,  it  dies ! 

FAUST. 

I  see  the  plan  thou  art  pursuing: 
Thou  canst  not  compass  general  ruin, 
And  hast  on  smaller  scale  begun. 

HEP  HI  STOP  HELES. 

And  truly  't  is  not  much,  when  all  is  done. 

That  which  to  Naught  is  in  resistance  set,  — 

The  Something  of  this  clumsy  world,  —  has  yet. 

With  all  that  1  have  undertaken. 

Not  been  by  me  disturbed  or  shaken : 

From  earthquake,  tempest,  wave,  volcano's  brand. 


ih,Googlc 


jö  FAUST. 

Back  Into  quiet  settle  sea  and  land ! 

And  that  damned  stuff,  the  bestial,  human  brood,— 

What  use,  in  having  that  to  play  with  ? 

How  many  have  1  made  away  with  I 

And  ever  circulates  a  newer,  fresher  blood. 

It  makes  me  furious,  such  things  beholding: 

From  Water,  Earth,  and  Air  unfolding, 

A  thousand  germs  break  forth  and  grow," 

In  dry,  and  wet,  and  warm,  and  chilly ; 

And  had  I  not  the  Flame  reserved,  why,  really, 

There  's  nothing  special  of  my  own  to  show ! 

FAUST. 

So,  to  the  actively  eternal 
Creative  force,  in  cold  disdain 
You  now  oppose  the  fist  infernal, 
Whose  wicked  clench  is  all  in  vain  I 
Some  other  labor  seek  thou  rather, 
Queer  Son  of  Chaos,  to  begin  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Well,  we  11  consider  \  thou  canst  gather 
My  views,  when  next  I  venture  in. 
Mi^t  I,  perhaps,  depart  at  present? 

FAUST, 

Why  thou  shouldst  ask,  I  don't  perceive. 
Though  our  acquaintance  is  so  recent, 
For  further  visits  thou  hast  leave. 
The  window  's  here,  the  door  is  yonder ; 
A  chimney,  also,  you  behold. 


DELES. 

I  must  confess  that  forth  I  may  not  wander, ' 
My  oteps  by  one  slight  obstacle  controlled,  — 
The  wizard's-foot,  that  on  your  threshold  made  is 


ih,Googlc 


The  pentagram  prohibits  thee? 

Why,  tell  me  now,  thou  Son  of  Hades, 

If  that  prevents,  how  Cäm'st  thou  in  to  me  ? 

Could  such  a  spirit  be  so  cheated  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Inspect  the  thing :  the  drawing  's  not  completed. 
The  outer  angle,  you  may  see. 
Is  open  left  —  the  lines  don't  lit  it 


Well,  —  Chance,  this  time,  has  fairly  hit  it ! 
And  thus,  thou'rt  prisoner  to  me? 
It  seems  the  business  has  succeeded. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  poodle  naught  remarked,  as  after  thee  he  speeded; 
But  other  aspects  now  obtain : 
The  Devil  can't  get  out  again. 

FAUST. 

Try,  then,  the  open  window-pane ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

for  Devils  and  for  spectres  this  is  law: 

Where  they  have  entered  in,  there  also  they  withdraw. 

The  first  is  free  to  us;  we're  governed  by  the  second. 

FAUST. 

In  Hell  itself  then,  laws  are  reckoned? 
That's  well !  So  might  a  compact  be 
Made  with  you  gentlemen  ~>  and  bindin;;, — «urely? 


ih,Googlc 


M  EPKISTO  PH  ELES. 

AU  that  is  promised  sliall  delight  thee  purdj} 

No  skinflint  bai^in  shalt  thon  see. 

But  this  is  not  of  swift  conclusiiHi; 

We  'U  talk  about  the  matter  soon. 

And  now,  I  do  entreat  this  boon — 

Leave  to  withdraw  from  my  intrusion. 

FAUST. 

One  moment  more  I  ask  thee  to  remaiiif 
Some  pleasant  news,  at  least,  to  tell  me. 

HEFHISTOPHELES. 

Release  me,  now !     I  soon  shall  come  again ; 
Then  thou,  at  will,  roayst  question  and  compel  me. 

FAUST. 

1  have  not  snares  around  thee  cast ; 

Thyself  bast  led  thyself  into  the  meshes. 

Who  traps  the  Devil,  hold  him  fast '. 

Not  soon  a  scctmd  time  he  'II  catch  a  prey  so  predons. 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

An 't  please  thee,  also  t  'm  content  to  stay, 
And  serve  thee  in  a  social  station; 
But  stipulating,  that  I  may 
With  arts  of  mine  afford  thee  recreatioo. 

FAUST. 

Thereto  I  willingly  agree. 
If  the  diversion  pleasant  be. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

My  friend,  thou  It  win,  past  all  pretences, 
More  in  this  hour  to  soothe  thy  senses, 
Than  in  the  year's  monotony. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  III. 

That  which  the  dainty  spirits  sing  thee, 
The  love]]'  pictures  they  shall  bring  tliee. 
Are  more  than  magic's  empty  show. 
Thy  scent  will  be  to  bliss  invited; 
Thy  palate  then  with  taste  delighted, 
Thy  nerves  of  touch  ecstatic  glow  I 
All  unprepared,  the  charm  I  spin : 
We're  here  together,  so  begin ! 

SPIRITS.^ 

Vanish,  ye  darkling 
Arches  above  hiro  I 
Loveliest  weather. 
Bom  of  blue  ether. 
Break  from  the  sky  I 
O  that  the  darkling 
Qouds  had  departed ! 
Starlight  is  sparkling 
Tran  quiller-hearted 
Suns  are  on  high. 
Heaven's  own  children 
In  beauty  bewildering 
Waveringly  bending, 
Pass  as  they  hover ; 
Longing  onending 
Follows  them  over. 
They,  with  their  glowing 
Garments,  out-flowing. 
Cover,  in  going. 
Landscape  and  bower. 
Where,  in  seclusion. 
Lovers  are  plighted, 
Lost  in  illusion. 
Bower  on  bower  1 
Tendrib  unblighted  1 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

Lo !  in  a  shower 
Grapes  that  o'ercluster 
Gush  into  must,  or 

OE  foaming  and  flashing 
Wine,  that  Is  dashing 
Gems,  as  it  boundeth 
Down  the  high  places, 
And  spreading,  surroundetb 
With  crystalline  spaces, 
In  happy  embraces, 
Blossoming  forelands. 
Emerald  shore-lands ! 
And  the  winged  races 
Drink,  and  fly  onward — 
Fly  ever  sunward 
To  the  enticing 
Islands,  that  flatter. 
Dipping  and  rising 
Light  on  the  water ! 
Hark,  the  inspiring 
Sound  of  their  quiring! 
See,  the  entrancing 
Whirl  of  their  dancing  I 
All  in  the  air  are 
Freer  and  fairer. 
Some  of  them  scaling 
Boldly  the  highlands, 
Others  are  sailing. 
Circling  the  islands ; 
Others  are  flying ; 
Life-ward  all  hieing, — ■ 
Ali  for  the  distant 
Star  of  existent 
Rapture  and  Lovei 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  III.  6 1 

MEPHISTO  PHELES. 

He  sleeps  !    Enough,  ye  fays  !  your  airy  number 

Have  sung  him  truly  into  slumber : 

For  this  perfonnance  I  your  debtor  prove.  — 

Not  yet  art  thou  the  man,  to  catch  the  Fiend  and  bold 

With  fairest  images  of  dreams  infold  him. 

Plunge  him  in  seas  of  sweet  untruth! 

Yet,  for  the  threshold's  magic  which  controlled  him. 

The  Devil  needs  a  rat's  quick  tooth. 

I  use  no  lengthened  invocation : 

Here  rustles  one  that  soon  will  work  my  liberation. 

The  lord  of  rats  and  eke  of  mice, 

Of  flies  and  bed-bugs,  frogs  and  lice, 

Summons  thee  hither  to  the  door-sill. 

To  gnaw  it  where,  with  just  a  morsel 

Of  oil,  he  paints  the  spot  for  thee ;  — 

There  com'st  thou,  hopping  on  to  me ! 

To  work,  at  once  !    The  point  which  made  me  craven 

Is  forward,  on  the  ledge,  engraven. 

Another  bite  makes  free  the  door : 

So,  dream  thy  dreams,  O  Faust,  until  we  meci  unce 

FAUST  (awaking). 

Am  I  again  so  foully  cheated  ? 
Remains  there  naught  of  lofty  spirit-sway, 
But  that  a  dream  the  Devil  counterfeited, 
And  that  a  poodle  ran  away  ? 


ih,Googlc 


A 


THE  STUDY. 
Faust.    Mephistopkbles. 


FAOST. 

KNOCK  ?    Come  in  I    Again  my  quiet  broken  ? 


HEPH ISTOPHELES. 

Tis  I! 


Come  ii 


MEPHISTO  P  KELBS. 

Thrice  must  the  words  be  spoken. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thus  thou  pleasest  me. 


I  hope  we  'U  suit  each  other  well ; 

For  now,  thy  vapors  lo  dispel, 

I  come,  a  squire  of  high  degree,'' 

In  scarlet  coat,  with  golden  trimming, 

A  cloak  in  silken  lustre  swimming, 

A  tall  cock's-feather  in  my  hat, 

A  long,  sharp  sword  for  show  or  quarrel,  — 

And  I  advise  thee,  t>rief  and  flat, 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  IV. 

To  don  the  self-same  gay  apparel. 
That,  from  this  den  released,  and  free, 
Life  be  at  last  revealed  to  thee  t 


FAUST. 

This  life  of  earth,  whatever  my  attire, 

Would  pain  me  in  its  wonted  fashion.^ 

Too  old  am  I  to  play  with  passion ; 

Too  young,  to  be  without  desire. 

What  from  the  world  have  I  to  gain  ? 

Thou  shah  abstain  —  renounce  —  refrain  I 

Such  is  the  everlasting  song 

That  in  the  ears  of  all  men  rings,  — 

That  unrelieved,  our  whole  life  long, 

Each  hour,  in  passing,  hoarsely  sings. 

In  very  (error  I  at  mom  awake, 

Upon  the  verge  of  bitter  weeping. 

To  see  the  day  of  disappointment  break. 

To  no  one  hope  of  mine  —  not  one  —  its  promise 

ing:  — 
That  even  each  joy's  presentiment 
With  wilful  cavil  would  diminish, 
With  grinning  masks  of  life  prevent 
My  mind  its  fairest  work  to  finish ! 
Then,  too,  when  night  descends,  how  anxiously 
Upon  my  couch  of  sleep  I  lay  me  : 
There,  also,  comes  no  rest  to  me,« 
But  some  wild  dream  is  sent  to  fray  me. 
The  God  that  in  my  breast  is  owned 
Can  deeply  stir  the  inner  sources ; 
The  God,  above  my  powers  enthroned. 
He  cannot  change  external  forces. 
So,  by  the  burden  of  my  days  oppressed, 
Death  Is  deüred,  and  Life  a  thing  unblesti 


ih,Googlc 


UEPHISTOPHBLES. 

And  yet  is  never  Death  a  wholly  welcome  guest 

FAUST. 

O  fortunate,  for  whom,  when  victory  glances, 
The  bloody  laurels  on  the  brow  he  bindeth  1 
Whom,  after  rapid,  maddening  dances, 
In  clasping  maiden-arms  he  findeth ! 
O  would  that  I,  before  that  spirit-power, 
Ravished  and  rapt  from  life,  had  sunken  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  yet,  by  some  one,  in  that  nightly  hour, 
A  certain  liquid  was  not  drunken. 


Eavesdroppmg,  ha  I  thy  pleasure  seems  to  be. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Omniscient  am  1  not ;  yet  much  is  known  to  me. 

FAUST, 

Though  some  familiar  tone,  retrieving 
My  thoughts  from  torment,  led  me  on. 
And  sweet,  clear  echoes  came,  deceiving 
A  faith  bequeathed  from  Childhood's  dawn, 
Yet  now  I  curse  whate'er  entices 
And  snares  the  soul  with  visions  vain; 
With  dazzling  cheats  and  dear  devices 
Confines  it  in  this  cave  of  pain  1 
Cursed  be,  at  once,  the  high  ambition 
Wherewith  the  mind  itself  deludes ! 
Cursed  be  the  glare  of  apparition 
Thai  on  the  finer  sense  intrudes  1 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  IV. 

Cursed  be  the  lying  dream's  impression 

Of  name,  and  fame,  and  laurelled  brow  1 

Cursed,  all  that  flatters  as  possession, 

As  wife  and  child,  as  knave  and  plow ! 

Cursed  Mammon  be,  when  he  with  treasures 

To  restless  action  spurs  our  fate ! 

Cursed  when,  for  soft,  indulgent  leisures, 

He  lays  for  us  the  pillows  straight! 

Cursed  be  the  vine's  transcendent  nectar,  — 

The  highest  favor  Love  lets  fall ! 

Cursed,  also,  Hope !  —  cursed  Faith,  the  spectre ! 

And  cursed  be  Patience  most  of  al] ! 


CHORUS  OF  SPIRITS  [iMiisiUt)." 

Woe!  woe! 

Thou  hast  it  destroyed, 

The  beautiful  world, 

With  powerful  fist : 

In  ruin  't  is  hurled. 

By  the  blow  of  a  demigod  shattered ! 

The  scattered 

Fragments  into  the  Void  we  carry, 

Deploring 

The  beauty  perished  beyond  restoring. 

Mightier 

For  the  children  of  men, 

Brightlier 

Build  it  again. 

In  thine  own  bosom  build  it  anew  I 

Bid  the  new  career 

Commence, 

With  clearer  sense. 

And  the  new  songs  of  cheer 

Be  sung  thereto ! 


ih,Googlc 


MEPHISTOFH  ELES. 

These  are  the  small  dependants 

Who  give  me  attendance. 

Hear  them,  to  deeds  and  passion 

Counsel  in  shrewd  oid-fashion  I 

Into  the  world  of  strife, 

Out  of  this  lonely  life 

That  of  senses  and  sap  has  betrayed  thee, 

They  would  persuade  thee. 

This  nursing  of  the  pain  forego  thee. 

That,  like  a  vulture,  feeds  upon  thy  breast ! 

The  worst  society  thou  find'st  will  show  thee 

Thou  art  a  man  among  the  rest 

But 't  Is  not  meant  to  thrust 

Thee  into  the  mob  thou  batest  I 

I  am  not  one  of  the  greatest. 

Yet,  wilt  thou  to  me  entrust 

Thy  steps  through  life,  I  '11  guide  thee,  — 

Will  willingly  walk  beside  thee,  — 

Will  serve  thee  at  once  and  forever 

With  best  endeavor. 

And,  if  thou  art  satisfied, 

Will  as  servant,  slave,  with  thee  abide. 

FAUST. 

And  what  shall  be  my  counter-service  therefor  ? 

MEPHISTOFH  ELES. 

The  time  is  long :  thou  need'st  not  now  insist 

FAUST. 

No — no!    The  Devil  is  an  egotist. 

And  is  not  apt,  without  a  why  or  wherefore, 

"  For  God's  sake,"  others  to  assbt 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  /K  6) 

Speak  thy  conditions  plain  and  clear ! 
With  such  a  servant  danger  comes,  I  fear. 

HEFH ISTOPHELES. 

Here,  an  unwearied  slave,  I  'U  wear  thy  tethv» 
And  to  thine  every  nod  obedient  be : 
When  There  again  we  come  t(^ther, 
Then  shalt  thou  do  the  same  for  me. 

FAUST. 

The  There  my  scruples  naught  increases. 

When  thou  hast  dashed  this  world  to  pieces. 

The  other,  then,  its  place  may  fill. 

Here,  on  this  earth,  my  pleasures  have  their  sources} 

YoD  sun  beholds  my  sorrows  in  his  courses ; 

And  when  from  these  my  life  itself  divorces. 

Let  happen  all  that  can  or  will ! 

1 1]  heaf  no  more :  't  is  v^n  to  ponder 

If  there  we  cherish  love  or  hate. 

Or,  in  the  spheres  we  dream  of  yonder, 

A  High  and  Ij}w  out  souls  await*' 

HEPHISTOPH  ELES. 

In  this  sense,  even,  canst  thou  venture. 
Come,  bind  thyself  by  prompt  indenture. 
And  thou  mine  arts  with  joy  shalt  see : 
What  no  man  ever  saw,  1  11  give  to  thee. 

FAUST. 

Canst  thou,  poor  Devil,  give  me  whatsoever  ? 

When  was  a  human  soul,  in  its  supreme  endeavor. 

E'er  understood  by  such  as  thou? 

Vet,  hast  thou  food  which  never  satiates,  now, — 

The  restless,  ruddy  gold  hast  thou. 

That  runs,  quicksUver-like,  one's  fingers  through, — 


ih,Googlc 


68  FAUST. 

A  game  whose  winnings  no  man  ever  knew, — 

A  maid,  that,  even  from  my  breast, 

BeckoDs  my  neighbor  with  her  wanton  glances. 

And  Honor's  godlike  lest, 

The  meteor  that  a  moment  dances, — 

Show  me  the  fruits  that,  ere  they  're  gathered,  rot," 

And  trees  that  dally  with  new  leafage  clothe  them  I 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Such  a  demand  alarms  me  not : 
Such  treasures  have  I,  and  can  show  them. 
But  still  the  time  may  reach  us,  good  my  friend, 
When  peace  we  crave  and  more  luxurious  diet. 


When  on  an  idler's  bed  I  stretch  myself  io 
There  let,  at  once,  my  record  end ! 
Canst  thou  with  lying  flattery  rule  me, 
Until,  self-pleased,  myself  I  see, — 
Canst  thou  with  rich  enjoyment  fool  me, 
Let  that  day  be  the  last  for  me  I 
The  bet  I  offer. 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Done! 


And  heartily ! 
When  thus  I  hail  the  Moment  fiying: 
"  Ah,  still  delay  —  thou  art  so  fair ! "  'J 
Then  bind  me  in  thy  bonds  undying, 
My  final  niin  then  declare ! 
Then  let  the  death-bell  chime  the  token, 
Then  art  thou  from  thy  service  free ! 
The  clock  may  stop,  the  hand  be  broken, 
Then  lime  be  finished  unto  me! 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  IV. 
UEPHISTOPHELES. 

C4ii3ider  well:  my  inemnry  good  is  rated. 


Thou  hast  a  perfect  right  thereto. 

M}'  powers  I  have  not  rashly  estimated : 

A  slave  am  I,  whate'er  I  do  — 

If  thine,  or  whose?  't  is  need'ess  to  debate  It 

mephistophei.es. 
Then  at  the  Doctors '-banquet  I,  to-day,*» 
Will  as  a  servant  wait  behind  thee. 
But  one  thing  more  I    Beyond  all  risk  to  bind  thee, 
Give  me  a  line  or  two,  I  pray. 


Demand's!  thou.  Pedant,  too,  a  document  ? 

Hast  never  known  a  man,  nor  proved  his  word's  int*nt? 

Is  't  not  enough,  that  what  1  speak  today 

Shall  stand,  with  all  my  future  days  agreeing? 

In  all  its  tides  sweeps  not  the  world  away, 

And  shall  a  promise  bind  my  being? 

Yet  this  delusion  in  our  hearts  we  bear: 

Who  would  himself  therefrom  deliver? 

Blest  he,  whose  bosom  Truth  makes  pure  and  fair  I 

No  sacrifice  shall  he  repent  of  ever. 

NathJess  a  parchment,  writ  and  stamped  with  care, 

A  spectre  is,  which  all  to  shun  endeavor. 

The  word,  alas !  dies  even  in  the  pen, 

And  wax  and  leather  keep  the  lordship  then. 

What  wilt  from  me,  Base  Spirit,  say  ? — 

Brass,  marble,  parchment,  paper,  clay? 

The  terms  with  graver,  quill,  or  chisel,  stated? 

1  freely  leave  the  choice  to  thee. 


ih,Googlc 


70  FAUST. 

HEPH ISTO  PHELBS. 

Why  beat  thyself,  thus  instantly, 

Witli  eloquence  exaggerated? 

Each  leaf  for  such  a  pact  is  good ; 

And  to  subscribe  thy  name  thou  'It  take  a  drop  of  blood 


If  thou  therewith  art  fully  satisfied, 
So  let  us  by  the  farce  abide. 


MEP  HISTOP  HELSS. 

a  juice  of  rarest  quality. 


Fear  not  that  1  this  pact  shall  seek  to  sever 

The  promise  that  1  make  to  thee 

Is  just  the  sum  of  my  endeavor. 

I  have  myself  inflated  all  too  high  \ 

My  proper  place  is  thy  estate : 

The  Mighty  Spirit  deigns  me  no  reply, 

And  Nature  shuts  on  me  her  gate. 

The  thread  of  Thought  at  last  is  broken, 

And  knowledge  brings  disgust  unspoken. 

Let  us  the  sensual  deeps  explore. 

To  quench  the  fervors  of  glowing  passion  I 

Let  every  marvel  take  form  and  fashion 

Through  the  impervious  veil  it  wore ! 

Plunge  we  in  Time's  tumultuous  dance^ 

In  the  rush  and  roll  of  Circumstance  1 

Then  may  delight  and  distress. 

And  worty  and  success. 

Alternately  follow,  as  best  they  can; 

Restless  activity  proves  the  mani 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  IV. 
HEPHISTOPHELBS. 

For  you  no  bound,  no  term  is  set. 
Whether  you  everywhere  be  trying. 
Or  snatch  a  rapid  bliss  in  flying. 
May  it  agree  with  you,  what  you  get! 
Only  fall  to,  aud  show  no  timid  balking. 


But  thou  hast  heard,  't  is  not  of  joy  we  're  talking. 

I  take  the  wildering  whirl,  enjoyment's  keenest  pain, 

Enamored  hate,  exhilamnt  disdain. 

My  bosom,  of  its  thirst  for  knowledge  sated, 

Shall  not,  henceforth,  from  any  pang  be  wrested, 

And  all  of  life  for  all  mankind  created*' 

Shall  be  within  mine  inmost  being  tested : 

The  highest,  lowest  forms  my  soul  shall  borrow. 

Shall  heap  upon  itself  their  bliss  and  sorrow. 

And  thus,  my  own  sole  self  to  all  their  selves  expanded, 

I  too,  at  last,  shall  with  them  all  be  stranded! 


Believe  me,  who  for  many  a  thousand  year 

The  same  tough  meat  have  chewed  and  testatL 

That  from  the  cradle  to  the  bier 

No  man  the  ancient  leaven  has  digested! 

Trust  one  of  us,  this  Whole  surpernal 

Is  made  but  for  a  Cod's  delight! 

Ht  dwells  in  splendor  single  and  eternal, 

But  us  he  thrusts  in  darkness,  out  of  sight, 

And^M<  he  dowers  with  Day  and  Night. 

Na7,  but  1  will! 

HePHISTOPBELBS' 

A  good  reply ' 


ih,Googlc 


7  J  FAUST. 

One  only  fear  still  needs  repeating : 

The  art  is  long,  the  time  is  fleeting. 

Then  let  thyself  be  taught,  say  1 ! 

Go,  league  thyself  with  a  poet. 

Give  the  rein  to  his  imagination. 

Then  wear  the  crown,  and  show  it. 

Of  the  qualities  of  his  creation,  — 

The  courage  of  the  lion's  breed, 

The  wild  stag's  speed. 

The  Italian's  fiery  blood. 

The  North's  finn  fortitude  I 

Let  him  find  for  thee  the  secret  tether 

That  binds  the  Noble  and  Mean  together, 

And  teach  thy  pulses  of  youth  and  pleasure 

To  love  by  rule,  and  hate  by  measure  ! 

I  'd  like,  myself,  such  a  one  to  see  : 

Sir  Microcosm  his  name  should  be. 


What  am  I,  then,  if  'tis  denied  my  part 
The  crown  of  all  humanity  to  win  me. 
Whereto  yearns  every  sense  »rithin  me  ? 

MEPHISTO  PHEL  ES. 

Why,  on  the  whole,  Ihou  'rt  —  what  thou  art 
Set  wigs  of  million  cur's  upon  thy  head,  to  raise  Ihe^ 
Wear  shoes  an  ell  in  height, — the  truth  'uielrays  the^ 
And  thou  remainest  —  what  th„u  art. 


1  feel,  indeed,  that  I  have  made  the  tt 
Of  human  thought  and  knowledge  mine,  in  ^ 
And  if  I  now  sit  down  in  restful  leisure. 
No  fount  of  newer  strength  is  in  my  brain ; 


ih,Googlc 


I  am  no  hair's-breadth  more  \n  height, 
Nor  nearer  to  the  Infinite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Good  Sir,  you  see  the  facts  precisely 

As  they  are  seen  by  each  and  all. 

We  must  arrange  ihem  now,  more  wisely. 

Before  the  joys  of  life  shall  palL 

Why,  Zounds !     Both  hands  and  feet  are,  truly  — 

And  head  and  virile  forces  —  thine: 

Yet  all  that  I  indulge  in  newly, 

Is't  thence  less  wholly  mine  ? 

If  1  've  six  stallions  in  my  stall, 

Are  not  their  forces  also  lent  me  ? 

I  speed  along,  completes!  man  of  all. 

As  though  my  legs  were  four-and- twenty. 

Talte  hold,  then  !  let  reflection  rest, 

And  plunge  into  the  world  with  zest! 

1  say  lo  thee,  a  speculative  wight 

Is  like  a  beast  on  moorlands  lean. 

That  round  and  round  some  fiend  misleads  to  evil  plight, 

While  all  about  lie  pastures  fresh  and  green. 

FAUST. 

Then  how  shall  we  begin  ? 

MEFHISTOPHELBS. 

We  '11  try  a  wider  sphere 
What  place  of  martyrdom  is  here ! 
Is 't  life,  I  ask,  is  't  even  prudence. 
To  bor«  thyself  and  bore  the  students  ? 
Let  Neighbor  Paunch  to  that  attend ! 
Why  plague  thyself  with  threshing  straw  forever? 
The  best  thou  leamest,  in  the  end 
vou  1.  4 


ih,Googlc 


Thou  dar'st  not  tell  the  youngsters  —  never  I 
I  hear  one's  footsteps,  hither  steering. 


FAUST. 

To  see  him  now  I  have  no  heart. 


So  long  the  poor  boy  w^ts  a  hearing. 
He  must  not  unconsoled  depart 
Thy  cap  and  mantle  straightway  lend  me  t 
I  '11  play  the  comedy  with  art 

\Hi  disguises  himstlf.) 

My  wits,  be  certain,  will  befriend  me. 
But  fifteen  minutes'  time  is  all  J  need ; 
For  our  fine  trip,  meanwhile,  prepare  thyself  with  speed '. 
[Exit  Faust 

HBPHISTOFHEt.ES. 

[Ih  Faust's  long  mantlt. ) 

Reason  and  Knowledge  only  thou  despise. 

The  highest  strength  in  man  that  lies  ! 

Let  but  the  Lying  Spirit  bind  thee 

With  magic  works  and  shows  that  blind  thee, 

And  I  shall  have  thee  fast  and  sure  !" — 

Fate  such  a  bold,  untrammelled  spirit  gave  him, 

As  forwards,  onwards,  ever  must  endure; 

Whose  over-hasty  impulse  drave  him 

Past  earthly  joys  he  might  secure. 

Dragged  through  the  wildest  life,  will  I  enslave  him, 

Througli  flat  and  stale  indifference ; 

With  struggling,  chilling,  checking,  so  deprave  him 

That,  to  his  hot,  insatiate  sense. 

The  dream  of  drink  shall  mock,  but  never  lave  him : 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  tV. 


7S 


Refreshment  shall  bis  lips  in  vain  implore  — 

Had  he  not  made  himself  the  Devil's,  naught  could  save 

him, 
Still  were  he  lost  forevennore ! 

{A  Stvdkwt  fn/ers.) 

STUDENT. 

A  short  time,  only,  am  1  here, 
And  come,  devoted  and  sincere. 
To  greet  and  know  the  man  of  fame, 
Whom  men  to  me  with  reverence  name. 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

Your  courtesy  doth  flatter  me : 

You  see  a  man,  as  others  be. 

Have  you,  perchance,  elsewhere  begun  ? 

STUDENT. 

Receive  me  now,  I  pray,  as  one 

Who  comes  to  you  with  courage  good, 

Somewhat  of  cash,  and  healthy  blood : 

My  mother  was  hardly  willing  to  let  me  ; 

But  knowledge  worth  having  I  fain  would  get  me. 

MEFHISTOPHELES. 

Then  you  have  reached  the  right  place  now. 

STUDENT. 

1  'd  like  to  leave  it,  I  must  avow ; 

I  find  these  walls,  these  vaulted  spaces 

Are  anything  but  pleasant  places. 

'T  is  alt  so  cramped  and  close  and  mean; 

One  sees  no  tree,  no  glimpse  of  green. 

And  when  the  lecture-halls  receive  me. 

Seeing,  hearing,  and  thinking  leave  me. 


ih,Googlc 


All  that  depends  od  habitude. 

So  from  its  mother's  breasts  a  child 

At  first,  reluctant,  takes  its  food, 

But  soon  to  seeli  them  is  beguiled. 

Thus,  at  the  breasts  of  Wisdom  clinging. 

Thou  'It  find  each  day  a  greater  rapture  bringing. 


1 11  hang  thereon  with  joy,  and  freely  drain  them; 
But  tell  me,  pray,  the  proper  means  to  gain  thetn. 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

Explain,  before  you  further  speak, 
The  special  faculty  you  seek. 

STUDENT. 

I  crave  the  highest  erudition ; 

And  fain  would  make  my  acquisition 

All  that  there  is  in  Earth  and  Heaven, 
In  Nature  and  in  Science  too. 

HEPHISTOPil  ELBS. 
Here  is  the  genuine  patli  for  you  j 


Body  and  soul  thereon  I  '11  wreak ; 
Yet,  truly,  1  've  some  inclination 
On  summer  holidays  to  seek 
A  httle  freedom  and  n 


MEPmSTOPHELES. 

Use  well  your  time!     It  flies  so  swiftly  from  us; 
But  time  through  order  may  be  won,  1  promise. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  IV.  7; 

So,  Friend,  (my  views  to  briefly  sum,) 

First,  the  collegium  logicum. 

There  will  your  mind  be  drilled  and  braced, 

As  if  in  Spanish  boots  't  were  laced. 

And  thus,  to  gntver  paces  brought, 

'T  will  plod  along  the  path  of  thought, 

Instead  of  shooting  here  and  there, 

A  will-o'-lhe-wisp  in  murky  air. 

Days  will  be  spent  to  bid  you  know, 

What  once  you  did  at  a  single  blow, 

Uke  eating  and  drinking,  free  and  strong, — 

That  one,  two,  three  I  thereto  belong. 

Truly  the  fabric  of  mental  fleece 

Resembles  a  weaver's  masterpiece. 

Where  a  thousand  threads  one  treadle  throws, 

Where  fly  the  shuttles  hither  and  thither. 

Unseen  the  threads  are  knit  together, 

And  an  infinite  combination  grows. 

Then,  the  philosopher  steps  in 

And  shows,  no  otherwise  it  could  have  been : 

The  first  was  so,  the  second  so. 

Therefore  the  third  and  fourth  are  so; 

Were  not  the  first  and  second,  then 

The  third  and  fourth  had  never  been. 

The  scholars  are  everywhere  believers, 

But  never  succeed  in  being  weavers. 

He  who  would  study  organic  existence, 

First  drives  out  the  soul  with  rigid  jjersistence ; 

Then  the  parts  in  his  hand  he  may  hold  and  class. 

But  the  spiritual  link  is  lost,  alas  ! 

Eiuheiresin  nalvm,  this  Chemistry  names,'' 

Nor  knows  how  herself  she  banters  and  blames  I 


I  cannot  understand  you  quite 


ih,Googlc 


H  EPHISTOPHBLES. 

Your  mind  will  shortly  be  set  aright, 
When  you  have  learned,  all  things  reducing, 
To  clasGÜy  them  for  your  using. 


1  feel  as  stupid,  from  all  you  've  said. 
As  if  a  mill-wheel  whirled  in  my  head ! 

UEPHISTOPRELES. 

And  after —  ürst  and  foremost  duty  — 

Of  Metaphysics  learn  (he  use  and  beauty ! 

See  that  you  most  profoundly  gain 

What  does  not  suit  the  human  brain ! 

A  splendid  word  to  serve,  you  'II  find 

For  what  goes  in  —  or  won't  go  in  —  your  mind. 

But  first,  at  least  this  half  a  year, 

To  order  ripdly  adhere ; 

Five  hours  a  day,  you  understand, 

And  when  the  clock  strikes,  be  on  hand  1 

Prepare  beforehand  for  your  part 

With  paragraphs  all  got  by  heart. 

So  you  can  better  watch,  and  look 

That  naught  is  said  but  what  is  in  the  book: 

Yet  in  thy  writing  as  unwearied  be, 

As  did  the  Holy  Ghost  dicute  to  thee  I" 

STUDENT. 

No  need  to  tell  me  twice  to  do  it ! 
I  think,  how  useful 't  is  to  write ; 
For  what  one  has,  in  black  and  white. 
One  carries  home  and  then  goes  through  iL 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Yet  choose  thyself  a  faculty ! 


ih,Googlc 


STUDENT. 

I  cannot  reconcile  myseU  to  Jumprudence. 

HEFHISTOPH  ELES. 

Nor  can  I  therefore  greatly  blame  you  students: 
1  know  what  science  this  has  come  to  be. 
All  rights  and  laws  are  still  transmitted 
Uke  an  eternal  sickness  of  the  race,  — 
From  generation  unto  generation  fitted, 
And  shifted  round  from  place  to  place. 
Reason  becomes  a  sham,  Beneficence  a  worry : 
Thou  art  a  grandchild,  therefore  woe  to  thee ! 
The  right  bom  with  us,  ours  in  verity, 
This  to  consider,  there 's,  alas !  no  hurry. 


My  own  disgust  is  strengthened  by  your  speech  * 

0  lucky  he,  whom  you  shall  teach ! 

1  've  almost  for  Theology  decided. 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  should  not  wish  to  see  you  here  misguided : 
For,  as  regards  this  science,  let  me  hint 
T  is  very  hard  to  shun  the  false  direction ; 
There 's  so  much  secret  poison  lurking  in  't, 
So  tike  the  medicine,  it  baffles  your  detection. 
Hear,  therefore,' one  alone,  for  that  is  best,  in  sooth, 
And  simply  take  your  master's  words  for  truth. 
On  words  let  your  attention  centre!'' 
Then  through  the  safest  gate  you  '11  enter 
The  temple-balls  of  Certainty. 

STUDENT. 

Yet  in  the  word  must  some  idea  be. 


ih,Googlc 


UBPHISTOPH  ELES. 

Of  course!     But  only  shun  too  over-sharp  a  tendon. 

For  just  where  fails  the  comprehension, 
A  word  steps  promptly  in  as  deputy. 
With  words  't  is  excellent  disputing; 
Systems  to  words  't  is  ea^y  suiting; 
Od  words  't  is  excellent  believing; 
No  word  can  ever  lose  a  jot  from  thieving. 

STUDENT. 

Pardon  I    With  many  questions  I  detain  you, 

Yet  must  I  trouble  you  again. 

Of  Medicine  ]  still  would  fain 

Hear  one  strong  word  that  might  explain  you. 

Three  years  is  but  a  little  space, 

And,  God  I  who  can  the  field  embrace? 

If^ne  some  index  could  be  shown, 

T  were  easier  groping  forward,  truly. 

HEPHISTOPHELES  {lU'iU), 

I  "m  tired  enough  of  this  dry  tone,  — 
Must  play  the  Devil  again,  and  fully. 

{Altmd.) 
To  grasp  the  spirit  of  Medicine  is  easy : 
Learn  of  the  great  and  little  world  your  fill, 
To  let  it  go  at  last,  so  please  ye. 
Just  as  God  will ! 

In  vain  thatthrough  the  realms  of  science  you  may  drift; 
Each  one  learns  only  —  just  what  learn  he  can : 
Yet  he  who  grasps  the  Moment's  gift, 
He  is  the  proper  man. 
Well-made  you  are,  't  is  not  to  be  denied. 
The  rest  a  bold  address  will  win  you ; 
If  you  but  in  yourself  confide, 
At  once  confide  all  others  in  you. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  IV.  %x 

To  lead  the  women,  leam  the  special  feeling  t 

Their  everlasting  aches  and  groans, 

In  thousand  tones. 

Have  all  one  source,  one  mode  of  heaUng; 

And  if  your  acts  are  half  discreet, 

You  '11  always  have  them  at  your  feet. 

A  title  first  must  draw  and  interest  them, 

And  show  that  yours  all  other  arts  exceeds  ; 

Then,  as  a  greeting,  you  are  free  to  touch  and  test  them, 

While,  thus  to  do,  for  years  another  pleads. 

Yon  press  and  count  the  pulse's  dances, 

And  then,  with  burning  sidelong  glances, 

Yon  clasp  the  swelling  hips,  to  see 

If  tightly  laced  ber  corsets  be. 

STUDENT. 

That  '9  better,  now !    The  How  and  Where,  one  sees. 

H  EPH  I5TO  PHELES. 

My  worthy  friend,  gray  are  all  theories. 
And  green  alone  Life's  golden  tree. 

STUDENT. 

I  swear  to  you,  't  is  like  a  dream  to  me. 
Might  I  again  presume,  with  tnist  unbounded, 
To  hear  your  wisdom  thoroughly  expounded  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Most  willingly,  to  what  extent  1  may. 


I  cannot  really  go  away : 

Allow  me  that  my  album  first  I  reach  you,— 

Grant  me  this  favor,  I  beseech  you ! 


ih,Googlc 


83  FAUST. 

UEPKISTOPHELBS. 

Assuredly. 

(Ä  vrittt,  and  ritumi  /Af  ifiot.) 
STUDENT  (rtai/i). 

Erilis  ticMt  Deus,  iciattes  bmtum  et  malum. 
( Ct»itt  tke  tt«i  witA  nvrmu-r,  and  witkärmos.  ] 
HEPHISTOPHELES. 

FoHow  the  ancient  text,  and  the  siuike  thou  wast  ordered 

to  trample ! 
With  all  thy  likeness  to  God,  thou  1t  yet  be  a  aony 

example  I 

(Faust  futert.) 

FAUST. 

Now,  whither  shall  we  go  ? 


As  best  it  pleases  thee. 
The  little  world,  and  then  the  great,  we  '11  see." 
With  what  delight,  what  profit  winning, 
Shalt  thou  sponge  through  the  term  beginning! 


Yet  with  the  flowing  beard  I  wear, 
Both  ease  and  grace  will  fail  me  there. 
The  attempt,  indeed,  were  a  futile  strife-, 
I  never  could  team  the  ways  of  life. 
I  feel  so  small  before  others,  and  thence 
Should  always  find  embarrassments.'' 

MEPHISTO  PRELES. 

My  friend,  thou  soon  shall  lose  all  such  misgiving: 
Be  thou  bnt  self-possessed,  thou  hast  the  art  of  living) 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  IV. 

PAUST. 
How  shall  we  leave  the  house,  and  start  f 
Where  hast  thou  servaot,  coach  and  horses? 


We  11  spread  this  cloak  with  proper  art. 

Then  through  the  air  direct  our  courses. 

But  only,  on  so  bold  a  flight, 

Be  sure  to  have  thy  luggage  light. 

A  little  burniog  air,  which  1  shall  soon  prepare  ns. 

Above  the  earth  will  nimbly  bear  us. 

And,  if  we  're  light,  we  '11  travel  swift  and  clear: 

I  gratulate  thee  on  thy  new  career  Ii* 


ih,Googlc 


AUERBACH'S  CELLAR   IN   LEIPZIG.» 
Carousal  op  Jollv  Coupamons. 


T  S  no  one  laughing?  no  one  drinking? 
'-   1  '11  teach  you  how  to  grin,  I  'm  thinking. 
Today  you  're  like  wet  straw,  so  tame; 
And  usually  you  're  all  aflame. 


Now  that 's  your  lault ;  from  you  n 
No  beastliness  and  no  stupidity. 


lPmirtaiiattf^mtuffverBUiHDKg:.'sAeaä.) 
There  's  both  blether  1 


Twice  a  swine  1 

FROSCH. 

Yon  wanted  them :  1  've  given  you  mine. 

SIEB  EU 

Tum  out  who  quarrels  —  out  the  door ! 
With  open  throat  sing  chorus,  drink  and  roar! 
Up!  hollaj  ho! 


ih,Googlc 


ALTMAVBR. 

Woe 's  me,  the  fearful  bellow ! 
Bring  cotton,  quick !    He 's  split  my  ears,  that  fellow. 

SIEBEL. 

When  the  vault  echoes  to  the  song. 

One  fiist  perceives  the  bass  is  deep  and  strong. 

FROSCH. 

Well  said !  and  out  witli  him  that  takes  the  least  offence  I 
Ah,  tara,  lara,  da  / 

ALTHAVER. 

Ah,  tara,  lara,  da! 

FROSCH. 

The  throats  are  tuned,  commence ! 

Tke  dear  old  holy  Roman  realm. 
How  does  it  hold  together  T 

BR.VKDER. 

A  nasty  song !    Fie  1  a  political  song"  — 

A  most  offensive  sor^!    Thank  God,  each  morning 

therefore. 
That  you  have  not  the  Roman  realm  to  care  for ! 
At  least,  I  hold  it  so  much  gain  for  me, 
That  I  nor  Chancellor  nor  Kaiser  be. 
Yet  also  we  must  have  a  ruling  head,  I  hope, 
And  so  we  'II  choose  ourselves  a  Pope. 
You  know  the  quality  that  can 
Decide  the  choice,  and  elevate  the  man. 

FROSCH  (j>'»ffT). 

Soar  up,  soar  up.  Dame  Nightingale  f" 
Ten  thousand  timet  my  sweetheart  hail  / 


ih,Googlc 


SIBBEL. 

No,  greet  my  sweetheart  not !     I  tell  yoa,  1 11  resent  it 

FROSCH. 

My  sweetheart  greet  and  kiss !  I  dare  you  to  prevent  it ! 

Draw  the  latch  /  the  darktuss  makes: 
Draw  the  latch  !  the  lover  wakes- 
Shut  tht  latch  I  the  morning  breaks. 

SIEBBL. 

Yes,  sing  away,  sing  on,  and  praise,  and  brag  of  her! 

I '!!  wait  my  proper  time  for  laughter : 

Me  by  the  nose  she  lead,  and  now  she  11  lead  you  aftec 

Her  paramour  should  be  an  ugly  gnome. 

Where  four  roads  cross,  in  wanton  piay  to  meet  her: 

An  old  he-goat,  from  Blocksbei^  coming  home, 

Should  his  good-night  in  lustful  gallop  bleat  her  I 

A  fellow  made  of  genuine  flesh  and  blood 

Is  for  the  wench  a  deal  too  good. 

Greet  her?    Not  I :  unless,  when  meeting 

To  smash  her  windows  be  a  greeting  I 


R  {pounding  on  the  taile). 

Attention  I    Hearken  now  to  me  I 

Confess,  Sirs,  I  linow  how  to  live. 

Enamored  persons  here  have  we, 

And  I,  as  suits  their  quality. 

Must  something  fresh  for  Iheir  advantage  give. 

Take  heed !    'T  is  of  the  latest  cut,  my  strain. 

And  all  strike  in  at  each  refrain ! 
{Hedngs.) 
There  was  a  rat  in  the  cellar-nest,"* 
Whom  fat  and  butter  made  smoother : 


ih,Googlc 


SCBNB    V.  8; 

He  had  a  paunch  beneath  his  vest 
Like  that  of  Doctor  Luther. 
The  cook  laid  poison  cunningly, 
And  then  as  sore  oppressed  was  he 
As  if  he  had  love  in  bis  bosom. 

CHORUS  (shoutittg). 

At  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom ! 

BRANDER. 

He  ran  around,  he  ran  about, 

His  thirst  in  puddles  laving ; 

He  gnawed  and  scratched  the  house  throughout 

But  nothing  cured  his  raving. 

He  whirled  and  jumped,  with  torment  mad, 

And  soon  enough  the  poor  beast  had, 

As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom. 


BR  AN  DER. 

And  driven  at  last,  ia  open  day. 

He  ran  into  the  kitchen. 

Fell  on  the  hearth,  and  squirming  lay. 

In  the  last  convulsion  twitching. 

Then  laughed  the  murderess  in  her  glee ' 

"  Ha !  ha !  he 's  at  his  last  gasp,"  said  she. 

"  As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom ! " 


As  if  he  bad  love  in  his  bosom ! 

SIEBEL. 

How  the  dull  foob  enjoy  the  nutter' 

To  me  it  is  a  proper  art 

Poium  for  such  poor  rats  K>  scatter. 


ih,Googlc 


Perhaps  you  'U  warmly  take  their  part  ^ 

ALTMAVER. 

The  bald-pate  pot-belly  1  have  noted : 
Misfortune  tames  him  by  degrees; 
For  in  the  rat  by  poison  bloated 
Hb  own  most  natural  form  he  sees. 

Faust  and  Mephistophei^s. 

mephistopheles. 
Before  all  else,  I  bring  thee  hither 
Where  boon  companions  me«t  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  whiri  in  narrow,  circling  trails, 
Uke  kittens  playing  with  their  tails  ; 
And  if  no  headache  persecute  them. 
So  long  the  host  may  credit  give, 
They  merrily  and  careless  live. 

BRAN  DER. 

The  fact  is  easy  to  unravel. 

Their  air's  so  odd,  they  've  just  returned  from  travel: 

A  single  hour  they've  not  been  here. 


You  've  verily  hit  the  truth  1     Leipzig  to  me  is  dear : 
Paris  in  miniature,  how  it  refines  its  people!" 


Who  are  the  strangers,  should  you  guess? 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  f.  89 

FROSCH. 

Let  me  alone !    1  '11  set  tbero  first  to  drinking, 

Aad  then,  as  one  a  child's  tooth  draws,  with  cleverness, 

1  '11  worm  their  secret  out,  1  'm  thinking. 

They're  of  a  noble  house,  that 's  very  clear: 

Haughty  and  discontented  they  appear. 

BRANDER. 

They  're  mountebanks,  upon  a  revel 

ALTUAVER. 

Perhaps. 

FROSCH. 

Look  out,  I  'U  smoke  Ihem  now  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (/O  FaUST). 

Not  if  he  had  them  by  the  neck,  I  vow. 
Would  e'er  these  people  scent  the  Devil  I 

FAUST. 

Fair  greeting,  gentlemen ! 

StEBEI~ 

Our  thanks :  we  give  the  same. 
{Afurmttrt,  iiufectiitftit.FHisroeuE,Lis/rvm  lie  side.] 
In  one  foot  is  the  fellow  lame? 

HEPHISTOPKELES . 

Is  it  permitted  that  we  share  your  leisure  P 

In  place  of  cheering  drink,  which  one  seeks  vainly  here. 

Your  company  shall  give  us  pleasure. 

ALTHAVER. 

A  most  fastidious  person  you  appear. 


ih,Googlc 


FROSCH. 

No  doubt 't  was  late  when  jon  from  Rippach  started  ?'" 
Aod  snppiog  there  with  Hans  occasioned  your  delay  ? 

MEPHISTO  P  HELES. 

We  passed,  without  a  call,  lo-daj. 
At  oor  last  interriew,  before  we  parted 
Much  of  his  cousins  did  he  speak,  entreating 
That  we  shonld  give  to  each  his  kindly  greeting. 

(Hi  hmn  it  Fkoscr.) 
ALTUAYER  (flriat). 

Yoj  have  it  now  I  he  nnderetands. 


A  knave  sharp-set! 

FROSCH. 

Jttst  wait  awhile :  I II  hare  him  yet 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

If  I  am  right,  we  heard  the  sound 
Of  well-tcained  voices,  singing  choms ; 
And  traly,  song  mnst  here  reboimd 
SuperUy  from  the  aiches  o'er  us. 

FROSCH. 

Are  yon,  perhaps,  a  virtuoso  ? 


O  no !  my  wish  is  great,  my  power  is  only  so4a 

ALTHAYER. 


ih,Googlc 


KEPRISTOFRELGS. 

If  you  dcEire,  a  number. 

SIEBEL. 

So  that  it  be  a  bfan-new  strain  I 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

We  "ve  jtist  retraced  our  way  from  Spain, 

The  lovely  land  of  wine,  and  song,  and  slumber. 


Tliere  vas  a  king  once  reigning,'' 
Wbo  had  a  big  blaclc  flea- 


Hear,  hear!    A  flea!    D'yerightly  take  the  jot? 
I  call  a  flea  a  tidy  guest. 

HEPHISTOPHELES  (si'ngl). 

There  was  a  king  once  reigning. 
Who  had  a  big  black  flea. 
And  loved  him  past  explainii^. 
As  his  own  son  were  he. 
He  called  his  man  of  stitches  ; 
The  tailor  came  straightway : 
Here,  measure  the  lad  for  breeches, 
And  measure  his  coat,  I  say ! 


But  mind,  allow  the  tailor  no  caprices: 
Enjoin  upon  him,  as  his  head  is  dear. 
To  most  exactly  measure,  sew  and  shear. 
So  that  the  breeches  have  no  creases ! 


ih,Googlc 


HEPH I5TOPHELES. 

In  silk  and  velvet  gleamii^ 

He  now  was  wholly  drest  — 

Had  a  coat  with  ribbons  streaming 

A  cross  upon  his  breast. 

He  had  the  first  of  stations, 

A  minister's  star  and  name ; 

And  also  all  his  relations 

Great  lords  at  court  became. 

And  the  lords  and  ladies  of  honor 
Were  plagued,  awake  and  in  bed ; 
The  queea  she  got  them  upon  her, 
The  maids  were  bitten  and  bled. 
And  they  did  not  dare  to  brush  them, 
Or  scratch  them,  day  or  night : 
We  crack  them  and  we  crush  them, 
At  once,  whene'er  they  bite. 

CHORUS  {shmiling). 
We  crack  them  and  we  crush  them, 
At  once,  whene'er  they  bite ! 

FROSCH. 

Bravo !  bravo !  that  was  fine. 

StEBEL. 

Every  flea  may  it  so  befall ! 

BRANDER. 

Point  your  fingers  and  nip  them  all  I 

ALTUAYER. 

Hurrah  fur  Freedom !     Hurrah  for  wine ! 


ih,Googlc 


I  ^n  would  drink  with  you,  my  glass  to  Freedom 

clinking, 
If  't  were  a  better  wine  that  here  I  see  you  drinking. 

SIEBEI~ 

Don't  let  us  hear  that  speech  again ! 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Did  I  not  fear  the  landlord  might  complain, 
I  'd  treat  these  worthy  guests,  with  pleasure, 
To  some  from  out  our  cellar's  treasure. 

SIEBEL. 

Just  treat,  and  let  the  landlord  me  arraign  I 

FROSCH. 

And  if  the  wine  be  good,  our  praises  shall  be  araple. 

But  do  not  give  too  very  small  a  sample ; 

For,  if  its  quality  1  decide, 

With  a  good  mouthful  I  must  be  supplied. 

ALTHAYER  (aHdi). 

They  "re  from  the  Rhine .'     I  guessed  as  much,  before. 

UEPHtSTOPHELES. 

Bring  me  a  gimlet  here  I 

BRANDER. 

What  shall  therewith  be  done  t 
You  've  not  the  casks  already  at  the  door? 

ALTMAYER. 

Yonder,  within  the  landlord's  box  of  tools,  there  's 


ih,Googlc 


MEPHISTOPHELES  {lairi  the  gimltt). 

( To  Frosch.) 
Now,  give  me  of  your  taste  some  intimatioD. 

FROSCH. 

How  do  you  mean  ?    Have  you  so  many  kinds  ? 

HEPHISTOFHELBS. 

The  cbc^ce  is  free :  make  up  your  minds. 

ALTUAYER  (W  FKOSCH). 

Aba  t  you  lick  your  chops,  from  sheer  anticipation. 

FROSCH. 

Good!   if  I  have  the  choice,  so  let   the  wine  be 

Rhenish  1 
Our  Fatherland  can  best  the  sparkling  cup  replenish. 

UEPHISTOPHELES 
{toring  a  lieft  in  tht  edge  ef  the  table,  at  the  ftaci  when 

Frosch  silt). 
Get  me  a  little  wax,  to  make  the  stoppers,  quick  I 

ALTHAYEK. 

All !  I  perceive  a  juggler's  trick. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (W  BRAHDER> 

And  you? 

BR ANDER. 

Champagne  shall  be  my  wine. 
And  let  it  sparkle  fresh  and  fine ! 


ih,Googlc 


UBPHISTOPHELES 


What 's  foreign  one  can't  always  keep  quite  dear  of, 
For  good  things,  oft,  are  not  so  near ; 
A  German  can't  endure  the  French  to  see  or  hear  of,*" 
Yet  drinlü  their  wines  with  hearty  cheer. 

SIEBEL 
{at  Mbfkistofhelks  appraachts  hu  tiat). 
For  me,  I  grant,  sour  wine  is  out  of  place ; 
Fill  up  my  glass  with  sweetest,  will  you  ? 

HBFHISTOFHELES  {dariHf). 

Tokay  shall  flow  at  once,  to  fill  you  1 

ALTMAVER. 

No— look  me,  Sirs,  straight  in  the  face  I 
I  see  you  have  your  fun  at  our  expense. 

IIEPHISTOPHELBS. 

O  no  I  with  gentlemen  of  such  pretence. 
That  were  to  venture  far,  indeed. 
Speak  out,  and  make  your  choice  with  speed  I 
With  what  a  vintage  can  I  serve  you  ? 

ALTMAVER. 

With  any — only  satisfy  our  need. 

{Aßir  tht  hala  Mam  iem  tared  and  plitgpd.) 
IIEPHISTOFHELES 

[iviiÄ  singular  gisiure^^. 

Grapes  the  vine- stem  bears, 
Horns  the  he-goat  wears  I 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

The  grapes  are  juicy,  the  vines  are  wood, 
The  wooden  table  gives  wine  as  goodl 
Into  the  depths  of  Nature  peer,  — 
Only  believe,  there  's  a  miracle  herel 

Now  draw  the  stoppers,  and  diink  your  fill !  *■ 


\at  tkty  drino  aul  tkt  äafpers,  and  Iht  vtim  wkkh  h 
desirtdfiirwi  into  tht  glass  efiatk), 

O  beautiful  fountain,  that  flows  at  will! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

But  have  a  care,  that  you  nothing  spill  I 
( They  dritii  rtpiaUdlji.) 

ALL  {siitgt. 

As  't  were  five  hundred  hogs,  we  feel 
So  cannibolic  jolly  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

See,  now,  the  race  is  happy — it  is  freet 


To  leave  them  is  my  inclination. 


Take  notice,  first !  their  bestiality 
Will  make  a  brilliant  demonstration. 

SIEBEL 
\drinit  tardisify  :  /it  viine  spills  uptti  iki  tartX,  and  A 
flame). 
Help!    Fire!    Help!     Hell-fire  is  sent! 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE   V.  95 

MEPHISTOPHELES 
(ektoTiiing  amay  theflami). 
Be  quiet,  friendly  element! 

{To  Ihe  revellers.) 
A  bit  of  purgatory  't  was  for  this  time,  merely. 

SIEBEL. 

What  mean  you  ?    Wait !  —  you  '11  pay  for  't  dearly  I 
You  '11  know  us,  lo  your  detriment. 

FROSCH. 

Don't  try  that  game  a  second  time  upon  us  I 

ALTMAVER. 

I  think  we  'd  better  send  him  packing  quietly. 

SIEBEL. 

What,  Sir!  you  dare  to  make  so  free. 
And  play  your  hocus-pocus  on  us  ! 

MEPKISTOPKEI.ES. 

Be  still,  old  wine-tub. 

SIEBEL. 

Broomstick,  you  1 
You  face  it  out,  impertinent  and  heady  f 

BR ANDER. 

Just  wait!  a  shower  of  blows  is  ready. 


{draaii  a  stopper  mä  »fthi  table :  fireJUes  in  his /ace). 
I  bum !     I  bum ! 

SIEBEL. 

'T  is  magic !    Strike — 
The  knave  is  outlawed !    Cut  him  as  you  like '. 
{TTter  drata  their  kniots,  and  rush  upon  MephistOPHELES.) 
VOL.  Li  O 


ih,Googlc 


98  FAUST. 

HEPHISTOPHELES 
(»iM  leltmn  giititTti). 
False  word  and  form  of  air. 
Change  place,  and  sense  ensnare!^ 
Be  here  —  and  there  ! 
( TTicy  tiand  amattd  and  loek  at  each  tither.) 

ALTMAYER. 

Where  am  I  ?    What  a  lovely  land  I 

FROSCH. 

Vines  ?    Can  1  trust  my  eyes  7 


And  purple  grapes  ai  tiand! 

BKANDER. 

Here,  over  this  green  arbor  bending, 
See,  iriiat  a  vine  !  what  grapes  depending ! 
(A*/  taka  SiBBEL  fy  fit  nott:  Iht  mieri  do  tht  amt  nafra- 
tally,  and  raiu  ihar  inaiet,) 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (ai  abovi). 

Loose,  Error,  from  their  eyes  the  band. 

And  how  the  Devil  jests,  be  now  enlightened  I 

(fft  diiafftari  vriik  Faust  :  tkt  ranlieri  itart  and  leparatt. ) 


What  happened  ? 

How 


FROSCH. 

Was  that  your  nose  I  tightened  f 


ih,Googlc 


BRANOBR  (to  SiniL). 

And  j'oora  UM.  stiD  I  have  in  hand  ? 

ALTMAYER. 

It  was  a  blow  that  went  through  every  limb  I 
Give  me  a  chair !    1  sink  !  my  senses  swim. 

FROSCH. 

Bnt  what  has  happened,  tell  me  now? 

Where  is  he  ?    If  I  catch  the  scoundrel  hiding 
He  shall  not  leave  alive,  I  vow. 

ALTMAYER. 

I  saw  him  with  these  eyes  upon  a  wtneosk  riding 

Out  of  the  cellar-door,  jnst  now. 

StiU  in  my  feet  the  fright  like  lead  is  weighing. 

(/fr  hatu  toteords  lie  taNi ) 
Why !    If  the  fount  of  wine  should  still  be  playing  ? 

SIEBEL. 

T  was  all  deceit,  and  lying,  false  design  I 

FROSCH. 

And  yet  it  seemed  as  I  were  drinking  wine. 

BRANDER. 

Bnt  with  the  grapes  how  was  it,  pniy  7 

ALTMAYER. 

Shall  one  believe  no  miracles,  just  say  I 


ih,Googlc 


WITCHES'   KITCHEN.") 

\UpOH  a  Imo  hiarth  slattds  a  greal  caldron,  under  which  a  fim 
is  burning.  Variant  ßgures  appear  in  the  vapors  lahiih 
Tin  frem  tht  ccädron.  An  ape  sits  bisidi  it,  skims  it,  and 
viatiAel  Itsf  it  boil  over.  Tht  he-ape,  with  the  young  ones, 
sits  Htar  and  viannt  himstlf.  Ceiling  and  toalli  are  covered 
with  the  most /aniaslie 'wilch-imp!ementi.\ 

Faust.    Mephistopheles. 

FAUST. 

THESE  crazy  signs  of  witches'  craft  repel  mel 
I  shall  recover,  dost  thou  tell  me, 
Through  this  insane,  chaotic  play? 
From  an  old  hag  shall  I  demand  assistance? 
And  will  her  foul  meas  take  away 
Full  thirty  years  from  my  existence  ?  ** 
Woe 's  me,  canst  thou  naught  better  find ! 
Another  baffled  hope  must  be  lamented : 
Has  Nature,  then,  and  has  a  noble  mind 
Not  any  potent  balsam  yet  invented? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Once  more,  my  friend,  thou  talkest  sensibly. 

There  is,  to  make  thee  young,  a  simpler  mode  and  apter; 

But  in  another  book  't  is  writ  for  thee, 

And  IB  a  roost  eccentric  chapter. 

FAUST. 

Vet  will  I  know  It 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE    Vt.  10 

HEPHISTOFH  ELB3. 

Good !  the  method  is  revealed 
Without  or  gold  or  magic  or  physician. 
Betake  thyself  to  yonder  field, 
There  hoe  and  dig,  as  thy  condition; 
Restrain  thyself,  thy  sense  and  will 
Within  a  narrow  sphere  to  flourish; 
With  unmixed  food  thy  Ixidy  nourish; 
Uve  with  the  ox  as  ox,  and  think  it  not  a  theft 
That  thou  manur'st  the  acre  which  thou  reapest;  — 
Tliat,  trust  me,  is  the  best  mode  left. 
Whereby  for  eighty  years  thy  youth  thou  keepest  I 

FAUST. 

I  am  not  used  to  that ;  1  cannot  stoop  to  try  it  — 
To  take  the  spade  in  hand,  and  ply  it. 
The  narrow  being  suits  me  not  at  all. 


Then  to  thine  aid  the  witch  must  call 

FAUST. 

Wherefore  the  hag,  and  her  alone  7 
Canst  thou  thyself  not  brew  the  potion  7 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

That  were  a  charming  sport,  I  own: 

1  'd  build  a  thousand  bridges  meanwhile,  I  've  a  notion. 

Not  Art  and  Science  serve,  alone ; 

Patience  must  in  the  work  be  shown. 

Long  is  the  calm  brain  active  in  creation ; 

Time,  only,  strengthens  the  fine  fermentation. 

And  all,  belonging  thereunto. 

Is  rare  and  strange,  howe'er  you  take  it  *■ 

The  Devil  taught  the  thing,  't  is  true, 

And  yet  the  Devil  cannot  make  it 


ih,Googlc 


3  FAUST. 

{Ptraioingitu  /Im'maii.) 
Sec,  what  a  delicate  race  they  be ! 
That  is  the  maid  r  the  mao  is  he ! 

{Tir  tit  Ammalt.) 
It  seems  the  mistress  has  gone  away? 

THE  ANIMALS. 

Carousing,  t<Mlay  I 

OfE  and  about. 

By  the  chimney  out ! 

MZFH I STO  PK  ELES. 

What  time  takes  she  for  dissipating? 

THE  ANIMALS. 

While  we  to  warm  our  paws  are  waiting. 

HEPHISTOPHELES  (»  FaUST). 

How  findest  thou  the  tender  creatures? 

FAUST. 

Absurder  than  I  ever  yet  did  see- 

MEPHISTOFHELES. 

Why,  just  such  taik  as  this,  for  me. 

Is  that  which  has  the  most  attractive  features  1 

{To  tie  Animiiti.) 

But  tell  me  now,  ye  cursed  puppets, 
Why  do  ye  stir  the  porridge  so? 

THE  ANIMALS. 

We  're  cooking  watery  soup  for  beggars.») 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Then  a  great  public  you  can  show. 


ih,Googlc 


SCSNE   VI.  103 

THE  HE-AFB  , 

(<«MM  up  and  foams  a»  MlPHlSTOPHBLIS). 

O  cast  thou  the  dice ! 
Make  me  rich  in  a  trice, 
Let  me  win  in  good  season ! 
Things  are  badly  controlled, 
And  had  I  but  gold, 
So  had  1  my  reason. 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

How  would  the  ape  be  sure  his  luck  enhances, 
Could  he  but  try  the  lottery's  chances  I 
\/h  tki  mta»  time  the  ymtng  afts  havt  ttrtt  playing  viUh  a 
largt  hail,  vhUh  they  now  roll  firaard.) 

THE  HE-APE. 

The  worW's  the  bail; 
Doth  rise  and  fall, 
And  roll  incessant : 
Like  glass  doth  tin^ 
A  hollow  thing,  — 
How  soon  vrill  't  spring. 
And  dropy  quiescent? 
Here  bright  it  gleama. 
Here  brighter  seems : 
1  live  at  present  t 
Dear  son,  I  say. 
Keep  thou  away ! 
Thy  doom  is  spoken  1 
'T  is  made  of  clay. 
And  will  be  broken. 

KBPHtSTOPHELBS. 

Wtut  means  the  sieve  ? 


ih,Googlc 


104  FAUST. 

,  THE  VOi-KVt.  {takir^  il  dmm). 

Wert  thou  the  thie^*" 
I  'd  know  him  and  shame  him. 
(Ht  nau  le  Ißu  %».%-Kii.,  and  ttti  ktr  l0Ok  thrffl^k  ii.\ 
Look  through  the  sieve ! 
Know'st  thou  the  thief. 
And  darest  not  name  him? 

MEPHISTOPHELES  IfiffreackiHg  tkt finY 

And  what  'b  this  pot? 

HE-APE  AND  SHE-APE. 

The  fool  knows  it  not  I 
He  knows  not  the  pot. 
He  knows  not  the  kettle  1 

HEPHUTOPHELES. 

Impertinent  beast ! 

THE  HE-APE. 

Take  the  brush  here,  at  least, 
And  sit  down  on  the  settle ! 
(Hi  imilti  MEPHISTOPHELES  Ic  til  dmm.) 

FAVST 

{teha  during  all  this  timt  hat  ban  ilanding  btfort  a  mirrnr,  ntnt 

approaching  and  nam  TitrialiHg  from  it\. 

What  do  I  see  ?    What  heavenly  form  revealed" 

Shows  through  the  glass  from  Magic's  fair  dominions  1 

O  lend  me,  Love,  the  swiftest  of  thy  pinions. 

And  bear  me  to  her  beauteous  field  I 

Ah,  if  I  leave  this  spot  with  fond  designing, 

If  I  attempt  to  venture  near. 

Dim,  as  through  gathering  mist,  her  charms  appear !  — 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE    VI.  105 

A  woman's  form,  in  beauty  shinii^ ! 
Can  woman,  then,  so  lovely  b«  ? 
And  must  I  find  her  body,  there  reclining, 
Of  all  the  heavens  the  bright  epitome  ? 
Can  Earth  with  such  a  thing  be  mated? 

HEPHISTOPHELE5. 

Why,  surely,  if  a  God  first  pbgues  Himself  six  days. 

Then,  self-contented.  Bravo!  says. 

Must  something  clever  be  created. 

This  time,  thine  eyes  be  satiate ! 

I  'U  yel  detect  thy  sweetheart  and  ensnare  her. 

And  blest  is  he,  who  has  the  lucky  fate, 

Some  day,  as  bridegroom,  home  to  bear  her, 

(FaUST  ^uki  continually  in  Ihi  mirror.  MepKISTOPMELES. 
strfUhitig  hivisilf  out  on  thesitlit,  and  playing  viilk  thi  brush, 
conlitmti  la  sfieai.) 

So  sit  I,  like  the  King  upon  his  throne: 

I  hold  the  sceptre,  here,  —  and  lack  the  crown  alone, 

THE  ANIMALS 
llRti?  up  to  Ihit  Hmt  havt  ietn  making  all  tinds  ef  fantastic 
mtvcminli  together,  bring  a  crown  to   MEPHlSTOPHELy!< 
mlA  grea/  naiii], 

O  be  thou  so  good 
With  sweat  and  with  blood 
The  crown  to  belimel 
I  T^iejf  haitJU  the  erovm  awkwardly  and  break  it  iittc  Am 
piecet,  -with  which  they  sprii^  around. ) 
'T  is  done,  let  it  be  I 
We  speak  and  we  see. 
We  hear  and  we  rhyme !" 

FAUST  {before  the  mirror). 

Woe  '9  me !    I  fear  lo  lose  my  wits. 


ih,Googlc 


UEPHISTOPHBLBS  {peimtingtc  tkt  AiUmalt). 

Hj  own  head,  now,  is  really  nigh  to  sinking; 

THE  ANIMALS. 

If  lucky  our  hits, 

And  everything  fits, 

T  is  thoughts,  and  we  're  thinkingi 

FAUST  (as  abovt). 

My  bosom  burns  with  that  sweet  vision ; 
Let  uii,  with  speed,  away  from  here  ! 

MEPHISTO PHELES  (in  1^  '"mt  aUituät). 

One  must,  at  least,  make  this  admission  — 

They  're  poets,  genuine  and  sincere. 

( 7iU  caUron,  akick  tkt  ShBiApe  hat  up  to  Mi  tima  Ktgiected 
to  wattk,  itgitir  la  6oiI  aver:  tktre  ensues  a  great  ßame, 
taiük  bliuei  out  lie  ekimney.  The  Witch  aimet  careering 
dffmtt  tkre^gk  tkeßame,  taitk  terrible  criei.) 

THE  WITCH. 

Ow! ow! ow! ow! 
The  damned  beast— the  curs&l  sow! 
To  leave  the  kettle,  and  singe  the  Frau ! 
Accursed  fere ! 

{Perceiving  Faust  and  Mbfhistophblbs.) 
What  is  that  here  ? 
Who  are  you  here  ? 
What  want  you  thus  ? 
Who  sneaks  to  us  ? 
The  fire-pain 
Bum  bone  and  brain ! 
\Skeflutiget  Ike  elamming-ladle  into  tke  taldrtn,  and  teaUert 
flames  Imeards  Faust,   MbphisTOPHEles,  and  tke  Ant- 
malt.     Tke  Amwtait  tvkimfier.) 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE   VI.  107 

ySPHtSTOPHBLES 

Irmrtimg  Ike  brush,  vkich  lu  hai  ietm  h^dii^  in  kit  hand, 

and  ttriking  among  the Jari  and gtiuset\. 

In  two!  in  two! 

There  lies  the  brew ! 

There  lies  the  glass ! 

The  joke  will  pass, 

As  time,  foul  ass  ! 

To  the  singing  of  thy  crew. 
{At  the  Witch  starts  back,  full  of-wratk  and  karr» .-) 
Ha !  know'st  thou  me  ?    Abomination,  thou ! 
Know'st  thou,  at  last,  thy  Lord  and  Master? 
What  hinders  me  from  smiting  now 
Thee  and  thy  nwnkey-spriles  with  fell  disaster? 
Hast  for  the  scarlet  coat  no  reverence? 
Dost  recogniie  no  more  the  tall  cock's-feather? 
Have  I  concealed  this  countenance? — 
Must  tell  my  name,  old  face  of  leather  ? 

THE  WITCH. 

0  pardon.  Sir,  the  rough  salute ! 

Yet  I  perceive  no  cloven  foot ; 

And  both  your  ravens,  where  are  they  now  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

This  time,  1  '11  let  thee  'scape  the  debt; 

For  since  we  two  together  met, 

T  is  verily  full  many  a  day  now. 

Culture,  which  smooth  the  whole  world  licks. 

Also  unto  the  Devil  sticks. 

The  days  of  that  old  Northern  phantom  now  are  over: 

Where  canst  thou  horns  and  tail  and  claws  discover  ? 

And,  as  regards  the  foot,  which  I  can't  spare,  fn  truth, 

T  wonki  only  make  the  people  shun  me ; 


ih,Googlc 


Therefore  I  've  worn,  Uke  many  a  spindly  youth, 
Falae  calves  these  many  years  upon  me. 

THE  WITCH  {dancing). 

Reason  and  sense  forsa.ke  my  brain. 
Since  1  behold  Squire  Satan  here  again! 

MEPH ISTOPHELES. 

Woman,  from  such  a  name  refrain ! 

THE  WITCH, 

Why  so  ?    What  has  it  done  to  thee? 

HEPH ISTOPH  EI.E5. 

It  'a  long  been  written  in  the  Book  of  Fable ;  •» 
Yet,  therefore,  no  whit  better  men  we  see : 
The  Evil  One  has  left,  the  evil  ones  are  stable. 
Sir  Baron  call  me  thou,  then  is  the  matter  good ; 
A  cavalier  am  I,  like  others  in  my  bearing. 
Thou  hast  no  doubt  about  my  noble  blood : 
See,  here  's  the  coat-o£-arms  that  I  am  weariogl 

{ffi  maiei  an  indneni  gtshirt.) 

TBE  WITCH  {loMght  immaderiUt!y). 
Ha !  ha !    That 's  just  your  way,  I  know : 
A  rogue  you  are,  and  you  were  always  so. 

H  EPH  ISTOPHELES  (to  Faust). 
My  friend,  take  proper  heed,  1  pray  ! 
To  manage  witches,  this  is  just  the  way. 

THE  WITCH. 

Wherein,  Sirs,  can  I  be  of  use? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Give  us  a  goblet  of  the  well-known  juice  1 


ih,Googlc 


SCEl^E   Vf.  109' 

But,  1  must  b^  you,  of  the  oldest  brewage ; 
The  years  a  double  strength  produce. 

THE  WITCH. 

With  an  my  heart !     Now,  here 's  a  battle, 
Wherefrom,  sometimes,  I  wet  my  throttle, 
Which,  also,  not  the  slightest,  stinks ; 
And  willingly  a  glass  I  'II  fill  him. 

(iVhilflring.) 

Yet,  if  this  man  without  due  preparation  drink% 
As  well  thou  know'st,  within  an  hour  't  will  kill  him. 

HEPH ISTOPHELES . 

He  is  a  friend  of  mine,  with  whom  it  will  agree. 
And  he  deserves  thy  kitchen's  best  potation : 
Come,  draw  thy  circle,  speak  thine  adjuration. 
And  fill  thy  goblet  full  and  free  1 

\wU/i  famlaslk  gtilura  dratel  a  drcit  ami  platei  myslerious  ar- 
HtUt  thtrtin  ;  matnuikili  the  giaisei  begin  to  ring,  Ikt  ciddrgH 
te  iouhJ,  and  mail  a  Muiiaii  aceemfaniment.  Finally  lit 
iiingi  a  grcal  book,  and  staiiant  in  the  circle  the  Apes,  who 
are  oiligtd  to  serve  as  readiitg-desk,  and  la  kM  Ihe  larches. 
She  lien  ttctons  Faust  A>  afpraaeh). 

FAUST  {la  MEPH ISTOPHELES). 

Now,  what  shall  come  of  this?  the  creatures  antic, 
The  crazy  stuff,  the  gestures  frantic,  — 
All  ihe  repulsive  cheats  I  view,  — 
Are  known  to  me,  and  hated,  too. 

MEPBISTOPHELES. 

0,  nonsense  I    That 's  a  thing  for  laughter ; 
Don't  be  so  terribly  severe  1 


ih,Googlc 


She  juggles  you  as  doctor  now,  that,  after, 
The  beverage  may  work  the  proper  cheer. 

(Hi persuada  Faust  ta  liep  into  tht  eirtU.) 

THE  WITCH 

ibtgini  te  dalaim,  -orith  muih  emphasis,ß-em  thiboei 

See,  thus  it 's  done  1 

Make  ten  of  one, 

And  two  let  be. 

Make  even  three. 

And  rich  thou  'It  be. 

Cast  o'er  the  four ! 

From  five  and  six 

(The  witch's  tricks) 

Make  seven  and  eigh^ 

'T  b  finished  straight  1 

And  nine  is  one. 

And  ten  is  none. 

This  is  the  witch's  once-one's-one  |t° 

FAUST. 

She  talks  like  one  who  raves  in  fever. 


Thou  It  hear  much  more  before  we  leave  her. 

'T  is  all  the  same:  the  book  I  can  repeat. 

Such  time  I  've  squandered  o'er  the  history: 

A  contradiction  thus  complete" 

Is  always  for  the  wise,  no  less  than  foob,  a  mystery. 

The  art  is  old  and  new,  for  verily 

All  ages  have  been  taught  ihe  matter, — 

By  Three  and  One,  and  One  and  Three, 

Error  instead  of  Truth  to  scatter. 

They  prate  and  teach,  and  no  one  interferes ; 

All  from  the  fellowship  of  fools  are  shrinking. 


ih,Googlc 


SCEJVE  Vf.  Ill 

Min  usiully  believes,  if  only  words  he  hears, 
That  also  with  them  goes  material  for  thiakiog  I 

THE  WITCH  {caniimiti). 

The  lofty  skill 

Of  Science,  still 

From  all  men  deeply  hidden  t 

Who  takes  no  tbot^ht. 

To  him  'tis  broi^ht, 

T  is  given  unsought,  unbidden ! 

FAUST. 

What  nonsense  she  declaims  before  us  1 

My  head  is  nigh  to  split,  1  fear : 

It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  hear 

A  hundred  thousand  fools  in  chorus. 

KEPKISTOPHELES. 

O  Sibyl  excellent,  enough  of  adjuration ! 
But  hither  bring  us  thy  potation. 
And  quickly  fill  the  beaker  to  the  brim ! 
This  drink  will  bring  my  friend  no  injuries : 
He  is  a  man  of  manifold  degrees, 
And  many  draughts  are  known  to  him. 
(  73<  Witch,  wtrt  ntaaji  eertmoniet.  ftiurs  tht  drink  into  a 
fufi  ;  at  Faust  it/i  it  W  Aii  lipi,  a  light  flam  arües.) 
Down  with  it  quickly !     Drain  it  off ! 
'T  will  warm  thy  heart  with  new  desire : 
Art  with  the  Devil  hand  and  glove, 
And  wilt  thou  be  afraid  of  6re  ? 
(Tht  ^  ITCH  brtakt  till  lircU :  Vwsi  ittfi/trtk.t 

IfEPHlSTOPHEXBS. 

And  now,  away  1    Thou  dar'st  not  rest 


ih,Googlc 


THE  WITCH. 

And  much  good  may  the  liquor  do  thee  1 

UEPHISTOPHELES   {U  tie  VftTCH). 

Thy  wish  be  on  Walpui^s  Night  expressed', 
What  boon  I  have,  shall  then  be  given  unto  tli 


Here  is  a  soog,  which,  if  you  sometimes  sing, 
You  'li  find  it  of  peculiar  operation. 

HEPHI5TOPHELES  (/i>  FauST). 

Come,  walk  at  once !    A  rapid  occupation 

Must  start  the  needful  perspiration, 

And  throu^  thy  frame  the  liquor's  potence  fling. 

The  noble  indolence  1 11  teach  thee  then  to  treasure,» 

Andsoon  thou 'Itbeaware,  with  keenest  thrills  of  pleasure, 

How  Cupid  stirs  and  leaps,  on  light  and  restless  wing. 

FAUST. 

One  rapid  glance  within  the  mirror  give  me, 
How  beautiful  that  woman-form ! 

MEPH ISTOPHELES. 

No,  no !    The  paragon  of  all,  believe  me. 
Thou  soon  shall  see,  alive  and  warm. 

iAxiJt.) 
Thou  'It  find,  this  drink  thy  blood  compelliu^ 
Each  woman  beautiful  as  Helen  I 


ih,Googlc 


Faust.    Margaret  (fiuanefy). 

FAUST. 

FAIR  lady,  let  it  not  offend  you, 
That  arm  and  escort  I  would  lend  yon  I 

MARGARET." 

I  'm  neither  lady,  neither  iaii, 

And  home  1  can  go  without  your  care. 

[Sie  nUant  htralf,  and  ti 


By  Heaven,  the  girl  is  wondrous  fair ! 
Of  all  I  've  seen,  beyond  compare; 
So  sweetly  virtuous  and  pure. 
And  yet  a  little  pert,  be  sure ! 
The  lip  so  red,  the  cheek's  clear  dawn, 
I  '11  not  forget  while  the  world  rolls  on ! 
How  she  cast  down  her  timid  eyes. 
Deep  in  my  heart  imprinted  lies  : 
How  short  and  sharp  of  speech  was  she," 
Why,  't  was  a  real  ecstasy ! 
<Mbi 


Hear,  of  that  girl  1  'd  have  possession ! 


ih,Googlc 


WhkhftheD? 

FAUST. 

The  one  who  j'usi  vrent  by. 

HEPH ISTO  PMELBS. 

She,  Üiere  ?    She 's  coming  from  confession. 

Of  every  sin  al>solved ;  for  I, 

Behind  her  chair,  was  listening  nigh. 

So  innocent  is  she,  indeed, 

That  to  confess  she  had  no  need. 

1  have  no  power  o'er  souls  so  green. 

FAUST, 

And  yet,  she 's  older  than  fourteen. 

IIBPRISTOrHEt.ES. 

How  now!    You  're  talking  like  Jack  Rake, 
Who  every  flower  for  himself  would  take. 
And  fancies  there  are  no  favors  more. 
Nor  honors,  save  for  him  in  store ; 
Yet  alway»  does  n't  the  thing  succeed. 

FAUST. 

Most  Worthy  Pedagt^e,  take  heed!« 
Let  not  a  word  of  moral  law  be  spoken  I 
I  claim,  1  tcU  thee,  all  my  right ; 
And  if  that  image  of  delight 
Rest  not  within  mine  arms  to-night, 
At  midnight  is  onr  compact  broketL 

MEPHISTOPLELES. 

But  think,  the  ch^uices  of  the  case  t 
1  need,  at  least,  a  fortnight's  space. 
To  find  ao  t^iportnne  occa&ion. 


ih,Googlc 


SCEXE  VII. 

FAUST. 

Had  I  but  Mven  hours  for  all, 
I  should  not  on  the  Devil  call, 
But  win  her  by  my  ovn  persuaswn. 


You  almost  ^ke  a  Frenchman  prate ; 
Yet,  pray,  don't  take  it  as  annoyaoce  1 
Why,  all  at  once,  exhaust  the  joyance? 
Your  bUss  is  by  no  means  so  great 
As  if  you  'd  use,  to  get  control, 
All  sorts  of  tender  rigmarole. 
And  knead  and  shape  her  to  your  thaagh^ 
As  in  Italian  tales  't  is  taught.^ 

FAUST. 

Witbont  tiiat,  1  have  appetite. 

UEFKISTO  PU  ELES. 

But  now,  leave  jesting  out  of  sight  I 
I  tell  yoo,  once  for  ^  that  speed 
With  this  ixa  girl  will  not  succeed  j 
By  storm  she  cannot  captured  be ; 
We  must  make  use  of  strategy. 

FAUST. 

Get  me  something  the  angel  Iceq»  1 
Lead  me  thither  where  she  deeps ! 
Get  me  a  kerchief  from  her  breast,  — 
A  gaiter  that  her  knee  has  prosed  1 

HBPHtSTOPUELBS. 

That  you  may  see  ho«  much  I  'd  fain 

Further  aad  satisfy  your  pain. 

We  will  no  longer  lose  a  ounule ; 

I  'U  find  her  room  to-day,  and  take  you  is  it 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

And  shall  I  see — possess  her? 


Unto  a  neighbor  she  must  go, 
And  nKanwhile  thou,  alone,  mayst  glow 
With  every  hope  of  future  pleasure. 
Breathing  her  a.tniosphere  in  fullest  measure; 


Can  we  go  thither  ? 


HEFHISTOF  HELBS. 

T  is  too  early  yet 


FAUST. 

A  gift  for  her  t  bid  thee  get ! 


HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Presents  at  ooce  ?    That's  .^ood:  he 's  certain  to  get  ai 


Full  many  a  pleasant  j^ce  1  knon. 
And  treasures,  buried  long  ago : 
1  must,  peiforce,  look  up  the  matter. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  Vllf. 


A  Shall,  keatlv  kept  Ckauber. 

MARGARET 
\plaiting  and  Mndiitg  up  the  braids  ef  ktr  klär). 

I'D  something  give,  could  I  but  say 
Who  was  that  gentleman,  to-day. 
Surely  a  gallant  nun  was  he, 
And  of  a  noble  family ; 
So  much  could  1  in  his  face  behold, — 
And  he  would  n't,  else,  have  been  so  bold  I 

\Exit 
Mephistopheles.    Faust. 


Come  in,  but  gently :  follow  me  I 

FAUST  {afier  aiHomenet  tiitna). 
Leave  me  alone,  1  beg  of  thee  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES  [frying  aiauft- 

Not  every  girl  keeps  things  so  neat 

FAUST  [leaking around]. 
0  welcome,  twilight  soft  and  sweet," 
That  breathes  throughout  this  hallowed  shrine  1 
Sweet  pain  of  love,  bind  thou  with  fetters  fleet 
The  heart  that  on  the  dew  of  hope  must  i»ne] 


ih,Googlc 


How  all  around  a  sense  impresses 
Of  quiet,  order,  and  coatent  1 
This  poverty  what  bounty  blesses  I 
What  bliss  within  this  narrow  den  is  pent! 

\Ht  throws  hmsilfitÜB  a  Itathtm  arm-chair  near  th*  bid.) 

Receive  me,  thou,  that  in  thine  open  arms 

Departed  joy  and  pain  wert  wont  to  gather! 

How  oft  the  children,  with  their  ruddy  charms. 

Hung  here,  around  this  throne,  where  sal  the  iatherl 

Perchance  my  love,  amid  the  childish  band. 

Grateful  for  gifts  the  Holy  Christmas  gave  her, 

Here  meekly  kissed  the  grandsire's  withered  hand. 

1  feel,  O  maid !  thy  very  sou! 

Of  order  and  content  around  me  whisper,  — 

Which  leads  thee  with  its  motherly  control. 

The  cloth  upon  thy  board  bids  smoothly  thee  unroll, 

The  sand  beneath  thy  feet  makes  whiter,  crisper. 

O  dearest  hand,  to  thee  't  is  given 

To  change  this  hut  into  a  lower  heaven ! 

And  here  I 

\He  Hflt  oiu  of  Iht  bed-curtaim.) 
What  sweetest  thrill  is  in  my  blood  1 
Here  could  I  spend  whole  hours,  delaying: 
Here  Nature  shaped,  as  if  in  sportive  playing. 
The  angel  blossom  from  the  bud. 

Here  lay  the  child,  with  Life's  warm  essence 

The  tender  bosom  filled  and  fair, 

And  here  was  wrought,  through  holier,  purer  presuncb 

The  form  diviner  beings  wearl 

And  I  ?    What  drew  me  here  with  power? 
How  deeply  am  I  moved,  this  hour  I 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  Vm.  115 

Wliat  seek  I P    Why  so  full  my  heart,  and  son:  ? 
Miserable  Faust !    1  linow  thee  now  no  more. 

Is  there  a  magic  vapor  here? 

I  came,  with  lust  of  instant  pleasure. 

And  lie  dissolved  in  dreams  of  love's  sweet  leisure  I 

Are  we  the  sport  of  every  changeful  atmosphere  ? 

And  if,  this  moment,  came  she  in  to  me, 
How  would  I  for  the  fault  atonement  render ) 
How  small  the  giant  lout  would  be, 
Prone  at  her  feet,  relaxed  and  tender! 

MEFHISTOFHELES. 

Be  quick!     I  see  her  there,  returning. 

FAUST, 

Go  I  go  I  I  never  will  retreat 

UBPHISTOPHELES. 

Here  is  a  casket,  not  unmeet. 
Which  elsewhere  I  have  just  been  earning. 
Here,  set  it  in  the  press,  with  haste.' 
1  swear,  't  will  turn  her  head,  to  spy  it : 
Some  baubles  I  therein  had  placed. 
That  you  might  win  another  by  iL 
True,  child  is  child,  and  play  is  play. 

FAUST. 

I  know  not,  should  I  do  it  ?  ^ 

UEPHISTOPKELES. 

Ask  you,  pray  \ 
Yourself,  perhaps,  would  keep  the  bubble? 
Then  1  suj^st,  't  were  fair  and  just 


ih,Googlc 


ö  FAUST. 

To  spare  the  lovely  daj  your  lust, 

And  spare  to  me  the  further  trouble. 

You  are  not  miserly,  I  trust  ? 

I  rub  my  hands,  in  expectation  tender — 

(He  ^aai  Ike  eoiket  in  tkt preu,  and  le<ki  il  again.) 

Now  quick,  away  I 

The  sweet  young  maiden  to  betray, 

So  that  by  wish  and  will  you  bend  her ; 

And  you  look  as  though 

To  the  lecture-hall  you  were  forced  to  go,  — 

As  if  stood  before  you,  gray  and  loath, 

Physics  and  Metaphysics  both ! 

But  away  I 

MARGARET  {mlh  a  lomf). 

It  is  80  close,  so  sultry,  here ! 

{Sit  opens  the  wind<7w. ) 
And  yet 't  is  not  so  warm  outside. 
I  feel,  I  know  not  why,  such  (ear  I — 
WouU  mother  came  1 — where  can  she  bide  ? 
My  body  's  chill  and  shuddering, — 
I  'm  but  a  silly,  fearsome  thing! 

{She  hf^ns  to  ling,  vihilt  undrtssing.\ 

There  was  a  King  in  Thule," 
Was  faithful  till  the  grave,  — 
To  whom  his  mistress,  dying, 
A  golden  goblet  gave. 

Naught  was  to  him  more  precious ; 
He  drained  it  at  every  bout : 
His  eyes  with  tears  ran  over. 
As  oft  as  he  drank  thereout 


ih,Googlc 


SCEXE   vni.  i: 

When  came  his  time  of  dyiog. 
The  towns  in  his  land  he  told, 
Naught  else  to  his  heir  denying 
Except  the  goblet  of  gold. 

He  sat  at  the  royal  banquet 
With  his  luughts  of  high  degree, 
In  the  lofty  baU  of  his  fathers 
In  the  Castle  by  the  Sea. 

There  stood  the  old  carouser. 
And  drank  the  last  life-glow, 
And  hurled  the  hallowed  goblet 
Into  the  tide  below. 

He  saw  it  plunging  and  filling, 
And  sinking  deep  in  the  sea ; 
Then  fell  his  eyelids  forever, 
And  never  more  drank  he ! 

\ßhe  »ptHt  thtpTtis  in  erdtr  la  arran^  her  tiftkn,  and  f 
aims  tht  (oiket  ofjeaxh. ) 
How  comes  that  lovely  casket  here  to  me? 
I  locked  the  press,  most  certainly. 
'T  is  truly  wonderful!     What  can  within  it  be? 
Perhaps  't  was  brought  by  some  one  as  a  pawn, 
And  mother  gave  a  loan  thereon  ? 
And  here  there  hangs  a  key  to  fit: 
1  have  a  mind  to  open  iL 

What  is  that?    God  in  Heaven!    Whence  came 
Such  things?    Never  beheld  1  aught  so  fair! 
Rich  ornaments,  such  as  a  noble  dame 
On  highest  holidays  might  wear! 
How  would  the  pearl^chain  suit  ray  hair? 
Ah,  who  may  all  this  splendor  own  ? 
VOL,  I.  6 


ih,Googlc 


(Sit  aJonu  htrttif  VKlh  Ikr  jeailTy,  and  ittft  htfvrt  Iki 

Were  bot  the  ear-rings  mine,  alone ! 

One  has  at  once  another  air. 

What  helps  one's  beauty,  youthful  blood? 

One  may  possess  them,  veU  and  good ; 

But  none  the  more  do  others  care. 

They  praise  ns  half  In  pity,  sure : 

To  gold  still  tends, 

On  gold  depends 

AU,aUI    Alas,wepaorl 


ih,Googlc 


IX. 

PROMENADE. 
(FAVSt,wi»aitfg:ti«iig*ifiiifyiifm$daniat.     Ti  Aim  MsPHta- 

TOPHELES.) 
HEPHISTOF  HEI.KS. 

BY  aD  love  ever  rejected  1    By  hell-fire  hot  and  on- 
sparing  1 
I  wish  I  knew  something  worse,  that  1  might  use  it  fot 
aw*aringt 

FATJST. 

What  ails  theeF    What  Is  't  gripes  thee,  elf  ? 
A  face  like  thine  beheld  I  never. 


I  would  myself  onto  the  Devil  deliver. 
If  1  were  not  a  Devil  myself ! 

FAUST. 

Thy  head  is  out  of  order,  sadly : 

It  much  becomes  thee  to  be  raving  madly. 


Just  think,  the  pocket  of  a  priest  should  get 

The  trinkets  left  for  Margaret  I 

The  mother  saw  them,  and,  instanter, 

A  secret  dread  began  to  haunt  her. 

Keen  scent  has  she  for  tainted  air; 

She  snuffs  within  her  book  of  prayer. 


ih,Googlc 


4  FAUST. 

And  smells  each  article,  to  see 

If  sacred  or  profane  it  be ; 

So  here  she  guessed,  from  every  gem, 

That  not  much  blessing  came  with  them. 

"  My  child,"  she  said,  "  ill-gotten  good 

EnsEUU^s  the  soul,  consumes  the  blood. 

Before  the  Mother  of  God  we  '11  lay  it ; 

With  heavenly  manna  shell  repay  it !"™ 

But  Margaret  thought,  with  sour  grimace, 

"  A  gift-horse  is  not  out  of  place. 

And,  truly !  godless  cannot  be 

The  one  who  brought  such  things  to  me." 

A  parson  came,  by  the  mother  bidden : 

He  saw,  at  once,  where  the  game  was  hidden, 

And  viewed  it  with  a  favor  stealthy. 

He  spake :  "  That  is  the  proper  view,  — 

Who  overcometh,  winneth  too. 

The  Holy  Church  has  a  stomach  healthy: 

Hath  eaten  many  a  land  as  forfeit, 

And  never  yet  complained  of  surfeit : 

The  Church  alone,  beyond  all  question. 

Has  for  ill-gotten  goods  the  right  digestion." 

A  general  practice  is  the  same. 
Which  Jew  and  King  may  also  claim. 

MEPHtSTOPHELES. 

Then  bagged  the  spangles,  chains,  and  rings, 

As  if  but  toadstools  were  the  things. 

And  thanked  no  less,  and  thanked  no  more 

Than  if  a  sack  of  nuts  he  bore,  — 

Promised  them  fullest  heavenly  pay. 

And  deeply  edified  were  they. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  IX. 

FAUST. 


Sits  UDrestfuI  still, 
And  knows  not  what  she  should,  or  will ; 
Thinks  on  the  jewels,  day  and  night. 
But  more  on  him  who  gave  her  such  delight 

FAUST. 

The  darling's  sorrow  gives  me  pidn. 
Get  thon  a  set  (or  her  again  I 
The  first  was  not  a  great  display. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

O  yes,  the  gentleman  finds  it  all  child's-play  1 

FAUST. 

Fix  and  arrange  it  to  my  will ; 
And  on  her  neighbor  try  thy  skill ! 
Don't  be  a  Devil  stiff  as  paste, 
But  get  fresh  jewels  to  her  taste  1 


Yes,  gracious  Sir,  in  all  obedience ! 

\Exii  Faust 
Such  an  enamored  fool  in  air  would  blow 
Sun,  moon,  and  all  the  starry  legions. 
To  give  his  sweetheart  a  diverting  show. 

[Exit 


ih,Googlc 


THE   NEIGHBOR'S  HOUSE.- 

MARTHA  {seliu). 

GOD  forgive  my  husband,  yet  he 
Has  n't  done  his  duty  by  me! 
Off  in  the  worid  he  went  straightway,  — 
Left  me  lie  in  the  straw  where  I  lay, 
And,  truly,  I  did  naught  to  fret  him : 
God  knows  I  loved,  and  t^an't  iorget  him  I 

(She  weefis.) 
Perhaps  he  's  even  dead  1    Ah,  woe !  — 
Had  1  a  certificate  to  show  I 

UARQARET  {comet). 

Dame  Martha  I 

MARTHA. 

Margaret !  what 's  happened  thee? 

MARGARET. 

I  scarce  can  stand,  my  knees  are  trembling  I 
1  find  a  box,  the  first  resembling. 
Within  my  press '.     Of  ebony, — 
And  things,  all  splendid  to  behold, 
And  richer  far  than  were  the  old. 

MARTHA. 

You  must  n't  tell  it  to  your  mother! 

T  would  go  to  the  priest,  as  did  the  other. 


ih,Googlc 


MARGARET. 

Ah,  look  jtnd  see — just  look  and  see ! 

MARTHA   [adanang  fur). 

O,  what  a  blessed  luck  for  thee ! 

MARGARET. 

But^i !  in  the  streets  I  dare  not  bear  them. 
Nor  in  the  church  be  seen  to  wear  them 


Yet  thou  canst  often  this  way  wander, 

And  secretly  the  jewels  don, 

Walk  up  and  down  an  hour,  before  the  mirror  yonder,  — 

We  11  have  our  private  joy  thereon. 

And  then  a  chance  will  come,  a  holiday, 

When,  piece  by  piece,  can  one  the  things  abroad  display, 

A  chain  at  first,  then  other  ornament : 

Thy  mother  will  not  see,  and  stories  we  'II  invenL 


Whoever  could  have  brought  me  things  so  precious  f 
That  something 's  wrong,  1  feel  suspicious. 

{A  htoci.) 
Good  Heaven !    My  mother  can  that  have  been  7 

MARTHA  iftefing /hreugA  the  ilirufi. 

T  is  some  strange  gentleman.  —  Come  in ! 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


That  I  so  boldly  introduce  n: 
I  beg  you,  ladies,  to  excuse  i 


ih,Googlc 


{Sfeft  tact  Tcvtrtnily,  tu  tiring  Marcakit.) 

For  Martha  Schwerdtleio  I  'd  inquire ! 

MARTHA. 

I  'm  she :  what  does  the  gentleman  desire? 

HEPHISTOPHELES  [astät  tu  Aer]. 
It  Is  enough  that  you  are  she : 
You  've  a  visitor  of  high  degree. 
Pardon  the  freedom  I  have  ta'en,  — 
Will  after  noon  return  again. 

MARTHA   {alDud). 

Of  all  things  in  the  world !    Just  hear — 
He  takes  thee  for  a  lady,  dear  I 

HABOARET. 

I  am  a  creature  young  and  poor : 
The  gentleman 's  too  kind.  I  'm  sure. 
The  jewels  don't  belong  to  me. 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ah,  not  alone  the  jewelry  1 

The  look,  the  manner,  both  betray— 

Rejoiced  am  I  that  1  may  stay ! 

MARTHA. 

What  is  your  business  ?    I  would  fain  — 

UEPHISTOPKELES. 

I  would  I  had  a  more  cheerful  strain  I 

Take  not  unkindly  its  repeating : 

Your  husband 's  dead,  and  sends  a  greeting. 


ih,Googlc 


HAKTHA. 

Isdead?    Alao,  thatheart  sotniel 
My  husband  dead  I     Let  me  die,  too ) 

U  ARG  A  RET. 

Ab,  dearest  dame,  let  not  your  courage  faQ  I 

HEPHISTOPH  ELES. 

Hear  mc  relate  the  mournful  tale  I 

MARGARET. 

Therefore  I  'd  never  love,  believe  me  I 
A  loas  like  this  to  death  would  grieve  me. 

HEPHISTOPKBLES. 

ioy  follows  woe,  woe  after  joy  comes  flyiuj^ 

MARTHA. 

Relate  his  life's  sad  close  to  me ! 

MEPHlSTOPHELEa. 

In  Padua  buried,  he  is  lying 
Beside  the  good  Saint  Antony,*™ 
Within  a  grave  well  conseciaied. 
Fix-  cool,  eternal  rest  created. 

MARTHA. 

He  gave  you,  further,  no  commission  ? 

Me?H  I5TOPHELES. 

Yes,  one  of  weight,  with  many  sighs: 

Three  hundred  masses  buy,  to  save  him  from  perdition] 

My  hands  are  empty,  otherwise. 

6»  1 


ih,Googlc 


What !    Not  a  pocket-piece  ?  no  jewelry  i 
What  every  journeyman  within  his  wallet  spares, 
And  as  a  token  with  him  bears, 
Aod  rather  starves  or  begs,  than  loses  f 

HEPKISTOPHELES. 

Madam,  it  is  a  grief  to  me ; 

Yet,  on  my  word,  his  cash  was  put  to  proper  nses. 


UARGARET. 

Alack,  that  men  are  so  unfortunate ! 

Surely  for  his  soul's  sake  full  many  a  prayer  1 11  pro£Fec 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You  well  deserve  a  speedy  marriage-offer : 
Vou  are  so  kind,  compassionate. 

HARGARBT. 

0,  no  t    As  yet,  it  would  not  do. 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

If  not  a  husband,  then  a  beau  for  yon  1 

It  is  the  greatest  heavenly  blessing. 

To  have  a  dear  thing  for  one's  caressing. 

MARGARET. 

The  country's  custom  is  not  so, 

HEPHISTOPHEI.ES. 

Custom,  or  not !    It  happens,  though. 


ih,Googlc 


SC£JfE  X.  131 

MARTHA. 

Continue,  pray  t 

HEPHtSTOPItCLES. 

I  Stood  beside  his  bed  of  dying. 
T  was  something  better  than  manure, — 
Half-Totten  straw:  and  yet,  he  died  a  Christian,  sure. 
And  found  that  heavier  scores  to  his  account  were  lying 
He  cried :  "  I  find  my  conduct  wholly  hateful ! 
To  leave  my  wife,  my  trade,  in  manner  so  ungrateful  I 
Ah,  the  remembrance  makes  me  die ! 
Would  of  my  wrong  to  her  I  might  be  shriven  1" 

MARTHA  {■wer^ng). 

The  dear,  good  man  t    LcHig  since  was  be  for^ven. 

MEPHISTOFHEt^S. 

"  Yet  she,  God  knows  I  was  more  to  blame  than  I." 

MARTHA. 

Heliedl    What!    On  the  brink  of  death  he  slaaderedl 

KEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  the  last  throes  his  senses  wandered, 

If  I  such  things  but  half  can  judge. 

He  said:  "I  had  no  time  for  [>lay,  for  gaping  freedran: 

First  children,  and  then  work  for  bread  to  feed  'en»,  — 

For  bread,  in  the  widest  sense,  to  drudge, 

And  could  not  even  eat  my  share  in  peace  and  quiet!" 


Had  he  all  love,  all  faith  forgotten  in  his  riot  i* 
My  work  and  worry,  day  and  night  t 

MKF  HISTOPK  ELES. 

Not  so:  the  memory  of  it  touched  him  quite. 
Said  be :  "  When  1  frun  Malta  went  awa; 


ih,Googlc 


Ijj  FAUST. 

My  prayers  for  wife  and  little  ones  were  zealous, 

And  such  a  luck  from  Heaven  befell  us, 

We  made  a  Turkish  merchantman  our  prey, 

That  to  the  Soldan  bore  a  mighty  treasure. 

Then  I  received,  as  was  most  fit, 

Since  bravery  was  paid  in  fullest  measure. 

My  well-apportioned  share  of  it" 

MARTHA. 

Say,  how  P    Say,  where  ?     If  buried,  did  he  own  it  P 

HEFHISTOFHELES. 

Who  knows,  now,  whither  the  four  winds  have  blown  it) 
A  fair  young  damsel  took  him  in  her  care, 
As  he  in  Naples  wandered  round,  unfriended; 
And  she  much  love,  much  f^th  to  him  did  bear. 
So  that  he  felt  it  tiU  his  days  were  ended. 

MARTHA. 

The  villain !    From  his  children  thieving ! 

Even  all  the  misery  on  him  cast 

Could  not  prevent  his  shameful  way  of  living  I 

MEPMI5T0PH  EI.ES. 

But  see  I    He  's  dead  therefrom,  at  last. 

Were  I  in  ^^wr  place,  do  not  doubt  me, 

1  'd  mourn  him  decently  a  year. 

And  for  another  keep,  meanwhile,  my  eyea  about  me. 

MARTHA. 

Ah,  God !  another  one  so  dear 

As  was  my  first,  this  world  will  hardly  give  me. 

There  never  was  a  sweeter  fool  than  mine. 

Only  he  loved  to  roam  and  leave  me, 

And  foreign  wenches  and  foreign  wine, 

And  the  damned  throw  of  dice,  indeed. 


ih,Googlc 


SCBfiTe  X.  133 

HEPHISTOPHEXBS. 

Well,  well !    That  might  have  done,  however, 

If  he  had  only  been  as  clever, 

And  treated  your  slips  with  as  little  heed. 

I  swear,  with  this  condition,  too, 

!  would,  myself  change  rings  with  you. 

MARTHA. 

The  gentleman  is  pleased  to  jest. 

HEPHISTOPHELES  {aiidt). 

1 11  cut  away,  betimes,  from  here : 

She  'd  take  the  Devil  at  his  word,  I  fear. 

{To  Marcarbt.} 
How  larti  the  heart  within  your  breast  ? 

MARGARET. 

What  means  the  gentleman  ? 

MEPHlSTOPKEI.ES  {aiide). 

Sweet  innocent,  thou  art! 
{Al<mit.\ 
Ladies,  farewell  I 

MARGARET. 

Farewell ! 

MARTHA. 

A  moment,  ere  we  parti 
I  *d  like  to  have  a  legal  witness. 
Where,  how,  and  when  he  died,  to  certify  wiih  fitness. 
Irregular  ways  I  've  always  hated ; 
I  want  his  death  in  the  weekly  paper  stated."» 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ves,  my  good  dame,  a  pair  of  witnesses 
Always  the  truth  establishes. 


ih,Googlc 


I  have  a  friend  of  high  condition, 
Who  '11  also  add  his  deposition. 
1 11  bring  him  here. 

MARTHA. 

Good  Sir,  pray  do  I 

MEPHISTOF  HELES. 

And  this  young  lady  will  be  present,  too? 
A  gallant  youth  !  has  travelled  far : 
Ladies  with  him  delighted  are. 

MARGARET. 

Before  him  I  should  blush,  ashamed. 


Before  no  king  that  could  be  named ! 

MARTHA. 

Behind  the  house,  in  my  garden,  then, 
This  ere  we  'U  expect  the  gentlemen. 


ih,Googlc 


H 


XI. 

STREET. 
Faust.    Mephistophbles. 

FAUST. 

OW  b  it?  uader  way?  and  soon  complete? 


MEPHISTOPBELES. 

Ah,  bravo !     Do  I  find  you  burning  ? 

Well,  Margaret  soon  will  still  your  yearning : 

At  Neighbor  Martha's  you  '11  this  evening  meet 

A  litter  woman  ne'er  was  made 

To  ply  the  pimp  and  gypsy  trade  I 

TiswelL 

UEPKI5TOFHEL.ES. 

Yet  something  is  required  from  uo. 

FAUST. 

One  service  pays  the  other  thus. 

lfEPHI5TOPHEI.ES. 

We  've  but  to  make  a  deposition  valid 

That  now  her  hustiand's  limbs,  outstretched  and  pallid, 

At  Padua  rest,  in  consecrated  soil. 


Most  wise  I    And  first,  of  course,  we  '11  make  the  jour- 
ney thither? 


ih,Googlc 


Ijö  FAUST. 

KEP  HISTOP  K  ELE5. 

Sancta  timplicitas  !  no  need  of  such  a  toil ; 
Depose,  with  knowledge  or  without  it,  either ! 

FAUST. 

If  you  'vc  naught  better,  then,  I  'II  tear  your  pretty  plan  t 

MEPKISTOPHELES. 

Now,  there  you  are  I    O  holy  man  \ 

Is  it  the  first  time  in  your  life  you  're  driven 

To  bear  false  witness  in  a  case  ? 

Of  God,  the  world  and  all  that  in  It  has  a  place. 

Of  Man,  and  all  that  moves  the  being  of  his  race. 

Have  you  not  terms  and  definitions  given 

With  brasen  forehead,  daring  breast? 

And,  if  you  '11  probe  the  thing  profoundly, 

Knew  you  so  much  —  and  you  '11  confess  it  roundly  I  — - 

As  here  of  Schwerdtlein's  death  and  place  of  restf 

FAUST. 

Thou  art,  and  thou  rem^n'st,  a  sophist,  liar. 

HEFHISTOPKELES. 

Yes,  knew  I  not  more  deeply  thy  desire. 
For  wilt  thou  not,  no  lover  ^irer. 
Poor  Margaret  flatter,  and  ensnare  her. 
And  all  thy  soul's  devotion  swear  her? 

FAUST, 

And  from  my  heart 

MEfHlSTOPHELES. 

'T  is  very  fine! 
Thine  endless  love,  thy  faith  assuring. 
The  one  almighty  force  enduring,  — 
Will  that,  too,  prompt  this  heart  of  thine? 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XI.  13; 

FAUST. 

Hold!  hold!    It  viU<— If  such  my  flame, 

And  for  the  sense  and  power  intense 

I  seek,  and  cannot  find,  a  name  ; 

Then  range  with  all  my  senses  through  creation, 

Craving  the  speech  of  inspiration, 

And  call  this  ardor,  so  supernal. 

Endless,  eternal  and  eternal,  — 

Is  that  a  devilish  lying  game  ? 

UEPHISTOPHBLES. 

And  yet  I  'm  right  J 

FAUST. 

Mark  this,  1  beg  of  thee  I 
And  spare  my  lungs  henceforth  :  whoever 
Intends  lo  have  the  right,  if  but  his  tongue  be  clever, 
Will  have  it,  certainly. 

But  come :  the  further  talking  brings  disgust. 
For  thou  art  right,  especially  since  I  must"" 


ih,Googlc 


(Masgaret  oh  Faust's  am.    Maktka  aiui  MsrHtSToFU- 
ELES  vralÜHg  up  and  dirwH. ) 

MARGARET. 

IFEEL,  the  gentleman  allows  for  me. 
Demeans  himself,  and  shames  me  by  it; 
A  traveller  is  so  used  to  be 
Kindly  content  with  any  diet 
I  know  too  well  that  my  poor  gossip  can 
Ne'er  entertain  such  an  experienced  man. 

PAUST. 

A  look  from  thee,  a  word,  more  entertains 
Than  all  the  lore  of  wisest  brains. 

(Hi  kiaes  her  hand.) 

MARGARET. 

Don't  incommode  yourself!    How  could  you  ever  kiss  it! 
It  is  so  ugly,  rough  to  see  ! 
What  work  I  do,  —  how  hard  aJid  Steady  is  it  1 
Mother  b  much  too  dose  with  me. 

[Tkeyfatt. 
MARTHA. 

And  you.  Sir,  travel  always,  do  you  not  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELGS. 

Alas,  that  tnde  and  duty  us  so  harry  I 


ih,Googlc 


Wth  what  a  pang  one  leaves  so  many  a  spot, 
And  dares  not  even  now  and  then  to  tarry  I 


In  young,  wild  years  it  suits  your  ways, 

This  round  and  round  the  world  in  freedom  swee^dng ; 

But  then  come  on  the  evil  days, 

And  so,  as  bachelor,  into  his  grave  a-ct«eping, 

None  ever  found  a  thing  to  pnäse. 

UEPHISTOPHBLBS- 

I  dread  to  see  how  such  a  fate  advances. 

UARTHA. 

Then,  worthy  Sir,  improve  betimes  your  chances  I 

MARGARET. 

Yes,  out  of  sight  is  out  of  mind ! 
Your  courtesy  an  easy  grace  is ; 
But  you  have  friends  in  other  places. 
And  sendbler  than  I,  you  '11  find. 

FAUST. 

Trost  me,  dear  heart !  what  men  call  sensible 
Is  oft  mere  vanity  and  narrowness. 

MARGARET. 

How  so? 

FAUST. 

Ah,  that  simplidty  and  imiocence  ne'er  know 
Themselves,  their  holy  value,  and  their  spell  I 
That  meekness,  lowliness,  the  highest  graces 
Which  Nature  portions  out  so  lovingly  — 


ih,Googlc 


MARGARET. 


So  you  but  think  a  moment's  space  on  me. 

All  times  I  'U  have  to  think  on  you,  all  places  I "« 

FAUST. 

No  doubt  you  're  much  alone? 

MARGARET. 

Yes,  for  our  household  small  has  grown. 

Yet  must  be  cared  for,  you  will  own. 

We  have  no  maid :  1  do  the  knitting,  sewing,  sweeping 

The  cooking,  early  work  and  late,  in  lact; 

And  mother,  in  her  notions  of  housekeeping, 

Is  so  exact ! 

Not  that  she  needs  so  much  to  keep  expenses  down : 

We,  more  than  others,  might  take  comfort,  rather; 

A  nice  estate  was  left  us  by  my  father, 

A  house,  a  litüe  garden  near  the  town. 

But  now  my  days  have  less  of  noise  and  hurry; 

My  brother  is  a  soldier. 

My  little  sister  's  dead. 

True,  with  the  child  a  troubled  life  I  led. 

Yet  I  would  take  ag^n,  and  willing,  all  the  worry, 

So  very  dear  was  she. 


An  angel,  if  like  thee  I 

U  ARC  A  RET. 

I  brought  it  up,  and  it  was  fond  of  me. 
Father  had  died  before  it  saw  the  light, 
And  mother's  case  seemed  hopeless  quite, 
So  weak  and  miserable  she  lay ; 
And  she  recovered,  then,  so  slowly,  day  by  day. 
She  could  not  think,  herself,  of  giving 


ih,Googlc 


SCEJfE  XII.  141 

The  poor  wee  thing  its  natural  living; 

And  so  I  nursed  it  all  alone 

With  millc  and  water :  't  was  my  own. 

Lulled  in  my  lap  with  many  a  song. 

It  smiled,  and  tumbled,  and  grew  strong. 

FAUST,. 

The  purest  bliss  was  surely  then  thy  dower. 

MARGARET. 

But  surely,  also,  many  a  weary  hour. 

I  kept  the  baby's  cradle  near 

My  bed  at  night :  if  't  even  stirred,  I  'd  guess  it, 

And  waldng,  hear. 

And  I  must  nurse  it,  warm  beside  me  press  it, 

And  oft,  to  quiet  it,  my  bed  forsake, 

And  dandling  back  and  forth  the  restless  creature  take^ 

Then  at  the  wash-tub  stand,  at  morning's  break; 

And  then  the  marketing  and  leite  hen-tending, 

Day  after  day,  the  same  thing,  never-ending. 

One's  spirits.  Sir,  are  thus  not  always  good, 

But  then  one  learns  to  relish  rest  and  food. 


\T1uyfaa 


MARTHA. 

Yes,  the  poor  women  are  bad  off,  'I  is  true : 
A  stubborn  bachelor  there 's  no  converting. 

UEPHISTOPHBL.BS. 
It  but  depends  upon  the  like  of  you, 
Aud  I  should  turn  to  better  ways  than  flirtiof^ 

MARTHA. 

Speak  plainly.  Sir,  have  yon  no  one  detected? 
Has  not  yoar  heart  been  anywhere  subjected? 


ih,Googlc 


The  proverb  says :  One's  own  warm  heaidi 
And  a  good  wife,  are  gold  and  jewels  worth. 

UARTHA. 

I  mean,  have  yon  not  felt  desire,  though  ne'er  so  slightly  ? 

HSPHISTOPHELES. 

I  've  everywhere,  in  fact,  been  entertained  politely. 

MARTHA. 

I  meant  to  say,  were  you  not  touched  in  earnest,  ever? 

HEP  K ISTO  PHELES. 

One  shotild  allow  one's  self  to  jest  with  ladies  never. 


HEPHISTOPHELES. 

1  'm  Bony  I  'm  so  blind: 


Ah,  you  doa't 

But  I  am  sure — that  you  are  very  kind. 

PAUST. 

And  me,  thou  angel  1  didst  thou  recognize. 
As  through  the  garden-gate  I  came  i 

MARGARET. 

Did  you  not  see  it?    I  cast  down  my  eyes. 

FAUST. 

And  thou  forgiv|st  my  freedom,  and  the  blame 

To  my  impertinence  befitting. 

As  the  Cathedral  thou  wert  quitting? 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XII.  143 

HARGARET. 

1  was  confused,  the  like  ne'er  happened  me ; 
No  one  could  ever  speak  to  my  discredit 
Ah,  thought  I,  in  my  conduct  has  he  read  it — 
Something  immodest  or  unseendy  free  ? 
He  seemed  to  have  the  sudden  feeling 
That  with  this  wench  't  n«re  very  «asy  dealinj^ 
I  will  confess,  1  knew  not  what  appeal 
On  your  behalf,  here,  in  my  bosom  grew ; 
But  1  was  angry  with  myself,  to  feel 
That  I  could  not  be  angrier  with  you. 

FAtlST. 

Sweet  darling ! 

MARGARET. 

Wait  a  while ! 
{SMt  flueiu  a  itar\/Uwtr,"^  and  pulls  off  tht  lemitt,  one  afttr 
tht  ether.) 

FAUST. 

Shall  that  a  nosegay  l>e  ? 

HABQARET. 

No^  it  is  just  in  play. 

FAUST. 

How? 

UARS  A  RET. 

Go  I  you  11  laugh  at  me. 
iSiepiilli  efflAe  leavt^  and  nainmtn.) 
PAUST. 

What  munnunst  tfaou  7 


ih,Googlc 


UAROARET  {Mal/ aleud). 

He  loves  me  —  loves  me  not 

FAUST. 

Thou  sweet,  angeUc  sonll 

MARGARET  (tentinutt). 

Loves  me  —  not — loves  me  —  not — 

(pluiking  tlu  hat  Itaf,  tht  cries  with  fnmJi  dtlig^ :) 
He  loves  me ! 

FAUST, 

Yea,  child !  and  let  this  blossom-word 
For  thee  be  speech  divine !    He  loves  thee ! 
Ah,  know'st  thou  what  it  means  ?    He  loves  thee  !  . 
{Me gratpi  both  her  kands.\ 

MARGARET. 

I  'm  all  a-tremble ! 

FAUST. 

O  tremble  not !  but  let  this  look, 
Let  this  wann  clasp  of  hands  declare  thee 
What  is  unspeakable ! 
To  yield  one  wholly,  and  to  feel  a  rapture 
In  yielding,  that  must  be  eternal! 
Eternal ! — for  the  end  would  be  despair. 
No,  no,  —  no  ending  I  no  ending  I 

MARTHA  {turning forward). 
The  ni^t  is  falling. 

H  EPHISTOPHELES. 

Ay  I  we  must  awar. 


ih,Googlc 


SCElfE  XII.  14J 

HARTHA. 

I  'd  ask  ycMi,  longer  here  to  tarry, 

But  evil  tongues  in  this  town  have  full  play. 

It 's  as  if  nobody  had  nothing  to  fetch  and  carry,'" 

Nor  other  labor. 

But  spying  all  the  doings  of  one's  neighbor ; 

And  one  becomes  the  talk,  do  whatsoe'er  one  may. 

Where  is  our  couple  now  ? 

MBPHISTOPBELES. 

Fkiwn  up  the  alley  yonder, 
The  wilful  summer-birds ! 

MARTHA. 

He  seems  of  her  sliU  fonder. 

HBSHISTOPHGLES- 

And  she  of  him.     So  runs  the  world  away .' 


ih,Googlc 


XIII. 
A  GARDEN-ARBOR. 

(Makgaiet  coma  in,  cvntiah  htrsetf  behind  Iht  doar.piOtktr 
fingrr  It  her  lift,  and peepi  thravg^  tkt  cratM.) 


W 


UARGARET. 


FAUST  (en/eritf^). 

Ah,  rogue  I  a  tease  tKou  art : 


HARGAR&T 
{flaiping  him,  and  rOurmng  tkt  hin). 

Dearest  man  I  1  love  thee  from  my  heart 


(Mefhistofkbles  hnocki.) 
FAUST  {slamping  hii fool). 


MEP  HISTOPHELES. 

A  friend ! 


FAUST. 

A  beast! 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

T  is  time  to  separate. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XIII.  i^j 

MARTHA  {coming^. 

Yes,  Sir,  t  is  late. 

FAUST. 

May  I  Dot,  then,  upoa  yen  wait  i 

HARGARET. 

My  mother  would — farewell ! 

FAUST. 

Ah.  can  I  Qot  remain  ? 
Farewell! 

MARTHA. 

Adieu! 

MARGARET. 

And  soon  to  meet  again ! 
\Ejcti«tl  Faust  amd  HapHiSTOPHtLBSj 

MARGARET. 

Dear  God  I    However  is  it,  such 
A  maacas  think  and  know  so  much  f 
I  stand  ashamed  and  in  amaze. 
And  answer  "  Yes  "  to  all  he  says, 
A  poor,  unknowing  child !  and  he  — 
I  can't  think  wtat  he  finds  in  me  1 


ih,Googlc 


148 


FOREST  AND   CAVERN.-* 

FAUST  iinlut). 

SPIRIT  sublim«,  thou  gav'sl  me,  gav'sl  me  aH 
For  which  I  prayed     Not  unto  mc  in  vain 
Hast  thou  thy  countenance  revealed  in  fire. 
Thou  gav'st  me  Nature  as  a  kingdom  grand, 
With  power  to  feel  and  to  enjoy  it    Thou 
Not  only  cold,  amazed  acquaintance  yield'st, 
But  grantest,  that  in  her  profoundest  breast 
I  gaze,  as  in  the  bosom  of  a  friend. 
The  ranks  of  living  creatures  thou  dost  lead 
Before  me,  leaching  me  to  know  my  brothers 
In  air  and  water  and  the  silent  wood. 
And  when  the  storm  in  forests  roars  and  grinds, 
The  giant  firs,  in  falling,  neighbor  boughs 
And  neighbor  trunks  with  crashing  weight  bear  down. 
And  falling,  till  the  hills  with  hollow  thunders, — 
Then  to  the  cave  secure  thou  leadest  me, 
Then  show'st  me  mine  own  self,  and  in  my  breast 
The  deep,  mysterious  miracles  unfold. 
And  when  the  perfect  moon  before  my  gaze 
Comes  up  with  soothing  light,  around  me  float 
From  every  precipice  and  thicket  damp 
The  silvery  phantoms  of  the  ages  past, 
And  temper  the  austere  delight  of  thought. 

That  nothing  can  be  perfect  unto  Man 
1  now  am  conscious.    With  this  ecstasy, 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XIV.  ,4,, 

Which  brings  me  near  ajid  aearer  to  the  Gods, 
Thou  gav'st  the  comrade,  whom  I  now  no  more 
Can  do  without,  though,  cold  and  scornful,  he 
Demeans  me  to  myself,  and  with  a  breath, 
A  word,  transforms  thy  gifts  to  nothingness. 
Within  my  breast  he  fans  a  lawless  tire, 
Unwearied,  for  that  fair  and  lovely  form : 
Thus  in  desire  1  hasten  to  enjoyment, 
And  in  enjoyment  pine  to  feel  desire. 

(MEFHITrOFHILES  tMUrt.) 
MEFHISTOPHELE5- 

Have  you  not  led  this  life  quite  long  enough  P 
How  can  a  further  test  delight  you  F 
T  is  very  well,  that  once  one  tries  the  stuff, 
But  something  new  must  then  requite  you. 

FAUST. 

Would  there  were  other  work  for  thee  1 

To  plague  my  day  auspicious  thou  retumest 

WEPHISTOPHELES. 

Well !  1  '11  engage  to  let  iBee  be : 

Thou  darest  not  tell  me  so  in  earnest 

The  loss  of  thee  were  truly  very  slight, — 

A  comrade  crazy,  rude,  repelling : 

One  has  one's  hands  full  all  the  day  and  night; 

If  what  one  does,  or  leaves  undone,  is  right, 

From  such  a  face  as  thine  there  is  no  telling. 

FAUST. 

There  is,  ^ain,  thy  proper  tone !  — 

That  thou  hast  bored  me,  1  must  thankful  be  I 

UEPHISTOPHBLES. 

Poor  Son  of  Earth,  how  couldst  thou  thus  alone 
Have  led  thy  life,  bereft  of  me  7 


ihyGoogFc 


ISO 


FAUST. 


I,  for  A  time,  at  least,  have  worked  thy  cure; 

Thy  fancy's  rickets  plague  thee  not  at  all : 

Had  I  not  been,  so  hadst  thou,  sure, 

Walked  thyself  off  this  earthly  ball. 

Why  here  to  caverns,  rocky  hollows  slinking, 

Sit'st  thou,  as  't  were  an  owl  a-blinking? 

Why  suck'st,  from  sodden  moss  aad  dripping  stone, 

Toad-like,  thy  nourishment  alone  ? 

A  fine  way,  this,  thy  time  to  fill  I 

The  Doctor 's  in  thy  body  stilL 

FAUST. 

What  fresh  and  vital  forces,  canst  thou  guess. 
Spring  from  my  commerce  with  the  wilderness? 
But,  if  thou  hadst  the  power  of  guessing, 
Thou  wouldst  be  devil  enough  to  grudge  my  soul  the 
blessing. 

MEPHI STOPHELES. 

A  blessing  drawn  from  supernatural  fountains  I 

In  night  and  dew  to  lie  upon  the  mountains ; 

All  Heaven  and  Earth  in  rapture  penetrating; 

Thyself  to  Godhood  haughtily  inflating; 

To  grub  with  yearning  force  through  Earth's  dark 

Compress  the  six  days'  work  within  thy  bosom  nar- 

To  taste,  I  know  not  what,  in  haughty  power, 
Thine  own  ecstatic  life  on  all  things  shower, 
Thine  earthly  self  behind  thee  cast, 
And  then  the  lofty  tnstiDCt,  thus — 

at  last,— 
I  dare  n't  say  how — to  pluck  the  final  flowerl 


ih,Googlc 


Shame  od  thee  I 


SCENE  XtV. 

FAUST. 


MEPHISTO  PHELES. 

Yes,  thou  findest  that  unpleasant ! 
Thou  hast  the  moral  right  to  cry  me  "  shame  \ "  at  present 
One  dares  not  that  before  chaste  ears  declare,'" 
Which  chaste  hearts,  notwhhstanding,  cannot  spare; 
And,  once  for  all,  I  grudge  thee  not  the  pleasure 
Of  lying  to  thyself  in  moderate  measure. 
But  such  a  course  thou  wilt  not  long  endure ; 
Already  art  thou  o'er-excited, 
And,  if  it  last,  wilt  soon  be  plighted 
To  madness  and  to  horror,  sure. 
Enough  of  that !    Thy  love  sits  lonely  yonder,'" 
By  all  things  saddened  and  oppressed ; 
Her  thoughts  and  yearnings  seelc  thee,  tenderer,  fondei,.-- 
A  mighty  love  is  in  her  breast. 
First  came  thy  passion's  flood  and  poured  around  her 
As  when  from  melted  snow  a  streamlet  overflows; 
Thou  hast  therewith  so  filled  and  drowned  ber, 
That  now  tky  stream  all  shallow  shows. 
Methinks,  instead  of  in  the  forests  lording 
The  noble  Sir  should  find  it  good. 
The  love  of  this  young  silly  blood 
At  once  to  set  about  rewarding. 
Her  time  is  miserably  long; 

She  haunts  her  window,  watching  clouds  that  stray 
O'er  the  old  city-wall,  and  far  away. 
"  Were  I  a  Kltle  bird ! "  so  runs  her  song,'" 
Day  long,  and  half  night  long. 
Now  she  is  lively,  mostly  sad. 
Now,  wept  beyond  her  tears ; 
Then  again  quiet  she  appears, — 
Always  love-mad. 


ih,Googlc 


■  FAUST. 
FAUST. 


USPHISTOPHBLBS  (oiulr). 

Ha!  do  I  trap  thee! 

FAUST. 

Get  thee  away  with  thine  ofiences, 
Reprobate !    Name  not  that  fairest  thing 
Nor  the  desire  for  her  sweet  body  bring 
Again  before  my  half-dbtracted  senses  1 

MEPHISTO  PHELES. 

What  wouldst  thou,  then  ?     She  thinks  that  thou  ail 
And  half  and  half  thou  art,  I  own. 

FAÜST. 

Yet  am  1  near,  and  love  keeps  watch  and  ward ; 
Though  I  were  ne'er  so  far,  it  cannot  ^ter : 
I  envy  even  the  Body  of  the  Lord 
the  toncliing  of  her  lips,  before  the  altar. 

UEPKISTOPHELES. 

T  is  very  well  I    My  envy  oft  reposes 

On  your  twin-pair,  that  feed  among  the  roses."" 


Yon  rail,  and  it  is  fun  to  me. 
The  God,  who  fashioned  youth  and  maid, 
Perceived  the  noblest  purpose  of  His  trad^ 
And  also  made  their  opportunity. 
Go  on  I    It  is  a  woe  profound  I 


ih,Googlc 


T  is  for  your  sweetheart's  room  you  "re  boond, 
And  not  for  death,  indeed. 

FAUST. 

What  are,  within  her  arms,  the  heavenly  blisses  ? 

Though  I  be  glowing  with  her  kisses, 

Do  I  not  always  share  her  need? 

1  am  the  fugitive,  all  houseless  roaming, 

The  monster  without  aim  or  rest, 

That  like  a  cataract,  down  rocks  and  gorges  foaming, 

Leaps,  maddened.  Into  the  abyss's  breast  1 

And  side-wards  she,  with  young  unwakened  senses, 

Within  her  cabin  on  the  Alpine  field 

Her  simple,  homely  life  commences, 

Her  Uttle  world  therein  concealed. 

And  I,  God's  hate  flung  o'er  m^ 

Had  not  enough,  to  thrust 

The  stubborn  rocks  before  me 

And  strike  them  into  dust ! 

She  and  her  peace  I  yet  must  undermine : 

Thoo,  Hell,  hast  claimed  this  sacrifice  as  thine  I 

Help,  Devil  1  through  the  coming  pangs  to  push  me ; 

What  must  be,  let  it  quickly  be  I 

Let  fall  on  me  her  fate,  and  also  crush  me,  — 

One  ruin  whelm  both  her  and  me  I 

UBPHISTOPHELES. 

Again  it  seethes,  again  it  glows ! 

Thou  fool,  go  in  and  comfort  her ! 

When  such  a  head  as  thine  no  outlet  knows, 

It  thinks  the  end  must  soon  occur. 

Hail  him,  who  keeps  a  steadfast  mind  I 

Thou,  else,  dost  well  the  devil-nature  wear : 

Naught  so  insipid  in  the  world  I  find 

As  is  a  devil  in  despair. 


ih,Googlc 


MARGARET'S   ROOM. 


M^ 


MARGARET  ■■) 
(^  tkt  tpiiming'VikttI,  alotid^ 
fY  peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sore: 
I  never  shall  find  it, 
Ah,  nevermore ! 

Save  I  have  him  near, 
The  grave  is  here ; 
The  world  is  gall 
And  bitterness  aU. 

My  poor  weak  head 
Is  racked  and  crazed} 
My  thought  is  los^ 
My  senses  mazed. 

My  peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sore ; 
I  never  shall  find  i^ 
Ah,  I 


To  see  hini,  him  only. 
At  the  pane  1  sit; 
To  meet  him,  him  only. 
The  house  I  quit 


ih,Googlc 


Mb  lofty  gait, 

His  noble  size. 

The  smile  of  his  mouth, 

The  power  of  his  eyes, 

And  the  magic  flow 
Of  his  talk^  the  bKss 
In  the  clasp  of  his  hand, 
And,  nh  t  his  kiss  I 

My  peace  is  gone. 
My  heart  \a  sore : 
I  never  shall  find  it, 
Ah,n 


My  bosom  yearns 
For  him  alone ; 
Ah,  dared  1  clasp  him. 
And  hold,  and  own  I 

And  kiss  his  mouth, 
To  heart's  desire, 
And  on  his  kisses 
At  last  expire  1 


ih,Googlc 


MARTHA'S  GARDEN. 
Margaret.    Faust, 
uargaret. 
pROMISE  me,  Henry ! — 

FAUST. 

What  I  cant 

MARGARET. 

How  ts  't  with  thy  religroo,  pray? 

Thou  art  a  dear,  good-hearted  man. 

And  yet,  I  think,  dost  not  incline  tliat  way. 

FAUST. 

Leave  that,  my  child  I  Thou  knon'st  my  iove  is  tender; 

For  love,  my  blood  and  life  would  I  surrender, 

And  as  for  Faith  and  Church,  1  grant  to  each  his  own. 

MARGARET. 

That 's  not  enough :  we  must  believe  thereon. 


Would  that  I  had  some  influence ! 
llien,  too,  thou  honorest  not  the  Holy  Sacraments. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XVI. 


Desiring  no  possession. 
T  is  long  since  thou  hast  been  to  mass  or  to  confession. 
Believest  thou  in  God  ? 

FAUST. 

My  darling,  who  shall  dare 
"I  believe  In  Godi"  to  say P 
Ask  priest  or  sage  the  answer  to  declare, 
And  it  win  seem  a  mocking  play, 
A  sarcasm  on  the  asker. 

HARGAIIET. 

Then  thou  believest  not  1 


Hear  mc  not  falsely,  sweetest  couDtenaoce  \"* 

Who  dare  express  Him  ? 

And  who  profess  Him, 

Saying:  1  believe  in  Himt 

Who,  feeling  seeing, 

Deny  His  being. 

Saying:  I  believe  Him  not! 

The  AU-enfolding, 

The  All-upholding, 

Folds  and  upholds  he  not 

Thee,  me.  Himself  P 

Arches  not  there  the  sky  above  us  ? 

Lies  not  beneath  us,  firm,  the  earth  ? 

And  rise  not,  on  us  shining. 

Friendly,  the  everlasting  stars  ? 

Look  I  not,  eye  to  eye,  on  the^ 


ih,Googlc 


And  feel'st  not,  thronging 

To  head  and  heart,  the  force, 

Still  weaving  its  eternal  secret, 

Invisible,  visible,  round  thy  life? 

Vast  as  it  is,  fill  with  that  force  thy  heart, 

And  when  thou  in  the  feeling  vhoUy  blessed  ar^ 

Call  it,  then,  what  thou  vrilt,  — 

Call  it  Bliss  I  Heart !  Love .'  God  1 

I  have  no  name  to  give  itl 

Feeling  is  all  in  aU : 

The  Name  is  sound  and  srooke, 

Obscuring  Heaven's  clear  glow. 

UARGARBT. 

AH  that  is  fine  and  good,  to  hear  it  so : 
Much  the  same  way  the  preacher  spokey 
Only  with  slightly  different  phrases. 


The  same  thing,  in  all  places. 

All  hearts  that  beat  beneath  the  heavenly  da^— 

Each  in  its  language  —  say ; 

Then  why  not  I,  in  mine,  as  well  ? 

MARGARET. 

To  hear  it  thus,  it  may  seem  passable; 
And  yet,  some  hitch  in 't  there  must  bo 
For  thou  hast  no  Christiaaily. 


MARGARET. 

I  've  long  been  grieved  ti 
That  thou  art  in  such  company. 


ih,Googlc 


SCEi^B  XVI.  15g 

FAUST. 

How  SO  7 

MARGARET. 

The  man  wbo  with  thee  goes,  tby  mate, 
Within  my  deepest,  inmost  soul  I  hate. 
In  all  my  life  there 's  nothing 
Has  given  my  heart  so  keen  a  pang  of  loathii^ 
As  bis  repulsive  face  has  done. 

FAUST. 

Nay,  fear  liim  not,  my  sweetest  one ! 

MARGARET. 

1  feel  bia  presence  like  something  ilL 

I  've  ebe,  for  all,  a  kindly  will, 

But,  much  as  my  heart  to  see  thee  yeametb, 

The  secret  horror  of  him  retumeth  ; 

And  I  think  the  man  a  knave,  as  I  live  t 

If  1  do  him  wrong,  may  God  forgive  I 

FAUST. 

There  must  be  sucb  queer  birds,  however. 

MARGARET. 

Live  with  the  like  of  him,  may  I  neverl 

When  once  inside  the  door  comes  he. 

He  looks  around  so  sneeringly, 

And  half  in  wrath : 

One  sees  that  in  nothing  no  interest  he  hath : 

T  is  written  on  his  very  forehead 

That  love,  to  him,  is  a  thing  abhorrfti. 

I  am  so  happy  on  thine  aim, 

So  free,  so  yielding,  and  so  warm, 

And  Id  his  prsKoce  stifled  seems  my  heart 


ih,Googlc 


PAUST. 

F<M«bodiiig  angel  that  thoa  ait  t 

MARGARET. 

It  overcomes  me  in  such  degree, 

That  wheresoe'er  he  meets  us,  even, 

I  feel  as  though  1  'd  lost  my  love  for  thee. 

When  he  is  by,  1  could  not  pray  to  Heaven. 

That  bums  within  me  like  a  flame, 

And  surely,  Hemy,  't  is  with  thee  the  same. 

FAUST. 

There,  now,  is  thine  antipathy ! 

MARGARET. 

But  I  must  go. 

FAUST. 

Ah,  shall  there  never  be 
A  quiet  hour,  to  see  us  fondly  plighted, 
With  breast  to  breast^  and  soul  to  soul  united 

MARGARET. 

Ah,  if  1  only  slept  alone  I 

I  'd  draw  the  bolts  to-night,  for  thy  desire-. 

But  mother's  sleep  so  light  has  grown. 

And  if  we  were  discovered  by  her, 

'T  would  be  my  death  upon  the  spot  I 


Thou  angel,  fear  it  not ! 

Here  is  a  phial:  in  her  drink 

But  three  drops  of  it  measure. 

And  deepest  sleep  will  on  her  senses  «nk. 


ih,Googlc 


SCEJVE  XVI. 


MARGARET. 


What  would  I  not,  to  give  thee  pleasure? 
It  will  not  barm  her,  when  one  tries  it? 


If  't  would,  my  love,  would  I  advise  it? 


Ah,  dearest  man,  if  but  thy  face  1  see, 
I  know  not  what  compels  me  to  thy  wiU : 
So  much  have  I  already  done  for  thee, 
That  scarcely  more  is  left  me  to  fulliL 

(Bnttr  MbpHISTOFBBLES.) 
MEFHISTOPHELES, 

The  monlcey  I    Is  she  gone  ? 

FAUST. 

Hast  played  the  spy  again? 

HEPHISTOPKELES. 

I  "tc  heard,  most  fully,  how  she  drew  thee. 

The.  Doctor  has  been  catechised,  't  is  plain  ; 

Great  good,  I  hope,  the  thing  will  do  thee. 

The  girls  have  much  desire  to  ascertain 

If  one  is  prim  and  good,  as  ancient  rules  compel : 

If  there  he  's  led,  they  think,  he  '11  follow  them  as  well 

FAUST. 

Thou,  monster,  wilt  nor  see  nor  own 

How  this  pure  soul,  of  faith  so  lowly. 

So  loving  and  ineffable,  — 

The  faith  alone 

That  her  salvation  is,  —  with  scruples  holy 

Pines,  lest  she  hold  as  lost  the  man  she  loves  so  well  I 


ih,Googlc 


HEPUISTOPKELES. 

Thou,  ftiU  of  Mosual,  super-seosual  desire^ 
A  girl  by  the  noee  is  leading  thee. 

FAUST. 

Abortion,  thou,  of  filth  and  fire  1 

UE?HISTOFHELBS. 

And  then,  bow  masterly  she  reads  physiognomy  I 
When  I  am  present  she 's  impressed,  she  knows  not  bow; 
She  in  my  mask  a  hidden  sense  would  read : 
She  feels  that  surely  I  'm  a  genius  now, — 
Perhaps  the  very  Devil,  indeed! 
Well,  well, — to-night  —  ? 

FAUST. 

What 's  that  to  thee  f 

MEPHIBTOPHELES. 

Yet  my  delight 't  will  also  be ! 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XV^IL 


XVIL 

AT  THE  FOUNTAIN.-J 

Maroaket  atut  LiSBETK  taiih  piuhers. 

LISBETK. 

T  I  AST  nothing  heard  of  Barbara  ? 

UARGARET. 

No,  not  a  word.    I  go  so  little  out. 

USBETH. 

It's  true,  Sibylla  said,  to-day. 

She 's  played  the  fool  at  last,  there  's  not  a  doubt. 

Such  taking-oa  of  airs ! 

lURGARET. 

How  so  7 

LISBETH. 

It  Stinks ) 
She 's  feedhig  two,  whene'er  she  eats  and  drinks. 


And  so,  at  last,  it  serves  her  rightly. 
She  clung  to  the  fellow  so  long  and  tighdy  1 
That  was  a  promenading  \ 
At  village  and  dance  parading! 


ih,Googlc 


4  FAUST. 

As  the  first  they  must  everywhere  shine, 
Aad  he  treated  her  always  to  pies  and  wine, 
And  she  made  a  to-do  with  her  face  so  fine  ; 
So  mean  and  shameless  was  her  behavior, 
She  took  all  the  presents  the  fellow  gave  her. 
'T  was  kissing  and  coddling,  on  and  on ! 
So  now,  at  the  end,  the  flower  is  gone. 

MARGARET. 

The  poor,  poor  thing  1 

LISDETK. 

Dost  pity  her,  at  that  ? 
When  one  of  us  at  spinning  sat, 
And  mother,  nights,  ne'er  let  us  out  the  door 
She  sported  with  her  paramour. 
On  the  dooT-bencb,  in  the  passage  dark. 
The  length  of  the  time  they  'd  never  mark. 
So  now  her  head  no  more  she  '11  lift, 
But  do  church-penance  in  her  sinner's  shift  I 

MARGARET. 

He  11  surely  take  her  for  his  wife. 


He  'd  be  a  fool !  A  brisk  young  blade 
Has  room,  elsewhere,  to  ply  his  trade. 
Besides,  he 's  gone. 

HAKGARET. 

That  is  not  fair ! 

LISBETH. 

If  him  she  gets,  why  let  her  beware  I 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XVn.  165 

Tbc  boys  shall  dash  her  wreath  on  the  floor, 
And  we  'U  scatter  chaff  before  her  door  !  "* 

\BxU. 

UARGARET  {retuming  kernt). 

How  scornfully  I  ODce  reviled. 

When  some  poor  maiden  was  beguiled  1 

More  speech  than  any  tongue  suffices 

I  craved,  U  censure  others'  vices. 

Black  aa  It  seemed,  I  blackened  still, 

And  blacker  yet  was  in  my  will ; 

And  blessed  myself,  and  boasted  high,  — 

And  now — a  living  sin  am  I ! 

Yet — all  that  drove  my  heart  therett^ 

God  1  was  so  good,  so  dear,  so  true  I 


ih,Googlc 


a  nickt  tf  tike  wall  a  thriiu,  with  an  imagt  sf  tXt  Mai^ 
Doloraia.    Pots  of ßawers  bifert  it.) 


[fnttätgfrtskflewert  m  thtpm). 

INCLINE,  O  Maiden, 
Thou  sorrow-laden, 
Thy  gracious  countenance  upon  my  pain  1 

The  sword  Thy  heart  in. 
With  ang;uish  smarting, 
Thou  lookest  up  to  where  Thy  Son  is  slain  I 

Thou  seest  the  Father ; 

Thy  sad  sighs  gather, 

And  bear  aloft  Thy  sorrow  and  His  pain ! 

Ah,  past  guessing. 
Beyond  expressing. 
The  pangs  that  wring  my  flesh  and  bone  t 

Why  this  anxious  heart  so  bumeth. 
Why  it  tretnbleth,  why  it  yeameth, 
Knowest  Thou,  and  Thou  alone  I 

Where'er  I  go,  what  «orrow, 
What  woe,  what  woe  and  sonxiw 


ih,Googlc 


SCEKTE  XVm. 

Within  my  bosom  aches ! 
Alone,  and  ah !  unsleeping, 
I  'm  weeping,  weeping,  weeping, 
The  heart  within  me  breaks. 

The  pots  before  my  window, 
Alas  I  my  tears  did  wet. 
As  in  the  early  morning 
For  thee  these  flowers  I  set. 

Within  my  lonely  chamber 
The  morning  sun  shone  red : 

Already  on  my  bed. 

Help !  rescue  me  from  death  and  stain ! 

O  Maiden ! 

Thou  sorrow-laden. 

Incline  Thy  countenance  upon  my  paiu  i 


ih,Googlc 


w 


Street  before  Margaret's  door, 
valentine"' 
{a  saldier,  Margaket's  bredier). 
HEN  I  have  sat  aX  some  carouse. 


Where  each  to  each  his  brag  allows, 
And  many  a  comrade  praised  to  me 
His  pink  of  girls  right  lustily, 
With  brimming  glass  that  spilled  the  toast, 
And  elbows  planted  as  in  boast : 
I  sat  in  unconcerned  repose, 
And  heard  the  swagger  as  it  rose. 
And  stroking  then  my  beard,  I  'd  say. 
Smiling,  the  bumper  in  my  hand: 
"  Each  well  enough  in  her  own  way, 
But  is  there  one  in  all  the  land 
Like  sister  Margaret,  good  as  gold,  — 
One  that  to  her  can  a  candle  hold  ?  " 
Cling !  clang !  "  Here 's  to  her ! "  went  around 
The  board:  "  He  speaks  the  truth!"  cried  some; 
"  In  her  the  flower  o'  the  sex  Is  found ! " 
And  all  the  swaggerers  were  dumb. 
And  now !  —  1  could  tear  my  hair  with  vexation, 
And  dash  out  my  brains  in  desperation  I 
With  tumed-up  nose  each  scamp  may  face  me, 
With  sneers  and  stinging  taunts  disgrace  me, 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XIX.  169 

And,  like  a  bankrupt  debtor  sitting, 

A  chance-dropped  word  may  set  me  sweating! 

Yet,  though  1  thresh  them  all  tt^ther, 

1  cannot  call  them  liars,  either. 

But  what  comes  sneaking,  there,  to  view? 
If  I  mistake  not,  there  are  two. 
If  ht  's  one,  let  me  at  him  drive  t 
He  shall  not  leave  the  spot  alive. 

Faust.    Mephistopheles. 

FAOST. 

How  from  the  window  of  the  sacristy 

Upward  th'  eternal  lamp  sends  forth  a  glimmer, 

That,  lessening  side-wards,  fainter  grows  and  dimmer, 

Till  darkness  closes  from  the  sky  i 

The  shadows  thus  within  my  bosom  gather. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  'm  like  a  sentimental  tom-cat,  rather. 
That  round  the  tall  fire-ladders  sweeps, 
And  stealthy,  then,  along  the  coping  creeps : 
Quite  virtuous,  withal,  1  come, 
A  litüe  thievish  and  a  little  frolicsome. 
I  feel  in  every  limb  the  presage 
Forerunning  the  grand  Walpurgis-Night : 
Day  after  to-morrow  brings  its  message, 
And  one  keeps  watch  then  with  delight 

FAUST. 

Meanwhile,  may  not  the  treasure  risen  b^ 
Which  there,  behind,  1  glimmering  see  ? 

HEPHISTOP  HELES. 

Shalt  soon  experience  the  pleasure. 
To  lift  the  kettle  with  its  treasure. 
VOL.  L  8 


ih,Googlc 


I  lately  gave  therein  a  squint  — 

Saw  splendid  lion-doIIars  In  't" 


Not  even  a  jewel,  not  a  rin^ 

To  deck  therewith  my  darling  girl  \ 

HEPHISTOPH  ELES. 

1  saw,  among  the  rest,  a  thing 
That  seemed  to  be  a  chain  of  pearL 

FAUST. 

That 's  well,  indeed  I    For  painful  is  it 
To  bring  no  gift  when  her  I  visit 

MEPUISTOPHELES. 

Thou  shouldst  not  find  it  so  annoying, 
Without  return  to  be  enjoying. 
Now,  while  the  sky  leads  forth  its  starry  thron^^ 
Thou  'It  hear  a  masterpiece,  no  work  completer : 
I  'U  sing  her,  first,  a  moral  song. 
The  surer,  afterwards,  to  cheat  her, 
{Sings  lo  the  dther.'i 

What  dost  thou  here '" 

In  daybreak  dear, 

Kathrina  dear. 

Before  thy  lover's  door  ? 

Beware!  the  blade 

Lets  in  a  mud. 

That  out  a  maid 

Departeth  nevermore  I 


The  coaxing  shun 
Of  such  an  one ! 
When  once  't  is  done 


ih,Googlc 


SCB^TE  XIX.  xtx 

Good-night  to  thee,  poor  thing ! 

Love's  time  is  brief : 

Unto  no  thief 

Be  warm  and  lief. 

But  with  the  wedding-ring ! 

VALENTINE  (caiHts forwar^. 

Whom  wilt  thon  lure  ?    God's-element ! 
Rat-catching  piper,  thou  I  —  perdition  !  ™ 
To  the  Devil,  first,  the  instniment  t 
To  the  Devil,  then,  the  curst  musician  I 

H  EP  H ISTOP  HELES. 

The  either 's  smashed !    For  nothing  more  't  is  fitttn^ 


There 's  yet  a  slcull  I  must  be  splitting  1 

HEPHISTOPKEI.ES  \,le  Faust). 

Sir  Doctor,  don't  retreat,  1  pray ! 
Stand  by;  I  '11  lead,  if  you'll  but  tarry; 
Out  with  your  spit,  wiüiout  delay ! '" 
You  've  but  to  lunge,  and  I  will  parry. 

VALENTINE. 

Tlien  parry  that  I 

HEPHISTOPH  BLES. 

Why  not?  't  Is  light. 

VALENTINE. 

That,  too! 

MZPHISTOPH  ELES. 

Of  course. 

VALENTINE. 

I  think  the  Devil  must  fight! 
How  is  it,  then  ?  my  hand 's  already  lame. 


ih,Googlc 


KEPHISTOPHELES  (/f  FaUSI). 

Thrust  home  I 

VALENTINE  (falls). 

OGodI 

HBPHISTOFHELES. 

Now  is  the  lubber  tame  I 
But  come,  away  I    'T  is  time  for  us  to  fly ; 
For  there  arises  now  a  murderous  cry. 
With  the  police  't  were  easy  to  compound  it, 
But  here  the  penal  court  will  sift  and  sound  it. 

{ExitwM  Favsi. 

MARTHA   [ai  Ih  windno). 

Come  out !  come  out ! 

MARGARET   [at tlie Ji/indmo). 

Quick,  bring  a  light  I 

MARTHA   (aj  aietie). 

They  swear  and  storm,  they  yell  and  fight  I 

PEOPLE. 

Here  lies  one  dead  already  —  see  I 

MARTHA   (ceming/rim  (At  Aouu). 

The  murderers,  whither  have  they  run? 


r  {cBiHing out]. 
Who  lies  here  ? 

PEOPLE. 

T  is  thy  mother's  son  I 

MARGARET. 

Almighty  God  I  what  misery  1 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XIX. 

TALENTtNB. 

I  'm  dying  t    That  is  quickly  said. 
And  quicker  yet 't  is  done. 
Why  howl,  you  women  there?    Instead, 
Come  here  and  listen,  every  one ! 
{All  gather  areund  him  ) 
My  Margaret,  see  I  still  young  thou  art, 
But  not  the  least  bit  shrewd  or  smart, 
Thy  business  thus  to  slight: 
So  this  advice  1  bid  thee  heed — 
Now  that  thou  art  a  whore  indeed. 
Why,  be  one  then,  outright ! 

MARGARET. 

My  brother  I  God !  such  words  to  me  ? 

VALENTINE. 

In  this  game  let  our  Lord  God  be  I 
What 's  done  's  already  done,  alas ! 
What  follows  it,  must  come  to  pass. 
With  one  begin'st  thou  secretly. 
Then  soon  will  others  come  to  tliee, 
And  when  a  dozen  thee  have  known, 
Thou  'rt  also  free  to  all  the  town. 

When  Shame  ia  bom  and  first  appears, 

She  is  in  secret  brought  to  light, 

And  then  they  draw  the  veil  of  night 

Over  her  head  and  ears ; 

Her  life,  in  fact,  they  're  loath  to  spare  her. 

But  let  her  growth  and  strength  display, 

She  walks  abroad  unveiled  by  day. 

Yet  Is  not  grown  a  whit  the  fairer. 

The  uglier  she  is  to  sight. 

The  more  she  seeks  the  day's  broad  ligfaL 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

The  time  I  verily  can  discern 
When  all  the  honest  fotk  will  turn 
From  thee,  thou  jade  !  and  seek  protectioo 
As  from  a  corpse  that  breeds  infection. 
Thy  guilty  heart  shall  then  dismay  thee. 
When  they  but  look  thee  in  the  face :  — 
Shalt  not  in  a  golden  chain  array  thee, 
Nor  at  the  altar  take  thy  place ! 
Shalt  not,  in  lace  and  ribbons  tiavnng, 
Make  merry  when  the  dance  is  going  1 
But  in  some  comer,  woe  betide  thee  t 
Among  the  be^ars  and  cripples  hide  theej 
And  so,  though  even  God  forgive, 
On  earth  a  damned  existence  live ! 

MARTHA. 

Commend  your  soul  to  God  for  pardon, 
That  you  your  heart  with  slander  harden  1 


Thou  i^mp  most  infamous,  be  still  I 
Could  I  thy  withered  body  kill, 
'T  would  bring,  for  all  my  sinful  pleasure, 
Forgiveness  in  the  richest  measure. 

HARGARBT. 

My  brother  I    This  is  Hell's  own  pain  I 

VALENTINE. 

1  tell  thee,  from  thy  tears  refrain ! 
When  thou  from  honor  didst  depart 
It  stabbed  me  to  the  very  heart 
Now  through  the  slumber  of  the  grave 
I  go  to  God  as  a  soldier  brave. 


ih,Googlc 


CATHEDRAL.-» 
Service,  Organ  and  Amthbh. 

;Ma»Ga»£T  ttmeng  mici  ptoptt:  Iht  EVIL  SPIUT  U^ni 
Marcakbt.) 

evil  spirit. 

HOW  otherwise  was  it,  Margaret, 
When  thou,  still  innocent, 
Here  to  the  altar  cam'st, 
And  from  the  worn  and  lingered  book 
Thy  prayers  didst  prattle, 
Half  sport  of  childhood. 
Half  God  within  tbee  I 
Margaret! 

Where  tends  thy  thought  ? 
Within  thy  bosom 
Wliat  hidden  crime  "i 

Pray'st  thou  for  mercy  on  thy  mother's  soul, 
That  fell  asleep  to  lon^  long  torment,  and  through  thee  t 
Upon  thy  threshold  whose  the  blood  ? 
And  stiireth  not  and  quickens 
Something  beneath  thy  heart. 
Thy  life  disquieting 
With  most  foreboding  presence  ? 

II  ARC  AR  ET. 

Woe!  woe! 

Would  I  were  free  from  the  thoughts 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

That  cross  me,  drawing  hither  and  thither. 
Despite  me  1 

CHORUS. 

Düi  ira,  dUi  ilia,"* 
Solvit  imclum  in/avilla  / 
{Sminä  a/lkt  organ.) 
EVIL  SPIRIT. 

Wrath  takes  thee  I 
The  trumpet  peals  I 
The  graves  tremble  I 
And  thy  heart 
From  ashy  rest 
To  fiery  torments 
Now  again  requickened, 
Throl»  to  life ! 

MARGARET. 

Would  I  were  forth  I 
I  feel  as  if  the  organ  here 
My  breath  takes  from  me, 
My  very  heart 
Dissolved  by  the  anthem  I 


yudex  ergo  cum  tedeMi.'V 
Quidquid  lattt,  adparebit. 
Nil  inultum  remantbit. 

MARGARET. 

I  cannot  breathe ! 
The  massy  pillars 
Imprison  me  I 
The  vaulted  arches 
Crush  me !  i~  Air  1 


ih,Googlc 


SCEJVE  XX. 


Hide  thyself !    Sin  and  shame 

Stay  never  hidden. 
Air?    Light? 
Woe  to  thee  I 

CHORUS. 

Q^idsum  miser  tunc  dicturus,'^ 
Quem  patrtmum  rogaturus. 
Cum  vix  Justus  sit  secuntsf 

EVIL  SPIRIT. 

They  turn  their  faces. 
The  glorified,  from  thee : 
The  pure,  their  hands  to  oSer, 
Shuddering,  refuse  thee  I 
Woe! 

CHORUS. 

Q)iiJ  sum  miser  tunc  dicturmt 

MARGARET. 

Neighbor !  your  cordial !  ■" 
\ShefalU  in  a  rt«KW.4 


ih,Googlc 


WALPURGIS-NIGHT.- 

The  Hartz  Mountains. 

District  of  Schurke  and  EUnd. 

Faust.    Mephistopheles. 

uep  histopheles. 

DOST  thou  not  wish  a  broomstick-steed's  assistance? 
The  sturdiest  he-goat  I  would  gladly  see : 
The  m.j  we  take,  our  goal  is  yet  some  distance 

FAUST. 

So  long  as  in  roy  l^is  I  feel  the  fresh  existence. 

This  knotted  staff  suffices  me. 

What  need  to  shorten  so  the  way  ? 

Along  this  labyrinth  of  vales  to  wander, 

Then  climb  the  rocky  ramparts  yonder, 

Wherefrom  the  fountain  flings  eternal  spray,    , 

Is  such  delight,  my  steps  would  fain  delay. 

The  spring-time  stirs  mthin  the  fragrant  birches, 

And  even  the  fir-tree  feels  it  now : 

Should  th^n  our  limbs  escape  its  gentle  searches? 


I  notice  no  such  thing,  I  vow ! 
T  is  winter  still  within  my  body ; 
Upon  my  path  1  wish  for  frost  and  snow. 


ih,Googlc 


SCE^/£  XXI.  171 

How  sadly  rises,  incomplete  and  ruddy, 

The  moon's  lone  disk,  with  its  belated  glow,*^ 

And  lights  so  dimly,  that,  as  one  advances. 

At  every  step  one  strikes  a  rock  or  tree  ! 

Let  us,  then,  use  a  Jack-o'-Iantera's  glances : 

I  see  one  yonder,  burning  merrily. 

Ho,  there !  my  friend !     I  'II  levy  thine  attendance ; 

Why  waste  so  vainly  thy  resplendence  ? 

Be  kind  enough  to  light  us  up  the  steep ! 

WI LL-3  '-THE- WISP. 

My  reverence,  I  hope,  will  me  enable 
To  curb  my  temperament  unstable ; 
For  zigzag  courses  we  are  woat  to  keep. 

Il&PHISTOPHELES. 

Indeed  ?  he  'd  like  mankind  to  imitate ! 
Now,  in  the  Devil's  name,  go  straight. 
Or  1 11  blow  out  his  being's  flickerii^  spark  I 

will-o'-the-wisp. 
Yon  su%  the  master  of  the  house,  I  mark, 
And  I  shall  try  to  serve  you  nicely. 
But  then,  reflect :  the  mountain  's  magic-mad  t»day, 
And  if  a  will-o'-the-wisp  roust  guide  you  on  the  way. 
You  must  n't  take  things  too  precisely. 

FAUST,  MEPHISTOPHELES,  WILL-O'-THE-WISP 

(hi  alternating  lon^. 
We,  it  seems,  have  entered  newly 
In  the  sphere  of  dreams  enchanted. 
Do  thy  bidding,  guide  us  truly, 
That  our  feet  be  forwards  planted 
In  the  vast,  the  desert  spaces  I 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

See  them  swiftly  changing  places. 
Trees  on  trees  beside  us  trooping, 
And  the  crags  above  us  stooping. 
And  the  rocky  snouts,  outgrowing,  — 
Hear  them  snoring,  hear  Ihem  blowing !  ■' 
O'er  the  stones,  the  grasses,  flowing 
Stream  and  streamlet  seek  the  hollow. 
Hear  I  noises?  songs  that  follow? 
Hear  1  tender  love-petitions  ? 
Voices  of  those  heavenly  visions  ? 
Sounds  of  hope,  of  love  undying  I 
And  the  echoes,  like  traditions 
Of  old  days,  come  faint  and  hollow. 

Hoo-hoo  I    Shoo-hoo !    Nearer  hover 
Jay  and  screech-owl,  and  the  plover,  — 
Are  they  all  awake  and  crying  ? 
Is  't  the  salamander  pushes, 
Bloated-bellied,  through  the  bushes  ? 
And  the  roots,  like  serpents  twisted, 
Through  the  sand  and  boulders  toiling. 
Fright  us,  weirdest  links  uncoiling 
To  entrap  us,  unresisted : 
Living  knots  and  gnarls  uncanny 
Feel  with  polypus-antennse 
For  the  wanderer.     Mice  are  flying, 
Thousand-colored,  herd-wise  hieing 
Through  the  moss  and  through  the  heather! 
And  the  fire-flies  wink  and  darkle, 
Crowded  swarms  that  soar  and  sparkle, 
And  in  wildering  escort  gather  I 

Tell  me,  if  we  still  are  standing, 
Or  if  further  we  're  ascending? 
All  is  turning,  whirling,  blending, 
Trees  and  rocks  with  grinning  faces, 


ih,Googlc 


SCEJV£  XXI.  1 8 

Wandering  lights  that  spin  in  mazes. 
Still  increasing  and  expanding  1 

MEFHISTOFHELES. 

Grasp  my  skirt  with  heart  undaunted  I 
Here  a  middle-peak  is  planted, 
Whence  one  seSth,  with  atnaze, 
Mammon  in  the  mountain  blaze. 

PAUST. 

How  strangely  glimmers  through  the  hollows 
A  dreary  light,  like  that  of  dawn ! 
Its  exhalation  trades  and  follows 
The  deepest  gorges,  faint  and  wan. 
Here  steam,  there  rolling  vapor  sweepeth  ; 
Here  bums  the  glow  through  film  and  haze : 
Now  like  a  tender  thread  it  creepelh, 
Now  like  a  fountain  leaps  and  plays. 
Here  winds  away,  and  in  a  hundred 
Divided  veins  the  valley  braids : 
There,  in  a  comer  pressed  and  sundered, 
Itself  detaches,  spreads  and  fades. 
Here  gush  the  sparkles  incandescent 
Uke  scattered  showers  of  golden  sand ;  — 
But,  see !  in  all  their  height,  at  present, 
The  Focky  ramparts  blazing  stand. 

MEPHISTOPHELBS. 

Has  not  Sir  Mammon  grandly  lighted 

His  palace  for  this  festal  night? 

T  is  lucky  thou  hast  seen  the  sight ; 

The  boisterous  guests  approach  that  were  invited. 


How  raves  the  tempest  through  the  air  I ''' 

With  what  fierce  blows  upon  my  neck  't  is  beatingi 


ih,Googlc 


IM  FAUST. 

KEPHISTOPH  ELES. 

Under  die  old  ribs  of  the  rock  retrea.tiDg, 

Hold  fast,  lest  thou  be  hurled  down  the  abysses  there  1 

The  night  with  the  mist  is  black ; 

Hark  1  how  the  forests  grind  and  crack  I 

Frightened,  the  owlets  are  scattered : 

Hearken  I  the  pillars  are  shattered, 

The  evergreen  palaces  shaking ! 

Boughs  are  groaning  and  breaking, 

The  tree-trtinks  tembly  thunder. 

The  loots  are  twisting  asunder  I 

In  frightfully  intricate  crashing 

Each  on  the  other  is  dashing, 

And  over  the  wreck-strewn  gorges 

The  tempest  whistles  and  surges  I 

Hear'st  thou  voices  higher  ringing? 

Far  away,  or  nearer  singing? 

Yes,  the  mountain's  side  along. 

Sweeps  an  infuriate  glamouring  song  I 

WITCHES  \i*  cAenu). 
The  witches  ride  to  the  Brocken's  top, '3* 
The  stubble  is  yellow,  and  green  the  crop. 
There  gathers  the  crowd  for  camii-al : 
Sir  Urian  sits  over  all. 
And  so  they  go  over  stone  and  stock ; 
The  witch  she s,  and s  the  buck. 

A  VOICE. 

Alone,  old  Baubo  's  coming  now;*^ 
She  lides  upon  a  farrow-sow. 

CHORUS. 

Then  honor  to  whom  the  honor  is  duel 
Dame  Baubo  first,  to  lead  the  crew ! 


ih,Googlc 


SCMNE  XXI.  183 

A  tough  old  sow  and  the  mother  thereon, 
Then  follow  the  witches,  every  one. 

A  VOICE. 

Which  way  com'st  thou  hither  7 

VOICE. 

O'er  the  Ilaen^tone. 
I  peeped  at  the  owl  in  her  nest  alone : 
Mow  she  stared  and  glared ! 

VOICE. 

Betalce  thee  to  Hell ! 
Whyso&standsofeUP 


She  has  scored  and  has  Hayed  me : 
See  the  wounds  she  lias  made  me  I 

WITCHES  (tkonu). 
The  way  is  wide,  the  way  is  long : 
See,  what  a  wild  and  crazy  throng  I 
The  broom  it  scratches,  the  fork  It  throsts, 
The  child  is  stiaed,  the  mother  bursts. 


s  (ftmkh»rui). 
As  doth  the  snail  in  shell,  we  crawl : 
Before  us  go  the  women  all. 
When  towards  the  Devil's  House  we  tread, 
Woman's  a  thousand  steps  ahead. ■» 

OTHER  SEMICHORUS. 

We  do  not  measure  with  such  care : 
Woman  in  thousand  steps  is  there, 
But  howBoe'er  she  hasten  may, 
Man  in  one  leap  has  cleared  the  way. 


ih,Googlc 


l84  FAUST. 

VOICE  (from  cbotn). 

Come  on,  come  on,  from  Rocky  Lake ! 

VOICE  (from  ieloai). 
Aloft  we'd  fain  ourselves  betake. 
We  've  washed,  and  are  bright  as  ever  you  irill, 
Yet  we  're  eternally  sterile  stiU.>3s 

BOTH  CHORUSES. 

The  wind  is  hushed,  the  star  shoots  by, 
The  dreary  moon  forsakes  the  sky ; 
The  magic  notes,  hke  spark  on  spark. 
Drizzle,  whistling  through  the  dark."** 

VOICE  {Jrem  Mva). 
Halt,  there  1  Ho,  there! 

VOICE  {/ram  atave). 
Who  calls  from  the  rocky  deft  below  there  ? 

VOICE  (Motu). 

Take  me,  too  t  take  mc,  too  1 
I  'm  climbing  now  three  hundred  years," 
And  yet  the  summit  cannot  seei 
Among  my  equals  1  would  be. 

BOTH  CHORUSES. 

Bears  the  broom  and  bears  the  stock. 
Bears  the  fork  and  liears  th«  buck : 
Who  cannot  raise  himself  to-night 
Is  evermore  a  ruined  wight 

HALF-wrrcH  (bclfw). 
So  long  I  stumble,  ill  bestead. 
And  tlie  others  are  now  so  far  ahead ! 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXI. 

At  home  1  've  neither  rest  nor  cheer, 
And  yet  I  cannot  gain  tfaem  here. 


CHORUS  OF  -o 
To  cheer  the  witch  will  salve  avail ; 
A  rag  will  answer  for  a  sail; 
Each  trough  a  goodly  ship  supplies ; 
He  ne'er  will  fly,  who  now  not  flies. 

BOTH  CHORUSES. 

When  round  the  summit  whirls  our  flight 
Then  lower,  and  on  the  ground  alight ; 
And  far  and  wide  the  heather  press 
With  witchhood's  swarms  of  wantonness  I 
(Tliey  stItU  dman.) 
HEPHISTOPHELES. 

They  crowd  and  push,  they  roar  and  clatter  I 
They  whirl  and  whisde,  pull  and  chatter! 
They  shine,  and  spirt,  and  stink,  and  bum ! 
The  true  witch-element  we  learn. 
Keep  close !  or  we  are  parted,  in  our  turn. 
Where  art  thou  ? 

FAUST  {in  thi  disUmce). 
Here! 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

What !  whirled  so  iax  astray! 
Then  house-right  1  must  use,  and  clear  the  way. 
Make  room  J    Squire  Voland  comes !  '^    Room,  genti* 

rabble,  room ! 
Here,  Doctor,  hold  to  me :  in  one  jump  we  'il  resume 
An  easier  space,  and  from  the  crowd  be  free : 
It  '■  too  much,  even  for  the  like  of  me. 


ih,Googlc 


1 86  FAUST. 

Yonder,  with  special  light,  there  's  something  shinii^ 

clearer 
Within  those  bushes ;  I  Ve  a  mind  to  see. 
Come  on  t  we  'U  slip  a  little  nearer. 


Spirit  of  Contradiction  !     On !  I  'II  follow  straight 
'T  is  planned  most  wisely,  if  I  judge  aright: 
We  climb  the  Broclcen's  top  in  the  Walpur^s-Nigh^ 
That  arbitrarily,  here,  ourselves  we  isolate. 

HEPHISTOPH  ELES. 

But  see,  what  motley  flames  among  the  heather) 
There  is  a  lively  club  together : 
In  smaller  circles  one  is  not  alone. 

FAUST. 

Better  the  summit,  I  must  own: 
There  fire  and  whirling  smolce  I  see. 
They  seek  the  Evit  One  in  wild  confusion: 
Many  enigmas  there  might  find  solution. 

HEPHISTOPH  ELES. 

But  there  enigmas  also  knotted  be. 

Leave  to  the  multitude  their  riot ! 

Here  will  we  house  ourselves  in  quiet 

It  is  an  old,  transmitted  trade, 

That  in  the  greater  world  the  little  worlds  are  made. 

I  see  stark-nude  young  witches  congregate, 

And  old  ones,  veiled  and  hidden  shrewdly: 

On  my  account  be  kind,  nor  treat  them  rudely! 

The  trouble  's  small,  the  fun  is  great 

I  hear  the  noise  of  instruments  attuning,  — 

Vile  din !  yet  one  must  leam  to  bear  the  crooning. 

Come,  come  alongt    It  must  be,  I  declare! 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXt.  i8y 

1 11  go  ahead  and  iDtroduce  thee  there, 

Thine  obligation  newly  earning. 

That  is  no  little  space:  what  say'st  thou,  friend? 

Look  yonder !  thou  canst  scarcely  see  the  end : 

A  hundred  fires  along  the  ranks  are  burning. 

They  dance,  they  chat,  they  cook,  they  drink,  thej 

court: 
Now  where,  just  tell  me,  is  there  better  sport  7 

FAUST. 

Wilt  thou,  to  introduce  us  to  the  revel, 
Assume  the  part  of  wizard  or  of  devil? 

ItBPRISTOFHELES. 

I  'm  mostly  used,  't  is  true,  to  go  incognito, 

But  on  a  gala-day  one  may  his  orders  show. 

The  Garter  does  not  deck  my  suit, 

Bnt  honored  and  at  home  is  here  the  cloven  foot 

Perceiv'st  thou  yonder  snail  f    It  cometh,  slow  and 

steady; 
So  delicately  its  feelers  pry, 
That  it  hath  scented  me  ah^ady : 
I  cannot  here  disguise  me,  if  1  try. 
But  come !  we  'U  go  from  this  fire  to  a  newer : 
1  am  the  go-between,  and  thou  the  wooer. 

(7I>  snrni,  leka  are  sittitig  arvHiid  dying  tmbtri :) 
Old  gentlemen,  why  at  the  outskirts  ?    Enter  I 
I  'd  praise  you  if  I  found  you  snugly  in  the  centre, 
With  youth  and  revel  round  you  like  a  zone : 
You  each,  at  home,  are  quite  enough  alone. 


Say,  who  would  put  hts  trust  in  nations, 

Howe'er  fir  them  one  may  have  worked  and  planned? 


ih,Googlc 


For  with  the  people,  as  with  women, 
Youth  always  has  the  upper  hand. 

HimSTER. 

They  're  now  too  far  from  what  is  just  and  sag& 
1  praise  the  old  ones,  not  unduly : 
When  we  were  all-in-all,  then,  tndy, 
TluH  was  the  real  golden  age. 

PARVENU. 

We  abo  were  not  stupid,  either, 

And  what  we  should  not,  often  did ; 

But  now  all  things  have  from  their  bases  slid, 

Just  as  we  meant  to  hold  them  fast  together. 


Who,  now,  a  work  of  moderate  sense  will  read? 
Such  works  are  held  as  antiquate  and  mossy; 
And  as  regards  the  younger  folk,  indeed. 
They  never  yet  have  been  so  pert  and  saucy. 

HEFHtSTOPHEt-BS 
[who  aU  at  enei  appears  very  ulii).'^ 
I  feel  that  men  are  ripe  for  Judgment- Day, 
Now  for  the  last  time  I  've  the  witches'-hill  ascended: 
Since  to  the  lees  mji  cask  is  drained  away, 
The  world's,  as  well,  must  soon  be  ended. 

HUCKSTER- WITCH. 

Ye  gentlemen,  don't  pass  me  thus  I 

Let  not  the  chance  neglected  be  I 

Behoki  my  wares  attentively: 

The  stock  is  rare  and  various. 

And  yet,  there  's  nothing  I  've  collected — 

No  shop,  on  earth,  like  this  you  '11  find  !  — 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXI.  189 

Which  has  not,  once,  sore  hurt  inflicted 

Upon  the  world,  and  on  mankind. 

No  dagger  's  here,  that  set  not  blood  to  flowing ;  ■" 

No  cup,  that  hath  not  once,  within  a  healthy  frame 

Poured  speedy  death,  in  poison  glowing : 

No  gems,  that  have  not  brought  a  nudd  to  shame ; 

No  sword,  but  severed  ties  for  the  unwary, 

Or  from  behind  stniclc  down  the  adversary. 

HEP  HISTOPH  ELES. 

Gossip  1  the  times  thou  badly  comprehendest; 
What 's  done  has  happed — what  haps,  is  done! 
T  were  better  if  for  novelties  thou  sendest ; 
By  such  alone  can  we  be  won. 

FADST, 

Let  me  not  lose  myself  in  all  this  pother  I 
This  is  a  fair,  as  never  was  another ! 

HEPHtSTOPHELES. 

The  whirlpool  swirls  to  get  above : 

Thou  'rt  shoved  thyself,  ima^ning  to  shove. 

FAUST. 

But  who  ts  that? 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Note  her  especially, 
TisUHth. 


UEPHISTOPHBLES. 

Adam's  first  wife  is  sbc.*** 
Beware  the  lure  within  her  lovely  tresses, 
The  sfdendid  sole  adornment  of  her  hair  I 


ih,Googlc 


When  she  succeeds  therewith  a  youth  to  snare, 
Mot  soon  again  she  frees  him  from  her  jesses. 

FAUST. 

Those  two,  the  old  one  with  the  young  one  sitting, 
They  "ve  danced  already  more  than  fitting. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Mo  rest  to-night  for  young  or  old  I 

They  start  another  dance :  come  now,  let  us  takeholdl 

FAUST  [Jaitängviilh  Iheyotmgmtek), 
A  bvely  dream  once  came  to  me ;  "■ 
1  then  beheld  an  apple-tree. 
And  there  two  fairest  apples  shone  : 
They  lured  me  so,  I  climbed  thereon. 

THE  PAIR  ONE. 

Apples  have  been  desired  by  you. 
Since  first  in  Paradise  they  grew ; 
And  1  am  moved  with  joy,  to  know 
That  such  within  my  ^rden  grow. 

HEPHISTOPnBLBS  {danetHg  milk  the  tldeiu). 
A  dissolute  dream  once  came  to  me : 
Therein  I  saw  a  cloven  tree, 

Which  had  a ; 

Yet, as  't  was,  I  fancied  iL 

THE  OLD  ONE. 

I  offer  here  my  best  salute 
Unto  the  knight  with  cloven  foot ! 

Let  him  a prepare. 

If  him does  not  scare. 


ih,Googlc 


SCEii/E  XXI.  ,ji 

PROKTOPHANTASinST. "» 

AccursM  folk!    How  dare  you  venture  thns  ? 
Had  you  not,  lODg  since,  demonstration 
That  ghosts  can't  stand  on  ordinary  foundation  ? 
And  now  you  even  dance,  like  one  of  us  \ 

THE  FAIR  ONE  (atmnn^. 

Why  docs  he  come,  then,  to  our  ball  ? 

FAUST  {daneittg^. 

0,  everywhere  on  him  you  fall ! 

When  others  dance,  he  weighs  the  matter; 

If  he  can't  every  step  bechatter, 

Then  'tis  the  same  as  were  the  step  not  made; 

But  if  yov  forwards  go,  his  ire  is  most  displayed. 

If  you  would  whirl  in  regular  gyration 

As  he  does  in  his  dull  old  mill, 

He  'd  show,  at  any  rate,  good-will,  — 

Especially  if  you  heard  and  heeded  his  hortation. 

PROKTOPHANTASUIST. 

You  still  are  here  ?    Nay,  't  is  a  thing  unheard  I 

Vanish,  at  once !    We  've  said  the  enlightening  word. 

The  pack  of  devils  by  no  rules  is  daunted : 

We  are  so  wise,  and  yet  is  Tegel  haunted.'« 

To  clear  the  folly  out,  how  have  I  swept  and  stirred  I 

T  will  ne'er  be  clean :  why,  't  is  a  thing  unheard  I 

THE  FAIR  ONE. 

Tlien  cease  to  bore  us  at  our  ball  I 

FROKTO  PHANTASM  1ST. 

I  tell  you,  spirits,  to  your  face, 
I  give  to  spirit-despotism  no  place; 
My  spirit  cannot  practise  it  at  all. 


ih,Googlc 


19«  FAUST. 

( 7Xf  datut  cantinati.) 
Hanght  win  succeed,  I  see,  amid  such  revets ; 
Vet  something  from  a  tour  I  always  save,>*> 
And  hope,  before  my  last  step  to  the  grave, 
To  overcome  the  poets  and  the  devik. 

MEPHISTO  PH  ELES. 

He  now  will  seat  him  in  the  nearest  puddle ; 

The  solace  this,  whereof  he '«  most  assured : 

And  when  upon  his  rump  the  leeches  hang  and  fuddl^ 

He  'II  be  of  spirits  and  of  Spirit  cured. 

( Ta  Faust,  viko  hai  left  the  dance :) 
Wherefore  forsakest  thou  the  lovely  tnaideo, 
That  in  the  dance  so  sweetly  sang  \ 


Ah  1  in  the  midst  of  it  there  sprang 

A  red  mouse  from  her  mouth  —  sufficient  reason!'* 

MEPH  1ST  OPH  ELES. 

That  'b  nothing  I    One  must  not  so  squeamish  be ; 
So  the  mouse  was  not  gray,  enough  for  thee. 
Who  'd  think  of  that  in  love's  selected  season  ? 

FAUST. 

Then  »aw  I  — 

HEPHtSTOPBELES. 

What? 


Mephisto,  seest  thou  there, 
Alone  and  iax,  a  girl  most  pale  and  fair  ? 
She  falters  on,  her  way  scarce  knowing. 
As  if  with  fettered  feet  that  stay  her  going. 


ih,Googlc 


I  must  confess,  it  seems  to  me 

As  if  my  kindly  Margaret  were  she. 

HBPHISTOPHELES. 

Let  the  thing  be !    All  thence  have  evil  drawn  i 

It  is  a  magic  shape,  a  lifeless  eidolon. 

Such  to  encounter  is  not  good  : 

Their  blanlc,  set  stare  benumbs  the  human  blood, 

And  one  is  almost  turned  to  stone. 

Medusa's  tale  to  thee  is  Icnown. 


Forsooth,  the  eyes  they  are  of  one  whom,  dyin^ 
No  band  with  loving  pressure  closed ; 
That  is  the  breast  whereon  I  once  was  lying,  — 
The  body  sweet,  beside  which  1  reposed  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

T  is  magic  all,  thou  fool,  seduced  so  easily  1 
Unto  each  man  bis  love  she  seems  to  be. 


The  woe,  the  rapture,  so  ensnare  me, 
That  from  her  gaze  I  cannot  tear  me  ! 
And,  strange !  around  her  fairest  throat 
A  single  scarlet  band  b  gleaming, 
No  broader  than  a  Imife-blade  seeming  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Quite  right !    The  mark  1  also  note. 

Her  head  beneath  her  arm  she  '11  sometime.^  car:7; 

'T  was  Perseus  lopped  it,  her  old  adversary. 

Thou  crav'st  the  same  illusion  still ! 

Come,  let  us  mount  this  little  hill ; 

The  Prater  shows  no  livelier  stir,'« 

VOL.  L  9  M 


ih,Googlc 


And,  if  they  've  not  bewitched  my  Kiue, 
I  verily  see  a  theatre. 
What 's  going  on? 

SERVIBILIS."» 

'T  will  shortly  recomm^iice: 
A  new  performance  —  't  is  the  last  of  seven. 
To  give  that  number  is  the  custom  here ; 
'T  was  by  a  Dilettante  written, 
And  Dilettanti  in  the  parts  appear. 
That  now  I  vanish,  pardon,  I  entreat  you ! 
As  Dilettante  I  the  curtain  raise. 

HEFHISTOPHELES. 

When  I  upon  the  Blockabei^  tneet  you, 
I  find  it  good :  tor  that 's  your  proper  place 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXII. 


XXII. 

WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S   DREAM. 

Oberon  and  Titania's  Golden  Wedding.'« 

intermezzo. 

MANAGER. 

SONS  oE  Mieding,  rest  to-day  I  ■» 
Needless  your  machinery: 
Misty  vale  and  mountain  gray. 
That  is  all  the  scenery. 


That  the  wedding  golden  be, 
Must  fifty  years  be  rounded: 
But  Ute  Golden  give  to  me, 
When  the  strife 's  compounded. 


Spirits,  if  you  're  here,  be  seci 
Show  yourselves,  delighted! 
Fairy  king  and  fairy  queen, 
They  are  newly  plighted. 


Cometh  Puck,  and,  light  of  limb. 
Whisks  and  whirls  in  measure  : 
Come  a  hundred  after  bim. 
To  share  with  him  the  pleasure. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 
ARIEL.'S" 

Ariel's  song  is  heavenly-pure, 
His  tones  are  sweet  and  rare  oi 
Though  ugly  faces  he  allure, 
Yet  he  allures  the  fair  ones. 


Spouses,  who  would  fain  agree. 
Learn  how  we  were  mated ! 
If  your  pairs  would  loving  be, 
First  be  separated ! 

TITANIA. 

If  her  whims  the  wife  control, 
And  the  man  berate  her. 
Take  him  to  the  Northern  Pole, 
And  her  to  the  Equator  I 

ORCHESTRA.     TÜTTI.'53 
Forlitämo. 
Snout  of  fly,  mosquito-bill. 
And  kin  of  all  conditions, 
Frog  in  grass,  and  cricket-trill,  — 
These  are  " 


SOLO.'« 

See  the  bagpipe  on  our  track  I 
'T  is  the  soap-blown  bubble : 
Hear  the  schnecke-sckHicke^chnack 
Through  his  nostrils  double  1 

SPIRIT,  JUST  GROWING  INTO  FORM.'» 

Spider's  foot  and  paunch  of  toad. 
And  little  wings  —  we  know  'em  I 


ih,Googlc 


SCE/fE  XXII. 

A  little  creature  't  will  not  be, 
But  yet,  a  little  poem. 

A  LITTLE  COUPLE.* 

Little  step  and  lofty  leap 
Through  honey-dew  and  fragrance : 
You  'II  never  mount  the  airy  steep 
With  all  your  tripping  vagrance. 

INQUISITIVE  TRAVELLER.'" 

Is  't  but  masquerading  play  I 
See  1  with  precision  ? 
Oberon,  the  l>eauteou3  fay. 
Meets,  to-night,  my  vision  I 

ORTHODOX.'* 

Not  a  claw,  no  tail  I  see  t 

And  yet,  beyond  a  cavil, 

Like  "  the  Gods  of  Greece,"  must  he 

Also  be  a  devil. 

NORTHERN  ARTIST."» 

I  only  seize,  with  sketchy  air. 
Some  outlines  of  the  tourney ; 
Yet  I  betimes  myself  prepare 
For  my  Italian  journey. 

PURIST. 

My  bad  luck  brings  me  here,  alas  I 
How  roars  the  orgy  louder  ! 
And  of  the  witches  in  the  mass. 
But  only  two  wear  powder. 

YOUNG  WITCH. 

Powder  becomes,  like  petticoat^ 
A  grey  and  wrinkled  noddy ; 


ih,Googlc 


So  I  sit  naked  od  my  goat, 
And  show  a  strapping  body. 

UATRON. 

We  "ve  too  much  tact  and  policy 
To  rate  with  gibes  a  scolder; 
Yet,  young  and  tender  though  you  b^ 
1  hope  to  see  you  moulder. 

LEADER  OP  THE  BAND. 

Fly-snout  and  mosquito-biU, 
Don't  swarm  so  round  the  Naked ! 
Frog  in  grass  and  cricket-trill. 
Observe  the  time,  and  make  it! 

WEATHERCOCK  {tcaardi  ant  tide).'*' 

Society  to  one's  desire ! 
Brides  only,  and  the  sweetest ! 
And  bachelors  of  youth  and  fire, 
And  prospects  the  completest  I 

WEATHERCOCK   (Unuardi  tht  OtHtr  sidt\. 

And  if  the  Earth  don't  open  now 
To  swallow  up  each  ranter, 
Why,  then  will  1  myself,  I  vow. 
Jump  into  hell  instanter ! 

XENIES."*' 

Us  as  little  insects  see  I 
With  sharpest  nippers  flitting. 
That  our  Papa  Satan  we 
May  honor  as  is  fitting. 


How,  in  crowds  tc^ether  massed, 
They  are  jesting,  shameless ! 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XX/f. 

They  will  even  say,  aX  last, 
That  their  hearts  are  blameless. 

HUSAGETES. 

Among  this  witches'  reveliy 
His  way  one  gladly  loses ; 
And,  truly,  it  would  easier  be 
Than  to  command  the  Muses. 

a-DEVAKT  GENIUS  OF  THE  AOb 

The  proper  folks  one's  talents  laud: 
Come  on,  and  none  shall  pass  us  I 
The  Blocksberg  has  a  summit  broad, 
like  Germany's  Parnassus. 

INQUISITIVE  TRAVELLER. 

Say,  who 's  the  sti£E  and  pompous  man? 
He  walks  with  haughty  paces: 
He  snuffles  all  he  snuffle  can : 
"  He  scents  the  Jesuits'  traces." 

CRANE."'' 

Both  dear  and  muddy  streams,  for  me 
Are  good  to  fish  and  sport  in : 
And  thus  the  pious  man  you  see 
With  even  devils  consorting. 

WOBLDUNG.* 

Yes,  for  the  pious,  I  suspect. 
All  instruments  are  fitting ; 
And  on  the  Blocksberg  they  erect 
FuU  many  a  place  of  meeting. 

DANCER. 

A  newer  chorus  now  succeeds  I 
I  hear  the  distant  drumming. 


ih,Googlc 


"  Don't  be  disturbed !  't  fa,  (n  the  reeds, 
The  bittern's  changeless  booming." 

DANCING-UASTBtt. 

How  each  his  legs  in  nimtle  trip 
Lifts  up,  and  malces  a  clearance! 
The  crooked  jump,  the  heavy  skip, 
Nor  care  for  the  appearance. 

GOOD  FELLOW,"* 

The  rabble  by  such  hate  are  held. 
To  maim  and  slay  delights  them : 
As  Orpheus'  lyre  the  brutes  compelled. 
The  bagpipe  here  unites  them. 

DOGHATIST. 

I  Ml  not  be  led  by  any  lure 

Of  doubts  or  critic-cavils; 

The  Devil  must  be  something,  sure,-- 

Or  how  should  there  be  devils  ? 


This  once,  the  fancy  wrought  in  me 
Is  really  too  despotic : 
Forsooth,  if  I  am  all  I  see, 
I  must  be  idiotic  I 


This  racking  fuss  on  every  hand. 
It  gives  me  great  vexation ; 
And,  for  the  first  time,  here  1  stand 
e  foundation. 


SUPERNATURALIST. 

With  much  delight  I  see  the  play, 
And  grant  to  these  their  merits, 


ih,Googlc 


SCEJVB  XXII. 


Since  from  the  devils  I  also  may 
lofer  the  better  spirits. 


The  flame  they  follow,  on  and  on. 
And  think  they  're  near  the  treasure : 
But  Devil  rhymes  with  Doubt  alone, 
So  1  am  here  with  pleasure. 

LEADER  OF  THE  BAND. 

Frog  in  green,  and  cricket-trill. 
Such  dilettants !  —  perdition ! 
Fly-anout  and  mo5quito-bill,  — 
Each  one 's  a  fine  musician  1 

THE  ADROIT.'" 

Sanssouci,  we  call  the  clan 
Of  merry  creatures  so,  then; 
Co  a-fool  no  more  we  can. 
And  on  our  heads  we  go,  then. 

THE  AWKWARD. 

Once  many  a  bit  we  sponged;  but  now, 
God  help  us  !  that  is  done  with  : 
Our  shoes  are  all  danced  out,  we  trow, 
We  've  but  naked  soles  to  run  with. 

WILL-O'-THE-WISPS."» 

From  the  marshes  we  appear, 

Where  we  originated ; 

Vet  in  the  ranks,  at  once,  we  're  here 

As  glittering  gallants  rated. 

SHOOTING-STAR, 

Darting  hither  from  the  sky. 
In  star  and  fire  light  shooting, 


ih,Googlc 


Cross-wise  now  in  grass  I  lie ; 
Who  11  help  me  to  my  footing? 

THE  HEAVY  FELLOWS, 

Room !  and  round  about  us,  room 
Trodden  are  the  grasses : 
Spirits  also,  spirits  come. 
And  they  are  bulky  masses. 

PUCK. 

Enter  not  so  statl-fed  quite, 
Like  elephant-calves  alx>ut  one ! 
And  the  heaviest  weight  tonight 
Be  Puck,  himself,  the  stout  one  I 


If  loving  Nature  at  your  back, 
Or  Mind,  the  wings  uncbscs, 
Follow  up  my  airy  track 
To  the  mount  of  roses ! 

ORCHESTRA. 
PiaHiiama. 
Cloud  and  trailing  mist  o'erhead 
Are  now  Illuminated : 
Air  in  leaves,  and  wind  In  reed. 
And  all  is  dissipated."" 


ih,Googlc 


SCEAfE  XXIII. 


XXIII. 

DREARY   DAY."- 

A  FiELa 

Faust.    Mephi5tofhei.es. 

FAUST. 

IN  miser}- !  In  despair !  Long  wretchedly  astray  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  and  now  imprisoned!  Tliat 
gracious,  fD-starred  creature  shut  in  a  dungeon  as  a 
criminal,  and  given  up  to  fearful  tomeDta !  To  this 
has  it  come  1  to  this !  —  Treacherous,  contemptible  spir- 
it, and  thou  hast  concealed  it  from  me !  —  Stand,  then, 
— standi  Roll  the  devilish  eyes  viathfully  in  thy  head! 
Stand  and  defy  me  with  thine  intolerable  presence  1 
Imprisoned!  In  irretrievable  misery!  Delivered  up 
to  evil  spirits,  and  to  condemning,  unfeeling  Man !  And 
thou  hast  lulled  me,  meanwhile,  with  the  most  insipid 
dissipations,  hast  concealed  from  me  her  increasii^ 
wretchedness,  and  suffered  her  to  go  helplessly  to  ruin  I 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

She  is  not  the  first. 

FAUST. 

Dog !  Abominable  monster !  Transform  him,  thou 
Infinite  Spirit !  transform  the  reptile  again  into  his  dog' 
shape,  in  which  it  pleased  him  often  at  night  to  scamper 
on  before  me,  to  roll  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  unsus- 


n,g,t,7rJM,GOOglC 


»04 


FAUST. 


pcctli^  wanderer,  and  hang  upon  his  shoulders  when 
he  fell !  Transform  him  again  into  his  favorite  lilceness, 
that  he  may  crawl  upon  his  belly  in  the  dust  before  me, 
—  that  I  may  trample  him,  the  outlawed,  under  foot! 
Not  the  first  J  O  woe !  woe  which  no  human  soul  can 
grasp,  that  more  than  one  being  should  sink  into  the 
depths  of  this  misery,  —  that  the  first,  in  its  writhii^ 
death-agony  under  the  eyes  of  the  Eternal  Forgiver,  did 
not  expiate  the  guilt  of  all  others  !  The  misery  of  this 
single  one  pierces  to  the  very  marrow  of  my  life ;  and 
thou  art  calmly  grinning  at  the  fate  of  thousands  I 


'HELBS. 

Now  we  are  already  again  at  the  end  of  our  wits, 
where  the  understanding  of  you  men  runs  wild.  Why 
didst  thou  enter  into  fellowship  with  us,  if  thou  canst 
not  carry  it  out?  Wilt  fly,  and  art  not  secure  against 
dizziness  7  Did  we  thrust  ourselves  upon  thee,  or  thou 
thyself  upon  us  7 

FAUST. 

Gnash  not  thus  thy  devouring  teeth  at  me  I  It  fills 
me  with  horrible  disgust.  Mighty,  glorious  Spirit,  who 
tiast  vouchsafed  to  me  Thine  apparition,  who  knowesl 
my  heart  and  my  soul,  why  fetter  me  to  the  felon-com- 
rade, who  feeds  on  mischief  and  gluts  himself  with 


FAUST. 

Rescue  her,  or  woe  to  thee !    The  fearfuUest  curse 
be  upon  thee  for  thousands  of  ages  1 

HEPH ISTOPH  ELES. 

I  cannot  loosen  the  bonds  of  the  Avenger,  nor  undo 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  xxirr.  305 

his  bolts.    Rescue  her  i    Who  was  it  that  plunged  her 
into  ruin  ?    I,  or  thouP 

(FnUST  looki  around  loildly.) 

Wilt  thou  grasp  the  thunder?  WeU,  that  it  has  not 
been  given  to  you,  miserable  mortals !  To  crush  to 
pieces  the  bnocent  respondent  —  that  is  the  tyrant- 
fashion  of  relieving  one's  self  in  embarrassments. 

FAUST. 

Take  me  thither !    She  shall  be  free  1 

HBPHISTOPMELES. 

And  the  danger  to  which  thou  wilt  expose  thyself? 
Know  that  the  guilt  of  blood,  from  thy  band,  still  lies 
npon  the  town !  Avenging  spirits  hover  over  the  spot 
where  the  victim  fell,  and  lie  in  wait  for  the  returning 
murderer. 

That,  too,  from  thee  i  Murder  and  death  of  a  world 
upon  thee,  monster  1  Take  me  thither,  I  say,  and  lib- 
erate her  I 

MCPHISTOFHELBS. 

I  will  convey  thee  there ;  and  hear,  what  I  can  do  t 
Have  I  all  the  power  in  Heaven  and  on  Earth  P  I  will 
becloud  the  jailer's  senses :  get  possession  of  the  key, 
and  lead  her  forth  with  human  hand!  I  will  keep 
ifatch :  the  m^c  steeds  are  ready,  I  will  cany  you  off. 
So  much  is  in  my  power. 


ih,Googlc 


XXIV. 
NIGHT. 


(Faust  and   MlFHisropHBi^a  spttding  emoarä  cn  Mark 


\  T  rHAT  weave  they  there  round  the  raven-stone  ? 

MEPHISTO  PH  ELES. 

1  know  not  what  they  are  brewing  and  doing. 

FAUST, 

Soaring  up,  sweeping  down,  bowing  and  bending ! 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  wilches'-guild 

FAUST. 

They  scatter,  devote  and  doom  I 

HEFRISTOPRBLBS. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXV. 


XXV. 

DUNGEON. 

FAUST 
(tn/t  a  hmei  ofktys  and  a  lamp,  hi/art  an  iron  door\. 

A  SHUDDER,  long  unfelt,  comes  o'er  me: 
Mankind's  collected  woe  o'erwhelms  me.  here. 
She  dwells  within  the  dark,  damp  walls  before  me. 
And  all  her  crime  was  a  delusion  dear  1 
What!     I  delay  to  free  her? 
1  dread,  once  again  to  see  her  7 
On !  ny  shrinking  but  lingers  Death  more  near. 

{fit graipi  tie  leek :  the  tound  ef  singing  it  A*arä  insiiü.) 

My  mather,  thi  harlat,'^' 

Who  put  me  to  death; 

My  father,  the  varlet, 

IVko  eaten  me  kath  ! 

Little  sister,  so  good. 

Laid  my  tones  in  the  wood. 

In  the  damp  moss  and  clay  : 

Then  was  I  a  beautiful  bird  d  the  wood; 

Fly  away  /    Fly  away  ! 

FAUST  {UHlocking), 

She  does  not  dream  her  lover  listens  near; 
That  be  the  rattling  chain,  the  rustling  straw,  can  hear. 
(Jie  enter,.) 


ih,Googlc 


2o8  FAUST. 

KARGARET  (hiding  heralf  im  thf  pallefl. 

Woe !  woe !    They  come.    0  death  of  bitterness ! 

FAUST  (wAitperiifg). 
Hush !  hush  I    The  hour  b  come  that  ^es  thee. 

MARGARET  (ikrateing  herul/ before  him). 

Art  thou  a  man,  then  pity  my  distress ! 

FAUST, 

Thy  cries  will  wake  the  guards,  and  they  will  seize  thee  I 
{He  takti  AMof  the  fetters  taunioek  them.) 

MARGARET  {m  her  inees). 

Who,  headsman !  unto  thee  such  power 

Over  me  could  give  ? 

Thou  'rt  come  for  me  at  midnight-hour : 

Have  mercy  on  me,  let  me  live ! 

Is  't  not  soon  enough  when  morning  chime  has  rung? 

{She  rim.) 
And  I  am  yet  so  young,  so  young  1 
And  now  Death  comes,  and  ruin  I 
I,  too,  was  iaJT,  and  that  was  my  undoing. 
My  love  was  near,  but  now  he  's  far ; 
Torn  lies  the  wreath,  scattered  the  blossoms  are. 
Seize  me  not  thus  so  violently  I 
Spare  me !    What  have  I  done  to  thee? 
Let  me  not  vainly  entreat  thee ! 
I  never  chanced,  in  all  my  days,  to  meet  thee  I 

FAUST. 

Shall  I  outlive  this  misery? 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXV. 


Now  am  I  wholly  In  thy  might 

But  let  me  suckle,  first,  my  baby  I 

I  blissed  it  all  this  livelong  night ; 

They  toolc  't  away,  to  vex  roe,  maybe, 

And  now  they  say  I  killed  the  child  outright 

And  never  shall  I  be  glad  again. 

They  sing  songs  about  me  I  'tis  bad  of  the  folk  to  do  it  I 

There 's  an  old  story  has  the  same  refrain ; 

Who  bade  them  so  construe  it  ? 

PAUST  i/allir^ufien  Mil  tiun). 

Here  lieth  one  who  loves  thee  ever, 
The  thraldom  of  thy  woe  to  sever. 

MARGARET  <,ßingitig  Aentlf  UäJe  Um). 

0  let  ns  Icneet,  and  call  the  Saints  to  lüde  us ! 
Under  the  steps  beside  us, 

The  threshold  under, 

Hell  heaves  in  thunder ! 

The  Evil  One 

With  terrible  wiath 

Seeketh  a  path 

His  prey  to  discover! 

PADST  {aletit). 

Margaret !  Margaret  I 

MARGARET  {attentitsly  lüttimg). 

That  was  the  voice  of  my  lover  I 

(Skitfni^ieherfitt:  tht  fetten  felt  aff.\ 
Where  is  he  F    I  heard  him  call  me. 

1  am  free !    No  one  shall  enthrall  me. 


ih,Googlc 


To  his  neck  will  I  fly, 

On  his  bosom  lie ! 

On  the  threshold  he  stood,  and  Afarptrtt.'  calling 

Midst  of  Hell's  howling  and  noises  appalling. 

Midst  of  the  wmthfui,  infernal  derision, 

I  knew  the  sweet  sound  of  the  voice  of  the  vision ! 


'T  is  thou !    O,  say  it  once  again ! 
{Clatfiiig  JUm.) 
T  is  he  I  't  is  he  !    Where  now  is  all  my  pain  ? 
The  anguish  ti  the  dungeon,  and  the  chain  ? 
T  is  thou  I     Thou  comest  to  save  me. 
And  1  am  saved  1  — 
Again  the  street  I  see 
Where  first  1  looked  on  thee ; 
And  the  garden,  brightly  blooming, 
Where  I  and  Martha  w^t  thy  coming. 

Faust  {jhTiggihig  i»  lecax). 
Come  I    Come  with  me  I 

MARGARET. 

Delay,  now! 
So  fain  I  stay,  iriien  thou  delayest  [ 
( Carität^  kim. ) 

FAUST. 

Away,  DOW ! 

If  longer  here  thou  stayest. 

We  shall  be  made  to  dearly  roe  rt. 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXV.  %\ 

MAXOAXBT. 

Kiss  me !  —  canst  no  longer  do  it  7 

My  friend,  so  short  a  time  thou  'rt  misäng;, 

And  hast  unlearned  thy  kissing  ? 

Why  is  my  heart  so  anxious,  on  thy  breast  ? 

Where  once  a  heaven  thy  glances  did  create  me, 

A  heaven  thy  loving  words  expressed, 

And  thou  didst  kiss,  as  thou  wouldst  sufEbcate  me — 

Kiss  me  I 

Or  !<»  kiss  thee  I 

{Skt  tmhracu  ktm.\ 
Ah,  woe  I  thy  lips  are  chni, 
AndstiU. 

How  changed  in  fashion 
Thy  passion  I 
Who  has  done  rae  tbb  Ul } 

{S/uturjuam^/rvm  Urn.) 
FAUST. 

Come,  follow  me !    My  darling,  be  more  bold : 

I  1i  clasp  thee,  soon,  with  warmth  a  thoitsand-fold ; 

But  follow  now  f    'T  is  all  I  beg  of  tbee. 

HAROARET  {turniHg  l9  Mm). 

And  is  it  thon  ?    Thou,  snrely,  certainly  7 


T  Is  II    Come  on  I 


HAKGAKET. 


Thou  wilt  unloose  mjr  chain, 
And  in  thy  lap  wilt  take  me  once  again. 
How  comes  it  that  thou  dost  not  shrink  from  me  P  — 
Say,  dost  thoa  know,  my  friend,  whom  thou  mak'st  free? 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

Come !  come !    The  nif^t  already  vanisbeäi. 

BIARGARET. 

My  mother  have  I  put  to  death ; 

I  've  drowned  the  baby  bom  to  thee. 

Was  it  not  given  to  thee  and  me  ? 

Thee,  too! — 'Tfa  thoo!    It  scarcely  true  doth  seem— 

Give  me  thy  band !    'T  is  not  a  dream  t 

Thy  dear,  dear  hand  t  —  But,  ah,  't  is  wet  t 

Why,  wipe  it  o£E !    Methlnks  that  yet 

There 's  blood  thereon. 

Ah,  God  !  what  hast  thou  done  ? 

Nay,  sheathe  thy  sword  at  last  I 

Do  not  aSny  me ! 


O,  let  the  past  be  pastl 
Thy  words  will  slay  me ! 

UARGABET. 

No,  not    Thou  must  outlive  us. 

Now  1 11  tell  thee  the  graves  to  give  us : 

Thou  must  begin  to-morrow 

The  work  of  sorrow ! 

The  best  {dace  ^ve  to  my  modier, 

Then  close  at  her  side  my  brother. 

And  me  a  little  away, 

But  not  too  very  far,  I  pray  ! 

And  here,  on  my  right  breast,  my  baby  layt 

Nobody  else  will  lie  beside  me !  — 

Ah,  within  thine  arms  to  hide  me. 

That  was  a  sweet  and  a  gracious  bliss. 

But  no  more,  do  more  can  I  attain  it ! 

I  would  force  myself  on  thee  and  constrain  i^ 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXV. 

And  it  seems  thou  repellest  my  kiss : 
And  yet 't  is  thou,  so  good,  so  kind  to  see  I 

FAUSI. 

If  thou  feel'st  it  is  I,  then  come  with  me ! 


MARGARET. 

Out  yonder  ? 


To  freedom. 

HARGARBT. 

If  the  grave  is  there, 
Death  lying  in  wait,  then  come ! 
From  here  to  eternal  rest : 
No  further  step — no,  no  1 
Thou  goest  away!    O  Henry,  if  I  could  go  t 

PAUST. 

Thou  canst !    Just  will  it !    Open  stands  the  door. 


I  dare  not  go :  there 's  no  hope  any  more. 

Why  should  I  fly?    They  11  stiU  my  steps  waylay  I 

It  is  so  wretched,  forced  to  beg  my  living, 

And  a  bad  conscience  sharper  misery  giving  I 

It  is  so  wretched,  to  be  strange,  forsaken, 

And  I  'd  still  be  followed  and  taken  I 


1 11  stay  with  thee. 


Be  quick !    Be  quick  \ 
Save  thy  perishing  child  I 
Away  I    Follow  the  ridge 


ih,Googlc 


314 


FAUST. 


Up  by  the  brook, 

Over  the  bridge, 

IdIo  the  wood, 

To  the  left,  where  the  plank  ia  [daced 

In  the  pool! 

Seize  it  in  haste  I 

'T  is  trying  to  rise, 

'T  is  struggling  still  1 

Save  it!    Save  it! 

Faust. 
Recall  thy  wandering  will ! 
One  step,  and  thou  art  free  at  last  1 


IE  the  mountain  we  had  only  passed ! 

There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone,  — 

I  feel  an  icy  shiver ! 

There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone, 

And  her  head  is  wagging  ever. 

She  l>ec1(ons,  she  nods  not,  her  heav}'  head  falls  o'er ; 

She  Riept  so  long  that  she  wakes  no  more. 

She  slept,  while  we  were  caressing  : 

Ah,  those  were  the  days  of  blessing! 

FAUST. 

Here  words  and  prayers  are  nothing  worth ; 
I  '11  venture,  then,  to  bear  thee  forth. 

MARGARET.  ' 

No — let  me  go!     I  '11  suffer  no  force! 

Grasp  me  not  so  murderously  ! 

I  've  done,  else,  all  things  for  the  love  of  thee. 

FAUST. 

The  day  dawns :  Dearest !    Dearest  I 


ih,Googlc 


SCENE  XXV.  3 

MARGARET. 

Day?  Yesjthedaycomes,  — the  last  day  breaks  form 

My  wedding-day  it  was  to  be  I '" 

Tell  no  one  thou  has  been  with  Margaret ! 

Woe  for  my  garland  t    The  chances 

Are  over  —  't  is  all  in  vain  1 

We  shall  meet  once  again, 

But  not  at  the  dances ! 

The  crowd  is  thronging,  no  word  is  spoken : 

The  square  below 

And  the  streets  overflow : 

The  death-bell  tolls,  the  wand  is  broken. 

I  am  seized,  and  bound,  and  delivered  — 

Shoved  to  the  block  —  they  give  the  sign  I 

Now  over  each  neck  has  quivered 

The  blade  that  is  quivering  over  mine. 

Dumb  lies  the  world  like  the  grave  1 

FAUST. 

O  had  I  ne'er  been  bom  ! 

UEPHISTOPHELBS  {apftari  miOide). 

Off !  or  jrau  're  lost  ere  mom. 
Useless  talking,  delaying  and  praying ! 
My  horses  are  neighing: 
The  morning  twilight  Is  near. 


What  rises  up  from  the  threshold  here  ? 
He.'  he  I  suffer  him  not ! 
What  does  he  want  in  this  holy  spot  ? 
He  seeks  me  I 

FAUST. 

Thou  shalt  live. 


ih,Googlc 


MARGARET. 

Jodgment  of  God  I  myself  to  thee  I  give. 

UEPHISTOPHELES  {to  FaUST). 

Come !  or  1  '11  leave  her  in  the  lurch,  and  thee  I 


Thine  am  I,  Father  t  rescue  me ! 
Ye  angels,  holy  cohorts,  guard  me,'" 
Camp  around,  and  from  evil  ward  me  I 
Henry!    1  shudder  to  think  of  thee. 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

She  is  judged !  "* 

VOICE  (Jrom  abav^. 
She  is  saved  I 


(Ä  dUapptars  wUh  Faust  ) 

VOICE  {from  iBÜkin,  dying  aviay^. 
Henry  I  Henry ! 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 

BD  bei  dan  allvn  lieben  Todten 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


INTRODUCTION. 


IN  a  work  nhich  has  been  the  subject  of  such  extenaive 
and  continual  comment,  the  passages  which  seem  to  re- 
qnire  elucidation  have,  (or  the  most  part,  been  already  de- 
termined At  every  point  where  the  reader  is  siip]>o<ied  (o 
be  doabtftil  in  regard  lo  the  true  path,  not  one,  but  a  score 
of  tracks  has  been  prepared  for  him.  From  the  exhaustive 
and  somewhat  wearisome  work  of  DUntzer  lo  the  latest  crit- 
ical essay  which  has  issued  from  the  German  press,  the  ref- 
erences in  the  text  to  contemporary  events  or  fashions  of 
Itioagbt  have  been  detected  ;  the  words  of  old  or  new  coin- 
age have  been  tested  and  classified ;  and  the  obscure  pas- 
sages have  received  such  a  variety  of  interpretation,  that 
tbey  finally  grow  clear  again  bj  the  force  of  contrast. 

My  first  intention  was,  to  give  Ihe  substance  of  German 
criticism  concerning  both  parts  of  Faust ;  but  the  further  I 
advanced,  Ihe  more  unprofitable  appeared  such  a  plan.  The 
work  itaelf  grew  in  clearness  and  coherence  in  proportion  as 
I  withdrew  from  the  cloudy  atmosphere  of  ils  inlerptelers. 
I  have  examined  every  commentary  of  importance,  from 
Sdiubanh  (iSzo)  and  Hinrichs  (iSls)  lo  Kreyssig  {lS66), 
with  this  advantage,  at  least,  —  that  each  and  all  have  led 
me  back  to  find  in  the  author  of  Faust  his  own  best  com- 
mentator.   After  toaking  acquaintance,  sometimes  at  the 


ih,Googlc 


a20  FAUST. 

cost  of  much  patience,  with  the  theories  of  rninjr  nncete 
though  self- asserting  minds,  and  ascertaining  what  marvel- 
lous webs  of  meaning  may  be  spun  by  the  critic  around  a 
point  of  thought,  simple  enough  In  its  poetical  »ense,  I  bav« 
always  relumed  to  Goethe's  other  works,  to  his  correspond* 
ence  (especially  with  Schiller  and  Zelter)  and  his  convet- 
satiotis,  sure  of  gaining  new  light  and  refreshment.* 

I  should  only  confuse  the  reader  by  attempting  to  set  Ibrth 
all  the  Ibmis  of  intellectual,  ethical,  or  theological  signifi- 
cance which  have  been  attached  to  the  characters  of  FausL 
The  intention  of  the  work,  reduced  to  its  simplest  element, 
is  easily  grasped )  but  if  every  true  poet  builds  larger  (halt 
he  knows,  this  drama,  completed  by  the  slow  accretion  of 
sixty  years  of  thought,  may  be  assumed  to  have  a  vaster 
background  of  design,  change,  and  reference  than  almom 
anything  else  in  Literature.  Like  an  old  Gothic  pile,  its 
outline  is  sometimes  oliscured  in  a  labyrinth  of  details. 
White,  in  tlie  Notes  wtuch  succeed,  it  will  now  and  then  be 
oecessaiy  for  me  to  give  the  conflicting  interpretations,  I 
thall  endeavor  to  wander  (rom  the  text  as  little  as  possible, 
and,  even  when  dealing  with  enigmas,  to  keep  open  a  way 
fail,  if  not  through  them.  The  embarrassing  abundance 
of  the  material  is  somevbat  diminished  for  me  by  the  omis- 
sion of  all  technical  or  philological  criticism,  and  my  chief 
task  will  be  to  distinguish  between  those  helps  which  all 

*  1 UD  ^Ud  to  find  Ilut  Lhü  ahetbod,  drMm  from  ray  own  B^mienc^  is 
nbiuiKially  confirnwd  by  Mr.  Leim,  who,  in  bii  L^i  if  Gtttlu  (Book 
VI.),  BTii  "Crilict  Diually  devote  Iheir  »hole  allention  to  u  eipoB- 

iearcli  aFWr  i  nmotB  eipluution  tlKf  han  overlooked  the  mora  obviois 
ud  nannl  oplanition  finnithed  l>r  iha  work  itaeK  The  ruder  vbo 
hie  (cillomd  me  Ihoe  hx  will  be  anre  that  I  bave  little  fynpathr  wilb 
thai  Fhiloiophy  of  An  which  cowieu  io  Iiaailaling  Ait  into  PhiloiDphy, 

Idea.'  Experience  leili  ine  Ihu  the  Anim  iheniKl*«  had  quile  «bei 
ol^ecti  in  view  than  that  of  deTcloping  an  Idea :  and  eiperience  furthei 
lain  <bal  the  Artiu'a  public  i>  by  no  meaiia  ptimarily  aoiioui  about  llw 
Idea,  but  leant  it  eniinly  to  tlie  criiici,  —  who  cunot  igrcg  upon  iba 
point  amoni  theoMlica." 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  -i-ii 

readers  require  and  the  points  which  are  intereating  only  to 
«pedal  students  of  the  work. 

In  many  instances,  1  have  stinply  iUostraied  the  text 
.  by  parallel  passages.  Where  I  have  discovered  these,  in 
Goethe's  works  or  correspondence,  they  have  often  been  of 
MTvice  in  si^gesting  (in  Uie  absence  of  any  direct  evidence) 
the  probable  time  when  certain  scenes  were  written,  and 
thereby  the  interests  or  influences  which  may  have  then 
swayed  the  author's  mind.  The  variation  in  tone  between 
diflerent  parts  of  the  work,  though  sometimes  very  delicate, 
b  always  perceptible ;  and  ihe  reader  to  whom  the  original 
is  an  unknown  tongue  needs  all  the  side-lights  which  can  be 
thrown  upon  its  translated  forms. 

The  "Paralipomena"  (Supplementary  Fragments)  to  Faust 
oave  not  heretofore  been  given  by  any  English  translator. 
Vet  in  a  work  of  such  importance  we  ma;  also  learn  from 
what  the  author  has  omitted,  not  less  than  from  what  he 
has  accepted.  The  variations  made  in  his  original  design 
assist  us  to  a  clearer  comprehension  of  the  design  itself  I 
consider,  therefore,  that  the  passages  of  the  "  Paralipomena" 
have,  properly,  the  character  of  explanatoiy  notes  ;  and  for 
this  reason  I  have  inserted  each,  as  nearly  as  possible,  tn  its 
appropriate  place,  instead  of  giving  them  in  a  body,  as  in 
the  standard  German  edition  of  Goethe; 

Perhaps  the  most  satisfactory  commentary  on  Faust  would 
be  a  Uography  of  Goethe,  written  with  special  reference  to 
this  one  woriL  In  the  Chronolt^  of  Faust  (Appendix  tl.) 
I  have  given  such  particulars  as  are  necessary  to  the  illus- 
tration of  its  interrupted  yet  life-long  growth.  It  has  not 
been  found  possible  to  combine  the  Notes  and  the  Chro- 
nology without  confusing  the  material ;  yet  the  two  should 
be  taken  as  parallel  explanations,  which  the  reader  needs  to 
follow  at  the  same  lime.  In  conclusion,  let  me  beg  him  not 
to  be  discouraged,  if,  an  the  first  reading,  the  meaning  of 
some  passages,  and  their  significance  as  portions  of  an  "in- 
commensurable" plan,  —  as  Goethe  himself  characlerized 
k,  —  should  not  be  entirely  clear.     When  he  has  become 


ih,Googlc 


332  FAUST. 

bmiliar  with  Che  history  of  the  «oik,  and  is  able  to  overtook 
it  as  a  whole,  the  fitness —  or  the  unfitness  —  of  the  multi- 
tude of  parts  becomes  gradually  evident ;  the  compiessed 
meanings  expand  into  breadth  and  distinctness ;  and  even 
those  enigmas  which  seem  to  defy  an  ultimate  analysis  will 
charm  him  by  dissolving  into  new  ones,  or  by  showing  him 
forma  of  thought  which  fade  and  change  as  be  seeks  to  r«- 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


I.    Dedicatiow. 

The  Dedkab'cHi  was  certaioly  not  irritten  «arlier  thin  the 
jear  179;,  when  Goethe,  encouraged  by  Schiller's  hearty  In- 
terest in  the  work,  determined  to  complete  Che  "  Fragment " 
of  the  Fir«t  Fart  of  Faust,  published  in  1790.  Twenty-four 
years  had  therefore  elapsed  since  the  flcsi  scenes  of  the  work 
nere  written :  the  puet  was  forty-eight  j-ears  old,  and  the 
conceptions  which  had  haunted  him  in  his  iwenty-tirüt  year 
seemed  already  to  belong  10  a  dim  and  temote  Pnnl  The 
shadovry  forms  of  the  drama,  which  he  again  anemjits  to 
seize  and  hold,  bring  with  them  the  phantoms  of  the  friends 
to  whom  his  earliest  songs  were  sung.  Of  these  friends,  his 
sister  Cornelia,  Merck,  Lenz,  Basedow,  and  Goiter  were 
dead;  Klopatocli,  Lavatet,  and  the  SColbergs  were  estranged; 
and  Jacobi,  Klingcr,  Kestnet,  and  others  were  seiiaraied 
from  him  by  the  drcumstancea  of  iheir  lives.  Goiter  died 
in  March,  1797,  and,  as  it  is  evident  from  Goethe's  letters 
to  Schiller  that  he  worked  upon.  Faust  only  in  the  months 
of  May  and  June,  in  that  year,  the  Dedication  was  probably 
then  written. 

Noüiing  of  Goethe  has  been  more  frequently  translated 
than  these  four  stanzas,  —  and  nothing,  I  may  add,  is  moT« 
difficult  to  the  translator. 


ih,Googlc 


aj4  FAUST. 

a.  Preludb  on  the  Stage. 
I  am  unable  to  ascertain  precisely  when  this  was  written  i 
from  Goethe's  cotiespondence,  some  inferences,  which  point 
lo  ihe  year  1798,  may  be  drawn.  It  is  unnecessary  to  follow 
the  critics  in  their  philosophical  analyses  of  this  prelude, 
which  is  sufficiently  explained  by  calling  it  a  "  poetic  pref- 
ace "  to  the  work.  Göschen's  edition  of  Goethe's  works,  in 
1790.  had  not  been  a  successful  ventur«  1  the  "  Fragment " 
of  Faust,  although  fully  appreciated  by  the  few,  seemed  (o 
have  made  no  impression  upon  the  public,  while  it  had  been 
assailed  and  ridiculed  by  the  author's  many  literary  enemies. 
Goethe  always  published  his  poetical  works  without' a  pref- 
ace ;  but  in  the  "  Prelude  on  the  Stage  "  he  makes  use  of 
the  characters  to  contrast  the  Poet's  purest  activity  with  the 
tastes  and  desires  of  the  Public,  two  classes  of  which  are 
represented  by  the  Manager  and  Merry-Andrew.  The  dia- 
logue indicates,  in  advance,  the  various  elements  —  imagina- 
tion, fancy,  shrewd  eiperience,  folly,  and  "  dramatic  non- 
tense" —  which  will  be  woven  into  the  work.  At  the  same 
time,  it  indirectly  admits  and  accounts  for  the  author's  un- 
popularity, and  Ihe  lack  of  recognition  which  he  still  intid- 

3.  Tiefiffttt  are  jet,  lie  iooih  ofbcardi  cempleted. 
The  "booth  of  boards"  purposely  refers  to  the  md^ 
transportable  puppet  theatres  in  which  Goethe  first  saw 
Faust  represented.  There  is  already  a  foreshadowing  of 
some  of  the  qualities  of  Fauat  and  Mephistopheles  in  the 
Poet  and  Manager. 

4.  Thty  come  to  Äv*,  and  tluy  prefer  to  Hare. 
Goethe  writes,  in  iSoi  ("  Wiimaristha  Maftheatir") :  "One 
can  show  the  public  no  greater  respect  than  in  forbearing  to 
treat  it  as  a  mob.  The  mob  hurry  unprepared  to  the  theatre, 
demand  that  which  may  be  immediately  enjoyed,  desire  to 
stare,  be  amazed,  laugh,  weep,  and  therefore  compel  the 
managers,  who  are  dependent  on  thero,  to  descend  more  or 
less  to  their  level." 


ih,Googlc 


Notes. 


325 


J.      Who  tffert  muck,  iringj  samtlhhig  taUo  man): 

"  One  should  give  his  «rorlcs  the  greatest  possible  varietir 

and  excellence,  so  that  each  reader  may  be  able  to  selea 

«omeihing  for  himself,  and  thus,  in  his  own  way,  become  a 

participant"  —  GeetAe  to  Schiller  (1798). 

6.     TUi,  agfd  Siri,  Mengt  teynt. 
It  is  the  Poets  whom  the  Merry-Andrew  thus  addresses. 
His  assertion  of  the  perpetual  youlh  of  Genius  is  not  ironi- 
cal, but  (as  appears  from  the  Manager's  remarks)  is  intended 


"  To  carry  on  the  feelings  of  childhood  into  the  powers  of 
manhood,  to  combine  the  child's  sense  of  wonder  and  nov- 
elty with  the  appearances  which  every  day,  for  perhaps  forty 
years,  bad  rendered  familiar,  — 


this  is  the  character  and  privilege  of  genius,  and  one  of  the 
marks  which  distinguish  genius  from  talent"  —  Coleridge. 

7.    Fi-mt  Heaven,  aeroit  the  World,  ft>  H^l. 

Goethe  says  to  Eckermann  (in  1S27) :  "  People  cone  and 
ask,  what  idea  I  have  embodied  in  my  Faust  i  As  if  I  knew, 
myself^  and  could  express  it !  *  From  Heaaen,  aeroit  tie 
World,  to  Hell '  —  that  might  answer,  if  need  were ;  but  it 
is  Dot  an  idea,  only  the  course  of  the  action." 

Tbe  reference  in  this  line,  curiously  enough,  is  to  the 
coarse  of  action  in  tbe  old  Faust-Legend,  not  to  tbe  close  of 
the  Second  Part,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  Heaven,  in- 
stead of  HelL  Vet  at  the  time  when  the  line  was  written 
the  project  of  the  Second  Part  —  in  outline,  at  least  —  was 
CMUpleted.  Did  Goethe  umply  intend  to  keep  his  secret 
from  the  reader? 

8.    Pkologdb  in  Heaven. 
Some  of  Goethe's  commentators  suppose  that  this  Pro- 
logue was  added  by  him,  from  the  drcumstancc  that  the 


ih,Googlc 


126  FAUST. 

design  of  Fault  was  not  understood,  in  the  "  Fragment "  first 
published.  It  appears  to  have  been  nritteu  in  June,  1797, 
before  the  "  Prelude  on  the  Stage,"  and  chiefly  far  Ihc  puT> 
pose  of  setting  forth  the  moral  and  intellectual  problem 
vhich  underlies  the  drama.  Although  possibly  suggested 
iiy  the  Prologue  in  Hell  of  two  of  the  puppet-plays,  its 
character  is  evidently  drawn  from  the  intervieirs  of  Satan 
with  the  Lord,  in  the  first  and  second  chapters  of  Job. 
Upon  this  point,  Goethe  (in  1S351  said  to  Eclcennann: 
"  My  Mephistophelcs  sings  a  song  of  Shaliespeare ;  and  why 
should  he  not  F  Why  should  I  give  myself  the  trouble  to 
compose  a  new  song,  when  Shakespeare's  was  just  the  right 
one,  saying  exactly  what  was  necessary  ">  If,  therefore,  the 
scheme  oE  my  Faust  has  some  resemblance  to  that  of  JoU. 
that  is  also  quite  right,  and  I  should  be  praised  rather  than 
cuisured  on  account  of  it." 

The  earnest  reader  will  require  no  explanation  of  tha 
liroblem  propounded  in  the  Prologue.  Goethe  states  it 
without  obscurity,  and  solves  It  in  no  uncertain  terms  at 
the  close  of  the  Second  Part.  The  mocking  irreverence  of 
Hephistophelcs,  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  althou^  it 
belongs  lo  Che  character  which  he  plays  throughout,  seems 
to  have  given  some  difficulty  to  the  early  English  transla- 
tors, Ixird  Leveson  Gower  terminates  the  Prologue  with  the 
Chant  of  the  Archangels ;  Mr.  Blackie  omits  it  entirely,  but 
adds  it  in  an  emasculated  form,  as  an  Appendix ;  while  Dr. 
A nster  satisfies  hisspirit  of  reverence  by  printing  Dek  Hbrk 
where  the  English  text  requires,  "  The  Lord."  Coleridge's 
charge  of  "  blasphemy "  evidently  refers  lo  this  Proli^ue; 
but  at  the  time  when  he  made  the  charge,  Coleridge  was 
hardly  capable  of  appreciating  the  spirit  in  which  Faust  ?ra« 

It  is  very  clear,  from  hints  which  Goethe  let  GUI,  that  he 
at  one  time  contemplated  Che  introduction  into  Faust  of  the 
doctrine  ascribed  to  Origen,  —  that  it  was  possible  for  Satan 
to  repent  and  be  restored  Co  his  former  place  as  an  angel  of 
light.  Falk  reports  GocChc  as  saying :  "  Yet  even  the  clever 
Madame  de  Stael  was  greatly  scandalized  that  I  kept  the 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  aaj 

dcri)  in  uich  good-hninor.  In  the  presence  at  God  the 
Father,  she  bsUled  upun  it,  he  ought  to  be  mure  grim  and 
»pileful.  What  will  she  &ay  if  she  sees  him  promoted  a  step 
higher,  —  nay,  perhaps,  meets  him  in  heaven  ?"  On  another 
occasion,  he  exclaimed  (if  we  may  trust  FalL):  "At  bottom, 
the  most  of  us  do  not  know  how  either  to  love  or  to  hutr. 
They  'don't  like'  met  An  insipid  phrase!  —  I  don't  like 
them  either.  Especially  when,  after  my  death,  my  Walpur- 
gis-Sack  comes  to  be  opened,  and  all  llie  tormenting  Stygian 
spirits,  imprisoned  until  then,  shall  be  let  loose  to  plague  &11 
even  as  they  plagued  me  ;  or  if,  in  the  continuation  of  Faust, 
they  should  happen  to  come  upon  a  passage  where  the 
Devil  himself  leceivcs  Grace  and  Mercy  from  God, —  Ihat, 
I  should  say,  they  would  not  soon  forgive  I " 

9.    Chant  op  the  Archancils. 

The  three  Archangels  advance  in  the  order  oftheir  dignity, 
as  it  is  given  in  the  "Celestial  Hierarchy"  of  Dionysius 
Aceopagiia;  who  was  also  Dante's  authority  on  this  point 
{Paradise,  Caalo  XXVIII),  Raphael,  the  inferior,  com- 
mences,  and  Michael,  the  chiei;  doses  the  chant. 

Shelley  speaks  of  this  "astonishing  chorus,"  and  very 
truly  says:  "It  is  impossible  to  represent  in  another  lan- 
guage the  melody  of  the  versiflcation  :  even  the  volatile 
strength  and  delicacy  of  the  ideas  escape  in  the  crucible  of 
translation,  and  the  reader  is  surprised  to  find  a  1*0/»/  nor 

I  shall  not,  however,  imitate  Shelley  in  adding  a  literal 
translation.  Here,  more  than  in  almost  any  other  poeiii, 
the  words  acquire  a  new  and  indescribable  power  from  their 
rhythmical  collocation.  The  vast,  wonderful  aimosphere  of 
space  which  envelops  the  lines  could  not  be  retained  in 
prose,  however  admirably  literal.  The  movement  of  the 
original  is  as  important  as  its  meaning.  Shelley's  transla- 
tion of  the  stanzas,  however,  is  preferable  to  Hayward'» 
which  contains  Eve  inaccuracies. 

The  magnificent  word  Dettaergang — "thunder-march* 


ih,Googlc 


(first  stmca,  fourth  tine)  —  had  alreadj  occmred  in  a  fina 

line  of  one  of  Schiller's  earliest  poems,  —  "  Elfsium"  :  — 
"  Bcije  bebtBi  nnter  Atmea  Docmerguif." 

la    Pardon^  this  treop  I  canntit /allm  after. 
Mephistopheles  here  refers  to  the  Chint  of  (he  Archan- 
gels.    His  mocking  spirit  is  at  once  manifi^ted  in  these 
lines,  and  in  his  ironical  repetilion  of"  the  earliest  day." 

II.     fVkile  Man't  lUtiret  and  aifitnttUm  iHr, 
Re  caimat  ciaoie  6ut  err. 

The  original  of  this  is  the  single,  wril-known  lin;  :  Ej  irrt 
der  Metuch,  so  lang  er  ttrtit.  Il  has  aeemed  to  me  impossi- 
ble to  give  ihe  hill  meaning  of  these  words  —  that  error  is  a 
natural  accompaniment  of  the  struggles  and  aspirations  of 
Man  —  in  a  single  line.  Here,  as  in  a  few  other  places,  I  do 
not  feel  bound  to  confine  myself  to  the  exact  roeasitre  and 
limit  of  the  original.  The  reader  may  be  intetest:d  in  com- 
paring some  other  versions  :  — 

Havwakd.  —  Man  i*  liable  to  error,  «bile  his  struggle 
U.sts. 

Ahstei.  —  Man's  hoar  on  Earth  is  weakness,  error,  strife. 

BROOKt.  —  Han  errs  and  staggers  from  his  birth. 

SWANWICK.  —  Man,  while  he  striveth,  is  prone  to  err. 

Blackik  —  Man  must  still  err,  so  long  he  strives. 

Maktcn.  —  Man,  while  his  struggle  lasts,  is  prone  lostn;. 

Bebesford. —  Man  etrs  as  long  as  lasts  his  strife. 

BiiCH-  —  Man 's  prone  to  err  in  acquisition.  (1) 

Blazb.  —  L'homme  s'egare,  tant  qu'il  cherche  son  but 

13.  A  good  mam.  thrau^  ebscurtit  aiptraUim, 
Hat  etill  an  instinct  of  the  one  true  ■aay. 
In  these  lines  the  direction  of  the  plot  is  indicated.  Thej 
suggest,  in  advance,  its  moral  dirtoutmenl,  at  the  close  of 
the  Second  Part.  Goethe,  on  one  occasion,  compared  the 
"  Prologue  in  Heaven  "  to  the  overture  of  Moiart's  Dan 
^mooMm,  in  which  a  certain  musical  pbraae  occurs  which  ia 


ih,Googlc 


not  repeated  until  the  finale;  and  Ub  compaiUon  bad  refer- 
ence to  the  idea  expressed  in  Ibese  lines. 

13.    Bulyt,  God's  soiu  in  love  and  duty. 
Here  the  Lord,  taming  an^y  from  Mephistopheles,  sud- 
denly addresses  the  Archangels  and  the  Heavenly  Hosts. 
The  expression  Das  Werdende,  in  the  third  ibllowing  line, 
which  I  liave  translated  "Creative  Power,"  means,  literally, 
"that  which  is  developing  into  being."    Shelley,  »ho  was 
Dot,  and  did  not  pretend  to  be,  a  good  German  scholar,  en- 
tirely misses  the  meaning  of  the  closing  quatrain,  notwith- 
staading  he  avoids  the  rhymed  translation.     His  linen, 
"  Let  IhH  which  ever  opetalet  ind  livei 
dup  you  withm  ttie  Itnita  of  its  Iotb  : 
And  leiic  with  meet  wxi  melancholy  thought 
The  doalinE  phuilomi  of  i»  lovElineu," 

ii»*e  nothing  of  the  suggestive  force  and  fulness  of  the  angi- 
na]. 

Hayward  quotes,  apparently  from  a  private  letter,  Carlyle's 
interpretation  of  the  passage  :  "  There  is,  clearly,  no  trans- 
latitig  of  these  lines,  especially  on  the  spur  of  the  moment ; 
jet  it  seems  to  me  that  the  meaning  of  them  is  pretty  dis- 
tinct The  Lord  has  just  remarked,  tliat  man  (poor  fellow) 
needs  a  devil,  as  travelling  companion,  to  spar  him  on  by 
means  of  Denial ;  whereupon,  turning  round  (to  the  angels 
and  other  perfect  characters),  he  adds,  '  But  ye,  the  genuine 
sons  of  Heaven,  joy  ye  in  the  living  fulness  of  the  beautiful 
(not  of  the  logical,  practical,  contradictory,  wherein  man  toils 
imprisoned) :  let  Being  (or  Existence),  which  is  everywhere 
■  glorious  birth,  into  higher  being,  as  it  forever  works  and 
lives,  endrcle  you  with  the  soft  ties  of  love  ;  and  whatsoever 
wavers  in  the  doubtful  empire  of  appearance  '  (as  all  earthly 
things  do),  '  that  do  ye,  by  enduring  thought,  make  firm.' 
Thus  would  Das  Wcrdtndi,  the  thing  that  is  a-being,  mean 
no  less  than  the  universe  (the  visible  universe)  itself ;  and  I 
paraphrase  it  by  '  Existence,  which  is  everywhere  a  birth, 
kito  higher  Existence,'  and  make  a  comfortable  enough  kind 
tf  sense  out  of  that  quatrain." 


ih,Googlc 


ajo 


FAUST. 


Th«  intention  of  (he  passage,  we  miglit  luppo««,  is  euffi- 
cienlly  cleat.  It  was  Goethe's  habit,  as  an  author,  to  quiellj 
ignore  the  conventional  theology  of  his  day  :  yet  Mr.  He- 
Taud  insists  that  "The  Lord  "of  the  Prologue  Is  the  Sec 
ond  Person  of  the  Trinity,  and  that  the  four  line»  com- 
mencing with  Dm  Wcrdtnde  are  simply  another  fcim  uf 
invoking  "the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost  1"  The 
unusual  construction  of  these  lines  —  the  first  iialf  implying 
a  benediction,  and  the  second  half  a  command  —  has  been 
retained  in  the  tianalatiorL 

14.    Fausl'i  Monologui. 

This  scene,  from  its  commencement  to  the  close  of  Wag. 
net's  interview  with  Faust,  was  probably  written  as  early  as 
1773.  In  style,  as  well  as  in  substance,  it  suggests  the  pup- 
pct-play  rather  tlian  the  published  Faust  legend.  In  Wahr- 
heit und  DUhtimg,  Goethe  says,  in  describing  his  intercourse 
with  Herder,  in  Strasburg  (1770):  "The  puppet-play  echoed 
and  vibrated  in  many  tones  through  my  mind.  I,  al^o,  had 
gone  from  one  branch  of  knowledge  to  another,  and  was 
early  enough  convinced  of  the  vanity  of  all.  I  had  tried  life 
in  many  forms,  and  the  experience  had  led  me  only  the  more 
unsatisfied  and  worried.  I  now  carried  these  thoughts  about 
with  me,  and  indulged  myself  in  them,  in  lonely  hours,  but 
without  committing  anything  to  writing.  Most  of  all,  I 
concealed  from  Herder  my  mystic-catialistic  chemistry,  and 
everything  connected  with  it." 

The  text  of  various  puppet-ptays,  which  has  been  recov- 
ered by  Simrock,  Von  der  Hagen,  and  other  lealoii«  i  lerman 
scholars,  enables  us  to  detect  the  source  of  Goeihe'-^  runcep- 
tion,  —  the  original  cotner.stone  whereupon  he  biiildeil.  In 
the  play,  as  given  in  Ulm  and  Strasburg,  there  is  n  brief 
Prologue  in  Hell,  in  which  Pluto  orders  the  templalion  of 
Faust.  Notwithstanding  the  variation  of  the  action  in  the 
diderent  piays,  the  opening  scene  possesses  scry  much  the 
same  character  in  all  of  them.  As  performed  by  Schiiti, 
about  [he  beginning  of  this  century,  Faust  is  represented  as 
seated  ai  a  table,  upon  which  lies  an  open  boolc    His 


ih,Googlc 


wtikxfdy  commencM  thai :  "  With  all  my  leaming,  I, 
Johannes  Fmust,  have  accomplUhed  jutt  so  much,  that  I 
most  oliuh  with  self-shame.  I  am  ridiculed  everywhere, 
no  one  reads  my  books,  all  despise  me.  How  fain  am  I  to 
become  more  perfect !  Therefore  I  am  rigidly  resolved  (o 
ioilnict  myself  in  necromancy." 

In  Geisselbiecht's  puppet-play,  Fausi  also  sjts  at  a  table 
and  turns  over  the  leaveE  of  a  boolt.  He  says  :  "  I  seek  for 
learning  in  this  book  and  cannot  fitid  it.  Though  1  study  all 
books  from  end  to  end,  I  cannot  discover  the  touchstone  of 
wisdom.  O,  bow  unfortunate  art  thou,  Faust  I  I  have  all 
along  thought  that  my  luck  must  change,  but  in  vain. .... 

0  Katherland  1  thus  thou  tewardest  my  industry,  my  tabor, 
>he  sleepless  nights  I  have  spent  in  ^thoming  the  mysteries 
ofTheology  1     But,  no !     By  Heaven,  I  will  no  longer  delay. 

1  will  take  upon  myself  all  labor,  so  that  I  may  penetrate 
into  that  which  is  concealed,  and  ^tbom  the  mysteries,  of 

In  the  Augsburg  puppet-play,  Faust  exclaims:  "I,  too, 
have  long  investigated,  have  gone  through  all  arts  and 
sciences.  I  became  a  Theologian,  consulted  authorities, 
weighed  all,  tested  all, — polemics,  exegesis,  dogmatism. 
All  was  babble :  nothing  breathed  of  Divinity  I  I  became  a 
Jurist,  endeavored  to  become  acquainted  with  Justice,  and 
learned  how  to  distort  justice.  I  found  ag  idol,  shaped 
by  the  hands  of  self-interest  and  self-conceit,  a  bastard  of 
Justice,  not  herself.  I  became  a  Physician,  intending  to 
leam  (he  human  structure,  and  the  methods  of  supporting  it 
when  it  gives  way  ;  but  1  found  not  what  I  sought,  —  1  only 
found  (be  art  of  methodically  murdering  men.  I  became  a 
Philosopher,  desiring  to  know  the  soul  of  man,  to  catch 
Truth  by  the  wings  and  Wisdom  by  the  forelock  ;  and  I 
found  shadows,  vapors,  follies,  bound  into  a  system  I " 

The  reader  is  refeired  to  the  "  Faust-Legend  "  (A]>pen- 
dix  1.)  for  further  information  concerning  these  plays.  I 
have  given  the  above  quotations,  to  indicate  Goethe's  start- 
ing-point —  which  is  also  his  point  of  divergence  —  from  the 
popular  story. 


ih,Googlc 


I  have  also  added  the  opening  acene  of  Marlowe's  "  Faus- 
tus"  (Appendix  III.)  tor  the  sake  of  convenient  compiti. 

15.  Fly!  Up,  and  aekththroad,  fret  land  t 
"  Moreover,  there  are  forces  wbich  increase  one's  produc. 
tiveness  in  rest  and  sleep ;  but  they  are  also  found  in  move. 
menL  There  are  such  forces  in  water,  and  especially  in  the 
atmosphere.  In  the  fresh  air  of  the  open  fields  is  where  we 
properly  belong  ;  it  is  as  if  the  Spirit  of  God  is  there  imme- 
diately breathed  upon  man,  and  a  divine  power  excrdses  its 
influence  over  him."  —  GxtAe  to  EciermanH  ( 1828). 

16.  Frtmt  ffettradamai  very  hand. 
The  astrologer  Nostradamus  (whose  real  name  was 
Michel  de  Nötre-Dame)  was  born  at  St.  Remy,  in  Provence, 
in  the  year  1503,  At  first  celebrated  as  a  physician,  he 
finally  devoted  himself  to  astrology,  and  published,  in  1555, 
a  collection  of  prophecies  in  rhymed  quatrains,  entitled  Lts 
pTBpkicies  dc  Michd  Noslradanms,  which  created  an  imme- 
diate sensation,  and  found  many  believers  ;  especially  as 
the  death  of  Henry  II.  of  France  seemed  to  verily  one  of 
Uis  mystical  predictions.  He  was  appointed  physician  to 
Charles  IX.  and  continued  the  publication  of  his  prophe- 
cies, asserting,  however,  that  the  study  of  the  planetary 
aspects  was  not  alone  sufficient,  but  that  the  gift  of  second- 
sight,  which  God  grants  only  to  a  few  chosen  persons,  is 
also  necessary.  He  died  in  the  year  1566 ;  and  even  as  late 
as  the  year  1781  his  prophecies  were  included  in  the  Roman 
Indtx  Expurgatorius,  for  the  reason  that  they  declare  the 
down^l  of  the  Papacy, 

17.     Tht  Sign  Bftht  MacriKtistn. 
The  term  "  Macrocosm  "  was  used  by  Pico  di  Mirandola, 

Paracelsus,  and  other  mystical  writers,  to  denote  the  uni- 
verse. They  imagined  a  mysterious  correspondence  between 
the  Macrocosm  (the  world  in  large)  and  the  Microcosm  (the 
world  in  little),  or  Man :  and  most  of  the  astrological  theo- 
ries were  based  on  the  influence  of  the  former  upon  the  latter. 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


"33 


From  some  of  Goethe's  notes,  still  Id  existence,  vre  leun 
that  during  the  time  when  the  conception  of  Faust  first 
occupied  his  mind  (1770-  73),  he  read  Welling's  Ofta  itagi>- 
Cahialiiticiim,  Paracelsus,  Valentinus,  the  Aurea  Catena  He- 
miri,  and  even  tlw  Latin  poet  Manilius. 

Mr.  Blackie,  in  his  Notes,  quotes  a  description  of  the 
Macrocosm  from  a  Latin  work  of  Robert  Fludd,  published 
at  Oppenheim  in  t6i9;  but  the  theory  had  already  been 
given  in  the  Hiftaplus  of  Pico  di  Mirandola  (about  1490). 
The  univeise,  according  to  him,  consists  of  three  worlds, 
the  earthly,  the  heavenly,  and  the  super-heavenly.  The  äist 
includes  oar  planet  and  its  enveloping  space,  as  lar  a& 
the  ortni  of  the  moon ;  the  second,  the  sun  and  stars  ;  the 
third,  the  governing  Divine  influences.  The  same  phenom- 
ena belong  to  each,  hut  have  different  grades  of  manifesta- 
tion. Thus  the  physical  element  of  fire  exists  in  the  earthly 
sphere,  the  warmth  of  the  sun  in  the  heavenly,  and  a  seraphic, 
spiritual  fire  in  the  empyrean;  the  first  burns,  the  second 
quickens,  the  third  loves.  "  In  addition  to  these  three 
worlds  (the  Macrocosm),"  »ay«  Pico,  "  there  is  a  fourth  (the 
Mivocosn),  containing  all  embraced  within  (hem.  This  is 
Han,  in  whom  are  included  a  body  formed  of  the  elements, 
■  heavenly  spirit,  reason,  an  angelic  soul,  and  a  resemblance 
to  God." 

The  work  of  Cornelius  Agrippa.  De  Occulta  Philosopkia, 
which  was  also  known  to  Goethe,  contains  many  references 
10  these  three  divisions  of  the  Macrocosm,  and  their  recip- 
rocal influences.  The  latter  are  described  in  the  passage 
commencing :  "  How  each  the  Whole  its  substance  gives  [ " 

Hayward  quotes,  as  explanatory  of  these  lines,  the  follow- 
ing sentence  from  Herder's  Idtcn  tur  Pkiloiophit  der  Ge- 
»ekichie  der  Menschheiz :  "  When,  iherefote,  I  open  the  great 
book  of  Heaven,  and  see  before  me  this  measureless  palace, 
which  alone,  and  everywhere,  the  Godhead  only  has  power 
to  fill,  I  conclude,  as  undistractedly  as  I  can,  from  the  whole 
to  th«  particular,  and  from  the  particular  to  the  whole." 

The  four  lines  which  Faust  apparently  quotes  ("What 
•ays  the  sage,  now  first  1  recognize  ")  are  not  from  Nostra- 


ih,Googlc 


234 


FAUST. 


damuiL  They  may  poMibly  h^ve  be«ii  tuggcnsd  by  •ome- 
thing  in  Jacob  Bo«hiae's  first  wurk,  "  Aurora,  or  Ibe  Rising 
Dawn,"  but  it  is  not  at  all  necessary  that  they  should  be  an 
actual  quotation. 

i&     Tht  SigH  a/ Ike  EarlK-Spirit. 

"The  AichKus  of  the  Orphic  doctrine,  the  spirit  of  the 
elementary  world,  of  the  poweKuJ,  multiformed  earthly  uni- 
verse, to  which  Faust  (eels  himself  nearer."  —  Dünlur. 

"The  mighty  and  multiform  universality  of  the.  Earth 
itself."  — Ä/i 

"  But  few  succeed  in  calling  up,  that  is  to  say,  grasping; 
in  inspired  contemplation,  —  the  Earth-Spirit,  the  spirit  of 
History,  of  the  movement  of  the  human  race  ;  and  still  fewer 
is  the  number  of  those  who  can  endure  the  '  form  of  fUme,'  — 
whose  individuality  is  strong  enough  not  to  be  swallowed  up 
in  it," — JCreyitig. 

19.  Ih  tht  tidci  ef  Life,  i*  ActMi't  ttarm. 
This  chant  of  the  Earth-Spirit  recalls  the  "  Creative  Power 
which  eternally  works  and  lives  "  in  the  Prologue  in  Heaven. 
The  closing  line  may  have  been  suggested  by  a  passage  in 
the  work.  De  Seiuu  Rtmm,  ai  the  Dominican  monk,  Campa- 
nella :  "  Mandia  ergo  letm  est  tenius,  vita,  amma,  torpta 
statua  Dei  alliisimi."  The  "  living  garment  of  the  Deit]'," 
however.  Is  a  much  finer  expression.  The  Spirit's  chant 
probably  lingered  In  Shelley's  memory,  when  he  wrote  :  — 


30.  O  DialA  '  —  /  inom  it  —  'I  it  my  Famulus  ! 
The  Latin  word  famulus  (servant)  was  applied,  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  to  the  shield-bearers  of  the  knights,  and  also 
to  persons  owing  the  obligation  of  service  to  the  feudal 
lords.  The  Famulus  of  Faust,  however,  is  at  the  same  time 
■  student,  an  amanuensis,  an  assistant  in  his  laboratory,  and 
a  teroii^r,  in  the  academic  sense.    The  lenn  is  still  applied 


ih,Googlc 


m  the  Gennan  Universities,  to  those  poor  students  who  fill 
various  minor  offices  tor  the  aa.ke  of  eking  out  their  ratsaa 
by  the  small  salaries  attached  to  thero. 
XI.     Wacnkr. 

The  name  —  and  perhaps  also  the  primal  suggestion  of 
the  character  —  of  Faust's  Famulus  is  taken  bom  the  old 
legend,  in  vbich  Christopher  Wagner  (see  Appendix  I.). 
■Iter  Faust's  tragic  end,  succeeds  to  his  knowledge  and  en- 
ters on  a  similar,  if  not  so  brilliant  a  career. 

It  is  an  interesting  coincidence  that  one  of  Goethe's  early 
■asodatea,  during  his  residence  in  Strasburg  and  Frankfort, 
was  Heinrich  Leopold  W^ner  (who  died  in  1779),  and  who 
was  also  an  author.  Goethe  not  only  read  10  him  the  early 
tcenes  of  fauie,  but  imparted  to  him,  in  confidence,  the  &te 
of  Margaret,  as  be  meant  to  develop  it ;  and  Wagner  was 
Pithless  enough  to  make  use  of  the  material  for  a  tragedy 
of  his  own  —  7%e  Infantkidt  —  which  was  published  in 
1776.  Schiller's  poem,  with  the  same  title  (apparently  sug- 
gested by  Wagner's  play),  and  Burger's  ballad  of  "  The 
Pastor  of  Taubenhetm's  Daughter,"  in  which  the  subject  is 
very  similar,  were  both  written  in  the  year  1781. 

According  to  Hinrichs,  Faust  represents  Philosophy,  and 
WagiKr  Empiricism.  Dlintzer  calls  the  latter  "the  repre- 
sentative of  dead  pedantry,  of  kivowledge  mechanically  ac- 
quired " ;  while  other  critics  consider  that  he  symb0li7.es  the 
PhiliiHiu  element  in  German  life,  —  the  hopelessly  material, 
prosaic,  and  commonplace.  Deycks  says  of  Wagner :  "  His 
thoroughly  prosaic  nature  forms  the  sharpest  contrast  to 
Fatist,  and  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  enter  into  any  rela- 
tion with  Mephistopheles,  because  he  restricts  himself  to 
beaten  tracks,  and  is  repelled  by  all  tricksy  wantonness,  even 
by  all  fresh,  natural  indulgence.  He  is  the  driest  caricature 
of  pure  rational,  formal  knowledge,  without  living  thought  or 
poetry,  and  especially  without  religion." 

It  was  probably  enough  fur  Goethe  that  Wagner  furnishes 
a  dramatic  contrast  of  character,  —  a  foil  to  the  boundless 
ideal  cravings  (rf  Faust.     He  betrays  his  nature  in  the  very 


ih,Googlc 


Gnt  words  he  utiers,  and  is  so  adinirably  consistent  throiiRh- 
out,  that  the  reader  a  never  at  a  lose  how  to  interpret  him. 

31.     Wkert  yi  for  mm  twist  skridded  thought  Hie  fafer. 

This  tine,  which  reads,  literally,  "  In  which  ye  twist  (or 
curl)  paper-shreds  for  mankind."  has  been  curiously  mis- 
urderslood  by  moat  translators.  The  article  dtr  befo.e 
Menschktit  was  supposetl  by  Hayward  to  be  in  the  gtnitive 
instead  of  the  dative  case,  and  he  gives  the  phrase  thus  ;  "  in 
which  ye  rrisp  the  shreds  of  humanity  "  !  Blackie  even  say? 
"  the  shavings  of  mankind."  and  niost  of  the  other  English 
versions  repeat  the  mistake,  in  one  or  another  f<>rm.  In  the 
French  of  Blaze  and  Slapfer,  however,  the  reading  is  correct. 
Goethe  employs  the  word  Schmttel  (shreds  or  clippings!  as 
a  contemptuous  figure  of  speech  for  the  manner  in  which 
thought  is  presented  to  mankind  in  the  discourses  described 
by  Faust.  Therefore  by  using  the  expression  "shredded 
thought "  in  English,  the  exact  sense  of  the  original  is  pre- 

23,  Ah,  God!  but  Art  ii  long. 
Goethe  was  very  fond  of  using  the  "  art  longa,  tHta  hrri-is" 
of  (lippocrates.  It  occurs  again  in  Scene  IV,,  where  hu 
puts  it  into  the  mouth  of  Mephistopheles.  The  American 
reader  is  already  familiar  with  the  phrase,  from  Mr.  I.ong- 
fellow'a  beautiful  application  of  it,  in  his  "  Psalm  of  Life." 

14.  Or,  at  the  best,  a  Punch-anJ-fuily  play. 
The  German  phrase,  Ilaupt-und  Staats-aition,  was  .ipptied, 
alumt  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  to  the  popular 
puppet-plays  which  represented  famous  pa.'isnges  of  history 
It  seems  to  have  been,  originally,  a  form  of  announcement 
invented  by  some  proprietor  of  a  wandering  pup  pet -theatre, 
and  may  therefore  be  equivalently  translated,  as  a  "  First- 
Class  I'olilical  Performance  !  "  The  phrase  was  afterwards 
applied  to  plays  acted  upon  the  stage,  and  Goe'hc  even 
makes  use  of  it  to  designate  Shakespeare's  historical  dramas. 
In  ttie  puppet-plays  the  heroic  figures  (Alexander,  Pompey, 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


237 


Charlemagne,  etc.)  wfere  in  the  habit  of  attrring  the  most 
grandiloquent,  oracular  sentences ;  they  were  as  didactic  in 
speech  as  they  were  reckless  >nd  melodramatic  in  action. 

The  word  frragmathal,  which  I  have  adapted  as  il  stands 
in  the  original,  has  a  somewhat  different  signiticalion  in  Ger- 
man. It  indicates  —  here,  ai  least — a  pedantic  assumption 
and  ostentation,  in  addition  to  the  sense  of  meddlesome  inter- 
ference which  it  possesses  in  English. 

35.     Havi  tvtrmeri  been  crucified  and  burned. 

"  There  were  need,"  said  I,  "  of  a  second  Redeemer  com- 
ing, to  deliver  us  from  the  austerity,  the  discomfort  and  the 
tremendous  pressure  of  the  circumstances  under  which  we 
live." 

"  If  he  should  come,"  Coeihe  answered,  "  the  people 
would  crucify  him  a  second  time."  —  Cottht  to  Ectermann, 
tSsg. 

26.     That  ID  mr  learned  tali  might  be  exlenjed. 

In  "Faust:  a  Fragment,"  published  in  1790,  Wagner's 
conversation  terminates  with  this  line.  The  first  four  tines 
of  Faust's  following  soliloquy  are  then  added,  and  the  scene 
suddenly  ends.  Then  we  abruptly  break  upon  the  couver- 
sation  between  Faust  and  Mephistopheles,  in  Scene  IV.,  at 
the  line, 

"  And  *I1  oTlilä  for  all  nukind  created." 

The  remainder  of  the  Monologue,  the  scene  before  the  city- 
gate,  the  first  scene  in  Faust's  study,  and  all  of  the  second 
as  far  as  the  line  just  quoted,  were  first  published  in  the 
completed  edition  of  1808.  Il  is  very  certain,  however,  that 
poriions  of  these  omitted  scenes  were  written  before  1790, 
and  were  then  withheld  on  account  of  their  incompleteness. 

37.     ^  thundcT'tvord  katk  ruteft  me  from  my  stand. 

Faust  here  refers  to  the  reply  of  the  Earth-Spirit ;  — 

"  Thoo  'rt  tike  the  ipiril  which  thou  comprohendctt, 

Not  me  1  " 

The  overwhelming  impression  produced  upon  him  by  iM* 


ih,Googlc 


phrase  is  oaly  suspended  during  Wagner's  Tisit>  and  no« 
works  with  renewed  force  upon  his  morlNd  mood,  until  it 
swells  to  a  naluial  climax. 

28.  Ana  Aeri  ami  thirt  ent  happy  man  tilt  lontly. 
In  the  conversations  of  Goethe,  recorded  by  Eckermann, 
Riemer,  and  Falk,  he  more  than  once,  in  referring  to  his 
early  impressions  of  life,  repeats  the  pessimislic  idea  con- 
tuned  in  these  lines.  This  was  one  of  the  causes  which 
Itirred  in  him  the  resolution  to  achieve,  as  far  as  possible, 
his  own  independent  developmenL  The  subjective  charac- 
ter of  the  early  scenes  of  Fault  is  so  clearly  indicated  that 
we  should  have  recogniied  it  without  Goethe's  admission. 
In  l3z6,  he  said  to  Eckermann  :  "  In  Weriher  and  Faust^  I 
was  obliged  to  delve  in  my  own  breast ;  for  the  source  of 
that  which  I  communicated  lay  near  at  hand." 

39,    Sought  ante  the  tiiitiiig-  day,  and  then  in  twilight  dull. 

The  two  adjectives  in  this  line  are  leichl  (easy,  buoyant) 
and  schvier  (heavy).  Haitung  thinks  that  the  former  is  a 
misprint  for  lickl  (shining,  bright)  ;  but  he  is  evidently  mis- 
taken, since  the  adjectives  are  chosen  to  express  opposite 
qualities,  and  the  phrase  lirhien  Tag  occurs  in  ihe  sixth  line 
following.  I  have  chosen  English  words  which  are  not  pre- 
cisely lileial,  but,  by  their  antithetic  character,  convey  a 
similar  meaning. 

30.    Bam  it  tolas.  It  naily pattest  it ! 

It  was  a  favorite  maxim  of  Goethe  that  no  man  can  really 
possess  that  which  he  has  not  personally  acquired.  He 
considered  his  own  inherited  wealth  and  the  many  opportu- 
nities of  his  life  as  means,  the  value  of  which  must  be  meas- 
ured by  the  results  attained  by  their  use.  On  one  occasion 
he  said  :  "  Every  ban  mot  which  I  have  uttered,  has  cost  me 
a  purse  of  money  \  half  a  million  uf  my  private  property  has 
run  through  my  hands,  to  enable  me  to  learn  «hat  I  know  — 
not  only  the  entire  estate  of  my  father,  but  also  my  salary 
and  my  considerable   literary  income   for  more   than   fiftj 


ih,Googlc 


fears."    At  the  dose  of  the  Second   Part,  he  makes  tbe 
^d  Faust  say  i  — 

"  He  oaif  «tnii  bii  frndom  *ad  eiulsncc. 
Who  daily  coDqucn  thtu  uuw." 

31.  Oh  lartk'sfair  lun  / tuminy  baei. 
Here,  again,  Goethe  recalls  a  phase  of  bis  own  psycholo^- 
cal  eiperienoe,  which  he  describes  at  some  length  in  WaÄr- 
ieü  und  Ditktmg  (Book  XIII.).  Even  before  Jerusalem's 
luiddc  at  Wetzlar  had  furnished  him  with  tbe  leading  idea 
of  Wirthtr,  he  had  been  drawn,  by  what  he  calls  Che  gloomy 
clement  in  English  literature,  —  especially  by  HamUt,  Young's 
Night  Thoughis,  and  the  melancholy  rhapsodies  of  Osiian, 
—  to  study  the  phenomena  of  self-murdet  and  apply  them, 
in  imagination,  to  himself.  Among  all  the  instances  with 
which  be  was  acquainted,  none  seemed  to  him  nobler  than 
that  of  the  Emperor  Otho,  who,  aller  a  cheerful  banquet 
wilb  his  friends,  thrust  a  dagger  into  his  heart.  "  This  was 
the  only  deed,"  he  says  (and  in  what  follows,  I  suspect, 
there  is  as  much  Dichtung  as  WakrhHt\,  "  which  seemed  to 
mc  worthy  of  imitation,  and  I  was  convinced  that  one  who 
could  not  act  like  Otho  had  no  right  to  go  voluntarily  out 
of  the  world.  Through  this  conviction  I  rescued  myself 
both  from  the  intention  and  Che  morbid  ^cy  of  suicide, 
which  haunted  an  idle  youth  in  those  fair  times  of  peace. 
I  possessed  a  tolerable  collection  of  weapons,  wherein  there 
«as  a  valuable,  keen-edged  dagger.  This  I  placed  con- 
stantly beside  my  bed,  and,  before  putting  out  the  light, 
endeavored  to  try  whether  it  was  possible  to  pierce  my 
breast,  an  inch  or  two  deep,  with  tbe  sharp  point.  Since, 
however,  the  experiment  never  succeeded,  1  finally  laughed 
at  myself,  discarded  all  hypochondric  distortions  of  fancy, 
and  determined  to  live." 

32.    Chokus  of  Ancels. 

In  this  first  chorus  I  have  been  forced,  by  the  prime  neces- 

li^  of  preserving  tbe  meaning,  to  leave  the  second  line  un- 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 


rhymed.  The  word  sckleiihenden.  In  the  fourth  line,  whict 
1  have  endeavored  to  express  by  "  dinging"  (Hayward  has 
"creeping,"  Blackie  "  through  his  veins  creeping."  and  Dr. 
Hedge  "trailing"),  is  nearly  equivalent  to  the  English 
phrase  "  dogging  one's  steps."  The  tirsi  of  the  three  Angelic 
Choruses  rejoices  over  Christ's  release  from  Mortality,  thi^. 
second  exalts  him  as  the  "  Irving  One,"  and  the  third  cele- 
brates his  restoration  to  the  Divine  creative  activity. 

Goethe  heard  a  similar  chant  sung  by  the  common  people 
in  Rome,  in  the  yeai  178S;  but  his  immediate  model  was 
andoubledly  the  German  Easter-hymn  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
many  variations  of  which  are  given  in  Wackernagel's  work. 
One  of  these,  dating  from  the  thirteenth  century,  thus  com- 


From  all  hit  twndi 
it  hs  nleucd.] 

The  universal  Easter  greeting,  at  this  day,  among  the 
Greeks,  is  Chriilei  anesU  !  and  the  answer :  aiethos  anisu ! 
The  same  custotn  prevails  ibroughoul  Russia,  and  in  some 
parts  of  Catholic  Germany. 

In  1772,  Goethe,  writing  to  Kestner  on  Christmas  Day, 
says  :  "  The  watchman  on  the  tower  trumpeted  his  hymn 
and  awakened  me  :  Praised  it  Iheu,  Jtsus  Christ  f  1  dearly 
love  this  time  of  the  year,  and  the  hymns  that  are  sung." 

33.  And  prayer  dissolired  me  in  a  fervent  bliss. 
Again  Goethe  recalls  his  own  early  memories.  These 
lines  describe  the  religious  exaltation  excited  in  his  boyish 
nature  by  Fräulein  vor  Klettenburg,  whom  he  has  intro- 
duced into  Wilhelm  Meisler  (Book  VI.).  in  the  "  Confessions 
of  a  Fair  Spirit."  The  above  line  suggests  a  passage  nf  this 
episode;  "Once  I  prayed,  out  of  the  depth  of  my  heart i 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES  241 

'now,  Almighty  One,  give  me  faith  r'  I  was  then  in  tht 
condition  in  which  one  mu!t  be,  but  Eeldoiu  is,  when  one'< 
prayers  may  be  accepted  by  God.  Who  could  palnl  what 
1  then  fell  1  A  powerful  impulse  drew  my  soul  to  the  Cross, 
on  which  Jesus  perished.  Thus  my  soul  was  near  to  Him 
who  became  Man  and  died  on  the  Cross,  and  in  Ihat  mo- 
men.  I  knew  what  faith  is.  'This  is  faith  I '  I  cried,  and 
sprang  up,  almost  as  in  terror.  For  such  emotions  as  these, 
■11  words  fail  us." 

34.    Is  He,  iitglowi  of  birth. 
Rapture  creatwt  near  f 

These  two  lines,  in  the  original,  are  a  marvel  of  com- 
pressed expression.  The  closest  literal  translation  is  :  "Is 
He,  in  the  bliss  of  developing  into  (higher)  being,  near  to 
the  joy  of  creating,"  —  that  is,  the  bliss  of  being  bom  into 
the  higlier  life  to  which  He  has  ascended  is  soi.'cely  less 
than  the  joy  of  the  Divine  creative  activity.  The  'disciples, 
left  behind  and  still  sharing  the  woes  of  Earth,  t«wail  the 
beatitude  which  parts  Him  from  them. 

The  final  Chorus  of  the  Angets,  which  follow»,  is  a  stum- 
blin(!'t>lock  to  the  translator,  on  account  of  its  fivefold  dac~ 
^lic  rhyme.     The  lines  are,  literally :  — 

AcüitVf  pniiing  him, 
MuilcBting  love, 
Bnlherl;  giving  Toad, 


In  order  to  retain  the  rhyme,  I  have  been  obliged  to  express 

done  it  unto  the  least  of  one  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  havL 
done  it  unto  me,"  —  which  is  implied  in  the  original.  Dr. 
Hedge,  I  believe,  is  the  only  one  who  has  hitherto  endeav- 
ored to  reproduce  the  difficult  structure  of  this  Chorus.  He 
thus 


ih,Googlc 


I  THB  CITV-GaTI. 
Goethe's  Undscapcs,  like  those  of  an  artist,  were  always 
drawn  Tiom  teal  studies  ;*  and  some  of  his  commentators, 
iberelbre,  have  tried  to  discover  the  original  of  this  scene. 
Strasburg,  Frankfurt,  and  even  Weimar,  have  been  sug- 
gested 1  bat  the  first  of  these  pUces,  on  the  level  plain  of 
the  Rhine,  does  not  fit  the  desciiptian ;  while,  judging  from 
iBtetnal  evidence,  the  opening  of  the  scene  roust  have  been 
written  before  Goethe's  migiation  to  Weimar.  Such  lea- 
tnies  as  the  river  and  vessels,  the  ferry,  the  suburban  places 
of  resort,  and  the  view  of  the  town  from  a  neighboring 
height,  iodtcate  Frankftnt ;  and  the  gay,  motley  life  of  the 
BmltittKle  is  another  point  of  resemblance. 

36.    '  Tit  trtu,  tkt  ünnoed  wie,  on  Saint  Andren^  1  NigHL 

St.  Andrew's  Night  is  the  39tb  of  November.     It  is  cele- 

tvated,  in  some  parts  of  Germany,  by  Ibtms  of  divination 

very  similar  to  those  which  are  practised  in  Scotland  on 

Hallow  E'en  tOctobet  31M}.    The  maidens,  as  in  Keats^ 

Evtpf  St.  Agnei,  believe  that  by  calling  upon  St.  Andrew, 

naked,  before  getting  into  bed,  the  fatnre  sweetheart  will 

appear  to  ibem  in  a  dream.    Another  plan  is,  to  potn  melted 

lead  ihiough  the  wards  of  a  key  wherein  there  is  the  form 

of  a  cross,  into  a  hosm  of  water  fetched  betweeit  eleven 

o'clock  at>d  midnight ;  the  cooling  lead  will  then  take  the 

form  of  tools  which  indicate  the  trade  of  the  destined  lover. 

37.     SAt  skovxd  tat  mine,  in  €ryslal  cltar. 

A  m^ic  crystal,  sometimes  iit  the  form  of  a  sphere,  but 

*  Tbe  KM*  of  Us  E/icHire  AgbtUin,  for  'n 


ih,Googlc 


frequenÜT,  no  doabt,  as  a  lens,  «as  emplo^  for  ibe  pur- 
pose of  divination.  The  methods,  in  fact,  were  varied  (o 
suit  Ibe  supostitiOD  »hieb  employed  them.  In  Pictor's 
"  Varieties  of  Ceremonial  Magic  "  (given  in  Scbeible's  KIm- 
frr),  twenty-seven  forms  of  divination  arc  described  at  lengtb, 
but  Crystallomancy  is  not  among  tbem.  The  ancteota  en- 
ph^ed  between  forty  and  fifty  diSErent  methods. 

38,  ReUandJrom  ia  art  brook  and  rkur. 

If  this  patugc  was  not  added,  or  at  least  re-urritten,  be- 
tween 1797  and  1S08,  —  as  is  possible,  — it  is  inltrestii^  a« 
one  of  tbc  first  evidences  of  Goethe's  interest  in  Color,  an 
interest  wliich  finally  developed  into  a  posskm,  and  quite 
deceived  him  in  regard  to  the  importance  of  his  obaervaxions. 
His  Fai^ienleire  (Science  of  Colors)  was  commenced  in  1790 
and  completed  in  1805,  the  year  of  Schiller's  death,  although 
it  was  not  pobtisbed  forfour  or  five  years  afterwards.  Either, 
(berefote,  the  alluaions  to  color  in  this  early  scene  harmo- 
«iied  with  the  aKhor'a  later  views,  or  they  were  aficiwards 
changed  for  the  «ake  of  faannony. 

39.  All /or  the  dance  tlu  shtpkerd  drtutd. 

There  is  a  relereooe  to  this  song  of  the  sbepherds  in  WU- 
lulm  Malier  ( Appicnticeship),  where  Philine  says:  "'Old 
out,  dost  thou  know  the  tnelody ;  "  All  for  the  dance  Ibe 
shepherd  dicssed  "? '  *  Oh,  yes,' he  replied, '  if  you  wilt  Mng 
and  represent  the  song,  I  shall  not  £JI  in  my  part.'  Plüline 
arose  and  stood  in  readiness.  The  old  man  stratlc  ap  the 
melody,  and  she  sang  a  song  which  we  cannot  communicate 
to  oar  readers,  because  they  perhaps  night  find  it  absurd 
or  even  improper, "  This  portion  of  Wilhetm  Meiiter  was 
published  in  1795,  which  is  another  evidence  of  the  early 
origin  of  the  scene.  The  gnweful  measure  of  the  song, 
whidi  nevertheless  expresses  the  roughest  realism  of  Ger- 
man peasant-life,  can  only  be  appraxiiaately  given  in  another 


This  episode,  also,  is  suggested  by  Goethe's  earliest  meat- 
«nesoftbevarioos  popularfestivalsin  FranUint.   In  fVakr- 


ih,Googlc 


241 


FAUST. 


keit  und  DiehUiag  (Book  1-1.  he  sa^  :  "  On  the  right  bank 
of  the  Main,  below  ihe  dty,  Ihere  is  a  sulphur  spring,  neatif 
enclosed,  and  surrounded  with  immemorial  linden-trees 
Not  far  from  it  stands  the  '  Good  People's  Hall,"  fotmerly 
an  hospital,  built  on  account  <if  this  >|iring.  The  cattle  of 
the  neighborhood  were  brought  together  upon  Ihe  adjoining 
commons,  on  a  certain  day  of  the  year,  and  the  herdsmen, 
with  Iheit  maidens,  had  a  rural  festival,  with  dances  and 
songs,  wiih  menimcnt  and  rough  pranks.  .  .  .  The  nurses 
and  maids,  who  are  always  ready  to  treat  themselves  to  a 
walk,  never  failed,  from  our  earliest  years,  to  lake  us  with 
them  to  such  places,  so  that  these  country  diversions  are 
among  the  very  ürst  impressions  which  I  now  recall.'' 

40,  Sir  Doclar,  il  is  geed  of  you. 
It  is  very  rarely  that  the  first  and  third  lines  of  a  quatrain 
■re  unrhymed  in  German.  I  have  no  dniibt  that  Goethe  in- 
tended to  represent,  by  a  less  musical  verso,  the  more  pro- 
saic nature  and  speech  of  the  common  pcuplc.  The  word* 
he  employs  in  the  two  addresses  of  the  Old  Peasant  are  the 
siioplest  and  plainest ;  the  lane  of  the  verse  is  entirely  that 

4t.  7%t«  alsBjnm,  though  bul  ayeulh. 
Dfintzer  conjeaures  that  Goethe  derived  the  idea  of  ihja 
helpfiil  activity  of  Fai:sl,  upon  which  rests  the  episode  with 
the  peasants,  from  the  history  of  Nostradamus.  In  the  year 
1525,  when  the  latter  was  iwenly.lwo  years  old,  Provence 
was  devastated  by  a  pestilence.  The  young  physician  went 
boldly  from  house  to  house,  through  ihe  villages,  and  -aved 
the  lives  of  many  of  the  sick,  himself  escaping  all  infection. 

42,  nert  Tuas  a  Liim  rid,  a  vraeer  dariug. 
The  jargon  of  (he  mediival  alchemists,  from  Raymond 
LuUy  to  Paracelsus,  is  used  in  this  description.  TTie  system 
taught  that  all  substances,  especially  metals,  had  either  mas- 
culine or  feminine  qualities,  as  well  as  inherent  aflÜnities  and 
antipathies.     Campanella's  doctrine,  that  all  the  elements  of 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


245 


^tter  were  endoired  with  scdk  and  feeling,  was  yt:ij  gen- 
erally adopted  by  his  successors  in  the  art  Goeihe  drew 
nis  description  of  the  preparalion  of  the  panacea  partly  from 
Faracelsus,  and  partly  from  Welling's  Ofus  Mago-Cabbalis- 

The  "  Lion  red  "  is  cinnabar,  called  a  "  wooer  daring  "  on 
account  of  the  action  of  quicksilver  in  rushmg  to  an  intimate 
union  (an  amalgam)  with  all  other  metals.  The  Lily  is  a 
preparation  of  antimony,  which  bore  the  name  of  Z'/ihsi  y^ra- 
rtlii.  Red,  moreover,  is  the  masculine,  and  white  the  femi- 
nine color.  The  alembic  containing  these  substances  was 
first  placed  in  a  " tepid  bath"  —  a  vessel  of  warm  water  — 
and  gradually  heated ;  then  "  tormented  by  flame  unsparing  " 
("open  flame,"  in  the  original),  the  two  were  driven  from 
one  "bridal  chamber"  to  another,  —  that  is,  their  wedded 
fumes  were  forced,  by  the  heat,  from  the  alembic  into  a  glass 
retort.  If  then,  the  "  young  Queen,"  the  sublimated  com- 
pound of  the  two  substances,  appeared  with  a  brilliant  color 
—  ruby  or  roya]  purple  being  most  highly  esteemed  —  in  the 
retort,  "this  was  the  medicine."  The  product  reminds  us 
of  calomel,  which  is  usually  formed  by  the  sublimated  union 
«f  mercury  and  chlorine. 

43.    IftktTt  ht  airy  spiriti  near. 

In  his  conversations.  Goethe  more  than  once  spealis  of 
his  youthful  belief  in  spirits,  even  relating  circumstances 
when  he  fancied  their  presence  was  manifested  to  him  ;  and 
Riemer  considers  that  this  passage  is  simply  an  expression 
of  such  belief  Diinwer,  on  the  other  hand,  insisted  that 
Faust  refers  to  the  sylphs,  or  spirits  of  the  air,  as  they  were 
recognized  in  the  theories  of  the  alchemists.  1  think  it  much 
more  probable  that  the  following  passage,  from  the  Faust- 
legend  in  its  oldest  form  (Frankfurt,  15S7),  lingered  in 
Goethe's  memory.  Faust  says  to  Mephistopheles  :  "  My 
servant,  declare  what  spirit  thou  art  1  "  The  spirit  answered 
and  said  :  "  1  am  a  spirit,  nnd  aßying  spirit,  foliatly  ruling 
undtr  the  itavins  !  "  In  the  four  lines  of  the  text,  followed 
by  Ibe  wish  for  >  magic  mantle  (such  as  Mephistopheles 


ih,Googlc 


246  FAUST. 

afterwards  furnishes),  Faust  unconsciously  invokes  the  spirit 
which  is  already  lying  in  wait  for  him,  and  which,  thus 
invited,  appears  immediately  in  the  forrn  of  a  black  dog. 
Wagner,  however,  who  comprehends  nothing  but  the  dry 
lore  with  which  he  is  crammed,  sees  in  Faust's  words  only  a 
reference  lo  the  weather -spirits,  and  thereupon  pompously 
airs  his  own  knowledge  ofth«  latter. 

The  expression,  in  the  preceding  couplet,  that  one  part  of 
Faust's  dual  spirit  sweeps  upwards  "into  the  high  ancestral 
spaces,"  suggests,  equally,  a  passage  in  the  Augsburg  pup- 
pel-play.  He  is  there  made  to  exclaim  ;  "  Invisible  Spirits, 
receive  me  I  I  soar  to  your  dominion.  Yes,  I  will  lift  my- 
self out  of  this  wretched  atmosphere,  which  is  only  for  com- 


44.    Svififrom  tAe  North  tAe  spirit-fangt  10  ihorp. 

The  belief  in  evil  spirits  inhabiting  the  nether  regions  of  the 
atmosphere  is  very  ancient.  Paul  calls  Satan  "  the  pnnce 
of  the  power  of  the  ah  "  (Epkesiam  ii.  2),  and  thus  gives 
Christian  currency  to  a  much  older  superstition.  In  the 
poem  Zodiacus  Vila,  of  Marcellus  Palingenius  (written  about 
the  year  1527),  the  diiferent  atmospheric  demons  are  minute- 
ly described.  Their  names  are  Typhurgus  (Mist-bringer), 
Apleatus  (the  Insatiable),  Pbilokreus  (Lover  of  Flesh),  and 
Hiastor  (the  Befouler).  Wagner's  classification  indicates 
the  effects  of  the  four  winds  upon  the  weather  and  the  hu- 
man ftarne.  In  Germany,  the  east  wind  is  dry  and  keen, 
and  the  west  wind  brings  rain. 

Hayward,  in  his  Notes,  quotes  the  following  additional 
Authorities '  — 

"The  spirits  of  the  aire  will  mix  themselves  with  thun- 
der and  lightning,  and  so  infest  the  clyme  where  they 
taise  any  tempest,  that  soudainely  great  mortality  shall 
ensue  to  the  inhabitants,"  —  Pierce  PenniUsiehii  Suf plica- 
tien,  159*- 

"  The  air  is  not  so  liill  of  flies  in  summer,  as  it  is  at  aU 
'imes  of  invi^ble  devils :  tiiis  Paracelsus  stiffly  n 
—  Burton,'  A»at^  Part  L 


ih,Googlc 


The  appearan;»  of  Mephistopheles  in  ihe  form  of  a  dog  is 
apart  of  the  old  legend.  Manlius,  in  the  report  of  his  con- 
versation with  Mclancthon,  quotes  the  tatter  as  having  said ; 
"He  (Fauat)  had  a  dog  with  him,  which  was  the  Devil." 
The  theologian,  Johann  Gast,  in  hia  Strmotus  ComiiviaJet, 
descrilies  a  dinner  given  by  Faust  at  Basle,  at  which  he  was 
present,  and  remarks  :  "  He  had  also  a  dog  and  a  horse 
with  him,  both  of  which  I  believe  were  devils,  for  they  were 
able  to  do  everything.  Some  persons  (old  me  that  the  dog 
trequenlly  took  the  shape  ofa  servant  and  brought  him  food." 
In  some  of  the  early  forms  of  the  legend  the  name  of  the 
dog  is  given  as  PrasHgiar:  he  is  described  in  Widmann  as 
large,  stiaggy,  and  black,  but  in  other  versions  he  is  of  a 
dark  red  color.  The  Wagner-legends  all  agree  in  giving  the 
latter,  as  attendant,  an  evil  spirit  in  Ihe  form  of  a  monkey, 
whom  he  called  AturhaAn  (moor-cock). 

Burns,  in  Tarn  (yskanUr,  says :  — 

"  A  «inDDck-buak»  in  Ihe  «ui, 
There  ut  luld  Nkk,  in  shape  o'  beut, 

46.  'Til  -atrilten  :  "  In  Ihe  Beginning  ti/ai  the  Ward." 
"  I  need  hardly  point  out  to  the  reader  how  artfully  the 
poet  has  managed  by  making  Faust,  in  bis  perplexed  state 
of  mind,  hit  upon  the  most  difficult  passage  in  the  whole 
Bible.  The  dissatisfaction  which  would  theoce  arise  would 
'jring  his  mind  into  a  fit  state  for  listening  to  the  suggestions 
of  the  tempter;  and  (bus  would  this  precipitate  spirit  of 
discontent  wrest  the  words  of  truth  to  his  own  destruction. 
As  to  the  interpretations  be  has  given  us  of  the  AOrO!£, 
they  are  as  consistent  and  intelligible  as  the  speculations  of 
human  reason,  upon  one  of  the  most  obscure  subjects  to 
which  it  can  be  directed,  can  be  supposed  to  be.''  — Btackie, 
^{otes  to  bis  Translation  of  Faust  (London,  1834). 
This  passage  is  not,  as  Blackie  supposes,  a  fortunate  in- 


ih,Googlc 


248  FAUST. 

■piralion  of  Goethe.  It  is  directly  suggested  by  the  legend 
In  Widmann's  "Veritable  History  of  Dr.  Faust"  (Ham- 
burg, 1599)  1  und,  in  the  fifteenth  chapter,  that  Mephtstoph- 
eles  thus  answers  Faust's  proposition  to  discuss  with  him 
certain  questions  of  theology  1  "  In  so  far  u  it  concerns  the 
Bible,  wliich  thou  again  art  of  3  mind  to  read,  there  shall  be 
uo  more  permitted  to  thee  than,  namely  :  the  Srst,  second, 
and  fifth  books  of  Moses  ;  all  the  others,  except  Job.  shalt 
thou  let  be  ;  and  likewise  in  the  New  Testament  thou  mayst 
read  the  three  Disdples  that  write  of  the  deeds  of  Christ, 
that  is  to  say,  the  tax^atherer,  the  painter  and  the  doctor 
(meaning  Matlheum,  Marcum  and  Lucam) ;  but  John  thait 
(hou  avoid,  and  I  forbid  also  the  chatterer  Paul,  and  such 
others  as  wrot«  Epistles." 

This  prohibition  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  led  Goethe,  at 
once,  to  the  opening  verse,  the  attempt  to  translate  which 
becomes  not  only  a  source  of  new  perplexity  to  Fau!>l,  but 
also  serves  to  hasten  the  poodle's  transformation.  The  frag- 
ments of  Faust's  soliloquy,  showing  that  his  soul  is  turned 
towards  "  the  love  of  God,"  disturb  the  evil  spirit  incorpo- 
rated with  the  beast ;  but  the  words  of  John,  to  which  the 
spirit  has  a  special  antipathy,  compel  him  to  betray  his 
presence. 

The  growth  and  terrible  appearance  of  the  poodle  suggest 
a  passage  in  Neumann's  "Curious  Observations  concerning 
the  so-called  Dr.  Faust"  (1702).  He  says,  on  the  authority 
of  Wiet,  the  pupil  of  Cornelius  Agrippa !  "  A  schoolmaster 
of  Gosslar  had  learned  from  Faust,  the  magician,  the  formula 
by  which  certain  verses  may  be  used  to  imprinon  the  Devi! 
in  a  glass.  In  order  that  he  might  not  risk  being  inter- 
rupted, he  went  one  day  into  a  forest ;  and  while  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  his  invocations,  the  Devil  came  unto  him  in  a 
horrible  form,  with  fiery  eyes,  a  nose  curved  like  a  cows 
horn,  with  wild  and  fearful  boar's-tusks,  a  rough  cat's  back, 
and  every  way  frightful." 

One  of  the  illustrations  in  Widmann's  book  represents 
Mephistopheles  appearing  to  Faust  in  front  of  tin  slmv  in 
the  lattet's  study,  and  conversing  with  him  over  the  top  of  a 


ih,Googlc 


tire-acTcen.     The  lext  says  that  Faust  Grat  became  awue  of 
(he  spirit  as  a  shadow  moving  around  ihc  siov«. 

47.  The  Key  nfSolamoH  iigoed. 
Solomon's  lame  as  a  magician  is  menlioned  by  Josephus, 
and  also  by  Origen,  who  was  acquainted  with  a  work  on  the 
manner  of  citing  spirits  to  appear,  ascribed  10  the  Hebrew 
king.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  Solomon  was  a 
chief  authority  with  the  Jewish  exorcists,  from  whom  his 
name  and  some  of  his  supposed  formulic  of  invocation  were 
transmitted,  until  we  find  them  in  the  Cabbala  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  The  Clavkula  Salomenis  is  mentioned  by  Welling, 
Paracelsus,  and  other  writers,  and  some  copies  have  been 
preserved.  It  is  claimed  that  the  genuine  original  contained 
only  instructions  by  which  good  spirits  might  be  invoked  to 
assist  in  good  works,  but  the  variations  give  also  the  method 
of  summoning  evil  spirits.  Tn  Fauil'i  Dreifachtr  HiUlen- 
emang  (copied  in  Scheible's  JCietler),  the  Clavinäa  Salo- 
mirtus  is  given  as  it  was  communicated  to  Pope  Sylvester  by 
Conslantine,  and  translated  in  the  Vatican,  under  Pope  Julius 
IL  It  is  called  ■'  The  Necromantic  Key  of  Solomon,  or  the 
Key  to  the  Magic  Wiädom  of  Solomon,  and  to  compel  the 
Spirits  to  every  Manner  of  Service,"  and  commences  :  "  At 
first,  pray  (or  sing)  the  following  canlicum  hebnäcuiH  —  Aba, 
tarka,  maccaf,  lefar,  holech.  (scgolta), paargadol" etc.  Then 
follow  a  number  of  similar  invocations,  together  wiih  llie 
"Seal  of  the  highest  wisdom  of  Solomon,"  —  a  very  mm- 
pliC3ted  figure  of  hexagonal  form,  —  which  must  lie  li<^iil  in 
the  hand.  Faust,  as  the  reader  will  remark,  employs  an 
entirely  dificrcnt  method  of  exorcism. 

48.  Tht  Wordi  oftht  Four  bt  addrtsstd. 
The  universal  belief  in  elementary  spirits,  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  was  a  natural  inheritance  from  the  ancient 
faith.  So  much  of  their  former  half-divinity  clung  to  them 
that  they  were  assigned  an  intermediale  place  between  men 
and  genuine  spirits.  They  were  siip|)osed  to  have  positive 
and  unchangeable  ffims,  of  a  finer,  im-re  ethr  ical  (lc>li  and 


ih,Googlc 


250  FAUST. 

blood,  and  to  be  soulless,  although  the  children  born  of  their 
intercourse  with  human  Vielngs  received  humiui  souls.  They 
were  classified,  according  to  the  element  in  which  they  lived, 
as  Salamanders  (in  Fire),  Undines  (in  Water,)  Sylphs  (in 
Air),  and  Gootnes  (in  Eanb).  Of  these,  the  two  Utier 
classes  were  supposed  (o  be  most  Euniliar  and  Criendly. 

Pope  \^Rapt  of  th^  Ltek),  in  his  Dedicatory  Letter  to  Mrs. 
Arabella  Fermor,  says,  referring  to  the  Rosicrudaos  :  "The 
best  account  I  know  of  them  is  in  a  French  book  called  Lt 
Cmtu  dt  Gabaiii,  which,  both  in  its  title  and  size,  is  so  like 
a  novel,  (hat  many  of  the  fair  sex  have  read  it  for  one  by 
mistake.  According  to  these  gentlemen,  the  four  elements 
are  inhabiied  I^  spirits,  which  they  call  sylphs,  gnomes, 
nymphs,  and  salamandeit.  The  gnomes,  or  demons  of  the 
earth,  delight  in  mischief  ;but  the  sylphs,  whose  habita- 
tion is  in  the  air,  are  the  best-conditioned  creatures  imagi- 

Id  the  first  canto  of  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  (he  passage  oc- 


ill  Iheir  pride  «i^re, 


The  •prita  of  fieir  li 
Houni  Dp,  »d  lalic 
Soft.  yieldiDK  miods 


In  the  Cemtt  dt  Gabalii,  to  which  Pope  refers,  the  four 
classes  of  the  elementary  spirits  are  very  minutely  described 
It  is  there  stated  that  they  became  invisible  to  the  human 
race  through  tbe  sin  of  Adam,  that  they  are  more  perfect 
than  men,  "  proud  in  appearance,  but  docile  in  reality,  great 
lovers  of  science,  officious  towards  sages,  intolerant  towards 
fools." 

Faust,  it  will  be  noticed,  uses  "the  Words  of  the  Four," 
but  without  effect  He  then  repeals  the  adjuraliuii.  in  an' 
other  and  sttonger  form.     Here,  however,  the  word  Keiald 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  351 

(GDome)  is  omitted,  and  Incatmi,  the  dwarfish,  tricksy, 
household  spirit,  is  substituted.  In  German  feiiy-tore,  there 
is  a  relationship  between  the  two,  but  Ibey  are  not  identical. 
There  seems  to  be  no  reason  for  (he  change  ;  and,  as  Goethe 
attached  no  great  importance  to  the  passage,  (be  rhyme, 
alone,  may  have  suggested  it 

«■ 

The  original  is :  "  Thou  shalt  bear  me  more  strongly  ex- 
orcise ! "  Suspecting  that  an  inTemal  spirit  dwells  in  ihe 
beast,  Faust  makes  "  the  sign  "  of  the  cross,  and  the  effect 
is  immediately  manifest  Düntzer  says,  "  He  presents  to 
him  the  name  of  Jesus,"  —  which  is  certainly  a  misconcep- 
tion. Blackie  quotes  a  passage  from  Cornelius  Agrippa, 
declaring  that  evil  spirits  are  affrighted  by  the  sign  of  the 

Goethe,  also,  may  have  remembered  the  verse  in  the  Epis- 
tle of  James  (ii-  19):  "Thou  believest  tijat  there  is  one  God; 
thou  doest  well :  the  devils  also  believe,  and  tremble." 

50.     The  One,  tmerigitiale. 
Here  Christ  is  described,  but  not  named.    The  fonr  lines 
are.  literally : 

The  Uiwriijaiitd, 

UnuOerHl. 

DiffuHd  through  a]]  Ihc  HciT«*, 

CsUtiLf  innipierad. 

The  strong  spell  is  now  working  npon  the  spirit ;  and  the 
further  threat  of  "  the  threefold,  dazzling  glow  "  —  the  em- 
blem of  the  Divine  Trinity  —  or  its  ancient  mystic  symbol, 
the  rayed  triangle,  suiGces  to  complete  the  exordsm. 

Paust,  in  the  old  f/öllenzwaiig,  says :  "  Again  I  command 
thee.  Spirit,  by  the  words  of  might ;  Jesus  Christ  is  brctmi 
fitsh  —  therewith  1  compel  thee,  and  "lind  thee,  and  exorcise 
thee  here,  through  Lucifer  anil  Beelzebub  and  all  the  leaders 
of  the  hellish  host,  whalevei  may  be  your  names." 


ih,Googlc 


jt.    Mefhistophbles. 

The  original  fonn  of  this  name  was  MephonophUit,  Tliere 
has  been  much  discussion  in  regard  lo  iis  meaning ;  but 
Diinlzer's  conjecture  is  probably  correct,  —  that  it  was  im- 
perfectly formed  by  some  one  who  knew  little  Greek,  and 
was  intended  to  signify  net  tinting  the  light.  The  expressions 
which  Mephistopheles  uses,  in  explaining  his  nature  to  Faust, 
would  seem  to  indicate  that  this  was  also  Goethe's  under- 
standing of  the  name. 

Although,  in  most  of  the  popular  Faust -stories,  Mephis- 
topheles  is  often  leferred  to  as  "  the  Devil,"  il  was  well  Un- 
derstood that  he  was  only  a  devil.  In  "  Faust's  Miraculous 
Art  and  Book  of  Marvels,  or  the  Black  Raven"  (1469),  the 
powers  and  potentates  of  ihe  Infernal  Kingdom  are  thus 
given:  King,  Lucifer;  Viceroy,  Belial;  Gubernalorii,  ZiXva, 
Beelzebub,  Aslaroth,  Pluto ;  Chief  Princii,  Aiiel,  Mephis- 
tophills,  Marbuel,  Ariel,  Aniguel,  Anisel.  and  Barfael. 

Goethe  took  only  (he  name  and  a  few  circumstances  con- 
nected with  the  first  appearance  of  Mcphistopheles  from  the 
legend  :  the  character,  from  ürat  to  last,  is  his  own  creation. 
Although  he  sometimes  slyly  used  it  (though  less  frequently 
than  FaustI  as  a  mask  through  which  to  speak  with  his  own 
voice,  he  evidently  drew  the  germ  of  some  cllaracteti^tics 
[torn  his  eaiiy  associate,  Merck.  His  own  strong  instinct 
led  him  to  avoid  the  danger  of  personifying  abstract  ideas, 
by  seeking  in  life  for  all  material  which  could  give  a  dramatic 
reality  to  his  characters  ;  and  he  did  nut  scrnptc  to  take  that 
which  was  nearest  and  most  intimate. 

"  Merck  and  !,"  said  Goethe  to  Eckermann,  in  1831,  "al- 
ways went  together,  like  FauMt  and  Mephisto])hclcs 

All  his  pranks  and  tricks  sprang  from  the  basis  of  a  higher 
culture;  but,  as  he  was  not  a  producrivc  nature,  —  on  the 
contrary,  he  possessed  a  itrong/y  viarktd  negaliTf  Icudeney, 
—  he  was  far  more  ready  to  blame  than  praise,  and  involun- 
tarily sought  out  everything  which  might  enable  him  10  in- 
dulge his  habit." 

In  W,ihrheit  und  Dichlung  (Book  XII.)  Goelhe  gives  a 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


353 


tirafiil  and  doubtless  a  correct  picture  of  Merck's  character 
and  temperament.  "This  singular  man,"  he  savs,  "who 
exercised  the  greatest  influence  upon  my  lire,  was  a  native 
of  Darmstadt*  When  I  first  kne«  him,  he  was  Military 
Paymaster  there.  Born  with  spirit  and  intelligence,  he  had 
Acquired  much  admirable  knowledge,  especially  of  modem 
literature,  and  had  busied  himself  in  all  directions  and  with 
all  the  phenomena  of  Man  and  History.  He  had  the  faculty 
of  sharp  and  pointed  judgment,  and  was  esteemed  both  as  an 
honest,  energetic  man  of  business,  and  a  rapid  arithmetician. 
Thoroughly  self-possessed,  he  appeared  everywhere  as  a  most 
agreeable  companion  for  those  to  whom  he  had  not  made 
himself  dreaded  by  his  keen,  satirical  speetli.  He  «as  long 
and  lean  of  form  ;  his  prominent,  pointed  nost  uas  a  con- 
spicuous feature  ;  keen  blue,  perhaps  gray  eyes,  observantly 
moving  to  and  fro,  gave  something  of  trie  tiger  to  his 
look.  .... 

"  In  his  character  there  was  a  remarkable  contradiction. 
Naturally  an  upright,  noble,  worthy  man,  he  was  imbitiered 
against  the  world,  and  allowed  such  full  sway  to  this  moody 
peculiarity  that  he  felt  an  invincible  inclination  to  show  him- 
self wilfully  as  a  w^gish  knave,  —  nay,  even  a  rc^e.  Calm, 
reasonable,  good,  one  moment,  the  next  he  would  lake  a 
whim,  tike  a  snail  thrusting  out  its  horns,  to  dn  something 
which  offended,  aggrieved,  or  even  positively  injured  another 
Vet,  as  one  is  attracted  to  associate  with  something  danger- 
ous, when  one  Imagines  himself  to  be  secure  against  ii^  at- 
tack, my  own  inclination  was  all  the  greater  to  live  in  his 
company  and  enjoy  his  good  qualitic>i,  since  I  fell  the  most 
confident  presentiment  that  he  would  not  turn  his  evit  side 

*  He  wu  bom  in  1741,  iml  «i  theiefoteeight  T«nolder  ihn  Goeih«. 
He  InxllEd,  u  1  yaung  man.  «jih  1  Bunn  von  Bibia,  marritd  1  Fiench 
iroBun  in  GcnEva,  >Dd  llicn  Hilled  in  hi>  nilive  uwii.  His  liienry 
m  the  English  (among  lliem.  Addison's 
Lpen  in  (he  periodicalB  of  Ihe  day ;  but 
n,  «pecially  Heidcr.  Crpcihr,  >nd  La- 


D,r,lP<.-JM,GOOglC 


154  FAUST. 

towards  me.  As,  on  (he  one  hand,  he  disturbed  society  by 
this  morally  restless  spirit,  this  continual  necessity  to  dea> 
with  men  spitefully  and  maliciously,  so,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  diflcrent  unrest,  which  be  also  carefully  nourished  within 
liimselt  undermined  his  own  contentment." 

In  Widmann's  Faust-book,  Mephiatopheles  appears  in  the 
character  of  a  monk.  Id  the  Geisselbrecht  puppel-play 
Faust  commands  him  to  put  off  his  firsl  terrible  form,  and 
says  :  "  Thou  mayst  come  as  jurist,  as  doctor,  or  as  hunter, 
but  it  were  belter  (hat  thou  appcarest  as  a  student."  In  the 
Ulm  version,  when  Mephistopbeies  asks  :  ''  In  what  form 
shall  I  appear?"  Fauat  answers:  "Like  as  a  man."  In 
the  Strasburg  play,  Faust  asks,  afler  having  chosen  Mephts- 
topheles  :  "  But  why  appearest  thou  lo  me  under  this  mask? 
I  wished  for  a  devil,  and  not  one  of  my  own  race."  Mephia- 
topheles answers  :  "  Faust,  perhaps  we  are  then  wholly  dev- 
ils, when  we  resemble  you ;  at  least,  no  other  mask  suits  us 
better  "  He  IhcreaAer  next  makes  bis  appearance  as  a  pot- 
tiliun. 

Goethe's  choice  of  (he  character  of  a  (ravelling  scholar  — 
or,  I  should  perhaps  say,  a  vagabond  scholar — was  prob- 
ably dictated  by  (he  succeeding  scene  (IV.],  which  was  tirsC 
written.  Ano(her  projected  scene,  given  in  the  Faralipo- 
mtaa  (and  added  in  a  later  note),  furnishes  additional  rea- 
sons. The  (ravelling  scholars  of  the  Middle  Ages  were  a 
pretentious,  adventurous  class  —  the  pedaiKic  Bohemians  of 
those  days  —  who  wandered  over  Europe,  maintaining  theses, 
entering  into  private  or  public  discussions  with  equal  flip- 
pancy, and  sponging  upon  the  universities  and  monasteries. 
The  appearance  of  Mephistopheles  in  such  a  form  is  an  iron- 
ical retlecdon  upon  Faust's  devo(ion  to  learning ;  yet  (he 
latter  is  unconscious  of  this,  and  his  first  surprise  gives  way 
to  a  contemptuous  laugh. 

52.     /»  namei  like  Beelzebub,  Destroyer,  Father  of  Lies. 

In  the  original,  the  first  of  these  names  is  given  as  Fliesen- 

gttt.  Fly-god.     For  the  sake  of  metre,  I   have  sulistituied 

our  familiar  Hebrew  equivalent,  Beelzebub  —  or,  more  cor 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


"5S 


rectly,  Baaltebuh.     "Desiroyer"  and  liar,  or  "Father  of 

Li«s,"  are  also  familiar  to  us  as  Abaddon  and  Saian.  Faus| 
musi  be  supposed  to  accept  the  orders  of  the  infernal  hie^ 
rarchy,  as  given  in  the  cabalistic  writings,  whence  his  en- 
deavor to  identify  Ihe  particular  fiend  whom  he  has  invoked. 

53.     lata  tie  SpirU  that  Dotitt, 

In  declaring  himself,  first,  to  be  part  of  that  power  "  which 
always  wills  the  Bad,  and  always  works  the  Good,"  Meph- 
iBtopheles  is  unexpectedly  frank.  His  expression  coincides 
eiiactly  with  the  declaration  of  The  Lord  (see  page  15),  as  to 
Ihe  service  he  is  obliged  to  perfortn. 

In  the  passage  which  follows,  he  is  equally  honest,  and  the 
above  line  clearly  describes  the  part  which  he  plays,  from 
beginning  to  end.  He  is  the  Spirit  of  Negation,  and  hii 
being  exists  thiough  opposition  to  the  positive  Truth,  and 
Order,  and  Beauty,  which  proceed  from  the  never-ending 
creative  energy  of  the  Deity.  The  masks  which  we  find  him 
assuming  In  the  Second  Part  of  Fauii  are  all  explained  by 
this  necessity  of  Negation.  His  irreverence  and  irony  are 
not  only  a  part  of  his  nature,  but  they  are  further  increased 
by  the  impotence  of  his  efibrls  —  which  he  freely  admits  in 
the  following  pass^es  —  to  disturb  the  Divine  system. 

Mephistopheles  draws  his  theory  of  the  primeval  darkness 
from  the  Theogony  of  Hesiod.  His  reference  to  "  bodies  " 
■hows  that  he  understands  the  physical  and  spiritual  identity 
of  light  and  life.  Since  we  have  seen  that,  in  Widmann's 
Faust-book,  he  prohibits  to  Faust  the  reading  of  the  Gospel 
of  John,  we  may  surmise  a  connection  between  his  hostility 
to  light  and  these  verses  from  the  first  chapter  of  that  GoS' 
pel:- 

"  In  him  was  life ;  and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men. 

"  And  the  light  shineth  in  darkness ;  and  the  darkness 
comprehended  it  not." 

54-    FrVM  Ifater,  Earth,  and  Air  unfoldii^, 
A  thouiattd  germs  break  forth  and  grovi. 
"  Let  men  continue  to  worship  Him  who  gives  the  ox  his 


ih,Googlc 


356  FAUST. 

pasture,  and  to  man  food  and  drink,  according  to  his  need. 
But  I  worship  Him,  who  has  filled  the  world  with  such  a 
productive  energy,  ihat,  if  only  the  millionth  pari  became 
embodied  in  living  existences,  the  globe  would  so  swarm 
with  them  that  War,  Pestilenc«,  Flood  and  Fire  would  be 
powerless  to  diminish  them.  That  is  my  God!"  —  Getiht 
ta  Etiirmami,  tSji. 

55.  nU  msar^s-faet  thai  on  your  thrcihald  maiit  ii. 
In  the  original,  Drudtnjias.  Drud,  from  one  root  with 
Druid,  was  the  old  German  word  for  "  wizard,"  The  wii- 
ard's-fooi,  or  pentagram,  was  supposed  to  possess  an  espe- 
ciai  potency  against  evil  spirits.  It  is  simply  a  Gve-rayed 
Mar,  thus :  — 


Its  efficacy  undoubtedly  sprang  from  the  circumstance  thai 

It  resolves  itself  into  three  triangles,  and  is  thus  a  triple  sym- 
bol of  the  Trinity.  Paracelsus  ascribes  a  similar,  though  a 
lesser,  degree  of  virtue  to  the  hexagram.  Another  pecul- 
iarity of  the  pentagram  is,  thai  it  may  be  drawn  complete 
from  one  point,  without  lifting  the  pencil,  and  therefore  be- 
longs to  those  ittvolunlary  hieroglyphics  which  we  some- 
times make,  in  moments  of  abstraction.  Thus  Tennyson,  id 
Thi  Braoi :  — 


ilched  her 


u  IrtMn  idiDC 


On  gl 


56.    Song  of  ti 

Thiü  remarkable   chant  is  kr 

himself  being,  I  believe,  the  firsi 

Eintchlä/erungilUd,  or  Lullaby, 


SptRITS. 

rn   in   Gennany  {Goethe 

1  so  designate  it)  as  the 
1  is  one  of  the  few  things 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


m 


in  the  work  which  have  proved  lo  be  a  little  too  much  for 
the  commenlators,  and  they  have  generally  let  it  alone.  By 
dropping  all  philosophical  theories,  however,  and  applying 
to  il  only  ihc  conditions  of  Poetic  Art,  wc  shall  find  it  easily 
comprehensible.  Faust  is  hardly  aware  (although  Mephis- 
lopheles  is]  chat  a  part  of  his  almost  despairing  impatience 
springs  from  the  lack  of  all  enjoyment  of  physical  life  ;  and 
the  first  business  of  these  attendant  spirits  is  to  unfold  be- 
fore his  enchanted  eyes  a  series  of  dim,  dissolving  views  — 
sweet,  formless,  fantastic,  and  thus  all  the  more  dangeriiusly 
alluring  —  oCscnsuo'is  delight.  The  pictures  are  blurred,  as 
in  a  semi-dream  :  ihey  present  nothing  positive,  upon  which 
Faust's  mind  could  fix,  or  by  which  it  might  be  startled  :  but 
they  leave  an  impression  behind,  which  gradually  works  it- 
■elf  into  form.  The  echo  of  the  wild,  weird,  interlinked  mel- 
ody remains  in  his  soul,  and  he  is  not  supposed  to  be  con- 
scious of  its  operation,  even  when,  in  Che  following  scene,  he 
IS  to  MephisCopheles:  — 


The  rhythmical  translation  of  this  song  —  which,  without 
the  original  rhythm  and  rhyme,  would  lose  nearly  all  its 
value  —  is  a  head  and  heart  breaking  task.  I  can  only  gay 
that,  after  returning  to  il  again  and  again,  during  a  period 
of  dz  yean,  I  can  offer  nothing  better. 

57.  Iiemi,  a  squirt  of  high  dtgree. 
The  word  Junktr,  which  Mephistopheles  uses,  corre- 
sponds exactly  with  "squire,"  as  a  term  of  chivalry.  In  the 
text  of  the  puppet-play,  when  he  makes  his  appearance  the 
second  time,  he  is  described  as  viahl^kleidit  —  ies]iectably 
diessed  His  costume  on  the  puppec-stage  was  a  red  tunic, 
undei  a  long  mantle  of  black  silk,  and  a  cock's -feather  in  his 
hat.  Goethe  purposely  retains  this  costume,  because  it  is 
Biiflüciently  appropriate  to  his  conception  of  the  character, 
which  he  expressly  declares  is  too  negative  to  I«?  daimonic. 
One  of  the  very  few  hints  of  his  inieniion  which  he  allowed 


ih,Googlc 


258  FAUST. 

to  escape  him  occurs  in  his  conversation  with  an  English 
gentleman  in  i8as,  as  reported  by  Eckermann.  "  Really," 
said  he, "  I  should  not  have  advised  you  to  read  Fatat.  It 's 
änlastic  stuff,  and  transcends  all  ordinary  sentiment.  But. 
since  you  have  begun  of  your  oim  accord,  without  asking 
.ae.  you  may  get  through  it  the  best  way  you  can.  Faust  is 
so  singular  an  individual  chat  only  a  few  persons  can  repro- 
duce his  spiritual  conditions  in  their  own  minds.  Then  the 
character  of  Mephistopheles,  through  his  irony,  and  as  Ikt 
titling  riiuU  of  a  vait  obtervatüm  of  tie  visrld,  is  also  some- 
thing very  difficult  to  comprehend." 

Compare,  also,   the  remarks  of  Mephistopheles  to  the 
witch,  in  Scene  VI. :  — 


58.  7»»»  life  ef  earth,  whateuer  my  attire, 
fVbuldpain  ml  in  ill  wontfd foihton. 
The  first  fragment  of  the  Faralipemina  possibly  belong» 
here,  although  there  is  also  a  place  for  it  towards  ihc  close 
of  the  scene.  In  the  following  lines,  omitted  alike  in  the 
editions  of  1790  and  1808,  Mephistopheles  continues  to  ad- 
vise a  change  of  costume ;  — 

Wboi  with  exlcnials  Ihou  in  well  endowat 
AU  vitl  ironnd  th«  flock,  and  lUiter : 
A  chip  who  '1  not  a  lililc  viin  or  proud, 
Had  bener  hang,  and  end  ihe  nutter. 

I  have  not  been  able  to  and  any  evidence  concerning  the 
date  of  these  rejected  passages  of  Faml.  Most  of  the  Ger- 
man critics  agree  that  the  first  part  of  the  scene,  withheld  in 
the  first  edition,  was  afterwards  materially  altered  by  Goethe ; 
some  of  them  even  venture  to  point  out  Ihe  portions  remain- 
ing from  1775,  and  those  added  in  1798,  or  later.  Since, 
however,  the  slight  difference  of  style  perceptible  in  the  text 
must  disappear  in  the  translation,  it  is  not  neccAsaiy  to  re- 
peat their  views. 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  155 

59-     Thtn,  alle,  eamii  no  nil  to  wu. 
"  When  I  tajr,  My  bed  shall  comfort  me,  my  couch  shall 
ease  my  complunl ; 

**Thcn  thOD  scarest  me  with  dreams,  and  tcnifiest  me 
through  visions : 

"  So  that  my  soul  chooseth  strangling,  and  death  rather 
than  my  life,"  —  JW  »ii  13,  14,  15- 

6a    Chorus  of  Spirits. 

Faost's  cune,  which  includes  even  the  sentiment  of  child- 
ish ^th  that  overcame  him  on  the  Euter  motning,  places 
him,  nnconsdously,  in  the  power  of  Mephitlopheles.  The 
Chorus  of  Spirits  indicates,  in  a  few  powerfiil  lines,  bis  rup- 
ture with  the  order  of  life.  The  first  words  of  Mephistoph- 
eles  which  follow,  would  lead  the  reader  to  suppose  that 
the  spirits  were  infernal,  and  thus  a  singular  discrepancy  be- 
tween their  character  and  their  expressions  is  implied.  DUnt- 
ler  says  :  "  Their  cry  of  woe  and  their  lament  over  the  beauty 
of  the  world,  which  Faust  has  shattered,  together  with  his 
designaüon  as  demigod,  can  only  be  accepted  as  3.  scoffing 
irony  of  the  spirits,  which,  equally  with  Mephistopheles,  well 
know  that  they  can  give  him  no  real  compensation  for  the 
Ibrtiine  which  he  has  criminally  rejected."  Deycks's  com- 
ment  is  less  l<^ca] :  "  He  (Faust)  can  only  recover  through 
bis  own  act ;  in  his  resolute  breast,  by  clear  JnteUigence,  he 
cut  create  a  soil  vrberelrom  new  songs  will  shoot.  The 
spirits  allure  to  a  life  of  deeds  and  poetry,  to  the  broad, 
great  world.    Atid  Mtphiil^htUs  efftrt  khnMlf  ai  a  guide." 

In  Leutbecher's  work,  however,  I  find  a  hint  of  what  I 
believe  to  be  the  true  intention  of  this  Chorus.  He  says : 
"The  pure  spirits  who  direct  the  harmonies  of  existence  la- 
ment over  his  (Faust's)  step,  and  encourage  him  to  com- 
mence another  and  fairer  career.  But  Mephistopheles  calls 
these  voices  precociously  shrewd,  and  proposes  the  condi- 
tions of  his  compact,  promising  delights  which,  in  advance, 
ippear  worthless  to  Faust."  The  laiaent  is  certainly  not 
konical ;  on  the  contrary,  the  course  of  the  drama,  as  it  i* 


ih,Googlc 


26o  FAUST. 

afterwards  developed,  is  here  shadowed  forth  hj  the  spiritii 
and  Mephistophcles  no  more  compiehends  them  than  Fauit. 
He  is  deceived,  as  in  the  Fifth  Act  of  the  Second  Part. 

In  the  Augsburg  pnppet-piay,  Faust  is  attended  by  a  good 
Genius,  who,  when  be  has  signed  the  compact  with  Mephis- 
tophelet,  exclaims :  "  Woe  to  thy  miserable  soul  1  "  and  dU- 

6l.  A  Mi^  and  Law  otir  souls  auiait 
"  Oh  why  must  we,  in  order  to  speak  of  such  things,  use 
images  which  only  represent  eitemal  conditions  I  Where  is 
there  anything  high  or  low,  obscuie  or  enlightened,  in  His 
sight  ?  We,  only,  have  an  Above  and  Below,  a  Day  and  a 
Night.  And  just  therein  did  He  (Christ)  resemble  us,  be- 
cause  we  should  otherwise  have  no  share  in  Him." —  (Kf- 
fc/m  JIfnsUr  [Cen/esiieiu  of  a  Fair  Spirit). 
Goethe  also  places  one  of  these  phrases  — 

"  And/M  he  dowen  wilh  Day  lod  Night  I"  — 
in  the  mouth  of  Mephistophcles,  aRer  the  compact 

6l.    Shaw  mt  tht  fruits  thai,  ire  they  'tr  gathtred,  rot. 
This  passage  has  given  rise  to  a  great  deal  of  discussion. 
The  offer  of  Mephistophcles,  — 

which  provokes  Faust's  exclamation,  is  suggested  by  the 
puppBt'play.  In  the  Strassburg  version,  Mephislophelcs  says  t 
"  I  will  fill  for  thee  the  goblet  of  delight,  full  and  foaming, 
as  it  never  yet  has  been  filled  to  any  moital." 

Faust's  reply  seems  to  have  puzzled  many  of  the  commen- 
tators, some  of  whom  —  as  Deycks.  Härtung.  Rosencranz 
and  Leulbecher  —  pass  it  over  with  slight  notice,  while 
others  endeavor  to  analyze  the  meaning.  The  following 
quotations  embrace   the   prircipal   varieties  of  imerpreta- 

t,  "  I  know  thy  rotten  gifts,  says  Faust.  Which  of  thj 
fine  goods  of  the  earth  wilt  thou  offer  me  t  How  could  the 
like  of  thee  ever  be  capable  of  measuring  the  unquiet  of 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  261 

man's  breast  ?  Hast  thou  food  to  serve  ui>  nhich  never  sat- 
isfies ?  Or  canst  thou  only  show  trees  which  daily  bloom 
anew  and  bud  again  ?  I  loathe  this  foliage  of  yesterday,  this 
tale  which,  ever  the  same,  is  told  in  the  momiog,  and  in  the 
evening  dies  away  again  — '  show  me  the  fruit  that  rots  be- 
Ibre  it  is  gathered,  and  trees  that  daily  renew  their  green  1 '  '' 
—Falk. 

X.  "  The  promise  of  Mephistopheles  appears  to  Faus. 
but  mockery.  What  can  a  devil  give  a  man  Co  satisfy  him, 
when  he  is  not  capable  of  giving  it  to  himself  ?  The  gifts  of 
a  devit,  he  says,  arc  but  delusions,  and  melt  away  in  the 
same  manner  as  bis  quicksilver-like  gold  ;  thus  he  can  only 
bestow  fruits  which  would  not  rot  before  the  plucking,  but 
no  ever-budding  tree  sprouts  forth  beneath  his  skill  and  fos- 
tering." —  StAuiarih. 

3.  "The  meaning  plainly  is:  —  T  know  well  Ihou.  poor 
devil,  hast  riches  and  other  fleeting  pleasures,  that  excite 
our  longing  only  that  they  may  elude  our  gtasp,  that  dazzle 
only  to  deceive,  and  whose  substantial  worth  is  always  in  the 
inversr  ratio  of  their  outward  promise.  Wouldst  thou  al- 
lure me,  thou  roust  hold  out  fruits  that  rot,  not  a/ler,  but 
iefire  they  are  broken,  and  thus  cannot,  like  the  fruits  of 
mere  sensuality,  deceive  us  by  an  external  glow  when  lem[il- 
ing  us  on  the  tree,  but  rotting  whenever  the  hand  of  enjoy- 
ment is  stretched  forth  to  pluck  them.  .Show  me  no  frail 
blossom  of  a  fleeting  spring,  but  '  trees  which  day  by  day 
their  green  repair, '_"  —  Blaeiie. 

4.  "  The  most  probable  supposition  is,  thai  Faust's  mean- 
ing is  pretty  near  ihe  same  as  in  the  subsequent  speech,  in 
which  he  expresses  a  wish  to  enjoy  all  thai  is  parceled  out 
among  mankind,  pain  and  pleasure,  success  and  disappoint- 
ment, indifferently.  Taking  this  wish  into  con<:>deration,  we 
may  well  suppose  him  saying  :  '  You  can  give  nothing  of  any 
real  value  in  the  eyes  of  a  man  like  me  ;  but  if  you  have  the 
common  perishable  enjoyments  of  humanity  to  bestow,  let 
me  have  them."" — Haymard. 

5.  "  Faust  admits  that  the  devil  has  all  the  different  kinds 
of  Sodom-apples  which  he  has  enumeraled,  gold  ihat  melis 


ih,Googlc 


»MWj  in  the  hand,  glory  that  vanishes  like  a  meteor,  and 
pleasure  that  perishes  in  the  possession.  But  a]l  these  tor- 
ments arc  too  insipid  for  Faust's  morbid  and  mad  hankering 
»fler  the  luxury  of  spiritual  pain.  Show  me,  he  say»,  the 
fruit  that  rots  ie/ert  one  can  pluck  it,  and  (a  still  stronger 
expression  of  his  diseased  craving  for  agony)  trees  that  fade 
so  quickly  as  to  be  every  day  just  putting  forth  new  green, 
only  to  tantalize  one  with  perpetual  promise  and  perpetual 
disappointment."  —  Broekt. 

A  careful  study  of  the  structure  of  the  passage  does  not 
permit  me  to  accept  any  of  these  Interpretations.  Omitting 
the  first  three  lines,  the  remainder  is  a  single  sentence,  vio- 
lently interrupted  by  a  dasA  ( — )  at  the  end  of  the  eighth  line. 
The  two  lines  which  follow  are  contemptuous  and  scornful 
metaphors,  summing  up  the  catalogue  of  the  deceitful  gifis 
which  Faust  admits  Mephietopheles  can  offer.  They  simply 
repeat,  in  another  form,  what  he  has  declared  in  the  pre- 
ceding lines.  He  commences  the  enumeration  of  the  pleas- 
ures whose  worthlessness  he  knows, — gold,  love,  honor, — 
then,  breaking  off  impatiently,  exclaims,  referring  to  thos« 
pleasures :- 


These  images  express  the  cheating,  disappointing,  inade- 
quate character  of  all  the  usual  desires  of  men,  to  "a  human 
■out,  in  its  supreme  endeavor."  The  lone  of  the  passage  is 
keenly  scornful  and  incredulous.  Faast  seriously  desires 
nothing  from  Mephistopheles,  not  even  the  morbid  luxiu^  at 
self-torment ;  and  in  the  bet  which  he  offers,  immediately  af- 
terwards, his  reference  (o  "an  idler's  bed"  seems  to  have 
been  su^ested  by  the  words  of  Mephislophles,  rather  than 
by  the  craving  of  his  own  nature  for  repose. 

63.      Whtn  Ikw  I  hail  thi  Moment  flying: 
"Ah,  slill  delay  —  thtnt  art  se  fair !" 
Here  Faust  becomes  earnest  and  definite.     The  one  mo- 
xient  of  supreme  contentment  is  for  him  a  symbol  of  endlen 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  203 

opacity  for  happiness.  The  wager  wiih  Mephistophele« 
rests  upon  this  couplet,  which  the  leadet  tnnst  bear  in  hit 
memoiy  until  he  meets  with  it  again,  at  the  close  of  the 
Second  Part. 

There  is  no  condition  of  this  nature  in  the  Faust -legends. 
The  compact  there  is,  that  Faust  shall  have  whatever  he  de- 
sires for  the  term  of  tnenty-four  years,  when  he  passes,  body 
and  soul,  into  the  power  of  Mephistophdes.  The  only  slight 
resemblance  to  this  passage,  in  any  of  the  various  versions, 
may  be  found  in  the  Straasburg  play,  where  Mephistopheles 
says :  ■*  Faust,  have  I  not  said  to  thee,  thou  canst  thyself 
break  the  hour-glass  of  thy  time  P    Thou  hast  done  it  in  this 


64-      ThtH  at  tkt  DKlorf -banquet  I,  to-day. 
Mephistopheks  refers  to  the  inauguration  feast,  given  tm 
taking  a  degree- 
OS-    And  aU  vf  lift  for  ail  mankind  ereaied. 
■  We  are  justly  told,"  Goethe  continued,  "  that  the  cultl- 
Taiion  in  common  of  human  capacities  is  desirable,  and  also 
the  most  important  of  aims.    But  man  was  not  bom  for  that ; 
properly  each  one  must  develop  himself  as  a  particular  indi- 
vidual, hut  also  endeavor  to  attain  an  apprehension  of  what 
all  are,  collectively."  —  Etkermann,  iS^S' 

This  scene  commences  with  the  above  line,  in  the  edition 
ot'  1790,  and  continues  to  the  end  in  its  present  form,  with- 
ont  the  change  of  a  word. 

66i  And  I  ikali  have  tkttfast  and  mrt  I  — 
Goethe  frequently  makes  use  of  a  dasA  10  denote  both  a 
cb?.nge  in  the  address  and  a  movement  of  the  speaker.  The 
passage  discussed  in  Note  62  is  already  an  instance  of  this 
peculiarity.  Here,  Mephistopheles  looks  after  Faust's  re- 
treating figure,  and  addresses  him  as  if  he  were  still  present 
At  the  end  of  the  above  line,  he  turns  away  and  ci 
his  soliloquy,  speaking  of  Faust  in  the  third  peisoD. 


ih,Googlc 


204  FAUST. 

67.     Encheircsin  naturz,  Ihii  Chtinistry  namis. 
With  the  introduciion  of  the  Student  (whom  we  shall  me« 
again,  in  (lie  Second  Part,  39  Baaalauraii),  Mephistopheles 
not  only  assumes  Ihc  manlle  of  Faust,  but  Goelhe  also  as- 
sumes the  tnask  of  Mcphistopheles.    The  episode,  which  is 

with  Merck,  and  while  his  experience  of  academic  teaching 
was  still  fresh  and  far  from  edifying.  He  gives  the  following 
account  (in  Wahrheit  und  Dichtung)  of  his  study  oi  logic,  at 
the  University  of  I-eipiig  :  "  I  was  at  first  diligent  and  faithful 
in  attending  the  lectures,  but  I  remained  as  much  in  the  dark 
about  philosophy  as  before.  In  logic,  I  found  it  altogether 
unaccountable  why  those  operations  of  the  mind,  which  I 
had  from  my  earliest  years  performed  with  the  greatest  ease. 
should  first  be  anatomized,  individuaiiied,  and  torn  from  iheir 
natural  union,  before  one  could  know  how  to  use  them  Of 
the  subject-matter  of  God,  the  world  and  the  soul,  1  thought 
I  knew  jusi  as  much  as  my  master,  and  he  seemed  to  me,  on  - 
not  3  few  points  to  be  sadly  nonplussed." 

The  "  Spanish  boots,"  of  which  Mephistopheles  speaks, 
were  Instruments  of  torture  used  in  ihe  Middle  Ages.  They 
were  cases  of  wood,  into  which  wedges  were  driven  until  the 
calves  of  the  victim's  legs  were  compressed  into  the  smallest 
possible  space. 

From  logic,  Mephistopheles  passes  to  the  method  of  seien- 
tific  investigation,  wherein  Goelhe  seems  lo  have  remembered 
the  couplet  of  Pope ;  — 

"  Like  Ibltowing  life  in  CKiIurei  we  diuect. 


with  Falk  (translated  by  Mrs.  Aiislir 
expresses  corresponding  views  :  "  Our  scientific  men 
rather  too  fond  of  details.  They  count  out  to  us  the  w 
consistency  of  earth  in  separate  lots,  and  are  so  happ 
to  have  a  separate  name  for  every  lot.  Thai  is  »rgillac 
earth;  that  is  quartz;  that  is  this,  and  this  is  that, 
what  am  I  the  better  if  I  am  ever  so  perfect  in  all  c 


ih,Googlc 


lumes }    When  I  hear  them,  1  »Iway«  think  at  the  old  litie» 
in  Faust,  — 


"What  am  I  the  better  for  these  lots?  what  fot  iheir 
names  !  I  want  to  know  what  it  is  that  impels  every  several 
portion  of  the  universe  to  seek  out  some  other  portion,  — 
either  to  rule  or  to  obey  it,  —  and  qualifies  some  for  the  one 
part  and  some  for  the  other,  according  to  a  law  innate  in 
them  all,  and  operating  like  a  voluntary  choice,  liut  (his  is  ■ 
precisely  the  point  upon  which  the  most  perfect  and  universal 
silence  prevails." 

In  a  letter  lo  Wacltenroder,  Professor  of  Chemistry  at 
Jena,  written  in  January,  1832.  Goethe  says  ;  Notwithstand- 
ing we  willingly  allow  to  Nature  her  secret  Enihtinsii, 
whereby  she  creates  and  sustains  life,  and,  although  no 
mystics,  we  must  finally  admit  the  existence  of  an  inscruta- 
ble something,  —  ^et  man  cannot,  if  his  aim  be  earnest,  re- 
strain himself  Irom  the  attempt  10  drive  the  Inscrutable  into 
such  close  quarters  that  he  is  at  least  satisfied  and  willing 
to  confess  himself  defeated." 

The  phrase  tiuheirisin  natura  signifies,  property,  "  a  treat- 
ment of  Nature."  Here,  however,  Goeihe  seems  rather  lo 
indicate  the  mysterious,  elusive  tbrce  by  which  Nature  oper- 
ates. 

68.     As  did  the  Holy  Ghost  dielati  lo  thie. 

The  practice  of  taking  notes  of  the  discourses  which  they 
hear,  is  universal  among  the  German  students.  Many  oi 
the  Professors  encourage  it  by  adopting  a  very  slow,  mc.ii- 
ured  style  of  delivery.  The  advice  of  Mcjihistopheles  is 
the  keenest  irony  upon  these  formal  methods  of  imparling 
knowledge. 


ttstubly  r^ecl 
VOUL 


ih,Googlc 


69-     On  vionls  Ittyeur  attentiaK  imtrt. 
In  the   Witches'  Kitchen   (Scene  VI.]    MephUtophelCB 

■■M>nu«itllybeli«e 
That  alio  wilh  Itaem 

EUewherCi  however,  Goethe  says  i  "  Unfortunately,  words 
ire  usually  mere  expedients  Tor  man ;  he  mostly  thinks 
and  knom  a  thing  belter  ihan  he  eipreases  iL"  In  the 
> above  passage,  Mef^istopheles  probably  refers  to  "the 
letter  that  killeth,"  and  exalts  it,  in  consonance  with  his 
character. 

70.  Tiu  halt  norlJ,  and  then  lie  great,  w  'U  ta. 
The  programme  of  both  parts  of  Fatut  is  given  in  this  line. 
No  reference  lo  the  cabalistic  Microcosm  and  Macrocosm  is 
intended :  "  the  liitic  world  "  is  here  Faust's  individual  ex- 
perience of  human  desires  and  passions ;  he  issues  from  his 
seclusion  to  share  in  the  ordinary  histary  of  men.  This 
plan  is  developed,  so  far  as  necessary,  in  the  First  Part, 
"Ihe  great  world  "  is  life  on  a  broader  stage  of  action  :  in- 
tellectual forces  arc  substituted  for  sentiments  and  passions : 
the  narrow  interests  of  the  individual  are  merged  in  those  of 
the  race  ;  and  Government,  War,  activity  on  »  grand  scale 
and  for  Dniversal,  permanent  ends,  succeed,  in  order  that 
Faust's  knowledge  of  the  life  of  man  shall  be  rounded  into 
completeness.  The  Second  Fait  of  the  work  is  devoted  to 
this  latter  experience. 

71.  /fiel  se  imall  ii/are  otAeri,  and  Oenet 
Sim/d  alurayijbid  emiarTjuimenti. 
The  following  passage  is  the  second  of  the  Para/ifimnena, 
and  »as  undoubtedly  designed  as  an  answer  to  the  above 
lines.  It  seems  to  have  been  written  at  a  later  period,  and 
we  may  conjecture  that  Goethe  omitted  the  lines  because 
they  are  not  in  accord  with  the  manner  of  Mephistophele* 
tbtougboot  the  scene  ;  — 


ih,Googlc 


Lm»  ihu  from  DM  u>  iBcct  Soctetjp  t 

I  CDioc.  both  cheerful  and  caDeclad, 

And  every  heart  is  wcn-affecied ; 

i  laugh,  and  each  one  ^aagha  with  BK- 

Rtlj.  Hke  me,  Dpon  your  own  pretenaa ; 

There  'i  Kiaielhiiig  to  be  dared,  you  mint  Rfiecl ; 

For  even  women  eaaily  foipve  oAencca, 

If  ooe  reapectfully  far^ea  respecL 

Not  in  divinrng-roda  nor  mandrake  IraipC 

1  do  not  lee  how  Lroiible  could  beUIn 
Then  lo  Ihe  work,  and  show  no  hesilalion  t 
1  only  dread  Iha  prepaniioo- 

7*  IgrattUaU  thte  on  thy  iva  carttr. 
The  "  Dispuution,"  which  Goeihe  projected,  for  the  far- 
ther and  clearer  preaentalion  of  the  characters  of  Faust, 
Wagner,  and  Mephistopheles,  was  probably  intended  to 
follow  this  scene.  From  the  rough  draught  of  his  plan, 
retained  in  the  Paralipomtna,  Ihe  reader  may  guese,  not 
only  the  manner  in  which  Ihe  rejected  scene  would  have 
been  developed,  but  also  the  considerations  which  compelled 
its  rejection.  I  shall,  therefore,  give  Goethe's  brief  and  not 
always  (to  any  but  himself)  intelligible  piose  outline,  in- 
serting the  half-dozen  rhythmical  fragments  in  what  appear 
tu  be  (heir  appropriate  places. 

Fiw  Semichonia,  Setond  Stmichoiui,   Tiaii  ai  the  Siudenla.  tx- 


STUDHNTSfW«,»), 

'ho  tpeaka.  (brgelt  bolh  meal  and  drink  in  » 
III  be  who  hears,  growt  bint  al  laat. 


ih,Googlc 


The  Rector  lo  ibc  budle.     The  bodl»  command  otder. 

TJie  T11AV.LUBG  SCHoi-»«  (Mephiilophela)  «men.  Abim  l>n 
ar'iemblr.  Chonu  d(  ■mdenu,  hiU;  enlin.  Abiuea  Ibe  reapondenl. 
Tht  Ivter  dtcUn«. 

Go  oDl  [  anne  in  f    Each  keep  hb  plice  in  qui«  I 

Upon  (bii  ihreahoJd  wbil  >  riot  1 

Hake  nan,  uHlhoul  I  let  thote  within  retiie. 

Then  fill  (heir  uua  u  yoo  duiie  I 
Faukt  accepla  lb«  challeage.    Cotideiniii  hia  iwaggeriog,     Dcmanda 
MrrHiaTOrHKLRs  complLea,  bnl  imnediaulybegiaa  a  prain  of  vagi- 


'•of  the  mndering  race,  Ihewighl; 
•wagseiB.  jm  he  'i  in  the  righl. 
Lbia  picture  of  the  tagabond' 

Fonng  of  kDowledee,  lackini  la  th*  «iadom  of  ibe 


Who  apeaki  of  doubt*!  Let  1 
Who  daubu,  miut  never  leacb 
Who  leachei,  muii  be  pmiiivi 


UiPHiSToruaLia.    Glacier 
Min. 

Faust.    CodcIujIod.     Diimiraal. 

Ckoius  u  Maioiilr  and  Minority  of  the  heiren. 

Wacnei's  fear,  thai  the  ipiriu  may  utter  what  Man 


arti  of  either  Semichoma  Gnelhe'*  reference  10  lu 
n  Iron]  the  Unitenilir  of  Leipiig.  where,  durii^  hi 
imber  of  the  poorer  »rudenia  were  grmtiiilonaJy  Ivmiahe 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  169 

Ii  is  also  possible  that  tbia  Disputation  may  have  been 
designed  as  a  substitute  for  the  conveisation  between  Meph 
Istopheies  and  the  Student,  in  which  case  it  must  hav>, 
been  projected  at  Rome,  in  the  spring  of  17SS.  On  the  1st 
of  March,  thai  year,  Goethe  writes  ;  "  It  has  been  an  abun- 
dant week,  and  in  memoiy  it  seems  like  a  month.  First,  I 
ananged  the  plan  of  Fauil,"  etc.  Göschen's  edition  of  his 
works,  in  1790,  was  meant  to  be  complete,  up  lo  that  year, 
and  the  publication  of  Fault,  as  a  "  Fragment,"  in  the  sev- 
enth volume,  may  have  been  due  to  that  drcumsiance  alone. 

73.    Aubrbach's  Cbllar  in  Liipzio. 

The  locality  of  this  scene  possesses  a  double  interest, 
through  its  connection  with  the  early  Faust-i^end  and  with 
the  academic  years  of  the  young  Goethe.  If  the  stranger 
who  visits  Leipzig  will  seek  the  large,  ancient  house.  No.  1, 
CnnijnitüMfilfriui/,  near  the  Market-Place,  the  sign  "Alter- 
Bachs  KeU-EB,"  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  sidewalk,  will 
guide  him  down  into  the  two  vaulted  chambers  which  have 
echoed  to  the  wit  and  song  and  revelry  of  four  centuries  of 
jolly  companions.  He  may  still  take  Faust's  and  Goethe's 
place,  at  the  head  of  the  table  in  the  farther  room,  order  his 
wine  from  the  seventieth  01  eightieth  successor  of  the  origi- 
nal landlord,  and,  while  awaiting  the  preparation  of  some 
old-fashioned  dish,  study  the  two  curious  paintings,  which 
have  filled  semicircular  spaces  under  the  arches  perhaps 
since  the  year  1525. 

Legends  of  Faust  are  as  plentiful  in  Germany  as  those 
of  kolMlds  or  subterranean  emperors;  but  these  pictures,  t 
believe,  are  the  only  local  records  left  to  our  day.  Wid- 
mann's  "  Veritable  Histoiy"  (1599)  mentions  the  year  1515 
as  the  time  when  Faust  began  publicly  to  practise  his  magic 
arts,  and  the  same  date  upon  the  pictures  may  signify  either 
the  year  when  they  were  painted,  or  when  the  event  occurred 
which  they  illustrate.  On  this  point  there  is  a  difference  of 
opinion  among  the  antiquarians,  since  Faust's  fate  is  men- 
tioned in  the  inscriptions.    Auerbach's  house  was  rebuilt  in 


ih,Googlc 


a  JO 


FAUST. 


1530,  but  the  masBive,  vaulted  cellars  were  eridently  left 
from  the  earlier  building.  The  pictures,  which  were  painted 
by  no  mean  artist,  have  not  only  grown  very  dingy,  but  they 
were  partly  repainted  in  the  years  1636,  1707,  and  1759. 
Under  the  present  inscriptions,  which  have  also  been  re- 
newed, there  are  marks  of  an  older  one,  probably  identical, 
although  this  cannot  now  be  established  as  a  fact. 

The  first  picture  (about  ten  feet  in  length  by  four  in 
height)  represents  Fault,  with  a  full  beard,  a  ruff  around  his 
neck,  mantle  and  An-  cap,  seated  at  the  head  of  a  table,  with 
a  chased  goblet  in  his  hand.  Next  to  him  is  a  student  who, 
with  lifted  »im,  is  pouring  wine  from  a  glass,  apparently  as 
a  libation.  Seven  others  are  seated  at  the  table,  two  of  theni 
about  to  drink,  while  five  are  playing  upon  musical  instru. 
ments,  —  a  portable  clavichord,  a  lyre,  flute,  violin,  and  bass, 
viol.  At  the  left  end  of  the  picture  there  is  a  barrel  of  wine, 
with  a  Ganymede  in  trunk-hose  waiting  beside  it  A  small 
black  dog,  in  the  foreground,  appears  to  be  watching  Faust. 
Under  this  picture  is  the  inscription  :  — 

VIVE.     BIBE.     OBGR/EGARE,     MEMOR  FAVSTI 
HVIVS.     ET  HVIVS 

POENjE!    ADERAT    CLAVDO    HÄC    ASTERAT 

AMPLA  GRADV.    is*S. 
Some  of  the  German  scholars  read  the  distich  thus  :  — 

Psnz ;  adcm  cliudo  lixc,  ut  cnt  ampU  gTadu. 

The  Other  picture  shows  Faust,  astride  of  the  wine-cask, 
which  is  flying  through  the  door.  His  face  is  turned  towards 
the  company,  and  he  lifts  one  hand  as  a  parting  salutation. 
The  landlord,  servants,  and  students  gaze  at  him  and  at  each 
other  with  gestures  expressive  of  fear  and  astonishmenL 
The  six  lines  of  German  doggerel  at  the  bottom  of  the  pic- 
ture also  indicate  a  later  date,  since  they  refer  to  Faust's 
punishmenL     Blackie's  translation  of  this  inscription  is  ver; 


ih,Googlc 


rine-cuk  ipeediliBi 


^Ihcdi 


Goethe  thus  followed  the  main  legend  in  bringing  Faus 
to  Leipzig,  after  the  compact  with  Mephistopheles.  There 
are  some  satirical  touches  in  the  scene,  however,  which  show 
that  something  of  his  own  recollections  was  interwoven  wilh 
the  tradition.  The  other  incidents  taken  ftom  Ihe  legends 
receive  a  different  coloring  from  Ihe  circumstance  that  Meph- 
btophctes  is  made  ihe  principal  actor,  Faust  being  a  pas- 
mve,  and  even  an  unwilling,  spectator. 

74.  A  nasty  imtg!  Fie  I  a  folitical  sang. 
When  this  line  was  written,  it  probably  expressed  no  more 
than  a  covert  contempt  for  the  pretence  of  a  "  holy  Roman 
(German)  Empire,"  which  was  slill  kept  up  in  the  coronation 
at  Frankfurt,  and  in  various  legal  and  official  forms.  Never- 
theless, Ihe  line  has  been  frequently  quoted  by  Goethe's 
literary  enemies  as  an  evidence  that  he  would  exclude  all 
political  aspiration  from  literature.  His  silence  during  Ihe 
great  national  movement  of  1S13  and  1814  has  been  charged 
to  an  absolute  indifference  to  the  fortunes  of  his  country 
and  race,  and  very  arbitrary  inferences  have  been  drawn 
in  r^ard  to  his  own  political  sentiments.  In  a  conversation 
with  Soret.  in  1830,  Goethe,  after  confessing  his  hearty  ad- 
miration of  ihe  political  songs  of  Btiranger,  thus  expresses 

"A  political  poem  is  to  be  considered,  however,  even  in 
the  most  fortunate  case,  as  the  voice  of  a  single  nalion,  and 
in  most  cases  as  the  voice  of  a  certain  parly ;  but.  when  it 
■Dcceeds,  it  inspires  the  highest  enthusiasm  of  the  nation  or 
the  party.  Moreover,  a  political  poem  is  also  Ihe  product 
of  a  certain  temporary  phase  of  things,  which,  in  passing 
away,  deducts  from  tiie  poem  whaievet  value  it  may  have 
derived  directly  from  the  subject" 


ih,Googlc 


»72  FAUST. 

He  furcher  said,  in  answer  to  Sorei's  reference  to  the 
attacks  of  which  he  had  been  the  object,  in  1S14  and  after- 
wards: "How  could  I  have  taken  up  arms  without  hale? 
and  how  could  I  have  haled  without  youth  f  If  those  events 
had  found  me  as  ■  young  man  of  (wenly,  I  should  certainly 
not  have  been  the  last,  but  I  was   already  well  over  sixty 

years  old,  when  (hey  came National  hatred  is  quite 

a  peculiar  thing.  You  will  always  hnd  that  it  is  strongest 
and  fiercest,  in  the  lowest  stages  of  culture.  But  there  is 
also  a  stage  where  it  entirely  disappears,  where  one  stands 
to  some  e«lent  above  the  nations,  and  sympathizes  with  the 
weal  or  woe  of  a  neighbor  people  as  with  that  of  one's  own. 
This  latter  stage  of  culture  suited  my  nature,  and  I  had  con- 
firmed myself  in  it  long  before  reaching  my  sixtieth  year." 

So  little  significance  is  given  to  the  expression  which 
Brandet  uses,  that  shortly  afterwards,  in  the  same  scene, 
Mephistopheles  sings  a  song  which  is  nothing  but  the  keen- 
est political  sadre. 

75-     Soar  up,  soar  up.  Dame  NightinsaU. 

The  couplet  whicb  Frosch  sings  belongs  to  several  of  the 

early  songs  of  Che  people.     The  "  Message  of  Love."  vnitten 


Another  song,  of  the  same  period,  has  these  lines :  — 

"  Dam  NiRhlingale.  Dune  Nithlingile, 
Uany  ihwmnd  tim«  m^  iwcclbEUl  hiil  I  " 
The  term  "Dame  Nightingale"  was  first  used  by  the 
Minnesingers  as  early  as  the  eleventh  century,  and  baa  been 
perpetuated  in  the  popular  songs  and  ballads.  The  second 
fragment  which  Frosch  sings,  to  annoy  Siebel  (who  has  been 
jilted  and  resents  these  strains  of  love),  appears  to  be 
Goethe's. 

76.      Thtre  tooj  a  rat  in  tit  cdiar-tuit 
This  song,  which  is  entirely  Goethe's  own,  was  probaUy 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


'73 


written  in  SeptembcT,  1775,  during  the  height  of  his  pasaion 
for  "Uli."  In  a  letter  to  (he  Countess  Augusta  von  Stol' 
berg,  written  from  Offenbach,  he  «ays;  "The  day  has  gone 
b;  passably,  yet  rather  heavily  :  when  I  got  up  in  the  morn- 
ing, I  lelt  well,  and  wrote  a  scene  of  my  Faint."  Then> 
after  describing  the  incidents  of  the  day,  he  adds :  "  I  felt, 
all  the  time,  lilie  a  rat  that  has  eaten  poison :  it  Bcanpetn 
into  all  holes,  drinks  all  moisture,  swallows  everything  t»f 
able  that  conies  in  its  way,  and  its  entrails  bum  with  UH- 
qoenchaUe  fire."  In  tbe  song,  it  ti  not  only  Brandei 
satirizing  Siebel,  but  also  Goeih«  satirizing  himself,  i» 
order  to  escape  the  unrest  of  the  strongest  attachment  of 
his  life. 

The  introduction  of  Luther's  burly  figure  as  a  Comparison 
teems  also  intended  to  ridicule  Siebet,  who  is  afterwards 
described  by  Altmayer  as  "the  bald-pate  pot-belly,"  aitd  is 
thus  drawn  by  Comeliut,  in  his  illustration  of  the  scene. 
The  line,  nevertheless,  gave  great  oflence  in  certain  quar- 
ten;  and  when  Fatist  {under  Tieck's  direction)  was  pre» 
pared  for  representation  on  the  stage,  in  Dresden,  the  opeit- 
bf  quatrain  of  the  song  was  changed  in  this  wise:-~ 

Tboa  wu  1  ni  !n  Ihe  ccIIit-ik« 

Who  lind  OD  botur  ua  cbecK* : 

H<  h4d  ■  pumch  benealh  hi«  vta^ 

Liks  Dm  wiiM  of  tbe  ChiooH  I 

77.  Paris  in  miniaturi,  hem  Ü  rifina  itt  pitpU. 
Leipzig,  under  the  supreme  rule  of  Gottsched,  was  a  Cunt 
and  not  seldom  a  ridiculous  reflection  of  Parisian  taste,  in 
art,  htetature,  and  sodeljr.  Although  Leasing,  twenty  year« 
before  Goethe,  had  dealt  the  first  blow  at  the  pedantry  and 
affectation  of  the  school,  Gottsched  was  still  living,  and  only 
partially  ihom  of  his  authority,  when  Goethe  entered  the 
University.  In  Wakrhat  und  Dichtung  he  gives  a  lively 
picture  of  the  assumed  refinements  in  dres«.  speech,  and 
manners  in  Leipzig,  and  the  annoyance  which  he  endured 
from  being  compelled  to  imitate  them.  The  rough,  racy 
ditectDCis  of  the  Rhine-German  was  prohitMted  to  him,  a* 


ih,Googlc 


being  vulgar ;  be  was  told  to  use  tbe  same  expresEions  in 
ipecch  as  in  writing,  and  even  his  gestures  and  aiovcnents 
weie  subjected  to  a  continual  ceoscvship. 

78  ffrdeuH'twaiiattahmyoKframRippackstaTtedt 
Rippach  is  the  last  poet-itatioD  before  reaching  Leipzig, 
on  tbe  ro«td  from  Wcisseofels.  The  remark  of  Frosch  is  a 
part  of  the  "chaff"  «rith  which  the  older  Bttntkin  were 
accastomed  to  entertain  tbe  Foset,  01  Freshmen.  "Hans 
vo»  Rippach  "  i»  a  slang  name,  dcDOting  a  coarse,  awkward, 
boorish  fellow,  — in  fKt,  an  equivalent  for  the  Scotch  Sina- 
ney,  as  it  ü  used  in  some  localitiee.  By  hinting  that  Faust 
and  Mephistopheles  have  been  supping  with  Hans  von  Rip- 
pach, Frosch  takes  a  delicate  way  of  sayir^  that  they  are 
ignorant  conntry  clowns,  in  cooiparison  with  the  refioed 
Parisians  of  Leipzig. 

In  Wieland's  correspondence,  there  is  a  letter  to  Merc^ 
wherein  be  contplaiiw  of  the  manner  in  which  the  wuild  i* 
gowemed  by  "children,  dandies,  night-caps,  bloddieadaa 
Don  Quixotes  and  Hans  von  Rippadia." 

79.  There  mu  a  Hag  atte  rtigmt^. 
Tbe  comntentaton  are  ^reed  that  this  soi^  b  tbe  kecrtot 
and  coarsest  satire  upon  those  court-favorite»  who  make 
their  n^  to  place  and  power,  provide  lor  all  the  members 
of  Ihdr  family,  and  attack  and  annoy  society  with  perfect 
impunity,  so  long  as  they  poeses«  the  bvor  of  the  ruling 
prince.  Il  is  conjectwed  by  some  that  Guetbe  had  in  view 
a  particular  favorite  at  the  Court  ofWeimar.  Falk  says 
that  the  couplet  at  the  close,  repeated  as  chorus,  expresses 
the  freedom  of  (he  pec^le  from  the  restraints  of  (he  court- 
circles,  Tbe  former  are  at  Hberty  to  suppress  plagues  and 
paraules  whenever  they  become  annoying. 

Sa.     A  German  taa'l  etidurt  the  French  lo  tte  er  lUar  tf. 

Brander's  assertion,  in  this  line,  must  not  be  understood 

in  a  political  sense.    The  national  German  sentiiDeDI,  in  lit- 


ih,Googlc 


MOTES. 


»75 


eratDre.  preceded  by  many  yew*  the  political  houUity,  which 
fini  became  general  and  permanent  under  the  oppression* 
of  Napoleon.  But  at  (he  time  this  scene  was  written,  there 
was  a  strong  reaction,  both  against  Gottsched  and  his 
school,  and  against  the  subserviency  to  French  literature  and 
taste  manifesied  by  many  of  the  reigning  princes  of  Ger- 
many, Fredericlt  the  Great  at  their  head.  Lessing,  and 
Klapslock  in  a  still  greater  measure,  had  already  laid  the 
basis  of  a  literary  Deutsckthum  (GermaniEin),  which  Goethe 
and  his  contemporaries  confirmed  Tor  all  time.  The  change 
of  sentiment  was  first  accepted  by  the  younger  generation, 
■ihI  especially  by  the  students,  of  whom  Brander  is  the 
*hrewdest  and  most  respectable  representative  present  in 
Auerbach'»  Cellar. 

8l.    Nomdrine  the  stoppers,  and  drirti  yestr fiU! 

Goethe  took  this  specimen  of  jugglery  from  the  legend, 
where,  however,  it  i<(  not  perfonaed  by  Mephistophetes  but 
by  Faust.  It  is  related  as  having  taken  place  in  Erliirt : 
"Spake  be  (Faust),  whether  they  would  not  like  to  tiy  ■ 
foreign  wine  or  two :  answered  they,  Yes,  whereupon  he 
fiirtber  asked,  whether  it  should  lie  Rephal,  Malvasie. 
Spanish  or  French  wine,  and  one  of  them  laughing  made 
answer,  all  (hose  kinds  were  good  Then  Fanst  demanded 
a  gimlet,  began  to  bore  four  holes,  one  after  another,  on  the 
border  of  the  leaf  of  the  table,  stuck  in  stoppers,  even  as 
people  stick  spigots  in  the  heads  of  casks,  called  for  several 
fresh  glasses,  and,  when  all  this  had  been  done,  he  drew  out 
one  stopper  after  another,  and  behold !  out  of  each  of  the 
aforesaid  holes  flowed  unto  each  orte  the  wine  he  had  re- 
quired, even  as  out  of  four  casks,  trom  the  dry  leaf  of  (he 
table." 

By  making  Mephistopbeles  (he  acdve  agent  in  these  delu- 
siotis,  the  scene  in  Auerbach'^  Cellar  assumes  a  different 
dtaracter  from  that  which  it  bears  in  the  legend  Faust 
speaks  but  twice,  once  simply  in  t;reeting,  and  again  to  ex- 
press his  wish  to  leave.  From  this  point,  lie  has  nothing  in 
common  with  the  (radiciiinal  Faust. 


ih,Googlc 


276  FAUST. 

83.     Fallt  viord  and  form  of  air, 

Chattgt  platt,  and  senst  tninare  i 
This  last  prank  of  Mephialopheles  is  also  borrowed  from 
the  Faust-legenil,  although  it  appears  to  be  derived  from 
some  older  tradition.  It  is  thus  related  in  the  work  of 
Camerarius  (1602)  :  "Once,  when  he  (Faust)  was  in  com- 
pany with  some  of  his  acquaintances,  who  had  heard  much 
of  his  magic  arts,  they  begged  him  to  give  them  a  specimen 
of  his  powers.  After  refusing  Ibr  a  long  while,  be  finally 
yielded  to  the  tumultuous  request  of  the  not  wholly  sober 
company,  and  promised  to  give  (hem  whatever  they  desired. 
When  they  then  unanimously  asked  for  a  vine  full  of  ripe 
grapes,  in  the  belief  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  furnish  such 
a  thing  in  that  season  (it  being  winter,  namely).  Faust  prom- 
ised that  he  would  cause  a  vbe  to  grow  instantly  forth  from 
the  table,  under  the  condition,  that,  until  he  should  allow 
them  to  cut  off  the  grapes,  they  would  observe  the  deepest 
silence  and  not  stir  in  their  seats,  otherwise  tbey  would  be 
in  peril  of  death.  When  they  bad  accepted  this  condition, 
be  so  deluded  the  eyes  and  senses  of  the  carousing  company 
that  they  fuided  to  see  a  very  beautiful  vine,  with  as  many 
wonderfully  great  bunches  of  grapes  on  it  as  there  were 
persons  present  Enticed  t^  the  marvel  of  the  thing,  and 
thirsty  from  drinking,  they  took  hold  of  their  knives,  await- 
ing the  moment  when  they  should  be  allowed  to  cut  off  the 
bunches.  Faust  left  them  for  a  considerable  time  in  their 
delusion,  until  Snalty  the  vine  and  grapes  disappeared  as  a 
vapor,  and  they  perceived  that  they  had  taken  the  noses  of 
each  other  to  be  the  bunches,  and  had  set  their  knives 

The  refrain,  "  As  '\  were  five  hundred  hogs,"  etc.,  which 
the  students  sing,  after  drinking  the  various  wines,  bas  the 
character  of  certain  coarse  Bacchanalian  measures,  still 
common  to  their  class.  Perhaps  the  resemblance  in  sound 
between  joif/^  (swill !)  and  sa»  (sow)  originally  suggested  the 
use  of  the  latter  as  a  vulgar  slang  word  Even  Goethe  onoe 
speaks  of  himsel(  in  a  tetter  to  Merck,  as  being  tauaokL 


ih,Googlc 


Witckti  Kitchen. 
Neither  this  scene  nor  the  Walpurgis-Night  {Scene  XXI.) 


bu  any  connection  with  the  Faust-legend.  The  chief  motive 
of  the  Witches'  Kitchen  is,  of  course,  the  passional  rejuve- 
nation of  Faust,  as  introductory  to  the  episode  of  Margaret; 
but  Goethe,  with  a  wilful  spirit,  not  unfrequently  manifested 
in  his  life  and  writings,  seems  to  have  also  designed  bur- 
lesqueing  the  machinery  of  witchcraft  and  its  use  in  litera- 
ture. He  wrote  the  scene  towards  the  close  of  March,  1 7SS, 
in  the  gardens  of  the  Villa  Borghese,  outside  the  wall  of 
Rome,  at  a  time  when  his  mind  was  thoroughly  possessed 
with  the  grace  and  beauty  and  inecoverable  symmetry  of 
Uicient  arL  Perhaps,  therefore,  the  very  contrast  between 
bis  strong  aesthetic  passion  and  the  character  of  his  theme 
led  him  to  give  the  latter  the  ugliest,  coarsest,  and  absurdest 
expression.  The  scene  has  been  a  puale  to  many  com- 
mentators, because  in  the  dialogues  of  Mephistopheles,  the 
Witch,  and  the  Animals,  some  occult  meaning  is  often  pro- 
voldngly  implied.  Goethe  was  too  admirable  an  artist  not 
to  bave  intended  this  very  efleci,  and  not  to  have  accom- 
plished it  by  the  simplest  method,  —  that  of  giving  the  jargon 
of  witchcraft  to  his  own  definite  ideas ;  but,  that  there  was 
no  necessary  coherence  between  those  ideas,  no  consistent 
allegory  intended,  is  evident  from  his  own  words,  reponed 
by  Falk:  "They  have  now  been  tormenting  themselves 
for  nearly  thirty  years  with  the  broomsticks  of  the  Blocks- 
berg  and  the  cat  dialogues  of  the  Witches'  Kitchen,  but  ihey 
have  never  yet  rightly  succeeded  in  interpreting  and  alle- 
gorizing that  dramatit-humDristk  tumsenst.  Really,  one  ought 
to  play  the  joke  oßener  in  his  youth,  and  give  Ihem  such 
morsels  as  the  Brocken."  [There  is  an  untranslatable  pun 
in  the  original  ^-seUhe  Broektn  vrie  dtn  Bracken^ 

There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  not  very  important  discus- 
sion as  to  the  meaning  of  the  word  Mierkatti.  It  has  been 
translated  " Monkey,"  "  Baboon,"  "Cat-Ape,"  " Cat,"  and 
"Uttle  Ring-tailed  Monkey."  I  follow  Mephistopheles, 
himself,  in  using  the  word  "Ape,"  (Wie  gliUUüh  würdt  tieJk 


ih,Googlc 


ty»  FAUST. 

der  Äfft  ickälttH  I )  which  will  answer  as  well  u  any  othet 
for  those  who  insist  on  symbolism.  Goethe  probably  took 
his  Metrkaiten  from  the  legend  of  Reineke  Fuchi,  wherein 
they  are  introduced. 

84.  Fail  tkirly  years  from  my  acistetiu. 
There  is  here  an  apparent  contradiction  between  the  age 
of  Faust  and  that  which  is  implied  in  the  first  scene.  The 
deduction  of  thirty  yean,  we  must  suppose,  should  leave  hioi 
as  a  youth  of  twenty,  to  begin  his  new  experience  of  life ; 
yet  we  can  hardly  imagine  the  man  who  has  been  teaching 
for  only  ten  yean,  and  has  barely  attained  his  Doctor's  de* 
gree.  to  be  more  than  thirty-five.  Diintzer  thinks  this  is  an 
oversight  of  Goethe,  arising  from  the  long  interval  between 
the  composition  of  the  two  scenes. 

85.  We  'ri  looking  watery  simp  frr  btggart. 
Here  we  have  a  clew  to  some  of  the  masked  satire  iii  (he 
scene.  In  J-ily,  1797>  Goethe  writes  to  Schiller  concerning 
a  volume  which  he  sends  at  the  same  time :  "  Herewith 
go«  the  again  murdered,  or  rather  putrefied,  Gustavus  ly.; 
it  is  really  just  such  a  beggars'  soup  as  the  German  public 
likes."  Falk  died  before  the  correspondence  was  published, 
or  he  would  not  have  given  the  following  explanation  of  the 
line :  "  An  irtmical  reference  to  the  coarse  superstitions 
which  extend  with  a  thick  palpable  shade  among  all  nations 
throughout  the  history  of  the  world."  There  seems  10  be  no 
doubt  that  In  this  expression  and  in  the  disjomlod  rhymes 
uttered  by  the  he-ape,  Goethe  meant  to  designate  certain 
classes  of  literary  works,  popular  in  Germany  at  the  time. 

86.  Wert  theu  the  thitf. 
The  art  of  divination  by  means  of  a  sieve  {tmbnamimtyj 
was  known  to  the  ancients  :  it  is  mentioned  in  the  third  idyl 
i>f  Theocritus.  In  the  life  of  Campanella  —  the  Dominican 
monk,  with  whose  work,  Oe  Semu  Rerunt,  Goethe  appears 
■o  have  been  acquainted  —  the  following  story  occurs: 
"Some  boys  had  lost  a  mantle,  and  in  order  to  fiitd  onl 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


"79 


«rhilher  It  bad  taken  its  flight,  they  hung  up  a  Meve  by  the 
middle  on  a  peg,  and  then  uttered  the  words  '  In  the  nama 
of  St  Peter  and  in  the  name  of  St.  Paul,  has  not  ao  and  so 
stolen  Che  mantle } '  They  went  over  a  number  of  names  in 
the  same  manner,  but  the  sieve  remained  immovable,  tilt 
they  pronounced  the  name  of  Flavius,  and  then  it  began  to 
nheel  round  abuuL  Campanella,  who  saw  it,  was  much 
aitonished,  and  prayed  with  the  boys  that  God  would  not 
suffer  them  to  be  blinded  by  the  devil ;  and,  on  making  the 
trial  again,  as  soon  as  the  name  of  Flavius  was  pronounced, 
it  began  to  wheel  round  about  in  a  cirde."  —  Adttung, 
Blackie'a  translation. 

87.     What  do  I  sec  ?     IVial  heavenly  farm  revealid. 

Some  of  the  commentators  insist  that  the  form  which  Faust 
sees  in  the  magic  mirror  is  that  of  Margaret,  whom  he  meet* 
In  the  following  scene  ;  others  suppose  it  to  be  Helena, 
allbough  when  she  appears  in  tiie  Second  Part  (end  of 
Act  1.)  he  expressly  declares  that  the  vision  in  the  mirror 
was  but  "  a  frothy  phantom  of  such  beauty,"  A  reference 
to  Goethe's  letters  from  Rome  is  all  that  is  needed  to  satisfy 
us  that  it  is  not  an  individual,  but  the  perfect  beauty  of  the 
female  form,  whicb  fascinates  the  eyes  and  brain  of  FausL 
Indeed,  his  exclamation,  "  Is  it  possible,  then,  that  woman 
is  so  beautiful  t  "  indicates  this,  without  any  further  evidence. 

For  nearly  a  year  Goethe  occupied  himself  with  the  study 
of  the  human  form,  drawing  from  the  antique  and  from  life, 
Dodelling  in  clay,  and  striving  to  develop  a  little  technical 
ability  in  Art  At  the  commencement  of  this  period  of 
■tudy  be  writes  :  "  Now  at  last  I  am  possessed  by  the  alpha 
and  emiga  of  all  known  things,  the  human  form,  and  I  cry  : 
'  Lord  I  will  cling  to  thee  until  thou  blessest  me  ! '  though 
I  grow  lame  in  the  struggle."  Eight  or  nine  months  later, 
just  before  bis  departure  from  Rome,  he  says  :  "  In  such  a 
presence  [that  of  the  antique  sculptures]  one  becomes  more 
than  one's  ordinary  self;  one  feels,  that  the  noblest  subject 
with  which  we  can  b:  occupied,  is  the  human  form."  In 
Dtber  letters  he  »peaks  of  the  disinclination  with  which  he 
letums  to  "JormUss  Germany." 


ih,Googlc 


a8o  FAUST. 

The  image  in  the  niiiTOr  is  not  a  sensual  but  a  purel) 
ZBthetic  symbol,  the  significance  of  which  is  not  funhef 
developed  in  the  First  Part  of  the  work.  The  coarser  ele- 
ment through  which  Mephistopheles  achieves  a  lemporarr 
power  over  Faust  is  represented  by  the  potion  which  the 
witch  adininisters  to  the  Utter. 

88-     Wi  hear  and  mt  rhyme. 

These  lines,  with  the  preceding  and  following  ones,  have 
(perhaps  purposely]  a  mixed  significance.  The  crown  which 
the  animals  bring  may  be  that  of  France,  which,  though 
glued  or  belimed  with  the  sweat  and  blood  of  the  people, 
was  virtually  broken  at  the  time  the  passage  was  written ; 
yet  the  line  quoted  above  certainly  refers  again  to  the  dreary 
jingle  of  an  inferior  class  of  poets,  who  now  and  then,  by 
sheer  good  luck,  get  possession  of  a  thought.  The  remark 
of  Mephistopheles,  just  before  the  appearance  of  the  witch, 
must  be  understood  in  the  same  sense.  The  reader  must 
not  expect  mote  Ihan  a  half-interpretation  of  these  passage», 
and  that  only  by  giving  up  the  idea  of  a  coherent  design. 

89.  /( '1  long  ban  writtm  in  the  Book  o/Fa^. 
The  conversation  between  Mephistopheles  and  the  wilcb 
is  full  of  ironical  suggestions.  It  ridicules  the  popular  idea 
of  the  Devil,  with  his  horns,  hoofe,  and  the  attendant  ravens 
(borrowed  from  Odin);  it  slyly  refers  to  the  denial  of  a 
personal  Spirit  of  Evil,  promulgated  by  Kant  in  his  philoso- 
phy and  Schleiermacher  in  hts  theology ;  it  asserts  that, 
although  men  may  be  rid  of  the  Evil  One,  there  is  not  there- 
(ure  any  the  less  evil  in  the  world  ;  and,  by  implication,  satir- 
iics  the  aristocracy  through  the  claim  of  Mephistopheles  to 
the  title  of  Baron. 

9a      This  is  the  Joileh's  once-one' s-one  ! 

The  common  schoolboy  term  for  the  multiplication -table 

in  Germany  is  Einmaleim,  (i-om  its  commencement.  Einmal 

tins  ist  fins  —  once  one  is  one  t    The  jargon  which  the  witch 


ih,Googlc 


MOTES.  381 

dEclaimi  from  Ihe  booW  is  nolhing  but  a  nonsensica]  parod; 
of  [he  cabalistic  formula  of  the  Middle  Ages,  wherein  mysti- 
cal properties  are  attributed  to  numbers. 

In  the  ParaiipomtHa,  there  is  a  verse  which  Is  generally 
attributed  to  the  omitred  Disputation,  yet  which  seems  more 
appropriate  in  this  place.  Mephistopheles  says  (apparently 
to  Fatist) :  — 

Now,  once  for  all,  mufc  thü,  1  pnj— 

A  iDaxtin  weiglKy  far  Iliinc  KIknii  [ 


91.  Ä  cotttradiction  thus  «anfltle. 
The  irreverent  irony  of  Mephistopheles  in  this  passage 
hardly  needs  explanation.  Some  of  the  commentators  have 
shown  great  skill  in  avoiding  the  true  interpretation.  Hin- 
richs,  for  example,  asserts  that  it  refers  to  Hegel's  system  of 
philosophy  I  Eiiintzer  says  ;  "  One  should  properly  attribute 
this  irony  to  Mephistopheles  alone,  and  entirely  absolve  Ihe 
poet  from  iL"  Goethe,  nevertheless,  used  the  mask  of 
Mephistopheles  whenever  it  suited  his  convenience.  In 
1824,  when  speaking  to  Eckermann  of  his  early  life,  he  said : 
"1  believed  in  God,  in  Nature,  and  in  the  final  triumph  of 
Good  over  Evil  ;  but  that  was  not  enough  for  the  pious 
■odIs.  I  was  also  required  to  believe  that  Three  were  One, 
and  One  was  Three,  against  which  the  instinct  of  truth  in 
my  sou!  revolted  ;  moreover,  I  could  not  perceive  how  I 
should  be  helped  thereby,  in  the  slightest  degree." 

Although  the  wiich  bewilders  Faust  when  she  speaks 
again,  she  nevertheless  expresses  an  article  of  Goethe's 
poetic  creed  —  that  the  truest  and  deepest  insight  into  things 
bnol  the  result  of  conscious  labor,  but  fells  upon  the  mind  as 
a  free,  pure,  unsuspected  gift  His  distaste  for  metaphysics 
arose  from  the  fact  chat  it  forced  him  to  think  about  his 
thinking;  whereas  his  object  always  was  to  preserve  (he 
freedom,  freshness,  and  spontaneous  activity  of  his  mind. 
The  lines  declaimed  by  the  witch  suggest  another  of  hi» 
4>horistic  fragments:  — 


ih,Googlc 


Yb«»  that  B  tbfl  pnper  inj^ 

When  0»  cu-l  Hj 

Wlut  one  think*, 

ir  one  think): 

But  evaTthing  cooiaau  if  lively  (iten  I 

go,  Tki  nebU  indeUtut  I'll Uaeh  Uut  thtn  to  trtaiurt. 
Mepbistopbeics  undersunds  very  well  that  an  indolent, 
unregatated  habit  of  liTe  contributes  to  the  growth  of  all 
form»  of  physical  appetite.  He  ihons,  throughuui,  such 
£uniliarity  with  theological  matters,  that  we  may  not  un- 
leasonaUy  suspect  him  of  having  taken  a  hint  from  Dr. 
Watts:  — 

"  Fof  Satan  findi  Hme  miichieruijl 
For  idJe  taacidi  to  do." 

Perhaps  Mephistopheles  also  retted  thes;  lioes,  fron 
Milton's  ParaJia  Regained :  — 

"  F«  Solomon,  he  lind  at  <au,  and  btl 
or  honor,  wiallh.  high  TaR.  aim'd  not  bejpood 
Hifher  dwgn  thin  to  enjoy  hiauaie: 
Thnxa  to  th«  iHit  nf  »omtn  lay  «poKd." 

93.    Margaret. 

We  now  take  leave  of  the  original  Faust-legend,  whicli 
will  not  again  be  encountered  until  the  appearance  of  Helena, 
in  the  Second  Part.  The  episode  of  Margaret  is  Goethe's 
own  creation,  from  beginning  10  end,  and  here,  even  more 
than  ill  the  tirst  monologue  of  Faust,  be  "  delved  in  hiü  own 
breast "  for  the  passion  whicb  he  represents.  Margaret  is 
ilrawn  partly  from  her  namesake,  whom  Goethe,  as  a  boy  of 
sixteen,  imagined  he  loved  ;  and  partly  from  his  betrothed, 
Lili  (Anna  Elizabeth  Scbönemann,  the  daughlci  of  a  banker 
in  Frankfun),  Ibr  whom  he  fell  probably  the  strongest  love 
of  his  life,  at  the  lime  these  scenes  of  his  Fatal  were  written. 

Gretchen  (Maggiel,  or  Margaret,  is  one  of  the  fairest  and 
sweetest  figures  ii>  the  fifth  bo.)k  of  Wahrk^il  und  Dichtung. 
Goethe  describes  how  his  facility  in  writing  poems  fur  occa- 
sions brought  him  accidentally  into  society  very  much  beiow 
that  into  which  he  was  boriL     Some  of  these  chance  com- 


ih,Googlc 


JVOTES.  283 

panlons  were  even  disreputable,  and  Us  associatioD  with 
tbem  was  anally  broken  off  by  the  legal  investigadona  con- 
cerning a  forgery  which  one  of  them  committed.  At  a  house 
where  they  met,  Margaret  first  appeared  to  wait  upon  them 
in  the  place  of  a  maid-servant.  She  was  three  or  four  years 
older  than  Goethe,  who  was  then  in  his  sixteenth  year,  and 
her  quiet  grace,  beauty,  and  natural  dignity  made  an  instant 
and  deep  impression  upon  him.  "She  was  for  the  must 
part,"  he  says,  "  calm  and  quiet  Her  bat»l  was  to  sit  with 
het  aims  cioMCd,  leaning  upon  (lie  table,  a  position  which 
showed  her  to  great  advantage  ;  and  she  would  thus  sit  (at 
a  long  time  together,  with  now  and  then  a  slight  motion  of 
her  head,  which,  however,  was  rt^er  made  without  meaning. 
At  times  she  threw  in  a  word  to  help  on  the  conversation, 
but  when  ^he  had  done  this,  she  immediately  resumed  her 
calm  and  quiet  attitude  of  attention." 

The  accoant  be  gives  of  her  manner  suggests  Faust's  first 
interview  with  Margaret ;  "  She  gave  no  one  bei  hand,  not 
even  me  ;  she  allowed  no  one  to  touch  her  :  only,  she  often 
sat  down  beside  me,  especially  when  I  wrote  or  read  aloud, 
and  then  she  placed  her  arm  tamiliarly  on  my  shoulder, 
looked  into  the  book,  or  on  my  verses,  but  »ben  I  attempted 
to  take  the  same  freedom  with  her  she  immediately  drew 
nack.  and  did  not  return  so  soon  again.  Vet  she  often  re- 
peated this  position,  and,  indeed,  there  was  a  great  uniform- 
ity in  all  her  gestures  and  motions,  though  they  were  always 
graceful  and  beautiful." 

The  last  time  Goethe  saw  her,  just  before  ibe  arrest  of  the 
forger,  she  kissed  him  on  the  forehead  at  parting ;  but  both 
his  love  and  sclMove  were  bitterly  wounded  when,  in  the  in- 
vestigation which  took  place  —  and  from  which  she  came 
forth  with  a  spotless  character  —  she  testified  that  she  had 
looked  upon  him  as  a  boy  in  whom  she  felt  the  interest  of  an 
elder  sister,  and  had  encouraged  his  innocent  liking  for  her 
for  the  purpose  of  watching  over  and  protecting  him.  She 
left  Frankfurt  soon  afterwards,  and  Goethe  never  heard  of 

The  engagement  between  Goethe  and  Lili,  to  whom  he. 


ih,Googlc 


y 


wrote  some  or  his  lineit  brief  lyrics,  was  broken  off  bj  the 
Opposition  of  their  respective  fainilies.  The  uncertainty  and 
uiii««t  of  his  love  is  reflected  in  that  of  Faust.  All  the 
scenes  in  which  Margaret  appears,  up  to  that  in  the  Cathe- 
dral (Scene  XX.|,  with  the  exception  of  Faust's  encounter 
with  Valentine  (Scene  XIX.),  «ere  written  during  the  spring 
of  1775,  and  Goethe's  relation  to  Lili  was  not  finally  fanden 
off  until  August  of  that  year. 

Margaret  is  one  of  the  must  pure  and  pathetic  creations  in 
literature.  Ignorant,  uneducated  (she  uses  none  but  the 
aimplest  words  and  sometimes  speaks  ungrammatically),  art- 
lessly vain,  yielding  to  deceit,  and  finally  led  to  in&my, 
crime,  and  madness,  she  is  both  real  in  her  words  and  «ays 
and  ideal  in  her  embodiment  of  the  pure  woman-nature,  and 
of  that  alone.  The  German  critics  have  made  her  typical 
of  many  things,  but  she  will  always  remain  what  Goethe 
intended  her  to  be  —  simply  a  woman.  In  her  language, 
throughout,  there  are  no  references  except  10  Goethe's  own 
early  experiences  of  love  :  the  reader  may  study  her  charac- 
ter (or  bbnself,  although  an  indescribable  bloom  and  fresh- 
ness is  lost  in  transferring  her  story  to  another  language. 

94.     fffui  shnrl  and  sharp  of  spitch  was  iki. 
Perhaps  the  word   "snappish"  would  best  express  the 
meaning  of  the  German  phrase  iurt  aitgtbumitn.     Lord  Leve- 
■on  Goner,  deceived  by  the  form  of  the  idiom,  fell  into  a 
very  amusing  blunder.     He  translates  the  couple) :  — 
"  As  with  ker  gown  held  up,  the  Sed. 
Thu  •Kli-Iumect  inklg  well  might  Isra  one'i  hod  r " 
We  are  less  surprised  that  a  French  translator  should 
have  made  the  same  mistake,  and  given  the  first  line  thus ; 
"  Comme  tile  avail  des  courlis  jupts  !  "    Even  Blaze,  whose 
translation  in  many  ofher  respects  is  so  careful  and  intelli- 
gent, says  ;  "Que! corsagi  bienprii !" 

95.    Mast  Wartky  Peda/^ogue.  take  heed  I 

The  original.  Mein  Herr  Maqisler  Loieiart.  is  given  in  ■ 

different  form  by  almost  every  translator.    Goethe  perhapa 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  a8g 

borrowed  the  expression  from  the  title  of  a  satirical  poem  by 
Neumeister,  published  in  1624 — "The  Crowned  M.,  in 
German,  Master  Lobe^ian."  Diintzec  says  it  is  a  nick- 
name applied  to  a  Magister  who  makes  a  pompous  display 
of  his  dignity.  Inasmuch  as  Faust  ironically  assumes  (hat 
Hephistopheles  attempts  to  teach  him  morals,  I  have  chosen 
the  word  "Pedagogue"  as  an  equivalent.  The  following 
are  some  of  the  varieties  of  translation,  and  they  may  help 
the  reader  to  a  dearer  comprehension  of  the  phrase  :  — 

BucKia.  — Sir  Knight  of  Pcdintry. 

Haywabd.  — My  good  Mr.  Sermoniw. 

Buooiis.  — My  worthy  Master  Grai-ity. 

Mahtth.  —  Muur  Gnieiin. 

LsvKSOK  GowsH.  —  Mr,  Check.DT'Spfled 

Ahstbs,  —  Mocl  Reverend. 

96.  Ai  in  Italian  laUs  '1 11  taiigit. 
The  word  vulscht  (or  vxilicki)  may  signify  either  French 
or  Italian  :  in  the  Middle  Ages  it  was  oflen  used  in  the 
sense  of  "  foreign."  Härtung  supposes  thai  by  ■mehcht 
GtscAUhf  Goethe  simply  meant  romances,  of  whatever  coun- 
try ;  but  it  seems  more  probable  that  he  had  in  mind  the 
amorous  stories  of  Boccaccio,  or  the  Hepiameton. 

97.  O  mekomt,  tmiligkt  soft  and  iwttt  I 
The  reader  will  not  fail  to  notice  the  entire  change  in 
Faust,  since  the  preceding  scene,  although  only  a  few  hours 
are  supposed  to  have  elapsed.  The  "  atmosphere  "  upon 
which  Mephistopheles  has  calculated  in  advance,  exerdses 
an  influence  of  which  he  seems  to  be  ignorant,  while  Faust, 
after  his  firat  surrender  to  the  new  impression,  hardly  rec- 
ognises himself.  At  the  meeting  with  Margaret,  it  is  thf 
witch's  potion  which  speaks  through  him  ;  here,  the  better 
though  obscure  aspiration  {vide  the  "  Prologue  in  Heaven") 
repossesses  him,  under  the  new,  blissful,  yet  disquieting 
fcrra  oflove.  Mephistopheles  is,  naturally,  incapable  of  un- 
derstanding the  transformation  in  Faust'.i  feelings,  because 
the  strongest  negation  of  his  denying  nature  is  that  of  love. 


ih,Googlc 


aS6  FAUST. 

Goethe  was  not  only  keenly  seiuitive  to  the  operation  of 
atmospheric  influences  upon  the  mindi  but  he  alao  believed 
in  the  existence  of  a  spiritual  aura,  through  which  impres- 
sions, independent  of  the  external  senses,  might  be  conunu- 
nicated.  It  is  the  atmosphere  cä  peace,  and  order,  and 
contentment,  and  chastity,  which  uoconsdously  touches 
Faust,  in  Margaret's  chamber^  and  it  is  the  sultry  breath 
of  evil,  of  impending  temptation  and  ruin,  which  opprcssea 
Margaret  ott  her  return. 

98.    /  kiuntt  nut,  ikmdd  I  do  it  T 

Faust  is  so  far  redeemed  by  hid  awakening  love  that  he 
hesitates  to  use  the  gift  which  he  had  comnunded  Mephis- 
topheles  In  furnish.  The  latter  purposely  misunderstands  his 
hesitation,  and  accuses  him  of  wishing  to  keep  the  casket  of 
jewels  for  himself.  Nevertheless,  it  is  he,  and  not  Faust, 
who  places  the  casket  in  the  press. 

99.     There  ■mas  a  King  iti  Thult. 

According  to  Goethe's  statement  this  ballad  was  written 
in  July,  1774.  when  he  repeated  it  to  his  friend  Jacobi.  It 
does  not  appear  to  hive  been  originally  intended  for  Faust, 
as  were  the  songs  in  Auerbachs  Cellar;  yet  it  is  most  Ütling 
that  Margaret,  in  this  crisis  of  her  fate,  should  sing  a  ballad 
of  love  and  death,  wherein  the  word  Bnhte  (mistress  or 
leinan)  has  a  prophetic  character.  The  ''King  of  Thile" 
was  first  published  in  178z  in  a  collection  of  "Songs  of  the 
People,"  set  to  music  by  Baron  von  SeckendorIT,  with  the 
announcement  added :  "  From  Goethe's  Dr  FausL"  This 
was  eight  years  before  the  publication  of  this  scene,  in  the 
"  Fragment." 

It  would  seem  impossible  for  any  one  to  read  the  ballad 
and  nut  be  satisßed  with  the  story  it  so  simply  tells ;  yet  une 
of  Goethe's  commentators,  Härtung,  insists  on  the  following 
interpretation :  "  It  is  based,  like  the  ballad  of '  The  Fisher.' 
on  a  deeper  meaning.  Fur,  while  the  dying  King  grants  all 
else  to  his  heirs,  the  elements,  he  gives  only  to  the  great 
Mean  that  which  is  most  precious  to  him  —  his  Sel^  hi* 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  287 

■odI,  which  fie  desires  shall  be  united  to  ihe  worM-soal,  no 
nutter  whether  it  shall  melt  as  a  drop  into  the  element  of 
»oul-eihet,  or,  hardened  into  a  pearl,  continue  its  individual 


As  I  have  stated  in  the  Preface,  the  feminine  rhymei  of 
the  ürst  and  third  lines  of  each  verse  have  been  omitted,  in 
order  to  make  the  translatiin  strictly  literal.  I  have  taken 
this  liberty  (the  only  one  I  have  allowed  myself,  in  the  lyrl- 
c»l  passages  of  the  work)  (he  more  readily,  because  the 
redundant  syllable  partly  atones  to  the  ear  for  the  absence 
of  rhyme.  In  this  instance  I  have  considered  it  especially 
necessary  to  preserve  the  simplicity  of  the  original,  and  (if 
that  be  possible)  the  weird,  mystic  sweetness  of  Its  move- 
ment. To  show  how  entirely  these  qualities  may  be  lost,  in 
a  language  (iirther  removed  from  German  than  ours,  I  quote 
Kaze'*  translation  of  the  last  two  verses;  — 
"  Puu.  K  Itvanl,  Is  vitui  compdra 


Puii  jamiit  no  but  uot  gHitla  " 

100.      Wilk  heaocnly  manna  ihi  'U  repay  it 
Haigaret's  mother  seems  to  have  quoted  from  Revelation 
fi.  17:   "To  him  that  overcometh  wilt  I  give  to  eat  of  the 
hidden  manna,"  and  the  parson,  in  the  line  "  Who  over- 
cometh, winneth  too,"  remembers  verses  7,  11,  and  Z6  In  the 

lot-  The  Neighbor's  House. 
This  scene  surely  requires  nu  further  explanation  than 
that  contained  in  the  two  succeeding  notes.  The  characters 
•f  Martha,  Ma^aret,  and  Mephistopheles  are  placed  before 
US,  in  the  clearest  manner,  by  a  few  simple,  realistic  touches. 
t  need  not  repeat  the  conjectures  of  critics  concerning  Dam« 


ih,Googlc 


l88  FAUST. 

Mirtba'fl  age  and  pereonal  appearance.  Here,  and  in  Seen« 
XII.,  she  is  represented  with  such  distinctneu  that  the  reade.' 

cannot  mistake  the  part  which  Goethe  intetided  her  to  filL 
If  anything  further  were  necessary,  Mephistopheleg  charac- 
terizes her  sufüciently,  in  the  following  scene. 

I03.     In  Padua  buritd,  hi  is  lying, 
Btsidt  the  good  Saint  Antimy. 

If  this  is  anything  more  than  a  random  stalement  of  Mepb- 
iitopheles,  the  irony  is  neither  keen  nor  especially  impor- 
tant. The  Saint  is  not  the  Antony  of  the  Desert  and  the 
temptations  and  the  Irish  ballad,  but  Antonio  of  Padua,  a 
reladve  of  God&ey  of  Bouillon.  He  was  bom  in  Usbon  in 
1195,  preached  with  such  fervor  that  even  the  fishes  rose  to 
the  surface  of  the  sea  to  listen  to  bim,  and  died  in  Padua  in 
1231.  The  splendid  basilica  in  which  his  ashes  rest  was  not 
completed  until  two  centuries  later.  His  chapel,  with  its 
alti  rilitvi  by  Lombardi,  Sansovino,  and  others,  still  attract* 
the  student  of  art. 

Interments  within  the  walls  of  cathedrals  and  churches  in 
Italy  were  not  prohibited  until  the  year  1809. 

103.  fmattt  kit  deaik  in  thi  weihty  faftr  ttaied. 
There  is,  in  Germanji,  an  official  registration  of  all  mar- 
riages, births,  and  deaths,  which  arc  published  at  stated 
intervals.  The  laws  relating  to  marriage  require  both  par- 
ties to  furnish  testimony  that  there  are  no  legai  impediments 
to  their  union  ;  hence  the  officially  puUished  death  of  Herr 
Schwerdtlein  is  necessary,  before  Dame  Martha  can  prop- 
erly be  considered  a  widow  and  at  liberty  to  accept  a  second 

lc>4.     For  thim  art  ri^tt,  aptcially  ttrai  1  mutt, 
Faust,  in  this  line,  admits  his  dependence  on  the  aid  of 

Mephislopheles,  and  the  necessity  of  giving  false  tesdmor. 

in  order  to  procure  an  interview  with  Margaret    No  change 

in  the  .character  of  his  passion  is  implied. 
There  is  a  passage  in  the  Faralifcmttia  which  seems  iutn> 


ih,Googlc 


ivorss.  289 

railT  10  belong  here,  altbongh  some  of  the  Gennan  commeo- 
taton  have  given  it  a  difTerenl  place.  Mephistopheles  say«, 
apparently  after  Faust's  departure,  when  he  has  impatientlT 
spoken  (he  above  line :  — 


Kai  DDIhhii  cIh  cd 


Od«  givH  for  alher  fbUy  fnih  eccuion. 

loj.  All  Hmti  I  'II  kavi  ta  Ikink  on  you,  all  places  I 
ThcK  two  Imea  are  literally:  "Think  but  a  little  mo- 
ment'« space  on  me  i  I  shall  have  time  enough  to  think  of 
yon.''  I  have  been  obliged,  by  the  eiigeocy  of  rhyme,  to 
exprpxs  the  latter  phrase  in  different  words;  yet  this  is  one 
Of  thnse  instances  where  tvi  English  words,  though  they  may 
perfrctly  convey  the  meaning,  can  possibly  carry  with  them 
the  fulness  and  tenderness  of  sentiment  which  we  feel  in  the 
original.  "  1th  werde  Zeil  genug  an  eucA  tu  denken  haben  " 
•nggests,  iu  some  mysterious  way,  a  contrast  between  Faust's 
place  in  life  and  Margaret's,  between  the  love  of  man  and 
that  of  woman,  which  the  words  do  not  seem  10  retain,  »hen 
iTMitlated. 

■□£.    She  pbuht  a  ttar-ßcwer. 

The  original,  ilemilume,  may  mean  either  a  china-aster,  a 
■tar- of- Bethlehem,  a  variety  of  primrose  or  of  jonquil.  Vi 
rious  modes  of  amorous  divination  by  means  of  flowers  were 
known  to  the  ancient»  (one  of  them  is  mentioned  by  Theoc- 
ritus), and  the  Minnesinger,  Wallher  von  der  Vogelweide, 
describes  a  very  similar  method  of  ascertaining  whether  a 
lover's  affection  is  retained.     The  single  daisy  {Cänieilüm- 

VOL.  I.  13  S 


ih,Googlc 


ahn  in  Gerrnan)  ia  gometimw  used  for  (he  Mine  porpos^ 
but  it  is  a  garden-flower,  or  course,  which  Margaret  plucks. 

107.  It' I  at  if  nobody  had  nothing  to  fetch  and  carry. 
The  effect  of  a  double  negidve  in  Cernian  is  precieely  (be 
tame  as  in  English,  and  il  belongs  eijually  to  the  vulgar  dia- 
lect Goethe  introduces  it  intentionally  here  as  well  as  ih 
Scene  XVI.,  where  Margaret  says,  spealdng  of  Mephisloph 
eles :  "One  sees  that  in  nothing  no  interest  he  hatli."  1 
have  not  fell  at  liberty  to  correct  these  purposed  inelegances, 
as  moüt  translators  have  done.  They  are  (rifling  touclieai 
it  is  true,  but  they  belong  to  the  author's  desigiL 

108.    FoBKST  AND  Cavern. 

Most  of  the  German  critics  anile  in  the  opinion  that  (hit 
scene  must  have  been  written  duriug  Goethe's  residence  in 
R<inie,  or  immediately  after  his  return  to  Weimar.  There  is 
a  certain  slight  variation  in  tone  which  disiinguishcü  it  from 
the  earlier  scenes.  Mr.  Lewes,  in  his  "  Life  of  Goclhc." 
■ays :  "  I  do  not  understand  the  relation  of  this  scene  to 
the  whole."  But.  in  his  sketch  of  the  growth  of  i-jusi,  Mr. 
Lewes  does  not  seem  to  be  aware  of  the  publication  of  itie 
"Fragment"  in  1790.  The  "Forest  and  Cavern''  is  there 
given,  not  in  its  present  position,  but  immediately  after  (he 
scene  "At  the  Fountain"  (Scene  XVIL),  and  consequently 
after  Margaret's  fall  Goethe's  first  design  was,  evidently. 
to  drive  Faust  from  Margaret's  presence  through  the  re- 
morse following  the  deed,  and  his  transfer  of  the  scene  to  its 
present  place  <>ubstitutes  a  moral  resistance  in  advance  of 
the  deed  for  the  earlier  motive.  The  character  of  Faust's 
love  is  not  only  elevated  by  this  change,  but  the  element  rä 
good  in  his  nature  is  again  actively,  and  not  merely  reat 
tivtiy,  developed. 

Some  commentators  have  found  a  contradiction  between 
Faust's  almiHt  inspired  enjoyment  of  Nature  in  this  scene, 
and  the  character  of  his  first  monologue.  Yet,  if  we  read 
the  latter  carefully,  we  shall  And  it  pervaded  with  a  longing 
ibr  "the  broad,  free  land,"  for  release  from  the  impriao»' 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  291 

ment  of  unsatisfying  studies.  His  impaiieDce  is  not  with 
Nature,  but  witK  the  inadequacy  of  the  physical  sciences, 
which  endeavor  to  wrench  from  her  "with  levers,  screws, 
and  hammers,"  the  secrets  "which  she  doth  not  willingly 
display."  Faust  looks  on  Nature,  now,  with  the  eyes  of  a 
lover,  and  she  is  transfnnned  to  his  senses.  It  is  no  longer 
a  cold,  amazed  acquaintance  ;  her  bosom  is  open  to  htm  .  s 
that  of  a  friend,  and  all  living  creatures  become  his  btothcra. 
The  scoff  of  Mephistophelcs  does  not  move  him,  but  he  at 
last  succumbs  to  the  picture  which  the  latter  draws  of  Mar- 
garet's loneliness  and  sorrow. 

In  WaJirhtä  und  Dichtung  we  find  the  original  suggestion 
of  the  scene.  After  Goethe's  separation  from  the  Margaret 
of  his  boyhood,  and  the  illness  which  followed,  the  paternal 
government  was  more  rigidly  enlbrced.  He  was  furnished 
with  a  private  tutor,  a  man  of  intelligence  and  of  a  kindly, 
sympathetic  nature,  who  soon  became  a  friend.  Goethe, 
nevertheless,  remained  depressed  and  boyishly  misanthropic 
for  a  time.  *'  I  drew  my  friend  with  me  into  the  woods,"  he 
■a^  "Leaving  the  monotonous  fir-trees  behind  me,  I 
sought  those  beautiful,  lealy  groves,  which  are,  indeed,  of  no 
very  great  extent  in  that  region,  but  are  nevertheless  of  a 
size  BufHdent  to  furnish  concealment  for  a  poor  wounded 
heart.  I  selected,  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  wood,  a  sombre 
spot  where  the  ancient  oaks  and  beeches  grandly  overshad- 
owed a  broad  space  of  soil.  The  ground  sloped  upwards, 
which  added  10  the  effect  of  the  massive  old  trunks.  This 
clear  space  was  surrounded  with  dense  thickets,  out  of  which 
rose  the  venerable  tbrms  of  moss-grown  rocks,  and  an  abun- 
dant brook  poured  over  them  in  a  rapid  cascade 

"  What  I  then  felt,  is  still  present  to  my  mind ;  what  I 
said,  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  recall." 

Härtung,  in  his  comment  on  this  scene,  says :  "  He 
(Faust)  also  Ihanh  God  that  He  has  given  to  him  the  com- 
rade whom  be  can  no  longer  do  without,"  etc.  The  reader 
ran  judge  for  himself  whether  Faust  does  not  simply  toler- 
ate the  presence  of  Mephistophelcs,  through  bis  conviction 
that  "  nothing  can  be  perfect  unto  man,"  and  the  new  ec- 


ih,Googlc 


(tasy  he  feels  must  iheTefore  be  balanced  by  the  degrading 
fellowship. 

109.  Oiu  daret  net  thai  be/ere  ckasti  tars  declart. 
"  Qui  repreheDdunt  et  irrident  quod  ea  qux  re  turpia  not 
•int.  nominjbus  ac  verbis  flagitiosa  ducamus,  ilia  autem  qiue 
tarpia  sint  Dominibus  appellemus  suis :  latrocinare,  fraudaie, 
adulterare  re  turpe  est,  scd  didlur  non  obsccene  ;  liberis 
dare  operam,  te  bonestum  est,  nomine  obscccnam."  —  Cicero, 
Off.  I..  35- 

I  la  Eniaigk  of  that  I  Tliy  Imt  lili  ionefy  yonder. 
Mephistophelcs  is  shrewd  enough  (o  perceive  that  Faust 
b  thus  iv  insensible  to  hia  mockery.  He  here  suddenly 
changes  his  tactics,  and  draws  such  a  picture  of  the  forsaken 
Margaret  that  Faust,  even  in  the  exclamation  "  Serpenf. 
■eipenti"  betrays  bow  much  he  is  moved.  Id  this  excla- 
mation, and  the  aädt  of  Mephistopheles,  I  have  omitted  the 
rhyme  of  the  original,  which  could  not  possibly  be  repro- 
duced without  losing  the  subtile  suggestiveness<rf  the  words. 
Ur.  Brooks  nearly  overcomes  the  difficulty  by  translating  as 

III.  "  Wire  I  a  litlli  bird '.  "  K  rum  her  3<mg. 
This  is  an  old  song  of  the  people  in  Germany.  Herder 
published  it  in  bis  Volkslitäir,  in  1779  ;  but  it  was  no  doubt 
already  ^miliar  to  Goethe  in  his  cfaildhood.  The  original 
melody,  to  which  it  is  still  sung,  is  as  simple  and  sweet  as 
the  words.  I  cannot  do  better  tban  to  borrow  Mr.  Btoolu'i 
translaiioD,  which  is  very  literal :  — 

-  Wen  1 1  tiule  bird. 
Had  I  two  wing*  of  min^ 
'l-daylomrdar; 
BulthMcunewb« 
Soliujbn. 


ih,Googlc 


KOTES.  393 

"  Though  I  un  bi  htim  äxa, 
SlcepiDf  1  ^m  neir  to  Ibee, 
Tilk  with  my  dear; 
When  I  ignlu  iglill, 

"  Scarce  then  ^  id  hour  m  th«  Diglu 
When  >l«p  do«  not  uke  iu  Sifht, 
Audi  think  of  tb«. 
Ho«  mur  thounnd  lima 
Thoo  giT'il  thj  heart  to  ma." 

The  expression  "  wept  beyond  her  tears "  is  au^vitint 
(otitwcpt}  in  the  original.  Goethe  probably  remembered 
the  line  of  Dam«  (/«/oT.a,  Canto  XKXIII.)  :  — 

"  Weeping  iiKlf  then  do«  not  let  ihemwcep. 

Its.     On  year  twin-pair,  that ferd  among  Ihe  raset. 

The  Song  of  Solomon  is  one  of  those  books  of  the  Old 
Testament  which  Faust,  in  his  cuntraa  with  Mephisloph- 
eles,  according  to  one  form  of  the  old  legend,  was  permitted 
to  read  We  should  not  be  surprised,  therefore,  to  find  the 
latter  quoting  from  it,  although  not  quite  correaly, 

"  Thy  two  breasts  are  like  two  young  roes  that  are  twins, 
which  feed  among  the  lilies." —  iv.  5. 

Mr.  Hayward  quotes  from  a  private  letter  to  himself  the 
following  singular  advice  iriiich  Schlegel  gives  in  regard  Kb 
this  couplet :  — 

"  Je  ne  vous  conseille  pas  de  traduire  cela  litt^ralemenl. 
Ob  jeterait  les  hauts  cris." 

1 13.  Mafgaret  {at  tht  spinning-iiikeel,  aleni). 
This  and  ihe  foregoing  scene  may  be  cotiaidered  as  nearly 
identical  in  time.  The  lovers  are  separated :  Faust  strug- 
gles with  all  (he  force  of  his  nobler  irutinct  to  resist  his 
passion,  while  Margaret  is  wholly  possessed  by  an  intense, 
onreMOoing  jrearning  for  his  presence.    In  representing  het 


ih,Googlc 


,94  FAUST. 

M  Mated  at  the  spinning-whed,  Goethe  again  rememben 
the  Margaret  of  his  boyhood.  Visiting  the  house  on  one 
occasion,  to  meet,  by  appointment,  the  drcle  into  which  he 
had  been  drawn,  he  says :  "  Only  one  of  the  young  people 
was  at  home.     Margaret  sat  at  the  window  and  span  ;  the 

mother  went  back  and  forth She  (Margaret)  arose, 

left  her  spinning-wheel,  and  approaching  the  table  where  I 
sat  gave  me  a  severe  lecture,  yet  with  much  good  sense  and 
kindness." 

Although  some  have  bnded  that  in  the  opening  Hne, 
Miint  Ruh'  iti  hin,  the  lulling  sound  of  the  spinning-wheel 
is  indicated,  the  verses  are  meant  to  be  a  reveiy,  not  a  song. 
They  are,  indeed,  articulate  sighs  ;  the  lines  are  almost  as 
short  and  simple  as  the  first  speech  of  a  child,  and  the  least 
deviation  from  either  the  meaning  or  the  melody  of  the 
original  (even  the  change  of  meim  into  my,  in  the  first  line) 
takes  away  something  of  its  indescribable  sadness  and 
strength  of  desir&  In  the  first  verse,  which  is  twice  re- 
pealed as  a  refrain,  I  have  been  obliged  to  choose  between 
the  repetition  o(  the  word  ptace  in  the  third  line  and  the  use 
of  a  pronoun  which  cannot,  as  in  the  German,  fix  its  antece- 
dent by  its  gender.  The  reader  who  prefers  the  grammatical 
form  to  the  more  natural  expression  will  at  least  understand 
that  it  is  here  impossible  to  give  both.  There  are  prece- 
dent* for  either  tütemative,  in  former  translations. 

1 14.    Near  tut  notfalitly,  rwteltst  taunünaiui ! 

When  FauBl  says,  "And  as  for  Church  and  Faith,  I  leave 
to  each  his  own,"  it  is  Goethe  who  speaks.  His  maxim 
through  life  was  not  only  tolerance  but  a  respectful  recogni- 
tion of  all  forms  of  religious  belief.  Margaret  here  repre- 
sentH  a  class  not  peculiar  to  Germany.  She  insists  on  a 
categorical  explanation  of  Faust's  views,  and  when,  in  an- 
swer to  her  question  :  "  Believest  thou  in  God  ?  "  he  hints  al 
the  impossibility  of  comprehending  the  Divine  Essence,  she 
misses  the  familiar  phrases  of  her  creed,  and  immediately 
bfers  1  "  Then  thou  believest  not  I  " 

The  passage  which  fallows  has  been  the  sut^ect  of  a  great 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


295 


■lea)  or  comment,  from  Madame  de  Stael  (in  her  Dt  fAlti- 
magnt)  to  the  latest  writer  on  Fiaat.  There  is,  bowcrer, 
liuffidenl  evidence  that  Goethe  meant  to  state  his  own  — 
imperlect,  as  he  admitted  it  to  be  —  conception  of  the  Deity. 
He  read  Spino«  at  an  early  age,  and  frequently  eipressed 
Sis  concurrence  in  the  views  of  that  philosopher,  concern- 
'Jig  the  "  iinmanetice  "  of  God  in  all  things.  The  sun,  (he 
stars,  the  earth,  the  human  heart  and  all  its  emotions,  are 
simply  "  invisible,  visible  "  manifestations  of  His  existence. 
Goethe's  intention  is  to  acknowledge  Him  in  His  Infinite 
aspects,  not  to  define  or  describe  Him. 

In  iSsg,  he  said  to  Eckermann  :  "  The  period  of  doubt  is 
past :  every  one.  noiv,  would  as  soon  think  of  doubting  his 
own  existence  as  that  of  God.  Moreover,  the  nature  of  God, 
immortality,  the  being  of  the  soul  and  its  connection  with 
the  body  are  eternal  problems,  wherein  the  philosophers  are 
unable  to  give  us  any  further  knowledge." 

Two  years  later,  Eckermann  gives  the  following  report  of 
Goethe's  views.  The  latter  was  then  eighty-two  years  old. 
"  l-le  is  very  far  from  supposing  that  he  truly  apprehends  the 
Highest  Being.  All  his  oral  and  written  utterances  have 
inculcated  the  belief  (hat  God  is  an  inscrutable  Existence, 
whereof  man  has  but  approximate  glimpses  and  presenti- 
ments. All  Nature  anc^we  human  beings  are.  nevertheless, 
so  penetrated  with  the  Divine  element,  that  it  sustains  us, 
that  in  il  we  live,  work  and  be  ;  that  we  sorrow  and  rejoice 
through  (he  operation  of  eternal  laws,  which  we  fulfil  and 
which  are  fulfilled  in  us,  whether  we  perceive  them  or  not. 
Ho  is  firmly  convinced  that  the  Divine  Power  is  everywhere 
manifested,  and  that  the  Divine  Love  is  everywhere  active." 

In  (823  Goethe  said  to  Soret  r  "  With  (he  people,  and 
especially  with  the  elctgymen,  who  have  Him  daily  upon 
their  tongues.  God  becomes  a  phrase,  a  mere  name,  which 
they  utter  without  any  accompanying  idea.  But  if  they  were 
penetrated  with  His  greatness,  they  would  rather  be  dumb, 
and  for  very  reverence  would  not  dare  (o  name  Him." 

This  passage  in  Faust  has  sometimes  been  designated 
■"Goethe's  creed,"  —  an  expression  which  he  would  ha»e 


ih,Googlc 


296  FAUST. 

repelled,  since  he  con*idered  all  creeds  its  attempts  to  exprcM 
something  beyond  the  reach  of  human  intelligence.  In  1813 
he  wrote  to  his  friend  Jacobi ;  "  For  my  part,  with  tlie  mani- 
fold diteclions  in  which  my  nature  moves,  I  cannot  be  satis- 
fied with  a  single  mode  of  Ihuught.  As  Poel  and  Artist  I 
am  a  polylhcist ;  on  the  other  hand,  as  a  student  of  Nature 
I  am  a  pantheist,  — and  both  with  equal  pnsiliveness.  When 
I  need  a  God  for  my  personal  tiature,  as  a  moral  and  spirit- 
ual man.  He  also  exists  for  me.  The  heavenly  and  the 
earthly  things  are  such  an  immense  realm,  that  it  can  only 
be  grasped  by  the  collcclivc  intelligence  of  all  beings." 

Whether  Faust's  explanation  is  pantheism,  in  either  a 
spiritual  or  a  tnaterialistic  form ;  whether  it  is  an  luidoctrinal 
view  permitted  to  a  Christian,  or,  as  Margaret  fears,  there  is 
"no  Christianity"  in  it,  —  are  questions  which  the  reader 
will  decide  for  himself.  The  terms  Pantheism,  Materialism, 
and  even  Christianity,  aie  so  liable  to  random  and  partisan 
use,  that  I  prefer  to  leave  without  comment  a  passage,  of 
which  Mr,  Lewes  says :  "  Grander,  deeper,  holier  thought) 
ate  not  to  be  found  in  poetry." 

115.  At  the  Fountain. 
This  is  another  of  the  scenes  written  in  1775.  Its  direct 
and  occasionally  coarse  realism  has  been  condemned  by  some 
critics,  and  one  ot  two  of  the  expressions  have  geneially 
been  softened  in  translation.  The  vulgarity  of  I.isbcth, 
nevertheless,  has  a  purpose.  Margaret  is  made  to  feel  her 
own  situation,  and  the  disgrace  awaiting  her,  through  the 
expressions  applied  to  the  unfortunate  Barbara,  and  the 
reader's  sympathy  is  secured,  with  his  first  knowledge  of  her 
fall.  I  have  therefore  translated  the  scene  without  change, 
on  the  same  principle  which  the  GermaDs  have  adopted  in 
translating  Shakespeare. 

116.     Andvit'U  scatttr  chaff  htfori  her  door. 

The  word  Aöciirr/iRf  signifies  Mlhei  chalfor  chopped  straw 

The  old  German  custom,  which  is  still  observed  in   some 

parts  of  the  coantry,  allowed  the  bridal  wreath  only  to  chaste 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


297 


maidens.  If  one  of  sullied  repuiation  ventured  to  assume  it, 
the  wteath  was  torn  from  her  head,  and  sometimes  replaced 
with  one  of  straw,  wliile  on  the  eve  of  the  marriage  chaff 
or  chopped  straw  was  scattered  before  her  door.  A  widow 
who  manies  again  is  allowed  to  wear  a  wreath,  but  not  the 
myrtle  of  the  maiden  bride. 

Church-penance  for  unchaslity  was  also  formerly  common 
in  England.  In  Germany  the  guilty  person  was  obliged  to 
kneel  before  the  altar,  clad  in  a  "sinner's  shift,"  while  the 
clergyman  severely  rated  her  conduct,  and  read  her  pelilion 
for  pardon. 

117.    Donjon. 

The  word  Zviiagtr,  which  Goethe  uses,  corresponds  to 
our  "  stronghold  "  or  "  donjon  keep,"  but  is  also  sometimes 
applied  to  the  open  angular  space  between  the  wall  of  a 
town  and  one  of  the  fortified  gates.  Goelhe  seems  to  use 
the  word  in  the  latter  sense.  The  shrine  of  a  saint  was 
fiequenlly  placed  in  the  re-entering  angle,  between  which 
and  the  city-wall  there  would  be  a  partly  enclosed  space. 
Mephistopfaeles  represents  Margaret  as  watching  the  clouds 
"over  the  old  tnty-wall,"  from  her  window,  whence  her 
home  must  have  been  in  the  street  nearest  to  it,  and  the 
»hrine  of  the  Mattr  DolBrosa,  being  close  at  hand,  would  be- 
come her  accustomed  place  of  prayer.  I  have  followed  all 
other  translators  in  using  the  word  donjon,  simply  because 
we  have  no  English  word  to  describe  the  locality, 

TTieopeningof  Margaret's  prayer  suggests  the  well-known 
Latin  hymn  of  Jacoponus,  written  towards  the  close  of  the 
ihirteenth  century:  — 


If  the  reveiy  at  the  spinning-wheel  be  a  sigh  of  longing, 
this  is  a  cry  for  help,  equally  wonderful  in  words  and  metre ; 


ih,Googlc 


yet  with  a  cbaracler  equally  eliuive  when  we  attempt  to 
reproduce  it  in  another  language. 

ii8.     Valentine, (tw/(/wr,  Afargitret't bmi^. 

Thi*  scene  appears  lo  have  been  written  some  time  during 
the  year  iSoo.  and  probably  afcer  the  completion  of  the  ^al 
purgiS'Nighl  (Scene  XXI.).  Goethe  had  been  occupied,  at 
intervals,  for  some  lime  previous,  with  the  Helena  (Part  bec- 
ond.  Act  lit.),  which  he  finally  laid  aside,  with  the  detertiti- 
nation  to  fill  tbe  gaps  yet  remaining  in  the  First  Part,  before 
proceeding  further.  In  (be  Royal  library  at  Berlin,  there  la 
an  auti^^ph  manuscript  of  the  scene,  dated  "  iSoa" 

Düntier  insists  that  the  unity  of  the  plot  is  disturbed  by 
the  introduction  of  Valentine,  whose  death,  he  asserts,  has 
no  intimate  connection  with  Margaret's  fait.  Goethe's  de- 
sign, nevertheless,  may  be  easily  conjectured,  and  the  poets, 
we  imagine,  will  take  sides  with  him  against  the  critic.  The 
guilt  of  blood,  which  the  action  of  Mephistophcles  brings 
opon  Faust,  obliges  the  latter  to  fly  from  the  town,  and  he  is 
thus  prevented  from  learning  the  shame  and  misery  which 
swiftly  come  upon  Margaret.  Without  such  a  motive,  his 
flight  would  be  a  heartless  desertion,  at  variance  with  the 
expressions  of  his  love  in  the  preceding  and  following  scenes. 
Moreover,  while  the  consequences  of  Margaret's  &utt  suc- 
ceed each  other  with  terrible,  cumulative  retribution,  het 
right  to  pity  and  sympathy  increases  with  them.  We  could 
ill  spare  this  picture  of  Valentine,  the  brave  soldier,  the  hon- 
est man,  whose  death  is  another  necessaty  link  in  tbe  btal 
chain  of  Margaret's  destiny. 

1 19.  Sua  iplnulid  liim-dallaTs  in  'i. 
The  remark  of  Faust  refers,  apparently,  to  some  buried 
treasure  which  Mephistopheles  has  promised  to  raise  for 
him.  "IJon-doliara  "  are  of  Dutch  coinage,  and  so  called 
both  from  the  city  of  Louvain  (in  German,  Linotn  —  lion),  in 
Brabant,  where  they  were  first  struck,  and  from  the  figure 
of  a  lion  on  the  obverse.  They  are  also  sometimes  named 
'  Brabanteri."    A  few  specimens  are  still  occastoftally  Men 


ih,Googlc 


bi  Gennanj:  their  valne  is  about  ei^ty-five  cents.     Hay 
ward  is  mistaken  in  uying  that  the  lioa^dollai  is  a  Bohe- 

"  It  «a«  a  generally  disseminated  belief  that  the  interior 
of  (be  eanh  contains  treasures,  which  must  be  raised  by 
iriioeveT  would  possess  them.  It  was  supposeil  that  the 
treasuTe  moved  of  itself  slowly  seeking  to  approach  tlie  sur- 
bce;  At  stated  limes,  frequently  once  in  seven  years,  but 
sometimes  only  once  in  a  hundred,  the  treasure  is  above, 
and  waits  to  be  lifted.  If  this  is  not  accomplished,  because 
the  necessary  conditions  aie  not  fulfilled,  it  sinks  back  agaiiL 
It  is  generally  contained  in  a  kettle,  and  its  approach  to  the 
lar&ce  is  indicated  by  a  flatne  hovering  over  the  spot."  — 
Dnntttr. 

IW.     What  doathim  here  t 
The   song   of  Mepbistopheles   is  directly  suggested,  as 
Ooethe  admitted  (Tode  Note  S),  by  the  song  of  Opiielia,  in 
Haiütt  (Act  IV.,  Scene  V.):  — 

"  Good  mornm,  'I  ig  Saint  ValdHine'i  dar. 
All  in  du  morning  belinie. 
And  I  a  maid  at  jFoar  windoiv; 
To  be  TOUT  Valeottne. 
"Then  npiiennc.  and  doo'd  hiidolha. 
And  dapped  Ihv  chiinber  door ; 
£cl  in  Ibe  maid,  Ihii  ool  a  maid 
Nfli«r  departed  moR." 

In  Schleget's  translation,  St  Charily  (in  the  third  verse) 
is  rendered  SI  Kaihrin,  whence  Goethe  probably  took  the 
name  "Kathrina  dear,"  It  also  seems  probable  that  the 
name  given  to  Margaret's  brother,  Valentine,  was  suggested 
6y  "your  Valentine"  in  Ophelia's  song;  and  all  the  more 
to,  since  its  Latin  original,  mleai,  is  specially  appropriate  to 

lai.     Rat-calckittg piptT,  thaul 

Browning's  poem  of  "The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin"  is  so 

well  known  that  I  need  not  give  the  old  German  legend  to 

which  Valentine'«  exclamation  refers.    Goetlie's  song,  Dtr 


ih,Googlc 


300  FAUST- 

RaUettfangtr,  expresacB  atill  more  dearly  the  meming  whidi 
be  altaches  to  the  phrate.  The  man  who  chanm  innocent 
maidens  by  his  seductive  arts,  even  as  the  piper  hj  the  notes 
of  his  magical  pipe  charmed  the  rats  of  Hamelin,  ii  a  rat- 
catcher.   In  "Romeo  and  Juliet"  (Act  III.  Scene  I.)  Mer- 

"Tjtnlt,  yoa  nt-catcber,  will  jm  «ulk?" 
133.  Oul  vritk  year  if  it,  vilhatl  dilay  ! 
Pltdtrmisch,  the  slang  German  word  for  "swoid.''  which 
Hepbistopheles  decs,  means  a  goose's  wing,  such  as  is  usad 
by  economical  housewives  lor  dusting  (brailure.  Hayward 
translates  "toasting-iron,"  borrowing  the  expression  from 
Shakespeaie ;  Mr.  Brooks  says  **  whisk,"  and  Mr.  Martin 
"duster,"  —  both  of  which  are  literal ;  yet,  in  this  instance,  I 
prefer  to  use  a  cant  word  which  is  equivalent  to  the  original. 

133.  Cathedkal. 
Tbia  is  tbe  doüng  scene  of  "  Faust ;  a  Fr^menl,"  and 
the  last  but  one  in  which  Margaret  appears.  She  returns  to 
the  Cathedral,  before  which  Faust  first  met  her  in  the  street, 
a*  she  was  coming  from  «miession,  where,  as  even  Meplu*> 
topheles  admit* :  — 

-  So  iBDocmi  k  iha.  inikad, 
Tlut  10  a»f»  Alt  had  no  need." 

Without  this  contrast,  the  terrible  power  of  the  scene 
must  be  felt  by  every  reader.  The  short,  unrhymed  line« 
express  both  the  bonne  whispered  threats  of  the  Evil  Spirit, 
and  Ibe  panting  agony  of  the  sinner.  The  tine:  "UpoF 
thy  threshold  whose  the  Mood  ?  "  &ils  in  the  edition  of  1 790- 
and  was  added  on  accomit  of  the  foregoing  scene,  which  was 
afterwards  written.  The  confuuon  of  Margaret's  ibooghta, 
presaging  her  later  insanity,  is  indicated  in  the  ürst  words 
jhe  utters. 

134-     Dili  ira,  dils  ilia. 
Goethe  has  elsewhere  acknowledged  the  powerful  impres- 
sion which  this  old  Latin  chant  made  upon  himaelf.    Sonw 


ih,Googlc 


jvorss. 


301 


h(Te  attributed  its  irthorahip  to  Gregory  the  Great,  and 
others  to  Bernhard  of  Clairvaux  ;  but  the  scholars  seem  now 
to  be  generally  agreed  that  it  is  not  of  later  origin  than  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  that  Thomas  of  Celano  was  proba- 
bly ila  author.  It  was  accepted  b;  the  Roman  Church,  as 
one  of  Che  legumtia  of  the  requiem,  before  the  year  13S5. 
The  original  text  is  engraved  upon  a  marble  tablet  in  the 
church  of  St  Francesco  in  Mantua.  The  present  form  of 
the  chant  is  supposed  to  have  been  given  by  Felix  Hammerlin 
(in  th«  early  part  of  the  fifteenth  century),  who  omitted  the 
former  opening  stanias,  and  added  some  others  at  the  close. 
In  this  form  it  has  appeared  in  the  Catholic  missals,  since 
the  Council  of  Trent.  The  chant  ha*  been  translated  up- 
wards of  seventy  times  into  German,  and  fifteen  times  into 
English.  One  of  the  closeal  versions,  of  the  few  in  which 
the  feminine  rhymes  lae  retained,  is  that  of  Gen.  John  A. 
Dix,  who  thus  tenders  the  first  stania :  — 


125,    jfudtx  ergo  itim  tedtHt. 
We  must  suppose  that  the  singing  of  the  chant  c< 
ird  that  there  is  a  pause  after  the  close  of  the  first  verse,  be- 
fore the  Evil  Spirit  again  speaks.     His  second  address  cer- 
tainly points  to  the  third  verse,  of  wluch  it  isaparaplirase:  — 
Tiba  mirvm  ifarfrnt  «muni 

Goethe  passe*  over  this  and  the  two  following  verses  until 
the  sixth,  which  is  now  quoted.  Margaret  is  overpowered  by 
the  declaration  contained  in  it  that  all  things  hidden  shall  be 
brought  to  light,  and  no  guilt  shall  remain  unpunished. 

ia6.     Quid  aim  miser  tunc  dicturus  f 

This,  the  seventh  verse,  is  most  appropriately  chosen  for 

(he  climax  of  the  effect  produced  on  Margaret  by  the  grand 

and  terrible  chant     If  the  just  shall  be  saved  with  difKculty, 


ih,Googlc 


301  FAUST. 

what  plea  shall  be  Dtlered  by  this  roiierable  linncr?  In  t)ie 
original,  also,  the  threat  of  wrath  and  retribution  culminatea 
here,  the  remajning  ten  verses  having  the  character  of  peni- 
tence and  supplication.  DUnucr  censures  Goethe  for  re- 
pealing the  line;  "  Quid  sum  miter  tunc  ditturusf"  loi  the 
reason  that  it  is  not  repeated  in  the  Catholic  service,  and  in- 
sists that  he  ought  to  have  given  the  first  line  of  the  follow- 
ing feTse  —  "Rex  trimmda  majntatit"  instead  of  it.  But 
the  poet,^  who  prefers  dramatic  truth  to  tbe  correctness  of  a 
minute  detail  which  it  of  no  importance,  justifies  himselC 

137,  Acigitvrl  ))VHT  terdial ! 
The  original  word,  Fl&tch^lun,  means  simply  a  phial ;  bat 
It  ii  evidently  the  neighbor's  pocket-flagon  of  smelling-salts 
for  which  Margaret  uks.  In  most  of  the  English  version« 
we  find  "smelling-bottle,"  but  Mr.  W.  Taylor,  of  Norwich, 
in  his  "Historic  Survey  of  German  Poetry"  (London,  1830), 
say*  ■'  Vour  dram-bottle  1  " 

138.  Walfurgis- Night. 
This  scene  was  written  in  1800,  probably  twenty-five  years 
after  its  first  conception.  It  is  announced  in  the  Witches' 
Kitcben(SceneVI.),  in  thewordsofMephislophetes:  "Thy 
wish  be  on  Wal purgis- Night  expressed,"  Goethe  was  ac- 
customed to  carry  his  poetical  designs  about  with  htm  for  a 
long  lime,  froia  a  sense  of  possession  and  private  enjoyment 
which  he  lost  after  they  had  been  wrilien.  Perhaps,  also, 
his  feeling  for  the  repose  and  Hymmetry  of  classic  art,  which 
was  awakened  during  his  Italian  journey,  and  which  mani- 
fesu  itself  in  Iphignsia  in  Taurit,  Taiie,  and  even  in  Mir- 
aiara  and  DoroOita,  rendered  it  more  difBcult  for  him  to 
resume  a  theme  so  purely  Gothic.  He  once  said  to  Ecker- 
mann:  "I  employed  myself  but  once  with  the  devil  and 
wiich  maierial;  I  was  then  glad  to  have  consumed  my 
Northern  inhetilance,  and  turned  again  10  the  banquets  of 
the  Greeks."  The  original  manuscript  of  the  Walpurgis- 
Night  is  in  the  Royal  Library  of  Berlin :  it  it  dated  Novem- 
ber 5,  1800. 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


303 


The  title  and  character  or  the  Witches'  Sabbath  on  the 
Biniinit  of  the  Brocken,  on  Ihe  nighl  between  April  30  and 
May  I,  spring  equally  from  the  old  and  the  new  religion. 
Walpurgis  (or  Walpurga,  which  is  the  most  usual  form  of 
the  name)  was  the  sister  of  Saints  Willibald  and  Wunnlbald, 
and  emigrated  with  tbem  from  England  10  Germany,  as  fol- 
lowers of  Si.  Boniface,  in  the  eighth  century.  She  died  at 
abbess  of  a  convent  ai  Heidenheim,  in  Franconia,  and  after 
the  extirpation  of  the  old  Teutonic  faith  became  one  of  the 
most  popular  saints,  not  only  in  Germany,  but  also  in  Hol- 
land and  England.  The  first  of  May,  which  was  given  to 
her  in  the  calendar,  was  the  ancient  festival-day  of  the  Dru- 
ids, when  they  made  sacrifices  upon  their  sacred  mountains, 
and  kindled  their  May-fires.  Inasmuch  as  their  gods  be- 
came devils  Co  their  Christian  descendants,  the  superstition 
of  a  conclave  of  wizards,  witches,  and  fiends  on  the  Brocken 
—  or  Blocksberg  —  naturally  arose,  and  the  name  of  the 
pious  Walpuigis  thus  became  irrevocably  attached  to  the 
diabolical  anniversary.  The  superstition  probably  grew 
from  the  circumstance  that  the  Druidic  rites  were  celebrated 
by  night,  and  secretly,  as  their  followers  became  few.  Goethe 
describes  such  a  scene  in  his  Cantata  of  "The  First  Wal- 
purgis-Night "  (written  in  1799),  wherein  his  Druid  sentinel, 
on  the  lookout  for  suppressive  Christians,  sings :  -~ 
"  Mil  dno  Tsulitl,  den  u*  ftbcln, 
WoUm  wii  lis  Hlb«  •nchrecktD.'* 

[With  Uw  DerO.  whom  thay  bbia. 


] 

Mr.  Lewes  is  mistaken  when  he  says :  "  The  scene  on  the 
Blocksberg  is  part  of  the  old  Legend,  and  is  to  be  found  in 
many  versions  of  the  puppet  play."  There  is  no  trace  of  it 
m  any  of  the  forms  of  the  legend  or  play  which  1  have  exam- 
ined. The  carnival  of  the  witches  on  the  Blocksberg  is  a 
much  older  tradition  than  that  of  Faust,  and  the  two  were 
never  united  in  the  popular  stories.  Johann  Friedrich 
Löwen,  a  native  of  Clausthal,  in  the  Hartt,  published  in 
1756   a   conical    epic,   entitled   "  The    Walpurgis-Nigbt," 


ih,Googlc 


wherein,  tpp«ren(Iy  for  the  fitu  dine  in  lluraton,  F: 
appears  on  the  Blockabei^.     I  quote  the  following  line 


Tlw  tfKKtTt*  l:neil  '  humb  I  '     FluH  un«  ■  diinliiiii-uiic  " 

Goethe  was  no  doubt  acquainted  with  thii  poem ;  but  the 
Brocken  itself,  which  can  be  seen  in  clear  weather  (rom  the 
Ettenberg  near  Weimar,  or  the  KUckelhahn  at  Ilmenau,  al- 
wiy«  possessed  a  special  attraction  for  him.  In  December, 
1777,  he  first  ascended  the  mountain,  and  thereafter  wrote 
his  celebnied  poem,  "  Hani-Journey  in  Winter."  Before 
kaving  for  Italy,  he  again  twice  made  Che  ascent,  both 
through  the  region  of  Schicrke  and  Elend,  and  on  the  north- 
ern side,  up  Che  valley  of  the  Ilse. 

The  Hartz  Mountains  are  an  isolated  group,  lying  be- 
tween the  Elbe  and  Weser  rivers,  and  their  central  and 
highest  peak,  the  Brocken,  has  an  elevation  of  three  thou- 
sand eight  hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is  a  dark,  wild 
region,  with  forest*  of  fir  and  birch  on  the  lower  heights, 
traversed  by  foaming  streams,  one  of  which,  the  Bode,  is 
(hut  in  by  perpendicular  walls  ot  trap  rock,  several  hundred 
feet  in  height.  On  Che  loftier  ridges  huge  masses  of  granite 
mterrupt,  and  sometimes  overtop,  the  forests.  Climbing  the 
Brocken  in  1845,  I  passed  the  Walpurgis- Night  in  the  high- 
est inhabited  house  below  Che  summit,  which  I  reached  the 
next  morning  after  wandering  upwards  for  three  hours 
through  a  terrible  storm.  The  descent  in  the  afternoon, 
through  Schierke  and  Elend,  under  drifting  masses  of  black 
cloud  and  a  driving  scud  of  hail,  snow,  and  rain,  suggested, 
at  every  step,  the  description  of  the  scenery  in  Faust. 
Schierke,  the  highest  village  in  the  Hartz,  is  a  collection  o( 
Tude,  weather-beaten  wooden  houses,  surrounded  by  rocks 
of  the  most  äntasCic  shapes.  Elend  is  two  or  three  mile* 
distant,  and  much  lower.  The  most  spirited  and  picturesque 
de*aiptioD  of  the  Faust-icenery  of  the  Haru  ha*  beoi 


ih,Googlc 


JfOTES. 


305 


given  bf  Hehw,  ia  his  ReiubiUrr —  "  nctarn  of  TraTd," 
which  have  been  Danslaletl  by  Mr.  Charles  G.  Leland. 

A  fragment  of  two  lines  in  the  Paralipamena  wis  probably 
Intended  &a  the  opening  of  tlua  scene  ;  — 


TW  plmtisr  wdi  aad  win^a  grow. 

119.  7%r  mom' I  Urn  diak,  mtk  ita  UlattJ^em. 
"  The  field  of  love,  hate,  hope,  despair,  and  whatever  other 
name»  may  be  given  to  the  conditioDS  and  passioni  of  fhe 
■oul,  IB  the  poet'i  natural  inheritance,  and  he  may  lue  it 
■uccesafolly.  But  he  hat  no  inherited  insiina  of  how  ■ 
court  of  justice  —  for  instance  —  is  held,  or  how  a  parliament 
or  an  imperial  coronation  is  conducted ;  and  in  order  not  to 
violate  truth  the  poM  must  make  auch  subjects  his  own 
through  observation  or  acceptance  from  others.  Thus,  in 
Fault,  I  was  easily  ible  to  possess,  by  insdnc 
the  gloomy  mood  of  weariness  of  life  in  the  hero,  as  we 
Margaret's  scntitneiit  of  love ;  but,  to  say,  far  ezan^ile ; ' 


Tk*  Bwon't  lana  dak,  witb  itt  beUud  (kni,'  — 

come  previous  observation  of  nature  was  ueccssaiy."  — 
Gaeihe  te  Eckirmann,  1S24. 

The  time  being  near  midnight,  the  moon,  then  rising, 
would  be  approaching  her  last  quarter. 

I  cannot  give  a  better  illuitraCion  of  the  efforts  made  bv  a 
certain  class  of  German  critics  to  attach  a  S3m:ibolicat  mean- 
bg  to  every  part  of  Faust,  than  the  assertion  of  Leulbecher, 
that  the  two  lines  ;  — 

H  1t^p«d1  tircMtt, 

■idicate  the  linking  which  Fickle  gave  to  Nicolai,  in  hia 
paper  entitled  :  "  Friedrich  Nicolai,  his  Singular  Opinions," 
ftc-  I  Unfortunately  for  Leutbecber,  this  paper  was  pub- 
liihed  a  year  after  Goethe  wrote  the  Wa]pufg>«-Night. 


ih,Googlc 


306  FAUST. 

130.  Hiar  them  sitoniig,  htor  than  btsaa^l 
Some  of  the  httge,  rockj  "anonu,"  nur  tbe  villus  of 

Schierlce,  have  long  been  t^lcd  Die  ScAnareArr,  The  Snor- 
ers.    Near  one  of  these  roclcs  the  magnet  shows  a  great 
vaiiatioii,  whence  the  people  of  the  neighborhood  daim  ihat 
it  is  ti>e  cenlral-poiDl  of  tlie  world.     Mephistopheles  sajrs,  in 
tbe  CUsäcal  Walpmgis- Night  (Secoud  Part  of  .fiuuf) :  — 
TIr  Sntfti«  Haul  at  Elend,  Bootting  [»en  1 
And  III  b  finuked  tir  ■  Ibouead  yeus. 
SheDer  translates  tbe  couplet  with  great  spirit :  — 
"Tbepenl-ineiited  cncm,  bal  bo  I 
Haw  ibef  men  ud  bow  IliCT  bk*  t " 
Hisvoston  «r  tbe  Walpurgis- Night,  although  not  Teij 
bith&l,  and  coMainii^  frequent  line*  of  his  own  interpola- 
■ion,  Dcvertbeless  admirably  reproduces  tbe  harrying  move- 
ment and  the  weird  atntosphere  of  tbe  original.      This  ia 
the  more  remarkable  sixx  he  disregards,  for  tbe  most  pan, 
the  Genoan  metres. 

131.  ffmg  raoii  tlU  tewtfeit  thrm^h  tkt  air  I 

The  word  which  I  bave  translated  "lempesl,"  b  Whtdi' 
traml  (wind's-bride)  ti)  the  original.  It  is  the  word  employed 
by  Luther,  in  bis  transUtion  of  the  Bible,  for  the  italicized 
words  in  the  following  verse  from  Acts  (zzvii,  14) :  "  But 
not  long  after  there  arose  against  it  a  tetaptstumu  viinä, 
called  Eurodydon."  A  »udden  and  violent  siorro  is  still 
called  WindibratU  by  the  common  people,  in  some  parts  of 
Geimanj. 

13z.  7^  wäcka  ride  to  the  Breeietfi  laf. 
The  same  general  explanation  wbicb  bas  been  appGed  to 
tbe  Witches'  Kitchen  {vide  Note  83)  is  also  valid  here.  In 
the  separate  voices  and  choruses  which  ibUow,  a  a^aning  is 
constantly  Snggesled,  because  each  is  arbilrarily  attached  to 
a  basis  of  satire  or  irony,  without  any  necessary  consisteocy 
between  them.  Most  of  the  German  commentators  suppose 
thai  the  croiwding  and  pushing  of  the  "  boistcroua  gDestm* 


ih,Googlc 


KOTES.  307 

towards  the  siimiiiir  of  the  Blocksberg  is  symboliml  of  the 
Siorm  aad  Strtii  period  of  German  Literature ;  but  the 
argument  could  not  be  made  dear  to  the  English  reader, 
without  giving  a  comprehensive  sketch  of  that  period.  I 
shall,  therefore,  only  meotjon  those  references  concerning 
which  the  critics  are  generally  agreed- 
Sir  Urian  is  a  name  which  was  formerly  used  to  designate 
an  imkncHni  peison,  or  one  whose  name,  even  if  known,  it 
•as  not  thought  proper  to  mention.  In  this  aensc  it  was 
somedmcs  applied  to  the  Devil.  In  the  Partnai  aC  Wolf- 
ram vuD  Eschenbach,  the  unprincipled  Prince  of  Puntnrtoit 
is  called  Urian, 

Hayward  says  of  the  omitted  words  in  this  verse :  "  la 
Arislopbanic    language — the   wiidi  wtpSirai,  the  be-goat 

133.  Alane,  tld  Baibt  '1  coming  new. 
Baubo,  in  the  Grecian  myths,  was  the  old  nurse  of  Deme- 
ter, or  Ceres ;  who,  when  the  latter  was  plunged  in  grief  for 
the  loss  of  I^isephone,  endeavored  to  divert  her  by  inde- 
cent sloiies  and  actions,  and  thns,  finally,  provoked  her  to 
laughter.  Goedie,  Ifaerefore,  makes  her  symbolize  the  grou. 
shameless  sensuality,  which,  according  to  all  popular  tradi- 
tions, characterized  the  congregations  of  the  witches,  wia- 
ards,  and  devils. 

134.  WamoM  V  a  IhmaanJ  Hept  aiaid. 
Riemer  relates  that  Goethe,  in  the  year  1807,  said  to  hiDi : 
"  When  a  woman  once  deviates  from  the  right  path,  she 
then  walks  blindly  and  regardless  of  consequences  towards 
evil ;  and  a  man  who  walks  the  evil  way  cannot  begin  to 
keep  pace  with  her,  for  be  always  retains  a  sort  of  too- 
KJeaoe,  while  she  allows  nature  to  work  unchecked-" 

135.     Vttwt're  ttenuUfy  tteriU  itiU. 

"  That  is,  they  know  all  Ibe  rules  by  which  to  avoid  bult^ 

tut  beyond  this  negative  talent  their  powers  do  not  reach, 

tad  the  very  care  with  which  they  wash  and  deanse,  hindei» 


ih,Googlc 


3o8  FAUST. 

their  praductl*eneM.  '  To  be  free  from  fimlts,  it  both  tba 
lowest  and  tbe  highest  degree  ;  for  it  springs  from  either 
Itnpotenc«  or  greatness.' "  — Härtung. 

"  It  applies  (o  the  merely  critical  efforts  of  the  day,  vhich 
can  nerer  attain  to  a  creative  character."  —  Diycki. 

"  These  always  washing,  even  bright  and  clean  wiiards,  are 
wltbout  doubt  the  xalhetic  art-critics,  to  whom  nothing  is 
ever  right,  but  who  themselves  are  unable  to  produce  tb« 
■lightest  thing."  —  Düntitr. 

"The  Blocksberg  is  the  congregation  of  the  evil  ones, 
the  collection  of  the  rabble  who  perversely  follow  mistaken 
views  of  knowledge,  will  and  power."  —  Rostnkratn. 

136.    Drittle,  whittling  Ihrot^  tkt  dork. 
Shelley  gives  tbe  following  translation  of  this  verse :  — 
"  Th(  wind  i>  «ill.  the  mun  in  Hod, 
Tba  malucholy  moon  ia  dad ; 
Th«  mlcic  EMjtB«.  Likv  %pKrt  on  qsifc, 
Drismle,  whiaiUnc  ihrougli  th«  durli.'* 
The  last  couplet  here  so  perfectly  retains  the  character  at 
/■•  Sattstn  sprukl  that  I  do  not  see  how  it  could  be  other- 
wise rendered  without  loss  ;  and  I  therefore  prefer  to  borrow 
from  Shelley  rather  than  offer  a  less  sattsfitctory  translation. 

137.    /  '*>  dimhing  nam  three  htmJred yeuri. 

"This  can  only  mean  Sdence  (more  than  three  hundred 
year«  hstd  elapsed  since  the  revival  of  the  sciences),  which 
cannot  properly  advance,  because  it  is  hindered  by  pedantry, 
by  the  restriction  of  the  schools  (the  rocky  cleft)."  — 
Diintter. 

"  It  means  the  dtjes  and  provinces  of  Germany,  whereof 
there  w««  many  at  that  time,  which  remained  bebicd  the 
general  development  of  the  age."  —  Deyeks. 

The  "  Half- Witch,"  who  follows  below,  after  the  doublr 
chorus,  is  generally  accepted  as  indicating  those  half'talents 
which,  with  all  (heir  amlntion,  never  rise  above  mediocrity. 
and  are  therefore  bitterly  jealous  of  the  more  gifted  mind» 
whidi  easily  distance  them  ia  the  race. 


ih,Googlc 


JVOTSS. 


3<>9 


138.  Make  room  I  Sqaire  Veltatd  aimts  I 
"In  the  poets  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  c 
frequently  tneet  with  the  word  VliaiU  as  a  designation  ai 
the  Devil.  In  Benhold's  Diary  we  find  the  Evil  One  once 
named  as  Sft^in  VMaaä —  in  the  play  of  Frau  Jutta  ai  the 
Evil  Velland.  The  word  means  either  'seducer'  or  'the 
Wicked  One.'"  — Zhintter. 

139-  Mefhistopheles  [wks  all  ai  cnct  apfnari  very  eld). 
Whether  the  four  characters  who  have  just  been  intio- 
duced  are  so  many  individual  satires  (Deycks,  Tor  instance, 
as!>erts  that  the  Author  represents  the  Komantic  school, 
headed  by  Tieck  and  the  Schlegels),  is  a  point  concerning 
which  the  critics  are  not  agreed  But  that  the  episode  is  a 
general  satire  on  the  conventional,  and  therefore  reactionary, 
element  in  politics  and  literature  is  very  evident.  The  vrotds 
of  Mephistopheles  and  hts  assumption  of  age  must  be  ac- 
cepted as  a  burlesque  imitation  of  the  tone  of  the  four  speak- 
ers ;  he  simply  lakes  up  the  strain  and  exaggerates  it  10  the 
point  of  absurdity.  One  of  the  German  commentators,  nev- 
ertheless, considers  that  Mephistopheles  gravely  expresses 
his  own  views.  His  explanation  is ;  "  And  because  (he  con- 
tradictions of  life  and  thought  have  reached  their  highest 
pitch,  but  at  the  same  time  have  found  their  end  and  solu- 
tion, does  Mephistopheles  convince  himself  that  he  has 
ascended  the  Blocksberg  for  the  last  time." 

The  remaining  fragments  (FaTalifoinena'\  which  belong  to 
Sie  Walpurgis- Night  may  properly  be  given  here ;  — 


TlionRh  but » tagpipe,  lii«  ui  biom 
We  hiYC.  lika  miny  nobi«  feUowi, 
Hoch  ippaiic  and  liiila  utte. 


OfHlmc 

Thidnr 


ih,Googlc 


Anl  ifainwilhiil  [<■  cAar^u]. 

The  Rat-catcher,  here,  U  certainly  Basedow,  one  of  Goethe^ 
early  friends.  He  was  a  native  of  Hamburg,  bom  in  1733, 
and  was  noied  as  a  teacher,  even  before  his  adopdon  and 
advocacy  of  Rousseau's  system  of  education  gave  him  a 
wider  and  more  important  reputation.  In  1774  he  estab- 
lished a  model  school,  under  [he  name  of  TTu  PhilanthraftH, 
at  Dessau.  After  four  years,  he  lefi  the  plate,  and  until  his 
death  In  1790  was  engaged  in  trying  to  establish  similar  in- 
stitutions In  other  cities. 

The  word  in  brackets  is  Hartnng's  suggestion  for  Ibe 
completion  of  the  line.  DUntzer  thinks  it  should  be  Gro- 
bian —  "  boor." 

140.  ATe  dagger  'i  here,  that  sit  not  Neod  to  flawing. 
Some  commentators  suppose  that  the  "  Huckster- Witch" 
(literally,  a  seller  of  all  kinds  of  old  rubbish)  was  intended 
for  the  famous  Nuremburg  antiquarian,  Von  Murr;  others 
that  the  eccentric  Hofrath  Beireis,  who  had  a  remarkable 
collection  of  curiosities  at  Helmatädt,  «as  the  original. 
This  is  not  a  matter  of  much  importance :  the  English 
reader  will  be  more  interested  in  the  resemblance  between 
the  catalogue  of  the  witch's  wares,  and  thai  given  by  Bums 
in  "Tarn  O'Shanter."  Goethe  was  probably  acquainted 
with  the  poems  of  Bums  at  the  time  the  Walpurgis- Night 
was  written,  ten  years  after  the  publication  of  "  Tam  O'Shan- 
ter." In  a  conversation  with  Soret,  in  1817,  he  spoke  with 
great  admiration  of  the  Scottish  poet,  and  gave  evidence  of 
an  intimate  knowledge  of  his  songs.  For  the  sake  of  coio 
parison,  I  quote  the  passage  from  "  Tarn  O'Shanter";  — 
'*Coffini  «Dod  round  like  open  preueSi 

That  ihiw'd  the  dead  in  Iheii  luldnMii 

And  by  eome  devilith  cviinp  atighl. 


ih,Googlc 


WifK  iDOdhawkA  wi 


The  gray  haira  ret  tucV  to  the  heft." 
Hayward  is  incorrect  in  staling  that  Goethe's  poem  of 
"  The  Dance  of  Death  "  dearly  preceded  "  Tarn  O'Shanler." 
The  correspondence  with  Ktiebel  shows  that  the  former 
poem  was  written  in  October,  1813.  Its  character,  more- 
over, is  quite  distinct  and  original :  nol  a  line  in  it  suggest! 
either  Bums  or  the  Walpurgia- Night. 

141.     Adant'i  firti  wifi  it  ike. 

Burton,  in  his  "Anatomy  of  Melancholy,"  says:  "The 
Talmudists  say  that  Adam  had  a  wife  called  Lilis  before  he 
married  Eve,  and  of  her  he  begat  nothing  but  deviU. 

The  name,  from  the  Hebrew  root  LU,  darkness,  signifies 
rti  Nointrniü.  The  word  occurs  in  Isaiah  (xiaiv.  (4) ;  in 
the  Vulgate  il  is  translated  Lamia,  in  Luther's  Bible  Kobold, 
and  in  our  English  version,  sa-eKh-oa>l.  According  to  the 
Rabbinical  writings,  Lilith  was  created  at  the  same  time  with 
Adam,  in  such  a  manner  that  he  and  she  were  joined  to- 
gether by  the  back,  as  it  is  written,  "  male  and  female  cre- 
ated He  them,  and  called  their  name  Adam."  In  this  condi- 
tion they  did  not  agree  at  all,  but  quarrelled  and  tore  each 
other  continually.  Then  the  I^ord  repented  that  He  had 
made  them  so,  and  separated  them  into  two  independent 
bodies ;  but  even  thus  they  would  not  live  in  peace,  and 
when  Lilith  devoted  herself  to  witchcraft  and  courted  the 
•ociety  of  Devils,  Adam  left  her  altogether.  A  new  wife, 
Eve,  was  afterwards  created,  to  compensate  him  for  his  do- 
«euic  niisTortUTie. 


ih,Googlc 


jta  FAUST. 

Lilith  is  described  as  having  be&utiful  luür,  in  the  meshes 
of  which  lurk  a  multitude  of  evil  spirit».  Sbe  bas  such 
power  over  infania  —  for  eighi  days  after  birth  for  boys,  and 
twenty  days  for  girls  —  that  she  is  able  lo  cause  their  death. 
tl  was  therefore  the  custom  lo  hang  an  amulet,  inscribed 
with  the  names  of  the  angels  Senoi,  Sansenoi,  and  Sanraan- 
geloph,  around  the  child's  neck  at  birth ;  and  from  the 
Latin  exorcism  Litla  aH!  sung  by  the  mother,  some  have 
derived  our  word  Lullaby,  although  it  has  also  a  more  ob- 
vious derivation.  Lilith  was  equally  a  seductress  of  young 
men,  using  her  golden  hair  as  a  luie  to  captivate  them  ;  but 
the  youth  who  loved  her  always  died,  and  after  his  death  a 
single  hair  from  her  head  was  found  twisted  around  tii« 
heart.  Mr,  Dame  Gabriel  Rossetti  has  embodied  this  tra< 
dilion  in  a  fine  sonnet. 

142.    A  Icrvely  drean  (met  camt  /a  me, 

Byron,  who  read  Shelley's  translation  of  the  Walpurgis* 

Night  in  manuscript,  seems  to  have  remembered  the  dance 

of  Faust  and  the  young  witch,  Jn  writing  the  sixth  canto  of 

"  Don  Juan." 

In  the  two  verses  given  to  Mephistophele*  and  the  old 
witch,  the  omitted  words  are  thus  omitted  in  the  original. 
The  manuscript  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Berlin  contains  the 
completed  lines  as  written  by  Goethe.  They  are  neither 
better  nor  worse  than  many  passages  in  Shakespeare,  having 
the  coarseness,  without  the  wit,  of  Rabelais  ;  hence  the 
reader  gains  rather  than  loses  by  the  omission. 

143.      PROKTOPHANTABMIST. 

In  Goethe's  original  manuscript  and  in  the  first  edition  of 
Fiiuil  this  name  is  given  as  "  Broktuphantasmist,"  as  in 
Shelley's  English  and  Stapfer's  French  version.  The  mis- 
talie  was  therefore  Goethe's  and  not  theirs,  as  later  l/ans- 
latnrs  have  charged.  The  word  (from  wpurrlit.  the  buttocks) 
points  so  directly  to  Friedrich  Nicolai,  the  Berlin  author 
and  publiahei,  that  there  is   no  difficulty  in  interpreting 


ih,Googlc 


JVOTES.  313 

NIcoU,  the  son  of  a  bookseller,  vas  bom  In  Berlin  in 
1733,  and  Buccceded  (o  his  äiher's  biutnesa  at  the  age  of 
twenty-five,  after  having  already  commenced  bU  career  m 
an  aathor.  He  was  the  literary  associate  of  Lessing  and 
Moses  MendelMohn,  In  the  "  Letters  concerning  Recent 
German  Literature  "  and  the  "  Universal  German  Libraiy," 
published  between  1759  and  1792.  He  shared  the  hostility 
oT  the  fonner  to  the  romantic  sdiool,  especially  in  its  "  Storm 
and  Stress "  period,  and  soon  after  the  appearance  of 
Goethe's  "  Sorrows  of  WerCher  "  published  a  malicious  and 
rather  stupid  parody  entitled  "  The  Joys  of  Werther."  After 
the  death  of  his  two  greit  friends  be  seems  to  have  con- 
sidered himself  their  literary  successor,  and  his  pretensions 
to  be  recognized  as  a  critical  authority  were  so  arrogantly 
and  impudently  displayed,  that  he  soon  brought  upon  htm- 
aeir  the  enmity,  not  of  Goethe  alone,  but  also  of  Herder, 
Schiller,  Kant,  Fichte,  and  many  other  distinguished  men. 
His  "Account  of  a  Journey  through  Germany  and  Switzer- 
land," (17S1)  in  twelve  volumes,  gives,  perhaps,  the  com- 
pletest  expression  of  his  cold,  restricted,  yet  dictatorial 
nature.  He  has  been  called  the  En-PkäisUi —  the  arch- 
representative  of  the  commonplace,  conventional  element  in 
German  literature.  . 

Carlyle  says  ;  "  To  the  very  last  Nicolai  could  never  per- 
suade himself  that  there  was  anything  in  heaven  01  earth 
that  «as  not  dreamt  of  in  Au  philosophy.  He  was  animated 
with  a  fierce  leat  against  Jesuits ;  in  this,  most  people 
thought  him  partly  right ;  but  when  he  «rote  against  Kant's 
philosophy  without  comprehending  it,  and  judged  of  poetry 
as  he  judged  of  Brunswick  mumme,'  by  its  utility,  many 
people  thought  him  wrong." 

Goethe,  perhaps,  might  have  forgiven  the  parody  of  "  Wer- 
ttter."  but  Nicolai's  declaration  that  he  would  "  soon  finish 
Goethe,"  at  a  time  when  he  still  retained  considerable  influ- 
ence with  the  public, 'while  (loschen's  edition  of  Goethe's 
works  was  neglected  or  assailed,  was  a  more  serious  offencci 


ih,Googlc 


3  »4 


FAUST. 


Goethe  wa*  provoked  into  t>sii%  tbe  onljr  weapon  which  he 
considered  fining — ridicule,  and  he  was  assisted  by  Nicolai'» 
Mm  indiscieCion.  The  tatter,  whose  literary  materialism  wat 
his  prominent  quality,  —  who  fought  the  spiritual  element 
M  Lutber  fought  the  Devil,  —  was  visited,  in  1 791,  with  an 
avenging  malady.  He  was  troubled  by  apparitions  of  per- 
■ons  living  and  dead,  who  filled  his  room,  and  for  several 
weeks  continued  to  haunt  and  torment  him  although  he 
knew  them  to  be  phantasms.  He  was  finally  relieved  by  the 
application  of  leeches  about  (he  end  of  the  spine,  whence 
Goethe's  term  PreätofAantaimisl,  which  may  be  delicately 
translated  as  "  Rump-visionary."  Nicolai  published  a  very 
minute  account  of  his  affliction  and  the  manner  of  cure,  and 
thus  fiimished  his  antagonists  with  an  eflective  source  of  rid- 
icule. He  died  in  iSi  t,  after  having  seen  himself  pilloried 
in  the  Wal purgis- Night.  His  services,  nevertheless,  must 
not  be  wholly  measured  by  the  place  which  he  here  occupies. 
He  »as  eiidently  honest,  although  vain  und  narrow-minded 
For  several  years,  his  authority  in  Berlin  «as  fully  equal  to 
that  of  Gottsched  in  Leipzig,  a  generation  before;  and  his 
friendship  with  Lessing  and  Mendelssohn  is  an  evidence 
both  of  his  culture  and  character.  But  when,  not  recogniz- 
.  ing  the  later  giants,  he  attempted  to  stand  in  theb  way,  he 
was  crushed. 

144.  JVf  are  so  vase,  and  yet  is  Tegel  haunted. 
Nicolai's  arrogant  manner  is  parodied  in  this  passage. 
Since  he  does  not  believe  in  the  spirits,  it  is  incredible  that 
they  will  not  vanish.  His  annoyance  at  their  appearance  in 
Tegel  —  a  small  castle,  a  few  miles  northwest  of  Berlin,  origi- 
nally built  as  a  hunting-lodge  by  the  Elector  of  Brandenbui^, 
aivd  more  recently  known  as  the  home  and  burial-place  of 
Wilhelm  and  Alexander  von  Humboldt  —  is  explained  by 
the  circumstance  that  in  t797  apparitions  were  declared  to 
have  visited  the  castle,  ^io  much  excitement  was  created  by 
the  report,  that  an  ofBclal  visit  to  Tegel  was  made  by  the 
anthorilics,  and  attempts  were  instituted,  but  without  sue. 
cess,  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  ghostly  sights  and  sounds. 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


315 


Id  Varnfaogen  von  Eosc'b  Tt^Atuh,  published  since  hif 
ieath,  I  find  Ibe  following  curious  statement :  — 

"  Tegel  is  haunted,  as  is  known ;  this  winter  the  HinisleT 
(Wilhelm)  von  Humboldt  is  said  to  have  seen  his  douUe 
there.  The  serwil  entered,  terrified  to  find  him  sitting 
at  his  writing-desli,  aitd  cotifeued,  in  his  confusion,  that  be 
bad  just  left  him  l^ing  in  bed.  The  Minister  followed  the 
■errant  into  hi*  bedchamber,  also  saw  himself  Ijring  in  bed, 
obeenred  the  thing  for  1  while,  did  not  approach  nearer, 
however,  but  went  quicllj  awaj  again.  After  half  an  hour 
the  apparitkm  bad  disappeared." 

145.  Ytt  stmtthingfrota  a  Imr  I  ahoayt  tatie. 
This  is  an  allusion  to  Nicolai's  interminable  narrative  of 
bis  jonmey  through  Germany  and  Switzerland.  The  parody 
of  his  manner  is  continued  in  his  repetition  of  the  same  idea, 
■a  In  one  of  the  Xtnim  which  Goethe  and  Schiller  wrote  In 
partnership  in  1 796  :  — 

"  Whit  be  think)  of  hü  ^e  ht  njt :  bi  pt»  hii  ojiiniso, 
Sa^  it  agab  aloud,  aajrg  h«  has  laid  it>  and  got*." 

The  allusio«  of  Mephistopheles  to  the  leeches  needs  no 
further  explanation. 

146.    j4  nd  mmaiftpm  her  mvuti, 
Goethe  here  refers  (o  an  old  superstition  concerning  one 
of  the  many  forms  of  diabolical  possession.     Perhaps  be  also 
remembered  the  following  story,  quoted  by  Hayward  frtun 
the  Deuitclu  Sagen :  — 

"  The  following  incident  occurred  at  a  nobleman's  seat,  in 
Thüringia,  about  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  centuiy. 
The  servants  were  paring  Iruit  in  the  room,  when  a  girl,  be 
c<Mning  sleepy,  left  the  others  and  laid  herself  down  on  a 
bench,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  others.  After  she  had 
Jain  still  a  short  time  a  Utile  red  mouse  crept  out  of  her 
mouth,  which  was  open.  Most  of  the  people  saw  it  and 
showed  it  to  one  another.  The  mouse  ran  hastily  to  the 
open  window,  crept  through,  and  remained  a  short  tpace 


ih,Googlc 


3i6  PAUST. 

without.  A  fbrmid  wahing-oufd,  whoM  curiiMit)r  was  ea> 
died  by  whxt  she  mw,  in  spite  of  the  remonstiances  of  the 
test  went  up  to  the  iiunimsle  maiden,  shook  her,  looved  her 
to  mother  place  *  little  fatihtt  oB,  and  then  left  her. 
Shortly  afterwards  the  mouse  returned,  ran  to  the  former 
familiar  spot  where  it  had  crept  out  of  the  maiden's  mouth, 
ran  up  and  down  as  if  it  could  not  find  its  way,  and  was  at  a 
loss  what  to  do,  and  then  disappeared.  The  maiden,  bow- 
ever,  was  dead  and  remained  dead.  The  forward  waiting- 
maid  repented  of  what  she  had  done,  but  in  vain.  In  the 
same  estaUishment  a  lad  had  before  then  been  often  tor- 
mented by  the  sorceress,  and  could  have  oo  peace;  ibis 
ceased  on  the  maiden'*  death." 

Goethe  probably  intended  the  mouse  as  a  symbol  of  the 
bestial  element  in  the  Witches'  Sabbath,  by  which  Faust  is 
disgusted  and  repelled.  The  apparition  of  Margaret,  which 
has  also  a  prophetic  character,  is  the  externa]  eidolon  of  his 
own  love  and  longing. 

147.  TXi  Pratrr  ihima  ne  livelür  itir. 
The  Prater  (from  the  I^tin  fratum,  a  meadow)  is  the  fa- 
mous public  parL  of  Vienna,  which  the  Emperor  Joseph  IL 
dedicated  "To  the  Human  Race."  It  is  an  island  enclosed 
by  arms  of  the  Danube,  covered  with  a  line  forest  which  is 
intersected  in  all  directions  by  magnificent  drives  and  walks. 
On  holidays,  Sunday  afternoons,  and  pleasant  summer  even- 
ings half  the  population  of  Vienna  may  be  fnund  in  the  Pra- 
ter, which  is  one  of  the  liveliest  and  cheerfullest  places  of 
recreation  in  Europe. 

148.  SiKVIBtUS. 
This  term  corresponds  to  (he  "supernumerary"  of  oar 
theatres.  In  1799,  Goethe  wrote  an  article  upon  "  Dilettan- 
tism "  in  literature,  of  which  the  words  spoken  by  the  Ser- 
vibilis  are  an  echo.  Düntier  says,  referring  to  this  pauste  : 
"The  Dilettanti,  to  wliom  we  ate  now  introduced,  love  an 
immensity  of  material,  for  which  reason  they  continually  pro- 
duce new  pieces,  and  by  scores  together." 


ih,Googlc 


149-  Obbkon  and  Titania's  Golden  Wedding. 
This  Intermtaa  hid  no  place  in  the  original  plan  of  Famt, 
«nd  Schiller  is  chiefly  reaponsiUe  for  its  insertion.  In  the 
summer  or  1796,  Goethe,  who  bad  been  reading  the  Xtnia  of 
Martial,  wrote  >  few  imitations  in  German  directed  againat 
his  literary  antagonists.  Schiller  caught  the  idea  at  once  ; 
they  met  and  worked  together,  sometimes  independently, 
while  sometimes  one  fumished  the  conception  and  another 
the  words.  The  distiches  grew  so  fast  that  they  proposed 
writing  a  thousand  ;  tnit  the  number  published  in  the  Mmen- 
tlngiatk  of  the  following  winter  was  four  hundred  and  thir- 
teen. {They  «re  all  given  in  the  Nachträge  n  Gmtke's  Wtr- 
htn,  by  Eduard  Boas:  Berlin,  1859.)  The  effect  was  like 
disturbing  a  hornet's  nest :  the  air  of  Gennany  was  filled 
with  sounds  of  pain,  rage,  and  malicious  laughter.  Mi, 
Lewes  »ays  r  "  The  sensation  produced  by  Pope's  '  Dundad ' 
and  Byron's  'English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers,'  was 
mild  compared  with  the  sensation  produced  by  the  Xtnün, 
although  the  wit  and  sarcasm  of  the  latter  is  like  milk  and 
water  compared  with  the  vitriol  of  the  'Dundad'  and  the 
English  Bards.'  "  Mr.  Lewes,  however,  hardly  appreciates 
the  peculiar  sting  of  the  Xenitn,  which  do  not  satirize  the 
authors  as  individuals,  so  much  as  ibelr  intellectual  peculi- 

During  the  following  summer,  Goethe  wrote  "  Oberen  and 
Titania's  Golden  Wedding  "  —  not  in  its  present  fonn  —  and 
tent  it  to  Schiller  for  the  Muieaalmanach  of  1798,  as  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  a^ressive  movement.  Schiller,  writing  to 
hitn  on  the  2d  of  October,  says :  "  Vou  will  not  find  '  übe- 
Ton's  Golden  Wedding'  in  the  collection  ;  I  have  omitted  it, 
for  two  reasons.  First,  I  thought  it  might  be  well  to  abso- 
lutely leave  out  of  this  number  of  the  Almanach  all  stings, 
and  assume  a  baimless  air  ;  and  then  I  was  not  willing  that 
the  Golden  Wedding,  for  the  amplification  of  which  there  is 
so  much  material,  should  be  limited  to  so  few  verse».  It  re- 
mains to  us  for  next  year,  as  a  treasure  which  may  be  greatly 
mcreased." 


ih,Googlc 


3i8  FAUST. 

There  is  no  >eply  to  this  in  Goethe's  letters  until  the  aoth 
of  December,  when  he  writes  to  Schiller  from  Weimar,  after 
bis  return  from  Switzerland  ;  "  You  have  most  considerately 
omitted  Oberon's  Golden  Wedding.  In  the  mean  lime  it 
has  increased  to  double  the  number  of  verses  ;  and  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  the  best  place  lor  it  would  be  in  Faust." 
There  were  probably  many  changes,  made  by  addition  or 
omission,  before  it  appeared  as  an  InUrmata  in  the  edition 
of  1808.  The  "Walpargis-Night's Dream"  is  a  suggestion 
from  Shakespeare.  Most  of  the  allusions  may  still  be  de- 
tected 1  yet  something  has  undoubtedly  been  lost,  through 
the  transitory  cbaractci  of  the  reputations  thus  satirized. 

Considered  in  its  relation  to  Faust,  the  piece  can  only  be 
regarded  as  an  excrescence.  At  the  time  it  was  added,  how- 
ever, Goethe  designed  following  it  with  another  scene  of  ih« 
Walpurgis -Night,  the  outline  of  which  is  given  in  Note  170. 
Eckermann  relates  that,  in  like  manner,  Goethe  inserted  k 
number  of  aphoristic  passages  and  one  or  two  poems,  for 
which  there  was  no  special  place  elsewhere,  in  the  conclud- 
ing part  of  WilAtlm  Miisler,  where  their  appearance  wa»  a 
puMle  to  both  critics  and  readers. 

150.    Sons  of  MiiJing,  rest  to-day. 

Mieding  was  a  theatre -decorator  at  Weimar,  and  a  great 
favorite  of  Goethe  and  the  Ducal  Court.  After  his  death,  in 
I7S2,  Goethe  celebrated  him  in  the  poem,  "Mieding's 
Death." 

151.    Puck. 

Some  commentators  suppose  that  the  Herald's  announce- 
ment of  the  Gulden  Wedding  refers  to  the  final  reconcilia- 
tion of  the  conflicting  elements  in  German  literature.  In 
that  case.  Oberon  and  Tilania  roust  be  accepted  as  repre- 
senting the  Classic  and  Romantic  Schools,  or  perhaps  Rea- 
son and  Imagination;  their  quarrel,  in  the  "Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream."  may  have  suggested  to  Goethe  their  use  a> 
"properlies"  for  the  representation  of  his  satirical  fancies. 

Puck  appears  to  stand  for  the  whimsical,  perverse  elemenl 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


3'9 


which  freqoentl)'  appears  to  cootrol  the  ta«tes  of  the  molti- 
tode,  ralbec  than  Tor  an  individual.  The  oame  (from  the 
■ame  root  as  the  Swedish  foika,  a  boy)  and  the  tricksy 
nature  of  the  imp  in  Shakespeare,  hannonize  with  thit  in- 
tetpretadon. 

IS2-     Ariri. 
Aiitl  is  called  from  the  "  Tempest "  to  jcrin  his  fellow- 
elves.     Here  he  evidently  represents  Poetry,  —  the  pure  ele- 
ment, above  and  untouched  by  the  fashions  of  the  day. 

153.  Orchestra. 
Perhaps  Goethe  had  In  his  memory  the  Fregt  of  Aristoph- 
anes. The  Orchestra  must  either  be  the  crowd  of  literary 
•spirants,  who,  like  insects,  keep  up  a  continual  piping  and 
hninmii^,  which  annoys  the  ear ;  or  it  represents  the  chorus 
of  followers  surrounding  the  various  literary  celebrities  of 
the  time,  and  repeating  their  several  views  with  a  shrill, 
pcrsbteot  iteration- 
Some  pompous  bagpipe-droner  is  here  indicated,  but  no- 
body seeois  to  know  whom.  Goeihe  invented  the  word 
Stknickt-sehmiiki-tcknack  to  describe  the  long-drawI^  nasal 
tnarl  of  the  instrument 

155.    Spirit,  jost  growing  into  Form. 

The  name  might  be  translated  Emhryo-Späit.  "Goetbe 
undoubtedly  herewith  designates  those  botchii^  poetasters, 
who,  without  the  slightest  idea  that  every  living  poem  must 
Sow  spontaneously  from  within  as  an  organic  «hole,  miser- 
ably tack  and  stitch  rhymes  together,  and  thus  produce  mal- 
formations which  they  attempt  10  pass  oS  as  creations  of 
beauty."  —  Düntatr. 

The  following  distich  from  the  Xtnun  has  a  certain  resem- 
Uaoce  to  the  above  .■  — 


ih,Googlc 


$*o 


FAUST. 


156.    A  Little  Coüm,«. 

Härtung  thinka  the  CouiUs  Stolberg  are  the  couple ;  but 

this  is  improbable,  since  they  are  afterwards  introduced  as 

the  Weathercock.    Dtlntzer  asserts  that  the  vetse  represent* 

the  anion  of  bad  music  and  comnioiiplace  poetry. 

157.  IHQUISTTIVB  Traveller. 
This  is  Nicolai,  in  another  mask.  The  meaning  of  his 
reference  to  Oberon  is  not  very  clear,  unless  the  latter  rep- 
resents the  classic  school.  When  he  speaks  the  second  time 
In  this  Inttrmtao  the  Inquisitive  Traveller  describes  hjm- 
self  much  more  distinctly. 

15&  Okthodox. 
Here  (peaks  the  class  of  bigots  who  persecuted  Leasing 
aasailed  Klopstock  and  Goethe,  and  declared  Schiller's 
splendid  poem,  "The  Gods  of  Greece,"  to  be  "a  combina- 
tion of  ihe  most  outrageous  idolatry  and  the  dreariest  athe- 
ism." This  phrase  is  from  Count  Friedrich  Stolberg.  who 
became  one  of  the  mouth-pieces  of  the  sect  His  attack  ii 
dius  answered  in  the  Xenint:  — 

au  thn  Apolo 

15g.  Northern  Artist. 
Some  suppose  this  to  be  the  Danish  artist  Carstens,  who 
died  in  Rome,  in  1798;  others  select  Pemow,  a  writer  on 
art,  who  spent  some  years  in  Rome  with  Carstens ;  others 
again  insist  that  it  is  Goethe  himself.  Inasmuch  as  the  point 
made  in  (he  verse  h;is  become  very  obscure,  and  was  prob- 
ably not  originally  brilliant,  the  reader  may  lake  his  choin 
of  these  conjectures. 

160.    Weatkircock. 

Undoubtedly  the  Counts  Stolberg.    Goethe  made  a  tonr 

through  Switierland  with  ihem,  in   1775,  when  they  were 

ardent  neophytes  of  "  Storm  and  Stress,"  delying  conven- 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  ja  I 

tfonalities,  and  adoring  "Nature"  to  sncb  an  extent  that 
they  Ml«aipted  to  bathe  in  public  in  the  villages.  Twenty 
yean  later  tbey  were  narrowly  orthodox,  reactionary,  and 
absurdly  prudish.  —  a  transfotmation  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon with  semi- talents,  and  which  may  be  studied  in  the 
United  Slates  aa  well  as  in  Germany.  Turned  on  one  aide, 
the  Weathercoclt  is  enchanted  with  the  nude  witches,  and 
looks  upon  them  as  lovely  tardea ;  on  the  other  side,  it  ex- 
pects the  earth  to  open  and  swallow  them  all. 

The  "  Purist "  of  the  fourth  preceding  verse  is  said  to  he 
the  philologist  Campe,  who  is  called  in  the  Xftiien  a  "fear- 
Ail  washerwoman,"  cleansing  the  German  language  with  lye 
and  sand. 

i6t.    Xbnies. 

The  word  signifies  gilts,  presented  to  a  visitor.  After 
their  publication  in  the  MusimUiaanack,  the  storm  which 
arose  against  them  became  so  furious  that  they  were  de- 
nonnced  in  some  quarters  as  having  been  directly  inspired 
by  the  DeviL    Hence  the  allusion  to  "  Papa  Satan." 

163.     HENNIHOa. 

The  Danish  Chamberlvn  Friedrich  von  Hennings,  in  his 
literary  journal,  the  "Genius  of  the  Age,"  attacked  Goethe 
and  Schiller  in  these  words :  "  They  are  bithless  to  their 
high  calling  ;  they  have  disgraced  the  Muse  by  their  viru- 
lence, their  coarseness,  their  dulness,  their  personal  rancor, 
their  poverty  of  ideas  and  their  malignant  delight  in  injury." 
Probably  on  account  of  this  abuse  he  is  introduced  by  name, 
first;  then  in  the  following  verse  as  "Leader  of  the  Muses" 
(from  the  Muiagit,  another  journal  which  he  conducted); 
and  a  third  time  as  the  "  CidevaHl  Genius  of  the  Age,"  — 
his  joumal  having  died  a  natural  death  in  1803. 

The  first  verse  parodies  his  abuse  of  Goethe  and  Schiller ; 
the  second  hints  that  he  would  be  more  at  home  among 
Blocksberg  witc]ies  than  as  a  leader  of  the  Muses  ;  and  the 
ftird  satirises  his  practice  of  giving  a  place  on  the  German 
Punassus  to  such  authors  as  flattered  him  by  an  obsequious 
fespect  for  bis  critical  views. 


ih,Googlc 


$M 


FAUST. 


163.  Ckahi. 
"  Lavater  wu  a  thoroughly  good  man,  tint  be  wa*  aub- 
jectcd  10  powerful  illusions,  and  the  severe  and  total  truth 
iHs  not  his  concern  :  he  deceived  himself  and  olhera.  .... 
His  gait  was* like  that  of  a  crane,  for  which  rea«on  be  appcan 
as  the  Crane  on  the  Blocksberg."  —  GoelMe  to  Ectermaim^ 
■S19. 

164.      WOftLDLINC 

tVdttiiid,  literally  "  world-child,"  a  term  which  Goethe 
applies  to  himself  in  his  cpigramcDatic  poem,  "Dinner  at 
Cobtent,"  where  he  sat  between  Lavater  and  Basedow  :  — 


He  here  speaks  in  his  own  person,  satirizing  Lavater  and 
his  followers. 

The  Dancers,  who  follow,  are  the  phUosopbert,  the  sound 
of  whose  approaching  drums  turns  out  to  be  only  the  bitlerm 
booming  their  single  monolonau«  note  among  the  reeds, 

■65.    Good  Fellow. 

Hayward  and  moM  other  English  ttaniUtor«  convert  thi* 
name  into  "  Fiddler,"  either  supposii^  that  where  there  it 
dandng  there  must  be  fiddling,  or  mistaking  FidtUr  (at 
Fitiitr.  This  verse  and  the  forgoing  (the  "  Dandng  Mas* 
ter")  were  first  inserted  in  the  last  complete  edition  of 
Goethe's  works,  which  appeared  just  before  his  death.  The 
Good  Fellow  is  apparently  innoduced  solely  for  the  purpoae 
of  commenting  on  the  hate  and  mutual  pugnadty  of  the  phil- 
osophic sects. 

The  Dogmatist,  who,  if  he  is  a  particular  individual,  can- 
not easily  be  identified,  suggests  a  passage  in  one  of  Goetbe's 
letlen  to  Schiller :  "  The  Copenhagen  clique  and  all  tbe 
refined  dwellers  along  tbe  Baltic  shore  will  derive  from  tbe 
Xenien  a  ttew  argument  for  the  actual  and  incontrovertible 
existence  of  tbe  Devil ;  and  we  have  ll 
done  them  an  important  service." 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


333 


■66.  Idkalist. 
It  it  generally  adn^tted  tb*t  ibi«  b  Fichte,  wbo,  to  bomn* 
Ae  words  of  i  German  commentator,  "comprehended  the 
Not-Me  itself  as  a  prodacl  of  the  aelf- determined  Mc.  and 
not  as  something  existing  extcmallj  to  the  Me."  When 
Goethe  heard  that  a  company  of  riotous  stadenn  had  col- 
lected before  Ficbte's  bouse  uid  smashed  his  wmdom  in 
with  stones,  he  remarked  that  Flehte  might  now  convince 
himself,  in  the  most  disagreeable  way,  that  it  was  pouible 
"  for  a  Not-He  to  exist,  externally  to  the  Me." 

167.  SCEFnc. 
Ttus  verse,  Hke  the  preceding,  reprcMnls  a  das«.  The 
Sceptic  compares  the  Supemaluralists  to  treasure-seekers, 
who  iollow  the  appeaiance  of  flame  and  believe  that  they 
will  aooii  grasp  the  reality  of  got±  Since  Doubt  (Ztotifil) 
is  the  only  rhyme  —  and,  moreover,  an  imperfect  one  —  for 
Devil  \Taifil),  in  German,  the  Sceptic  finds  himself  at  home 
on  the  Blocksberg. 

16S.  Tri  Adkoit. 

Here  the  venea  take  a  political  turn,  and  the  reader  must 
bear  to  mind  the  general  break-up  of  the  old  order  of  things 
in  Europe,  at  the  beginning  tA  this  century.  The  Adroit  are 
these  who  shift  themselves  according  to  political  changes, 
and  walk  on  their  heads  or  on  their  feet,  as  circumstances 
may  exact. 

Tlie  following  verse  represents  the  opposite  class,  who 
nanaged  to  sponge  their  way  very  well  under  the  former 
R^inu,  but  cannot  adapt  themselves  to  the  new  order. 
Tbcy  are  the  parasites  of  a  system,  and  with  any  change 
ÜKir  occupation  is  gone. 

[69.    WlLL-O'-THB-WlSPSL 

Hiii  and  the  next  verse  again  indicate  two  exactly  oppo- 
site classes.  The  former  are  (he  political  parvtnut  who  are 
thrown  to  the  sur&ce  by  a  revolution,  and,  in  spite  til  tbeir 


ih,Googlc 


3»4 


FAUST. 


obscure  origin,  rank  at  obcc  with  the  highest ;  while  tb* 
Shooting  Star  represents  tlie  title*  and  celebrities  cast  down 
from  their  high  places  by  the  same  political  movement,  an& 
Joolüng  for  any  form  of  help  which  may  again  set  them  upon 
their  feet 

In  the  second  following  verse,  —  the  "  Heavy  Ones,"  — 
wme  commentators  see  the  ignoiani,  brutal,  revolutionarj 
ma  Butt  1  others  the  writers  of  the  Romantic  school  and  their 
coaggetated  manner,  lo  Goethe's  dithyrambic,  "  German 
Parnassus,"  he  thus  describes  the  crush  and  onset  of  tb« 
mattes  of  rade  literary  aspirants  :-~ 

*'  Ah,  Itu  buibet  domi  u«  1Rxli!«a  I 
Ah,  ih.  bknonii  outhwl  u>il  hUm 
'Kaaih  th«  fooLBlepa  of  Ihe  bnxKl : 
Who  ihill  bn>E  [bcLr  u«ty  voodl " 

The  latter  Interpretation  is  the  more  probable,  «Ence  Artel, 
who  is  Poetry,  addresses  them  In  words  appropriate  to  Itter- 
ary,  not  political  masses. 

When  Puck  speaks  of  himself  at  "the  stoat  one,"  Goethe 
seems  to  have  lemembered  the  words  of  the  Fairy  in  the 
"  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,"  in  taking  leave  of  Puck : — 
"  Fucvell,  th«a  bb  «r([i4i<ti  t   1 11  bepm.'* 

lyo.    Ana  all  it  tlittifatid. 

Tbe  tran^tion  from  this  Inttrmttn  to  tbe  Buccce^ng 
scene  of  Fautt  is  too  vitdeni,  and  we  cannot  help  wishing 
that  the  course  of  tbe  drama  had  not  been  thus  interrupted. 
Goeihe,  however,  not  only  projected  bat  partly  wrote  an  ad- 
ditional scene,  devoted  exclusively  to  the  pare  diabolism  of 
the  mediaeval  traditions.  Whilewe  mnst admit  that  acorrect 
instinct  led  him  to  withhold  it,  we  still  must  feel  that  an  inter- 
mediate scene  is  necessir)'.  The  gap  which  we  recognise 
was  felt  by  the  author,  whose  work  was  produced  at  long  in- 
tervals of  lime,  and  in  fragments  tbe  character  of  which  was 
determined  l>y  his  moods  of  mind.  But  he  always  [»«lerTed 
•n  abrupt  chasm  to  an  unsatisliictory  bridge. 

The  projected  scene  is  generally  styled  "  The  Brocke^ 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


33S 


Scene  "  hj  the  Gemun  commentatora,  «Itbough  Härtung 
Ukes  the  liberty  of  calling  it "  The  Court  of  Satan."  I  tran»- 
late  it  (with  the  exception  of  one  short  passage)  precisely  m 
it  a  given  in  the  Pariüipomtna,  with  its  rapid  short-hand  out- 
lines, iti  incomplete  dialogues  and  omitted  lines,  and  leave 
•11  comment  to  the  reader  i  — 

THE  HARTZ  UOUNTAINS. 

A  MiCHSK  RaciOH. 

AAa  Ih*  lawnmno  :  Solitada.  Dosn,  blnu  of  tnimpcn.  Li^t- 
■üof.  thindar  from  iboie.  Column  of  fire,  uidiDg  unoke.  Rock,  vrr- 
fccring  iherefrom:  't  n  Sutao,  Much  people  uotiod:  deliiy:  nm« 
of  prcHins  ihrough :  iDJuiT  -  ei'*-  Cluol :  Ihej  Mand  m  ih*  innM 
arde :  ih*  hut  itliiHi«  inoppomblc.  Who  Rindi  ucii  in  ihe  ciicl«. 
Siun'i  addreu:  praenUiiom  :  biTenilarcm.  Sinliiuji  of  Ihe  ippui- 
tjoo.    Vokauo.    Duonlctly  dkaolinioti,  bnakldg  uid  ujxwa^  iVKj. 

SuiiinT  or  TSE  Baociuv. 


Th*  loui  to  ihe  left  hud, 
The  buclu  lo  the  right  I 
The  goiu,  they  have  Ksnted 
The  budu  with  delight : 
Aul  though  ia  ibeir  noitril* 


ih,Googlc 


346  FAUST. 

MTAM  Vinamg  « t*f  rfrW. 
Two  (famgi  mre  bdbn  you. 
Both  tplemlLd  uid  gnnd : 

Tha  gliltsTlng  gold 

Tbv  one  ü  purvü)roT, 
TbeD  blnt,  «bo  poawuM 


Rsmoie  rnin  hu  »adoii, 
I  auh  noi  M  cleirlT 

I  aanal  deuci  them, 
Th*  bfwilifiil  cicwt, 

ThU  NaniR  mMm  I 

SATAN  ifmrnäit  <<  ***  k/fl- 
Two  tbingg  m  belbn  jaa 
0(bri)Hu>CT  <:leir ; 
The  glitleiiDg  gold 


Hun  teun,  ill  ye  «i 


Adorinsly  tünvd  I 
Oble«,  wtaoitaOTOt 
And  beveth  the  word  1 


ih,Googlc 


Wbr  «Kp'it  thou,  lovelT  litüc  dcv  ? 

*T  it  IUI  tlie  pUct  to  ihcd  ■  tew. 

Hul  thou  been  is  thecnmd  uonidclTpviliedwtdpauwd? 


Ah,  DO  I    TIk  Uutcr  ipcaJu  u  lisgolar 


AndiU 
Pefh.1» 

■n»deIigbUH],ii>p)x»>; 

So  th»  ll»  DcrQ't  nmniig  R>di  ilH« 

UTA». 

y*T0iiDEOi>«.Wbn« 
To««.dreii«bidd«.r 

VuuL  ihou  leittd  ut  I 
■  inillioQ  wall  ih^  freehold  ruchu : 
IB  pniK  likt  Ihee  the  Devil'i — 


ih,Googlc 


3aS 


ANOTHER  PART  OF  THE  BROCKEN. 
Lowm  RaoiaH. 


lerhoDd,  both 
rtrlcirinrkil 
uorblood.w 


The  Htndi  (h*  pninu,  n  luo*  Ik«  ncn  : 
The  leper  dHnlÄ  '1  b  blood,  noi  wins. 
The  look,  ÜK  drink,  end  wkai  '*  begun  i 
The  dagger  *%  bu^  ihe  deed  ii  dooe. 
Flon  se'er  atone  a  fourt  of  blood, 

Fnun  pUse  ID  plaa  Ihejr  giwh  and  glide, 
ADd  gilbtr  mora  lo  mil  the  tide. 


Some  of  the  Gennan  commentators  suppose  that  the 
"black  and  grav  brotherhood"  of  this  concluding  chant  are 
the  Franciscan  and  Dominican  monastic  orders,  and  there- 
fore that  the  Iragmeni  refer«  directly  to  the  Inquisition. 
Diintzer  asserts  that  the  heading  "Another  Part  of  the 
Brocken"  indicates  that  this  is  a  separate  outline  for  the 
whole  scene,  intended  as  a  substitute  for  the  foregoing  frag- 
ment!, not  as  a  continuation  of  them. 

171.    Dreary  Day. 
Riemer  state5>  that  Goethe  dictated  the  whole  of  this  scene 
to  him,  as  it  stands,  without  a  pause     Thi.<t  must  have  oc- 
curred between  tSoj,  «ben  be  first  anttred  Goethe^  servte 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


3^9 


uid  180S,  iriien  the  FtiM  Put  me  published.  It  does  not 
therefore  follow  that  the  acene  ms  then  cornposcd,  as  most 
of  the  critics  seem  to  take  for  granted.  The  st]'1e  of  the 
original  at  once  suggests  the  Wertktr  period,  and  I  cannot 
resist  the  impression  that  it  was  then  Erst  »ritten,  neatljr  in 
its  present  fonn.  There  are  evidences  in  Gocihc'a  corre- 
spondence that  more  than  one  scene  of  .^icj/ existed  in  prose, 
many  years  before  the  time  of  which  Riemer  speaks  ;  and  it 
is  quite  possible  that  other  plans  for  bridgine  over  the  gap 
between  the  Walpurgis-Night  and  the  Priüon  Scene  have 
been  lost.  It  would  be  consistent  wilh  Goethe's  habits  as 
an  author,  to  return  to  his  first  conception  after  the  failure  of 
later  oaee,  and,  inasmuch  as  the  metrical  form  of  his  poetry 
depended  on  temporary  moods,  or  varieties  of  inspiration, 

—  that  is,  it  was  never  mechanically  planned   in  advance, 

—  it  is  not  stretching  conjecture  too  far  to  assume  that,  be- 
coming weary  of  so  many  fruitless  attempts,  he  finally  dic- 
tated the  scene  from  memory,  as  originally  written. 

Another  proof  that  this  ot  a  very  similar  scene  was  in 
existence  before  1790,  is  the  surprise  expressed  by  WIeland 
to  Boltiger  that  the  Faust  "  Fragment  "  of  that  year  did  not 
contain  the  passage  wherein  Faust  becomes  so  furious  that 
even  Mepbistopheles  is  almost  terrified  at  his  violence.  At 
this  time,  tea  years  had  elapsed  since  Goethe  read  the  man- 
uscript scenes  before  the  Court  circle  of  Weimar, 

U.  Stapfer  insists  that  this  scene  was  given  in  prose  "in 
order  that  it  might  not  be  said  thai  any  po&sible  form  of 
expression  was  wanting  to  Fault."  The  whole  question  of 
employing  metre  or  prose  for  dramatic  subjects  had  been 
thoroughly  discussed  by  Schiller  and  Goethe,  and  the  em- 
phatic expression  of  the  latter,  "  Everything  poetical  in  char- 
acter must  be  rhythmically  treated,"  is  sufiident  evidence 
that  he  was  here  guided  by  necessity  rather  than  choice. 

The  remaining  passages  of  the  Paraiipomena  belonging  to 
the  First  Part  may  now  be  appropriately  given. 

It  would  appear  from  the  following  verse  that  Goethe  at 
one  time  intended  taking   Faust  to  Rome,  as   in  the  le- 


ih,Googlc 


Yel  Iben,  inuead,  iht  Fua  compel 
With  prima  lud  Katpiaiu  (d  dmU. 

The  next  quatrain  was  evidently  intended  for  fht  mootk 
of  Fauit,  on  his  southward  journey :  — 

WirnKT  bRoo,  Kilher  bknr. 
On  our  fbnheuli  pliriDg ' 

In  ow  jovthiU  (Urine- 
Then  fbllmn  the  commencement  of  a  aoene,  which  may 
have  been  designed  as  a  substitute  for  that   which  sue- 

HlGHWAV. 


ilapliiMof    WhrndibEiny? 


Bui,  ncTET  mind,  1  find  tbe  thine  «  vorrr. 
The  last  fragment  contains  nothing  from  which  it*  desti- 
Dalioa  may  be  guessed  :  — 


I'm  of  ni'  no  uhuBcd,  oTliu; 
Their  &DC)r,  when  tbty  bit  Tha  DnO, 
Tbtr  'n  nlUml  (iimEthinB  giElL 

172.     Open   Fieu>. 
This  brief,  uncanny  scene  seems  to  have  been  inserted  a* 
a  Iransilion  between  the  diScrent  keys  of  those  which  pre- 
cede and  foliow.     The  "  Ravenstone "   is  the  old  German 
word  ibt  a  place  of  execution.    Byron  probably  remembered 


ih,Googlc 


Che  expre»«ion.   from   Shelley's  oral  traulalian,  nben  be 
wrote,  in  a   rejected    chonu    of  the    "Defonaed  Tiaiu- 


173.    My  nulAer,  the  harlat. 

The  last  line  of  Faust's  Boliloquy  at  the  door:  "Farti 
Dan  ZagtH  tigert  dtn  Tod  htran  / "  is  one  of  those  para- 
doxiaU  sentences,  the  meaning  of  which  it  is  more  «as;  to 
feel  than  to  reproduce.  Zöprtt,  like  its  EngUtb  equivalent, 
it  an  intransitiv«  verb;  but  Shalcespeare's  example  ma; 
justify  me  in  using  the  verb  la  iinpr,  with  an  object,  as 
Goethe  uses  tSpm.  The  former  expression  it  the  literal 
reproduction  of  the  latter. 

The  song  which  Margaret  sings  is  a  variation  of  one  tn 
the  Low  GemuiD  dialect,  in  a  story  called  the  MacJuuuUI- 
Bam  (The  Juniper-Tree :  the  English  translator,  tnistalüng 
Mtuhandd  for  Miaidtl,  renders  it  "  almond  tree  "),  included 
by  the  brothers  Grimm  in  their  well-known  collection  of 
popular  öiiy  lore.    I  borrow  Hayward's  abbreviation  of  the 

"The  wife  of  a  rich  man,  whilst  standing  under  a  juniper 
tree,  wishes  for  a  tittle  child  as  while  as  snow  and  as  red  as 
bJuod ;  and  on  another  occasion  expresses  a  wish  to  be 
buried  under  the  juniper  when  dead.  Soon  after,  a  little 
boy,  as  white  as  snow  and  as  red  as  blood,  is  bom ;  the 
mother  dies  of  joy  at  beholding  it,  and  is  buried  according 
to  her  wish.  The  husband  marries  again,  and  lia:>  a  daugh- 
ter. The  second  wile,  becoming  jealous  of  the  boy,  murders 
him,  and  serve«  him  up  at  table  for  the  uncoi>sdous  father 
to  eat.  The  £ither  finishes  the  whole  dish,  and  throws  the 
bones  ander  the  table  The  little  girl,  who  is  made  the  in- 
nocent assistant  in  ber  mother's  villany,  picks  them  up,  tiet 
them  in  a  silk  handkerchief,  and  buries  them  under  the  juni- 
per tree.  The  tree  begins  to  move  its  branches  mysteri- 
ously, and  then  a  kind  of  cloud  rises  from  it,  a  fire  appears 
in  the  cloud,  and  out  of  the  fire  comes  a  beautiAil  Inid, 
which  Aies  about  singing  the  following  song :  — 


ih,Googlc 


-  Hm  Uoäa  de  mi  (bdiei, 
M[n  Vjder  da  mi  alt. 
Min  Sweuer  de  Ktiietokta 
Sficht  alle  inme  Bienikeii, 
Un  bindt  lie  in  een  lydea  Daok, 

KyitiUf  KrunUl  acb  nitni  tcbOa  Vlgel  bin  leb  I"* 

174.     My  Totdding-day  ilwai  la  ie! 

One  of  the  commentators  asserts  that  this  line  must  be 
literally  accepted,  — that  the  day  dawning  was  actually  that 
fixed  upon  by  Faust  for  his  marriage  with  Margaret! 

The  details  of  the  execution,  which  Margaret  describes, 
belong  to  the  past  centuries.  The  tolling  of  the  bell ;  the 
breaking  of  a  white  wand  by  the  judge  after  the  reading  of 
the  sentence  of  death,  js  a  symbol  that  the  culprit's  life  is 
thus  broken;  the  binding  lo  the  seat,  and  the  Hash  of  the 
executioner's  sword,  are  all  features  which  accompanied  the 
act 

1 75.      Ye  aagels,  koly  cohorts,  guard  me  ! 

Wilhelm  Afeitler  gives  evidence  (hat  Goethe  made  a  care- 
ful study  of  "  Hamlet,"  and  the  following  lines,  on  the 
appearance  of  the  Ghost  in  the  Queen's  chamber  {Act  IlL 
Scene  4),  may  have  lingered  in  his  memory:  — 

"Siv«  [HCl  and  hover  o'er  Die  vrith  your  winES» 
y«  bcaveiüj  guards  t" 

176.    She  ii  jui^edl 

Goethe  here  employs,  in  a  different  sense,  a  phrase  from 
the  puppet-play.  When  the  end  of  Faust's  twenty-four 
years  of  enjoyment  draws  nigh,  a  voice  calls  from  above: 
Prapara  le  ad  mortem  I  Soon  after,  intemipted  by  Faust's 
prayers  and  words  of  remorse,  the  exclamation  follows: 
dccuiaitues! — then  yudicatui  ei .'  and  finally  :  In  afernam 
Jamaaiui  es  I  —  whereupon  Faust  disappears  firom  the  eyes 
of  the  spectators. 

Some,  forgetting  that  the  terms  of  the  compact  have  rot 
jet  been  fulfilled,  interpret  the   words  of  Mephistopheie« 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


3ii 


"Httber  to  mel"  u  implying  that  he  thenceforth  takes  full 
possesiion  of  Paust  The  voice  from  above  announce»  that 
Margaret  is  saved,  and  the  scene  instantly  closes,  as  if  the 
mist  and  vapor  out  of  which  the  forms  arose  had  aguti  rolled 
over  them.  Goethe  so  concealed  his  plan  for  the  Second 
Part  of  Faust  that  we  must  first  become  timiliat  with  it 
before  we  can  return  and  trace  in  the  First  Pan  the  threads 
which  connect  the  two. 

The  "little  world"  of  individual  passion,  emotion,  and 
Ufnration  here  comes  suddenly  to  an  end ;  but  beyond  it 
•till  lies  the  "great  world,"  where  the  interests  and  pas^ona 
which  shape  Society,  Government,  and  the  development  of 
the  human  race  are  set  in  motion  to  solve  the  problem  of 
Faust's  destiny 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX    1. 

THE   FAUST-LEGEND. 

SO  inanf  Teferencea  have  been  maide,  in  the  foregoing 
Notes,  to  (he  various  forms  of  the  old  Fiust-legend,  that 
a  brief  account  of  ita  origin  and  the  changes  in  its  character 
introduced  by  successive  narrators  is  ail  tliat  need  now  be 
added.  The  reader  who  is  specialljt  interested  in  the  subject 
will  find  no  difficulty  in  prosecuting  his  researches  further  :  • 
no  legend  of  the  Middle  Ages  has  been  so  assiduously  un- 
earthed, dissected  and  expounded. 

The  slow  revival  of  science  in  Germany,  France  and  Italy, 
furnished  the  ignorant  multitude  with  many  new  names  which 
passed  with  them  for  those  of  sorcerers,  and  gradually  dis- 
placed the  traditions  of  Virgilius,  Merlin,  and  others  who  had 
figured  in  their  lore  for  many  centuries.  Raymond  Lully, 
Roger  Bacon,  Paracelsus,  Cornelius  Agrippa,  the  Abbot 
Tritheim  (Trithemiua),  and  majiy  other  sincere  though  con- 
fused workers,  were  believed  by  the  people  to  be  in  league 
with  evil  spirits,  and  their  names  became  nuclei,  around 
which  gathered  all  manner  of  floating  traditions.  The  fif- 
teenth and  siiteenlh  centuries,  from  the  movements  in  hu. 
man  thought  which  they  brought  forth,  were  naturally  rich 
in  such  stories,  for  even  the  most  advanced  minds  still  re- 
taiued  a  half-belief  in  occult  spiritual  forces.  Melancthon, 
himself^  is  our  chief  evidence  in  relation  to  the  person  and 
character  of  the  Faust  of  the  legend. 


TTKranectioBofn, 

u«(i^  Sinn  br  SctaeiUe  a  liii  KloOwr.  and  Iha 

unu  ID  DUnlKi'i 

/OL.  I              IS 

V 

ih,Googlc 


338  FAUST. 

It  is  poGsiMe  that  (here  ms  »wMher  person  of  IhU  luun^ 
mil  of  some  local  repntatii»!,  in  the  fifteenth  centuiy. 
Gtorge  SabeDicus,  a  noted  charlatan,  of  whom  the  Abbot 
Trriheim  writes  in  1509,  called  himself  Ftaiilui  minor.  The 
name  (signiffinfc  (brtnnate,  of  good  oaten)  was  not  snosoal : 
it  was  the  baptrsmal  name  of  the  foamger  Socinus,  who  taught 
his  Unitarian  doctrines  in  Poland  and  Transvlvania.  and 
whom  some  bave  very  absurdly  attempted  to  connect  with 
the  legend;  for  he  was  not  bran  ontil  1539.  The  fohann 
Faust  of  the  popular  stories  was  undoubtedly  an  individual 
of  that  name,  bom  towards  the  dose  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
in  (be  little  town  of  Knittlit^en,  near  Haulbronn,  in  Wörtcm- 
berg.  His  parents  were  pom,  but  be  was  enabled  by  the 
bequest  of  »  rich  uncle  to  stndy  medicine.  He  attended  the 
Univeisity  of  Cracow  (where  he  probably  received  his  Doc- 
tor's degree),  studied  magic,  whidi  was  there  tai^hl  as  an 
accepted  branch  of  kiuiwlcdge,  and  appcais  to  have  after- 
wards travelled  for  many  years  Ibroi^b  Europe.  ManliiN 
the  diM:iple  of  Melanctho«,  qnoies  the  latter  as  having  said : 
"This  fellow  Faust  escaped  from  onr  town  of  Wittenberg 
after  «n  Duke  John  had  given  the  order  to  have  him  im- 
prisoned. He  also  escaped  ftom  Nmonbeij,  under  the  like 
drcnmstances.  This  sorcerer  Faust,  an  abominable  beast,  > 
common  sewer  \floaai\  of  many  devils,  boasted  that  he,  by 
his  magic  arts,  had  embled  the  Imperial  armies  to  win  their 
victories  in  Italy."  It  was  probably  the  bmous  balde  of 
Pavia  OS'S)  of  which  Faost  spoke,  as  the  time  of  hisiisk  to 
Wtltcnbet^  ^>pears  to  have  been  aboot  the  year  15301 

Another  evidence  of  Faust  is  found  in  the  Index  Samtatit 
of  the  physidan,  Philip  Begarcfi,  which  was  pnUtshcd  at 
Wortusin  153^  He  (herein  says:  "  Since  several  yean  be 
has  gone  through  all  r^ons,  prowmces  and  kingdoms,  nade 
his  name  known  to  everybody,  and  is  h^hly  renowned  fbr 
his  great  skin,  not  alone  in  nie^dne.  but  also  in  chiro- 
mancy, necromancy,  phrysiognomy,  visions  in  crystal,  and  the 
IQce  other  arts.  And  also  not  only  renowned,  bat  written 
down  and  known  as  an  experienced  master.  Himself  ad- 
jütted,  ax  denied  that  it  »as  aa,  and  that  bis  kum  wa* 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 


339 


f  auatus,  and  called  yxaaatii  fküosepkioK  fhäatepkemm.  Bul 
how  many  have  complained  to  me  that  they  «ere  deceioed  t^ 
him  —  verily  a  great  number!" 

The  third  witness  is  the  theologian,  Johann  Gast,  who  in 
his  Srrmonei  CotrvkwUt  describes  a  dinner  given  by  Faust  »t 
Bule,  at  which  he  was  present.  After  mentioning  tlie  two 
devils  who  attended  Fautt  in  the  form  of  a  dog  and  a  horse, 
he  says  :  "The  wretch  came  to  an  end  in  a  terrible  manner ; 
for  the  Devil  strangled  him.  His  dead  body  lay  constantly 
on  its  face  on  the  bier,  although  it  had  been  five  times  turned 
upwards."  Gait  probably  make*  thii  last  statement  on  (he 
(trength  or  some  pa|<uUr  rumor.  Faust  «eems  to  have  grad- 
naily  passed  mil  of  notice,  and  we  have  no  particulars  of  his 
death  which  possess  the  least  authenticity.  Melancthon,  in 
his  discourses  as  Professor  at  Wittenberg,  Luther  in  his 
"  table-talk,"  and  the  other  Protestant  theologians  of  that 
period,  almost  without  exception,  expteased  their  belief  in  a 
personal,  visible  Devil,  then  specially  active  in  their  part  of 
the  world.  Luther  even  describes  the  annoyances  to  which 
the  Devil  subjects  him,  with  a  candor  which  cannot  now  be 
imitated;  and  the  same  belief  natorally  took  grosser  and  more 
positive  forms  among  the  common  people.  The  wandering 
life  of  Johann  Faust,  as  physkHan  and  necromancer,  must  have 
made  his  name  well  known  throughout  Germany;  his  visit 
to  Wittenberg  and  the  reference  to  him  in  the  three  works 
already  quoted,  would  distinguish  tiim  above  others  of  his 
dasa,  and  every  floating  rumor  of  diabolical  compact,  power. 
and  final  punishment  would  thenceforth  gattier  around  his 
name  as  iron  filings  around  a  magnet. 

The  various  books  of  ma^pc  entitled  Fautti  HSUerauHoig 
(Tnfemal  Influences)  were  all  published  with  false  early 
dates,  after  Faust's  name  became  generally  known,  and  are 
therefore  of  no  value  as  evidence  The  attempt,  also,  to 
connect  him  with  Fust.  Guttenberg's  associate  in  printing, 
has  no  foundation  whatever. 

The  original  form  of  the  lepend  i.i  the  book  published  by 
Spiess.  in  Frankfurt,  in  15S7.  Its  title  runs  thus  ;  "  History 
•f  Dr.  Job.  Faust,  the  noiorious  sarccrer  and  black-artist  t 


ih,Googlc 


340 


FAUST. 


How  he  bound  himself  to  Ihe  Devil  for  a  cerlaw  time; 
V/hat  singular  adventures  befell  him  therein,  what  be  did 
and  carried  on  until  finally  be  received  his  well-deserved 
pay.  Mostly  from  his  own  poslbumous  writings;  for  all 
presumptuous,  rash  and  godless  men,  as  a  terrible  example, 
abominable  instance  and  well-meant  warning,  collected  and 
put  io  print  James,  [III.,  Submit  yourselves  therefore  to 
God:  resist  the  Devil,  and  be  will  flee  from  you."  The 
book  must  have  been  instantly  and  widely  popular,  for  a 
second  edition  was  published  in  1588;  a  Low-Gennan  ver- 
sion in  Lübeck  and  an  English  ballad  on  the  subject,  Ibe 
same  year  ;  an  English  translation  in  1590,  two  Dutch  trans- 
lations in  159z,  atul  one  French  In  15;^  From  the  first  of 
these  Marlowe  obtained  the  material  for  his  tragedy  of  "  Dr. 
Faustus,"  which  appears  to  have  been  first  acted  in  Lmidob 
i»  15931  the  year  of  bis  death.  It  was  published  in  1604, 
and  no  doubt  formed  part  of  the  repertory  of  the  companies 
of  English  strolling-playeis  who  were  accustomed  to  visii 
Germany. 

In  Ibe  Dutch  translation  dales  are  given,  apparently  foi 
the  purpose  of  making  the  stoty  more  crediUe,  The  year 
1491  is  mentioned  as  thai  of  Fausi's  birth  1  his  first  coinpaC 
with  the  Devil,  Ibr  seventeen  years,  was  made  on  the  33d  </ 
October,  1514;  his  second,  for  seven  years,  oa  the  3d  ot' 
August,  1531  :  and  he  was  Anally  carried  off  by  the  Devil  at 
midnight,  on  the  ajd  of  October,  1538.  The  term  oftwentv- 
four  years,  which  is  not  a  mystical  number,  is  thus  obtained 
by  adding  the  two  mystical  leims,  17  and  7.  In  the  Englisb 
translation  the  village  of  Kindling,  in  Silesia,  is  given  as 
Fausl's  birthplace ;  another  tradition,  adopted  in  the  origi* 
nal  Frankfurt  work,  says  Roda,  near  Weimar. 

This  oldest  book  repeats  Melancthon's  statement  of 
Ftuist's  studies  at  Cracow,  and  his  fame  as  a  physician  and 
BOTC«ier.  It  then  describes  the  manner  of  his  summoning 
the  Devil  at  night,  in  a  forest  near  Wittenberg.  Afterwards 
the  evil  spirit  visits  him  in  his  dwelling,  and  three  several 
"disputations"  take  place,  at  the  third  of  which  the  spirit 
g^vcK  bis  name  as  MtpkoUaphUa,     The  compaa  for  tlM 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 


34t 


ttm  of  twcDty-foiu  year«  is  thereupon  concluded.  When 
Faust  pierces  his  hand  with  the  point  of  a  knile  in  order  to 
tign  the  compact,  the  blood  flows  into  the  brm  of  the  words 
0  Homo  Fugt !  gigiiUying  r  "  O  roan,  fly  from  him  I  "  Meph- 
ostophiles  flrst  serves  him  in  the  form  of  a  monk,  Buppljr- 
bg  him  with  food  and  win«  from  the  cellars  of  the  Bishop  of 
Salzbui^  and  other  prelates,  and  with  rich  garments  from 
Augsburg  and  Frankhirt,  so  that  Faust  and  his  Famultis, 
Christopher  Wagner,  are  enabled  lo  live  in  the  utmost  lax- 
uiy.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  Faust  desired  to 
marry,  but  this  was  in  no  wise  permitted,  Mephostophiles 
saying  that  marriage  was  pleasing  to  God,  and  therefore  a 
violation  of  the  compact.  This  feature  of  the  legend  grew 
directly  from  the  questions  of  the  Reformation ;  and  ther« 
was  a  special  meaning  in  giving  the  evil  spirit  the  form  of  a 
monk.  Wagner,  moreover,  is  said  to  have  been  the  son  of  a 
Catholic  priest,  picked  up  by  Faust  as  a  boy  of  fifteen,  and 
by  him  educated- 
Then  follow  many  chapters  wherein  Faust  questions 
Mepboslophiles  in  regard  to  the  creation  of  the  world,  the 
seasons,  the  planets,  Hell  and  the  infernal  hierarchy,  and  is 
himself  taken  lo  the  latter  place  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  drag- 
ons. Afterwards,  be  wishes  lo  visit  the  different  parts  of 
the  earth;  Mephostophiles  changes  himself  into  a  horse, 
"but  with  wings  like  a  dromedary,"  and  flies  with  him 
through  the  air.  They  travel  to  all  parts  of  Europe  and 
finally  come  to  Rome,  where  Faust  lives  three  days  in  the 
Vatican,  invisible.  As  often  as  the  Pope  makes  Ihc  sign  of 
the  cross,  he  blows  in  his  face ;  he  also  eats  off  the  Pope's 
table  and  drinks  the  wine  from  his  goblets,  until  His  Holi- 
ness commands  all  the  bells  of  Rome  to  be  rung,  lo  dispel 
the  evil  magic.  Faust  then  goes  to  Constantinople,  where 
he  appears  in  the  Sultan's  palace  in  the  form  of  Uahomel, 
and  lives  in  stale.  He  next  traverses  Egypt,  then  Morocco, 
the  Orkney  Islands,  Scythia,  Arabia,  and  Persia,  and  finally, 
"  from  the  highest  peak  of  the  Jüland  of  Caucasus "  has  a 
dtslant  view  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.  Alter  his  return  to 
Germany  be  visits  the  Court  of  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  at 


ih,Googlc 


34a 


FAUST. 


Innsbruck,  and  at  the  desire  of  the  latter  calls  up  before  him 
(he  shades  of  Alexander  the  Great  and  his  wife.  Man; 
pranks  are  also  related,  wbich  be  plays  upon  the  knights 
attending  the  Emperor. 

The  remaining  part  of  the  book  is  principally  taken  ap 
with  an  account  of  the  tricks  and  magical  illusions  with 
which  Faust  diverted  himself  in  Leipzig,  Eifun.  Gotha,  and 
other  parts  of  Northern  Germany.  He  here  resembles  Till 
Etilenapiegel  much  more  than  (he  ambitious  student  of  Cra- 
cow, who  "  look  10  himself  the  wings  of  an  eagle,  and  would 
explore  all  the  secrets  of  heaven  and  earth."  He  swallows 
a  span  of  horses  and  a  toad  of  hay ;  he  cuts  off  beads  and 
replaces  Ihem ;  makes  flowers  bloom  at  Christmas,  draws 
wine  from  a  table,  calls  Helen  of  Troy  from  the  shades  at 
the  request  of  a  company  of  students ;  and  shows  himself 
everywhere  as  a  gay,  jovial  companion,  full  of  pranks,  but 
eaerdsing  his  supernatural  power  quite  as  often  for  good  as 
for  evil  purposes  Finally,  in  the  twenty. third  year  of  hi* 
compact,  Mephostophiles  brings  the  Grecian  Helena  to  him ; 
be  becomes  inlaiuaied  with  her  beauty,  lives  with  her,  and 
by  ber  has  a  son  whom  he  names  Justus  Faustus.  On  the 
night  when  his  term  of  years  expires,  we  find  him  in  com- 
pany with  some  students  in  a  tavern  of  the  village  of  Rtm- 
lich,  near  Wittenberg.  He  is  overcome  with  melanchaly, 
and  makes  the  students  an  address  wherein  he  expresses  his 
great  penitence,  and  his  willingness  that  the  Devil  should 
have  his  body,  provided  his  soul  may  receive  pardon.  At 
midnight  a  fearful  storm  arose :  the  next  morning  the  walls 
at)d  Soor  of  the  room  were  sprinkled  with  the  bloody  frag- 
ments of  Faust,  who  had  been  so  torn  to  pieces  that  no 
member  wa«  left  whole.  Helena  and  her  child  had  dis- 
appeared. Wagner,  by  Faust's  will,  became  heir  to  his 
property,  part  of  which  was  a  dwelling  in  the  town  of 
Wittenbe^. 

The  great  popularity  of  the  legend  in  this  form  led  to  the 
preparation  of  Widmann's  larger  and  more  ambitious  work, 
which  was  published  at  Hamburg,  in  1599.  Its  title  is: 
*  The  VeritaUe  History  of  the  hideous  and  abominaUe  sin* 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 


343 


*nd  vices,  atoo  of  many  wonderful  and  unoge  adventurei, 
which  D.  Johannes  Fauitns,  a  notorioub  black-artist  and 
■Tch-sotcerer,  by  means  of  bis  black  an,  committed  even 
imtil  his  terrible  ending.  Fitted  out  ana  expounded  with 
necessary  reminders  and  admirable  instances,  for  manifold 
instruction  and  warning."  The  story  is  substantially  the 
same  as  in  Spiess's  book,  but  many  additional  anecdoiei  are 
inserted,  and  all  the  details  arc  amplified.  Instead  of  three 
"disputations"  between  Faust  and  Mephostophiles,  there 
are  Uh,  and  each  is  fallowed  —  as,  in  fact,  every  chapter  in 
the  work  —  by  a  long-winded  theological  discourse,  called  a 
Reminder  (Eriiaierta^.  These  Reminders  are  pedantic  and 
fiercely  Prottstant  in  character  :  no  opportunity  Is  let  slip  to 
illDStrate  die  vices  of  Faust  by  references  to  the  Roman 
Church  and  its  Popes.  Ttie  name  of  the  Famulus  is  changed 
to  Johann  Wayger,  and  two  or  three  stories,  taken  from 
Luther's  table-talk,  are  arbitrarily  applied  to  Faust ;  whence 
the  work  is  not  considered  by  scholars  to  be  so  fair  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  popular  traditions  as  that  ofSpiess. 

A  new  edition  of  Widmann's  book,  revised  but  not  im- 
proved by  Dr.  Pfitier,  was  published  in  Nuremberg  in  1674, 
and  revived  the  somewhat  faded  popularity  of  the  legend. 
The  references  to  Faust  in  the  Cntturia  of  Camerarius  ( i6o3) 
and  in  Neumann's  Ditjuiiih»  Hittariea,  were  known  only  to 
the  scholars,  and  Pfitzet's  reprint  of  Widmann  was  therefore 
welcomed  by  the  people,  several  editions  having  been  called 
for  in  a  few  years.  By  this  time  it  was  also  represented  as 
a  puppet-play,  and  the  knowledge  of  Faust  and  his  bisloty 
thus  became  universal  In  Uermany. 

The  only  other  work  which  requires  notice  is  an  abbrevia. 
tioo  of  the  legend,  with  some  variations,  written  in  a  lively 
narrative  style,  and  published  at  Frankfurt  and  Leipzig  in 
the  year  1718.  The  title  is  as  follows:  "The  Compact 
concluded  by  the  Devil  with  Dr.  Johann  Fausi,  notorious 
through  the  whole  world  as  a  sorcerer  and  arch-professor  of 
the  Black  Art,  t<^ther  with  his  adventurous  course  of  life 
and  its  terrifying  end,  all  most  minntely  described.  Now 
again  newly  revised,  compressed  into  an  agreeable  brevity 


ih,Googlc 


344 


FAUST. 


and  furnished  in  print  as  a  hearty  admonJHon  and  warning  to 
ail  wilful  sinners,  by  One  with  Christian  Intentions."  This 
quaint  and  curious  narrative  was  certainly  linown  to  Goethe, 
as  well  as  Widmann's  worlc.  it  is  the  last  appearance  of  the 
legend  in  a  popular  forin :  (henceforth,  through  many  chan- 
nels, the  latter  found  its  way  into  literature. 

The  original  book  of  Spiess  was  followed  in  1594  by  an 
account  of  the  life  of  Christopher  Wagner,  whom  the  Devi) 
accompanied  in  the  form  of  an  ape,  under  the  name  of  Auer- 
kakn  (moor-cock).  It  is  an  evident  imitation  of  the  story  of 
Faust ;  there  ht  a  similar  compact,  there  are  magical  tricks, 
adventures,  and  airy  (ravels,  with  a  like  tragical  conclusion. 
This  book  was  translated  into  Englbb  the  same  year,  and 
immediately  afterwards  into  Dutch ;  but  (here  appears  to 
have  been  no  farther  German  edition  until  17«,  when  the 
original,  with  some  additions,  was  reprinted  in  Berlin.  In 
1742,  a  play  entitled  "The  Vicious  Life  and  Terrible  End  of 
Job  Christoph  Wagner,"  was  acted  in  the  Frankfurt  theatre. 

The  stamp  of  (he  sixteenth  century  —  of  its  belieb,  its 
superstitions,  its  struggles  and  its  antagonisms  —  is  unmis- 
takably impressed  on  the  legend.  The  singular  individual, 
half  genius,  half  impostor,  who  bore  the  name  of  Faust,  must 
have  typified  then,  as  now,  the  activity  of  blind,  formless, 
unresting  forces  in  the  nature  of  the  people  ;  and  through  all 
the  coarseness  and  absurdity  of  the  stories  which  they  have 
gathered  around  him,  there  are  constant  suggestions  of  the 
general  craving  for  some  withheld  knowledge  or  righL  In 
ipite  of  Widmann's  "  Reminders  "  and  the  "  One  with  Chris- 
tian In';entions,"  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  moral  of 
Faust's  ending  overcame  the  sympathy  of  the  people  with 
his  courage  or  their  admiration  of  his  power.  There  are 
elements  in  the  legend,  the  value  of  which  even  a  purblind 
poet  could  not  help  seeing,  yet  whidi  the  loftiest  genius  may 
idmit  lo  be  almost  beyond  his  grasp,  [t  a  not  the  least  »I 
Goethe's  deserts,  that,  although  in  his  youth  "a  new  Faua 
was  announced  in  every  quarter  of  Germany."  he  took  up 
the  theme  already  hackneyed  bv  small  talents,  and  made  it 
bis  own  solely  and  forever. 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX    II. 

THE    CHRONOLOGY  OF  FAUST. 

FAUST  is  the  only  great  work  in  the  literature  of  any 
language  which  requires  a  biography.  The  first  child 
of  Goethe's  brain  and  the  last  which  knew  the  touch  of  his 
hand,  its  growth  runs  parallel  with  his  life  and  reflects  all 
forms  of  his  manifold  study  and  experience.  While,  there- 
fore, its  plan  is  sitnple,  grand,  and  consistent  fiom  beginning 
to  end,  the  performance  embraces  so  many  varieties  of  style 
ttnd  such  a  multitude  of  not  always  homogeneous  elements, 
that  a  chronological  arrangement  of  the  parts  becomes  n« 
■xssary  as  a  guide  to  the  reader. 

During  (he  illness  which  lasted  for  neartif  a  year  after 
Goelhe's  return  from  Leipiig  in  1768,  while  he  was  dis- 
cussing religious  questions  with  Fräulein  von  Klettenberg, 
reading  cabalistic  works  and  making  experiments  in  alchemy, 
the  subject  of  Fausi,  which  was  already  familiar  10  him  as  a 
child,  through  (he  puppe t-play.s,  took  powerful  and  perma- 
nent hold  on  his  imaginalton  *     He  carried  it  about  with 


•TbepiHH». 

ti«.>onhe-Si« 

in  and  Sin 

«"  period. -hkh 

werebr 

tbb  IbK  fcli  Ihniui-hcHil  Ccrminr 

diiBcwd  Ih 

■ulhon 

to-ard>  P.utt,  > 

1  Hibjca  lor  dnu 

»tic  pocir 

.    LeuJDgwu  the  Km  to 

like  bold  of  it,  bui  only  (raiiriiiu 

(«itueiteiorhu 

imgodj 

wai  completed  before  hit  }o 

n«T  (0 

Italy  in  „jj.  » 

1  dopatched  fron  Drtid« 

0  Leipiis  ia  .  bo 

»which 

«u]<>u..nd»v 

»  light. 

Cipcain  too  Blan 

et>bii>g. 

iDijS4.Bav.  ihe 

IbllDwiiie  <»Iin.<. 

DS  the  tragedy,  (he  inanu- 

•ciptof-hLqhh 

had  nad  :  '-  He 

tvtiy  quaritr  t/ 

GtrmaHf  FiuMi 

Ilmowilutlwce 

mpkwd  it.     I  ha 

he  only 

Ua:r«litipub1» 

(he  other 

y.-«^>mighHir« 

l.pca.," 

Of  ihe«  other 

Fa>ali  ODO  »as  p 

UuolHiin  ID  17 

nler  MiiUe 

,  Gocibe-*  frifod. 

i">>rt 

ih,Googlc 


34Ö 


FAUST. 


n  Strasburg,  concealing  it  "rom  Herder  during  tbeli 
he  winter  of  1770  -71,  and  poMponing  it  (o 
wrile  his  first  great  wOTk,  Gikt  van  BtrikAhigtn.  He  passed 
the  summer  or  1772  at  Wetzlar,  but  did  not  begin  the  com- 
position of  Wirther,  which  «as  the  direct  result  of  his  tesi- 
dcnce  there,  until  the  followii^  year.  "  Paust,"  he  says  to 
Eckermann,  originated  (in  manuscript  ?J  at  tbe  same  time 
as  iVerl/ier."  Thus  the  conception  which  he  had  gra-sped  at 
■he  age  of  twenty  had  been  shaping  itself  in  his  biatn  for 
four  years,  before  any  part  of  it  was  put  into  words  Goiter, 
whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  in  Wetzlar,  sends  him  in 
the  summer  of  1773  a  poetical  letter,  in  which  he  says: 
"  Send  me,  in  return,  thy  Doctor  Faust,  tu  laen  at  hi  Aas 
tier  mid  But  eft'iy  head." 

It  is  not  probable  that  more  than  the  evening  monolt^ue 
was  ntilten  in  1773-  Perhaps  one  or  two  of  tbe  first  scenes 
with  Margaret  were  added  the  fotlitwing  year ;  for  when 
Klopstock  visited  Frankfurt  in  September,  1774,  Goethe 
read  to  him  "  some  scenes  "  of  Fault,  which  the  older  ]>oet 
then  heartily  jiraised,  though  he  spoke  slightingly  of  the 
same  scenes  after  they  were  ]>ulilished  In  January,  1775, 
Ooeihe  read  all  that  he  had  completed  up  to  that  time  tii  his 
friend  Jacoln,  who  wrote  to  him  in  1791,  alluding  to  the  pub- 
lished " Fr^menl  "  :  "I  knew  nearly  the  whole  of  Fiiiiil 
already,  and  precisely  for  that  leason  I  was  duubly  and  li  tWy 
impressed  by  iL  I  have  the  same  feeling  now,  as  i  had 
•ilteen  years  ago."  Except  the  "  Cathedral  "  and  '■  Dun- 
geon "  scenes,  nearly  all  the  parts  in  which  Margaret  is 
introduced,  as  well  as  "  Auerbach's  Cellar,"  and  the  con- 
vernation  of  Mephistopheles.with  the  Student,  were  written 
In  the  spring  of  1775.     It  is  very  evident  that  Merck  was 

1  fngiDenl  br  L«n  id  (777,  and  a  fifth  in  Salibaij.  in  1781.  Dctwrni 
ihe  publicatiin  of  Goelhi'«  "  Fragment"  in  1^JO  and  ihit  of  the  vmn- 
piFied  Fini  Pan  id  iBoS.  nitu  additional  Faiali,  by  varioui  aiilhon, 

bF  the  Second  Pan,  in  titi. /mrUm  more  t  ThorefoR.  includinit  ihc 
horb  of  Le«uii|it.  Ihe  malerial  of  Ihe  Faut-leKend  wa>  employed  bv 
tumlfiaiu  different  aulhon,  during  the  period  which  Goelhi  daToud 
K>  Ibe  elabontion  oT  hii  own  original  design  I 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 


347 


•ho  aRowcd  to  sec  th«  maniucript,  and  that  Goethe's  de- 
sign was  fteely  discussed  among  his  friends.  The  pabiisber 
MyliuH.  in  Berlin,  writes  to  Merck  towards  the  end  or  1774, 
that  be  wilt  take  (he  manuscript  of  Goethe's  Stdia  for  twenty 
tbalers  (!),  although  he  Tears  that  the  aothor  maj  expect 
"  äJty  ihalers  for  his  next  work,  and  perhaps  a  hundred  louis 
d'ot  for  his  Doctor  Faiut !  " 

Goeihe  says :  "  I  brought  the  work  with  me  to  Weitnar  in 
1775.  i  had  written  it  on  foolscap,  mihout  any  erasures  i 
for  I  was  very  carelnl  not  to  write  down  a  line  which  wa* 
not  good  and  might  not  be  allowed  to  stand."  in  this  form 
be  read  ji  10  the  Conit  circle,  which  at  that  time  incliulcd 
WielatHl,  Knebel,  and  Musieus.  As  nearly  as  can  be  ascer- 
tained, the  manuscript  compriued  the  first  half  of  Scent  I., 
the  latter  half  of  Scene  IV.,  and  the  following  series  of  scenes 
10  XVIU..  with  the  exception  of  VI.  and  XIV.  In  addition 
10  these,  there  were  probaUy  several  scenes  which  were  af- 
terwards onulted  before  the  publication  olthe  work,  and  one 
(Scene  XXIII.,  in  prose)  which  «as  restored,  inany  years 
later.  It  is  also  evident  that  the  plan  of  the  whole  work  Mas 
at  least  roughly  outlined  by  this  lime.  Its  development, 
however,  — except  through  that  secret,  unconsduiu  growth 
which  kept  it  alive  tmdei  the  production  of  so  many  other 
works,  —  was  now  arrested  for  a  long  while.  The  concep- 
tions of  a  young  poet  are  always  in  advance  or  hjs  power ; 
hut  there  is  a  good  attendant  genius  who  thwarts  and  delays 
the  perfbnnance  until  tbe  anspidoos  season. 

In  1780^  after  the  (»tnpletion  of  Ifihigmia  in  Tautii,  and 
while  his  mind  was  still  bathed  in  the  Grecian  atmosphere, 
Goethe  wrote  portions  of  the  Hdtna,  for  the  Second  Part  of 
FoHit.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  the  manuscript  was 
read  to  the  Duke,  Karl  August,  bis  mother,  the  Duchess 
Amalia,  to  Herder  and  Knebel ;  but  the  scenes  mu.cl  have 
been  afterwards  suppressed,  for  the  existing  Heltna  is  cer- 
tainly of  a  later  origin.  This  is,  nevertheless,  the  only  [Misilive 
evidence  that  anything  was  added  to  the  work  between  1775 
and  17SS. 

Goethe's  journey  to  Italy  was  not  only  the  realization  tf 


ih,Googlc 


348  FAUST. 

an  early  dewrc,  but  it  was  also  a  necessary  escape  from  the 
irksome  dutieä  of  his  position  al  Weimar,  He  broke  away 
ibrcibly  from  aRiur^i  oT  state  in  order  to  recuperate  himself 
for  poetry,  and  his  eagerness  and  anxiety  may  be  guessed 
from  the  circumstance  that  he  kept  his  plan  secret  from  every 
one  e:icept  the  Duke,  fearing  that  he  would  never  succeed  if 
his  [mention  should  become  known.  It  was  the  old  super- 
■tition  of  keeping  silence  white  lifting  a  buried  treasure; 
Tbe  only  manuscript  he  took  with  him  was  thai  of  Fauit, 
which  he  had  brought  from  Frankfurt,  and  which  was  now»o 
yellow  and  worn  and  frayed;  that  he  says  it  might  aluioet 
have  passed  for  an  andent  codtx.  Nevertheless,  be  did  not 
«icceed  in  returning  to  the  work  until  tbe  upring  of  1788t 
just  before  his  Anal  departure  from  Rome.  He  writes  in 
March  :  '*  It  is  a  different  thing,  of  course,  to  complete  the 
work  now,  instead  of  fifteen  years  ago  ;  but  I  think  nothing 
is  lost,  since  I  feel  sure  of  having  regained  the  thread.  Id 
to  far  as  regards  the  tone  of  the  whole,  also.  I  am  comforted  t 
I  have  already  finished  a  new  scene,  and  if  the  paper  were 
only  smoked,  I  think  no  one  could  pick  it  out  from  tbe  old 
ones."  This  new  scene  is  the  "Witches'  Kitchen,"  It  ia 
doubtful  whether  the  "  Cathedral  "  and  "  Forest  and  Cavern  " 
were  also  added  in  Rome,  or  alter  his  return  to  Weimar. 

Finally,  in  1790,  in  Göschen'»  Leipzig  edition  of  Goetlte's 
works,  Fi^i^  appeared  as  "  A  Fragment."  I  have  already 
mentioned,  in  the  Notes,  the  scenes  which  it  contains,  from 
I.  to  XX.,  with  the  e^iception  of  a  gap  from  the  middle  of 
Scene  I.  to  the  middle  of  Scene  IV„  and  XIX.  (Night:  Val- 
entine's Death).  The  impression  which  the  publication  pro- 
duced was  not  encouraging :  the  fragment  was  not  generally 
understood,  and  the  power  exhibited  in  ttie  separate  scenes 
was  only  partially  appreciated.'  Goethe,  occupied  with 
*  Heyne,  in  GullinEcn,  wrote:  "There  are  (inepauacei  in  ii,  but  with 

was  tuch  1  pilchwork  or  eirlMr  and  laler  libnn.    Schiller  »as  then  un- 

Schlesel  veeoi  10  have  had  si>mi:  iirr^nlinicnt  of  GoeLhe'i  deaigb  and  lb* 
fiandeur  of  hi>  fragineDUTV  Performance, 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 


349 


WUhtlm  Meister  and  HenHtntii  tmd  DaretAta,  banisbed  it  for 
■  tirae  from  his  thoughts  ;  and  the  first  instigation  which  led 
him  to  resume  (he  work  came  from  Schiller,  who  thus  wrote 
to  him  on  the  39th  of  November,  1 794 :  "  But  I  have  no  lesa 
desire  to  read  those  fragments  of  your  Fauit  which  are  not 
/el  printed;  for  I  confess  that  what  I  have  already  read 
seems  to  me  the  torso  of  Hercules.  In  these  scenes  there  is 
a  power  and  AiJness  of  genius  which  clearly  reveals  the  high- 
c«t  master-hand,  and  I  wish  to  follow  as  far  as  possible  the 
bold  and  lofly  nature  which  breathes  through  Ihcm."    Goethe 

Faust)  I  do  not  dare  lo  untie  (he  package  in  which  he  is 
imprisoned.  1  could  not  copy  without  continuing  the  work, 
and  I  have  no  courage  for  that,  now.  If  anything  can  restore 
it  to  me  in  the  future,  it  is  surely  your  sympathy." 

It  seems,  however,  thai  during  the  following  winter  Goethe 
took  the  manuscript  to  Jena,  and  discussed  the  plan  of  the 
work  with  Schiller,  for  in  the  summer  of  1795  Willielm  von 
Humboldt  writes  to  the  latter,  thanking  him  for  his  informa- 
tion concerning  Faust.  "  The  plan,"  he  says,  "  is  gigantic  : 
what  a  pity,  therefore;  thai  it  will  never  be  anything  else  than 
a  plan  ! "  If  Frau  von  Kalb's  memory  is  to  be  trusted, 
Goethe  wrote  about  this  time  the  interview  between  Mcphis- 
Eopheles  and  the  Baccalaureus  ( Pari  Second,  Aa  1I.}>  which 
has  generally  been  referred  to  a  much  later  dale. 

There  is  no  evidence  that  (he  First  Part  of  Fatal  was  re- 
Hmed  before  1797,  when  tlie  "  Dedication  "  and  ihe  "  Pro- 
logue in  Heaven  "  were  probably  written,  together  with  tlw 
IstUrmeoB  (Oberon  and  Tilania's  Golden  Wedding),  which 
was  afterwards  inserted  by  accident  rather  ihan  design.  In 
1798  the  "  Prelude  on  the  Stage  "  and  perhaps  the  conclu- 
sion of  Scene  I.,  together  with  Scene  H,  and  111,,  appear  to 
have  been  written.  It  is  probable  that  the  concluding  scene 
of  ihe  First  Part  (ihe  "  Dungeon  ")  was  eillier  produced  or 
rewritten  at  this  lime.  Goeihe  writes  to  Schiller  thai  he  is 
favored  by  "  the  lyrical  mood  of  Spring,"  and  in  several  let. 
lers  announces  the  progress  he  is  making  in  the  work.  Dur- 
ing tlie  year  179g  lillle,  if  anything,  was  accomplished  1  but 


ih,Googlc 


3SO 


FAUST. 


In  1800  Goethe  commenced  the  composition  of  the  fftlma, 
which  is  frequently  mentioned  in  his  correspondence  with 
SchiHer  during  that  year.  He  writes  on  one  occasion : 
"  During  these  eight  days,  I  have  foitunately  been  able  to 
hold  fast  the  conception  of  the  situations,  of  which  you  al- 
ready know,  and  my  Helena  has  actually  entered  on  the 
■t^e.  Bui  now  Ihe  beauty  in  the  rtU  of  my  heroine  attrada 
me  so  much,  thai  I  shall  be  disconsolate  if  I  must  at  last 
(since  the  whole  can  only  be  represented  as  a  spectral  ap- 
pearance) transform  her  into  a  grinning  mask."  Schiller 
answers,  apparently  referring  to  former  conversations  :  "  It 
is  a  very  impotlani  advantage,  that  you  consciously  advance 
from  the  (artistically)  pure  to  ihe  impure,  jiistead  of  seeking 
a  method  of  soaring  from  the  impure  to  the  pure,  as  is  the 
case  with  the  rest  of  us  barbarians.  In  Faust,  therefore,  yoa 
must  everywhere  assert  your  right  of  fbtce  "  (FaititrKkt,  an 
untranslatable  pun). 

In  the  aulumn  of  iSoo,  Goethe  laid  the  Helena  aside,  and 
devoted  himself  seriously  to  the  completion  of  the  First 
Part.  He  wrote  the  Walpargis- Night  and  the  scene  of 
Valentine's  death,  and  then  endeavored  to  fill  Ihe  gap 
remaining  between  the  Inttrmente  and  the  "  Dungeon " 
scene.  In  this  he  was  unsuccessful,  and  all  his  remaining 
labor  from  thai  lime  until  the  publication  of  the  First  Part, 
complete,  in  1808,  was  probably  merely  that  of  adjitslment 
and  revision.  The  depression  which  weighed  upon  him 
after  Schiller's  death  in  1805  affected  his  interest  in  Faust 
more  than  in  any  other  of  his  literary  plans. 

When  the  First  Part  finally  appeared,  the  following  por- 
tions of  the  Second  Part  appear  to  have  been  already  in 
existence:  Scene  I.,  and  possibly  a  part  of  Scene  II.,  of 
Act  I  :  Scene  I.  of  Act  II, ;  nearly  the  first  half  of  Act 
III.  [Htlena) ;  and  some  fragments  of  Act  V.  There  ii  no 
doubt  that  Goethe  knew,  as  he  wrote  to  Zelter  nearly  twenty 
years  afterwards,  "toAal  was  still  necessary  to  be  written, 
but  was  not  yet  decided  in  regard  to  the  Aiwu."  It  is  not 
necessary  to  recapitulate  here  all  the  interruplionK.  the  vary, 
mg  literary  and  scientific  interests,  which  came  between  the 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 


JS« 


plan  and  its  üilfilment.  Goetbe  wu  fifty-nine  yeart  old 
when  the  First  Part  waa  published,  and  the  years  passed  bjp 
in  other  labors  until  he  was  seventy-live,  before  the  impulse 
to  complete  the  Second  Part  returned  to  him. 

In  1814  he  gave  to  Eckermann  a  programme  which  he 
had  prepared  lor  the  completion  of  Wahrhtit  una  Dichtung. 
It  contained  a  prose  outline  of  the  continuation  of  FaMst,  and 
Eckermann  wrote  In  reply:  "Whether  this  plan  of  Fatal 
should  be  communicated  or  held  in  reserve,  is  a  doubt  which 
■:an  only  be  solved  aAer  the  fragments  already  in  existence 
have  been  carefully  examined,  and  it  is  clear  whether  the 
hope  of  completing  the  wc^k  must  be  given  up  or  not," 
This  hint  Beems  to  have  aroused  Goethe  :  the  plan  was 
withheld,  and  the  work  was  commenced,  certainly  in  the  fol- 
lowing year.  The  Hiltna,  to  which  he  felt  most  strongly 
attracted,  received  a  new  interest  for  him  through  the  idea  of 
representing  Byron  in  the  child  Euphorion,  and  the  Act  was 
finished  in  1826.  It  was  published  in  1S27,  in  the  fourth 
volume  of  "Goethe's  Works,  with  the  Author's  Final  Re- 
visions," under  the  title  of  "Helena;  a  Classico- Roman  tic 
Phantasmagoria,"  and  at  once  excited  the  greatest  interest 
and  curiosity.  From  Edinburgh  to  Moscow  the  European 
critics  seem  to  have  been  both  delighted  and  puzzled  by  it 
Carlyle  wrote  an  admirable  paper  upon  i),  in  which  he  shows 
great  shrewdness  in  unriddling  its  symbolism.  The  encour- 
agemenl  which  such  a  reception  of  the  single  act  gave  to 
Goetbe,  stimulated  him  anew  to  complete  the  work,  and  for 
four  years  longer  it  became  the  leading  motive  of  his  life. 

In  the  beginning  of  iSsS  the  first  tbree  scenes  of  the  First 
Act  —  Faust's  Awakening,  the  Emperor's  Court,  and  the 
Carnival  Masquerade  —  were  published  in  the  twelfth  vol- 
nme  of  his  works,  and  were  received  with  an  enthusiasm 
equal  to  that  which  the  Htlena  called  forth,  Goethe,  now 
nearly  eighty  years  old,  worked  slowly  and  with  a  laggard 
power  of  invendon ;  but  he  held  to  his  conceptions  with  the 
same  tenacity  as  in  his  earliest  literary  youth,  and  suflered 
no  fovorable  mood  of  body  or  mind  to  pass  without  adding 
•ome  line«.    The  portions  already  completed  were  äslened 


ih,Googlc 


35' 


FAUST. 


together,  with  blank  sheets  of  a  difierent  color  between,  In- 
dicating the  gaps  yet  to  be  filled ;  and  be  rejoiced  front 
month  to  month  as  the  unmitteti  gave  place  to  the  written 
color.  During  1819  and  1830  the  First  A«  was  completed, 
and  the  whole  of  the  Second  Act,  including  the  Classical 
WalpurgiS' Night,  was  written ;  so  that,  at  the  beginning  of 
1331,  there  only  remained  the  Fourth  Act  and  the  opening 
scenes  of  the  Fifth.  This  was  the  most  laborious  part  of 
the  task,  and  has  Icfi  upon  it  palpable  traces  of  labor  ;  but 
by  the  end  of  July  the  work  was  done,  and  on  his  e^k^ 
ucond  birthday,  August  28,  1831,  Goethe  sealed  up  the 
complete  manuscript  of  the  Second  Part,  to  be  opened  and 
published  after  his  death.  "  From  this  time  on,"  he  said  to 
Eckermann,  "I  look  upon  my  life  as  a  perfect  gift,  and  it  ia 
really  indifferent  what  I  may  further  do,  or  whether  I  shall 
do  anything."    Seven  months  afterwards,  he  was  dead. 

Faurl  is,  in  the  most  comprehensive  sense,  a  drama  of  th« 
Life  of  Man.  The  course  of  its  moral  and  intellectual  plot, 
as  firat  designed  by  the  author,  is  now  and  then  delayed  by 
the  material  added  to  it  during  the  different  phases  of  his 
own  development,  but  was  never  changed.  This  plot  i* 
chiefly  unfolded  to  the  reader  through  the  medium  of  two 
elements,  which,  from  first  to  last,  are  combined  in  tl,  yel  nuy 
easily  be  separated.  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  its  com- 
prehension  have  been  caused  by  the  introduction  of  a  third, 
accidental,  and  unnecessary  element,  which  is  so  intenvoven 
with  the  others  (espedally  in  the  Second  Part),  that  the  reader 
is  often  led  away  from  the  true  path  before  he  is  aware  of  it 

The  first  of  the  elements,  and  the  one  which  gives  indi- 
vidual coloring  and  reality  to  the  characters,  Goethe  drew 
from  his  own  experience.  All  the  earlier  scenes,  he  de- 
clares, were  lu^clniely  written :  Mephistopheles  and  Faust 
were  the  opposite  poles  of  his  own  nature.  His  own  ambi- 
tion, disappointment,  love,  unrest,  are  all  reflected  through- 
out the  First  Part ;  and  the  poise  of  his  riper  nature,  his 
aathetic  passion  and  his  religious  feeling,  in  the  opening  of 
the  First  Act,  the  ffel/na,  and  the  Fifth  Act  of  the  Second 
Part    The  second  element,  drawn  from  his  objective  study 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX.  353 

of  men  and  his  observaiioo  of  the  world,  is  blended  with 
the  former,  but  especially  manifests  itself  in  the  aphoris- 
tic character  of  much  of  the  Second  Part,  and  in  the  sym- 
bolism which  he  so  constantly  employs  for  ihe  sake  of  more 
compressed  expression.  I  have  endeavored  to  indicate,  in 
the  Notes,  all  thai  can  be  traced  to  his  own  personal  expe- 
rience, and  thereby  to  furnish  a  guide  which  may  direct  the 
reader  lo  that  more  intimate  and  satis£u:toty  knowledge 
which  will  follow  his  own  studies. 

What  I  have  called  the  accidental  element  is  illustrated 
by  the  Inlermaao,  which  was  wilfully  inserted  ;  by  the  lit- 
erary satire  in  the  Witches'  Kitchen  and  the  Walpurgis- 
Night ;  and  in  the  Second  Part  by  the  paper-money  scene  in 
the  First  Act,  the  controversy  of  the  Neptunists  and  Pluto- 
nists  in  the  Second  and  the  Fourth,  and  the  introduction  of 
Byron  in  the  Third.  All  these  features  must  be  eliminated 
from  the  moral  and  intellectual  course  of  (he  action,  with 
which  they  have  not  the  slightest  connection.  Indeed,  Ihe 
whole  of  the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night,  admirable  and  won- 
derM  as  it  is,  in  parts,  forms  a  very  roondabout  mode  of 
transition  from  the  Emperor's  Court  to  the  allegory  of  He- 
lena. Only  by  holding  fast  to  the  leading  idea  can  we  safely 
follow  its  labyrinthine  windings. 

What  Goethe  himself  said  of  Faust  in  his  eightieth  year,  in 
■peaking  of  Stapfer's  French  translation,  may  be  quoted  in 
conclusion,  as  an  e<i(imate  equally  modest  and  just :  "The 
commendation  which  Ihe  work  has  received;  far  and  near, 
may  perhaps  be  owing  to  this  quality  —  that  it  permanently 
preserves  the  period  of  development  of  a  human  soul,  which 
is  tormented  by  all  that  afflicts  mankind,  shaken  also  by  all 
that  disturbs  it,  repelled  by  all  that  it  ünds  repellent,  and 
made  happy  by  all  that  which  it  desires.  The  author  is  a: 
present  far  removed  from  such  conditions;  the  world,  like- 
wise, has  to  some  extent  other  struggles  lo  undergo  :  never- 
theless, the  stale  of  men,  in  joy  and  sorrow,  remains  very 
much  the  same  ;  and  the  latest-bom  will  still  find  cause  to 
acquaint  himself  with  what  has  been  enjoyed  and  siifTercd  be- 
fore him,  in  order  to  adapt  himself  to  that  which  awaits  him." 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX    III. 

AfASLOfVE'S    "DR.    FAUSTUS." 


M"; 


f  R,  DYCE'S  recent  edition  of  Marlowe  render»  it  on- 
.  necesKary  Ihxt  I  should  idd  an  account  of  Ihe  mannet 
in  wUch  the  latter  has  treated  the  legend.  His  material,  ai 
I  have  already  stated,  waa  the  English  translation  of  Spiessn 
boiik,  published  in  London  in  1S90.  I  quote  the  first  scene, 
because  It  offers  both  a  resemblance  and  a  contrast  to  the 
first  scene  of  Goethe  1— 


Nol  muching  in  Ihe  Gcldi  »rThird: 
When  Uui  did  mat  Ihe  warlike  C 
Nor  •)>nninf  ia  Ihe  dalliince  of  love 

Hot  in  the  pomp  of  provd,  «udiciou 


ADd  ipeilc  for  Fiunui  Id  hii  infancy : 
Now  ii  he  bom  arpirenti  biw  or  mock, 
Ib  GemiinT,  irithln  a  lawn  called  Rhoda : 
AI  riper  ytui  to  Wlttenbur^  he  met ; 


Thai  ihortljr  be  wu  gntcd  mlh  Doctor 
Enelllng  all,  and  medr  can  ditpule 
In  lb'  heavenlr  inatun  of  theologr  '■ 


ih,Googlc 


APPENDIX. 

Which  hg  pnien  beAin  hii  diietet  blfia. 
WhflRsi  lua  hinHiiMP  chiefly  brought  hiDk  up 

Act  Tm  Pikst,  —  Scan  L 

Fadtt.    Setlla  Iky  Uid»,  FaiHln*,  and  I 
To  Kind  Ib*  depth  of  Ihu  thou  will  prcdut 
Hnhif  coiuMiKad,  b«  i  dlriiH  in  mbov, 
Yet  lani  » the  ead  of  ereir  iR, 


I«,  to  depute  veil,  lofic'i  chieJ«t  od  ^ 

Aflixdi  lliii  an  HO  fieiler  ninde  \ 

Theo  nad  no  more ;  thini  hui  atuincd  tbu  oihL 

A  gnatcr  inbi«!  f  Itclh  Fuuni«'  wii : 

Kd  ecsHniT  bnwtll :  aod  Gain  osme. 

B*  e  phrudu,  FuMu ;  heap  up  gol^ 

And  be  etenund  ftir  »me  wopdrom  lan  j 

The  end  of  phyuc  ii  our  bodiu'  hedlk. 
Why,  Fiuitiu,  hut  ihou  not  ituinsd  Ihn  «odT 
An  tMt  tliy  biÜi  htms  np  u  monnnientit 
Vbefebf  ffhole  citiet  haTc  vecapcd  the  p]i(iHt 
And  thODund  deapente  njüadiei  been  aued? 

CooldM  Iboa  mähe  raeo  to  Ute  clenuüLr. 
Or,  beini;  dead,  laiie  them  to  life  agaJB. 
Theo  >hii  pnftaaion  wm  to  be  eneemed. 
Phyde,  ftrewiU  J    When  i>  Jutioian  r 
Slima  HuUmtmi  rwi  liratmr  Aatm, 
AtttrTtm,alltr  saiortm  rti,  »v. 
A  petty  CH«  or  poItTT  lecaoea- 
BxlUTt£larißlmmiuHp*l*ilfatTiiiti,t^*. 
Sach  ii  the  (utoKt  o(  the  inttilute, 
luA  ODiTennl  body  of  the  law. 
Thii  ftudy  Ata  a  niertenary  dnid^ 
Who  lima  at  Dothiog  but  external  traah, 
'I'oo  aarvUa  and  iUibenl  for  bh. 
When  an  ii  done,  dinnity  ii  beat 


lealh:  that  'a hard. 


ih,Googlc 


336  FAUST. 

Siptaim  mtgaimia./altim*r,  n 


u  doctrme  call  you  Ihii  t    Cht  «m,  v 
»  iriU  bc,  ihill  be ;  diTinily.  idkii  I 
-K  mcUphyiia  of  magiciaoft. 


roTld  or  pnjfit  and  dclighl. 


StntcHei  u  ftr  u  dv 


1D  that  uc««da  lo  thu. 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


copraiovr,  1871,  b¥  bj 


ih,Googlc 


INTRODUCTION. 


I  KNOW  how  much  prepossession  I  e 
in  claiming  for  the  Second  Part  of  Faust  a 
higher  intellectual  character,  if  a  lower  dramatic 
and  poetical  value,  than  the  First  Part.  In  Mr. 
Ha)n»rard's  Appendix,  and  Mr.  Lewes'  Life  of 
Goethe,  the  Second  Part  is  virtually  declared  to 
be  a  secondary,  unimportant  work,  chaotic  in  de- 
tail and  without  any  consistent  design  as  a  whole*, 
in  short,  the  mistake  of  Goethe's  old  age,  instead 
of  being,  as  it  really  is,  the  conception  of  his 
prime,  partly  written,  and  entirely  planned,  before 
the  publication  of  the  First  Part 

The  five  translations  which  have  already  ap- 
peared have,  unfortunately,  not  succeeded  in  pre- 
senting the  wc  \  clearly  and  attractively  to  the 
English  reader  Those  of  Bemays,  Macdonald, 
and  Gumey  are  characterized  by  knowledge  of  the 
text,  but  give  no  satisfactory  clew  to  the  author's 


ih,Googlc 


iv  FAUST. 

design  ;  while  that  of  Dr.  Anster,  the  most  read- 
able of  all,  and  showing  a  further  insight  into  the 
meaning,  is  a  very  loose  paraphrase,  rather  than  a 
translation.  The  original  metres,  which  are  here 
even  more  important  than  in  the  First  Part,  have 
been  retained  by  no  translator.  1  do  not  wish  to 
be  understood  as  passing  an  unfriendly  judgment 
upon  the  labors  of  my  predecessors  \  for  I  have 
learned  what  difficulties  stood  in  their  way,  and 
also  how  easy  it  is,  in  the  perplexing  labyrinth  of 
German  comment,  to  miss  the  simplest  and  surest 
key  to  Goethe's  many-sided  all^ories. 

I'he  first  mistake  which  many  of  the  cridcs  have 
made  is  in  attempting  any  comparison  of  the  two 
'  parts.  While  the  moral  and  intellectual  problem, 
which  is  first  stated  in  the  Prologue  in  Heaven, 
advances  through  richer  and  broader  phases  of 
development  to  its  final  solution,  the  story  which 
comes  to  an  end  in  Margaret's  dungeon  is  not 
resumed.  The  Second  Fart  opens  abruptly  in  a 
broad,  bright,  crowded  world ;  we  not  only  breathe 
a  new  atmosphere,  but  we  corae  back  to  Faust  and 
Mephistophetes  as  if  after  a  separation  of  many 
years,  and  find  that  our  former  acquaintances  have 
changed  in  the  interval,  even  as  ourselves.  "  It 
must  be  remembered,"  says  Goethe,  "that  the 
First  Part  is  the  development  of  a  somewhat  ob- 
jure individual  condition.  It  is  almost  wholly 
subjective ;  it  is  the  expression  of  a  confused, 
restricted,  and  passionate  nature."  On  the  other 
hand,  we  learn  from  the  study  of  Goethe's  life 


ih,Googlc 


INTRODUCTION.  v 

that  the  wealth  of  the  material  which  he  bad 
accumulated  for  the  Second  Part  occasioned  an 
embarrassment  in  r^;ard  to  the  fonn,  which  partly 
accounts  for  the  long  postponement  of  the  work. 
He  expressly  declares"  that  the  Second  Part  of 
the  drama  must  be  performed  upon  a  different,  a 
broader,  and  more  elevated  stage  of  action ;  that 
one  who  has  not  lived  in  the  world  and  acquired 
some  experience  will  not  know  how  to  compre- 
hend it ;  and  that,  like  an  unsolved  riddle,  it  will 
repeatedly  allure  the  reader  to  the  renewed  study 
of  its  secret  meanings. 

The  last  of  these  declarations  is  not  egotistical, 
because  it  is  so  exactly  tme.  No  commentary  can 
exhaust  the  suggestiveness  of  the  work,  Schiller 
doubted  that  a  poetic  measure  could  be  formed, 
capable  of  holding  Goethe's  plan ;  and  we  find, 
indeed,  that  the  substance  overflows  its  bounds  on 
all  sides.  With  all  which  the  critics  have  accom- 
plished, they  have  still  left  enough  untouched  to 
allow  fresh  discoveries  to  every  sympathetic  read- 
er. There  are  circles  within  circles,  forms  which 
beckon  and  then  disappear ;  and  when  we  seem 
to  have  reached  the  bottom  of  the  author's  mean- 
ing, we  suspect  that  there  is  still  something  be- 
yond. The  framework  lay  buried  so  long  in  the 
sea  of  Goethe's  mind,  that  it  became  completely 
incrusted,  here  and  there  with  a  barnacle,  it  is 

*  Announcement  of  the  Helena  (quoted  in  note  103). 
Correspondence  with  Schiller,  and  Eckennann's  Conversa- 


ih,Googlc 


true,  but  also  with  a  multitude  of  pearl-oysters. 
Many  of  the  crowded  references  are  directly  de- 
ducible  from  the  allegory ;  still  more  are  made 
clear  to  us  through  a  knowledge  of  Goethe's  devel- 
opment, as  man  and  poet ;  while  some  few  have 
lost  the  clew  to  their  existence,  and  must  probably 
always  stand,  orphaned  and  strange,  on  one  side 
or  other  of  the  plain  line  of  development  running 
through  the  poem. 

The  early  disparagement  which  the  Second  Part 
of  J^aust  received  is  only  in  our  day  beginning  to 
give  way  to  an  intelligent  recc^itlon  of  its  grand 
design,  its  wealth  of  illustration,  and  the  almost 
inexhaustible  variety  and  beauty  of  its  rhythmi- 
cal forms.  Although  its  two  chief  offences  (to  the 
German  mind)  are  not  yet,  and  perhaps  never  can 
be  wholly,  condoned,  the  period  of  misconception 
is  over,  and  the  voices  of  rage  or  contempt,  once 
so  frequently  heard,  are  becoming  faint  and  few. 
The  last  twenty-five  years  have  greatly  added  to 
our  means  of  elucidation ;  and  much  that  seemed 
to  be  whim  or  purposed  obscurity  is  now  revealed 
in  clear  and  intelligible  outlines.  When  Vischer 
compares  the  work  to  a  picture  of  the  old  Titian, 
wherein  the  master-hand  is  still  recf^nized,  but 
trembling  with  age  and  stippling  in  the  color  with 
slow,  painful  touches,  he  forgets  that  the  design 
was  already  drawn,  and  some  of  the  figures  nearly 
completed,  in  the  Master's  best  days.  I  should 
rather  liken  it  to  a  great  mosaic,  which,  looked  at 
near  at  hand,  shows  us  the  mixture  of  precious 


ih,Googlc 


INTRODUCTION.  vii 

marbles  and  common  pebbles,  of  glass,  jasper, 
and  Upis-lazuli ;  but,  seen  in  the  proper  perspec- 
dve,  exhibits  only  the  Titanic  struggle  of  Man, 
surrounded  with  shapes  of  Beauty  and  Darkness, 
towards  a  victorious  immortality. 

It  would  have  been  better,  undoubtedly,  if  the 
completion  of  the  work  had  not  been  so  long 
delayed,  and  Goethe  had  thereby  been  able  to 
give  us,  with  more  limited  stores  of  knowledge,  a 
greater  poedc  unity.  It  is  hardly  the  feebleness 
of  the  octt^narian  which  we  perceive.  The  ac- 
quisitions of  the  foregoing  thirty  years  seemed  to 
have  gradually  formed  a  crust  over  the  lambent 
poetical  element  in  his  nature;  but  the  native 
force  of  the  latter  is  nowhere  so  wonderfully  re- 
vealed as  here,  since  it  is  still  able  to  crack  and 
shiver  the  erudite  surface  of  his  mind,  and  to 
flame  out  clearly  and  joyously.  Wherever  it  thus 
displays  itself,  it  is  still  the  same  pure,  illuminat- 
ing, solving  and  Mending  power,  as  in  his  earlier 
years. 

The  reader  to  whom  this  book  is  a  new  land 
roust  of  necessity  be  furnished  with  a  compass 
and  an  outline  chart  before  he  enters  it.  He 
may,  otherwise,  lose  his  way  in  its  tropical  jun- 
gles, before  reaching  that  "  peak  in  Danen,"  from 
which  Keats,  like  Balboa,  beheld  a  new  side  of 
the  world.  While  the  Notes  contain  as  much  in- 
terpretation of  the  details  of  the  plan  as  seems 
to  be  possible  at  present,  I  consider  that  a  brief 
previous  statement  of  the  argument  is  absolutely 
required. 


ih,Googlc 


We  must  foi^t  the  tragical  story  of  the  First 
Part,  and  return  to  the  compact  between  Faust 
and  Mephistopheles,  where  the  latter  declares: 
"  The  little  world,  and  then  the  great,  we  '11  see." 
The  former  world  is  at  an  end,  and,  after  an  open- 
ing scene  which  symbolizes  the  healing  influences 
of  Time  and  Nature,  Faust  and  his  companion 
appear  at  the  Court  of  the  German  Emperor. 
The  ruined  condition  of  the  realm  gives  Mephis- 
topheles a  chance  of  acquiring  place  and  power 
for  Faust,  through  the  introduction  of  a  new  finan- 
cial system.  While  this  is  in  progress,  the  days 
of  Carnival  furnish  the  occasion  for  a  Masquer- 
ade, crowded  with  allegorical  figures,  representing 
Society  and  Government  Goethe  found  that  no 
detached  phases  of  life  were  adequate  to  his  pur- 
pose. Faust,  in  the  First  Part,  is  an  individual, 
in  narrow  association  with  other  individuals  :  here 
he  is  thrown  into  the  movement  of  the  world,  the 
phenomena  of  human  development,  and  becomes, 
to  a  certain  extent,  typical  of  Man.  Hence  the 
allegorical  character  of  the  Masquerade,  which  is 
confusing,  from  the  great  range  and  mixture  of  its 
symbolism. 

The  Emperor's  wish  to  have  Paris  and  Helena 
called  from  the  Shades  (as  in  the  original  Legend) 
is  expressed  when  Faust  is  already  growing  weary 
of  the  artificial  life  of  the  Court.  Mephistopheles 
sends  him  to  the  mysterious  Mothers,  that  he 
may  acquire  the  means  of  evoking  the  models  of 
beauty ;  and  at  this  point  the  artistic,  or  esthetic 


ih,Googlc 


INTRODUCTION.  U 

element — the  sense  of  the  Beautiful  in  the  human 
mind  —  is  introduced  as  a  most  important  agent 
of  human  culture,  gradually  refining  and  purifying 
Faust's  nature,  and  lifting  it  forever  above  all  the 
meanness  and  littleness  of  the  world.  Mephi»- 
topheles  is  bound  by  his  compact  to  serve,  even  in 
fulfilling  this  aspiration  which  he  cannot  compre- 
hend ;  but  he  obeys  unwillingly,  and  with  con- 
tinual  attempts  to  regain  his  diminishing  power. 
After  the  apparition  of  Helena,  and  Faust's  rash 
attempt  to  possess  at  once  the  Ideal  of  the  Beauti- 
ful, the  scene  changes  to  the  latter's  old  Gothic 
chamber,  where  we  meet  the  Student  of  the  First 
Part  as  a  Baccalaureus,  and  find  Wagner,  in  his 
laboratory,  engaged  in  creating  a  Homunculus. 
This  whimsical  sprite  guides  Faust  and  Mephis- 
topheles  to  the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night,  where 
the  former  continues  his  pilgrimage  towards  He- 
lena (the  Beautiful),  while  the  latter,  true  to  his 
negative  character,  finally  reaches  his  ideal  of 
Ugliness  in  the  Phorkyads.  The  allegory  of  the 
Classical  Walpurgis- Night  is  also  difficult  to  be 
unravelled,  but  it  is  not  simply  didactic,  like  that 
of  the  Carnival  Masquerade.  A  purer  strain  of 
poetry  breathes  through  it,  and  the  magical  moon- 
light which  shines  upon  its  closing  Festals  of  the 
Sea  prepares  ua  for  the  sunbright  atmosphere  of 
the  HeUna. 

This  interlude,  occupying  the  I'hird  Act,  is  an- 
other allegory,  complete  in  itself,  and  only  lightly 
attached  to  the  course  of  the  drama.     While  it 


ih,Googlc 


exhibits,  in  the  Utter  connection,  the  «esthetic 
purification  of  Faust's  nature,  its  leading  motive 
is  the  reconciliation  of  the  Classic  and  Romantic 
elements  in  Art  and  Literature.  Euphorion,  the 
child  of  Faust  and  Helena,  who  vanishes  in  flame, 
leaving  only  his  garments  and  lyre  behind  him,  is 
then  presented  to  us  as  Byron,  and  the  Act  closes 
with  a  transmigration  of  "the  fair  humanities  of 
old  religion "  into  the  spirit  and  sentiment  of 
Modem  Poetry. 

The  Fourth  Act  exhibits  Faust  to  us,  enlight- 
ened and  elevated  above  his  former  self,  and  anx- 
ious for  a  grand  and  worthy  sphere  of  activity. 
His  aim  is,  to  bend  Nature  to  the  service  of  Man, 
—  to  bar  the  ocean  from  a  great  stretch  of  half- 
submerged  land,  and  thus  conquer  the  aimless 
force  of  the  unruly  elements.  Mephistopheles 
takes  advantage  of  the  political  dissensions  of  the 
Empire,  and  the  appearance  of  a  new  claimant  for 
the  crown,  at  the  head  of  an  army,  to  proffer  hb 
own  and  Fausfs  services  to  the  Emperor.  A  bat- 
tle takes  place ;  the  rebels  are  defeated,  through 
the  magic  arts  of  Mephistopheles,  and  Faust  re- 
ceives the  sea-shore  in  feoff  forever. 

The  Fifth  Act  opens  on  the  accomplished  work. 
Faust,  a  hundred  years  old,  inhabits  a  palace,  in 
the  midst  of  a  green,  thickly-peopled  land,  diked 
from  the  sea.  But  he  has  not  yet  found  the  one 
moment  of  supreme  happiness.  A  pestilential 
marsh  still  remans  to  be  drained ;  and  he  has  not 
succeeded  in  gaining  the  coveted  possession  of  a 


ih,Googlc 


INTRODUCTION.  rf 

sand-hill  near  his  palace,  the  residence  of  an  old 
couple  who  have  charge  of  a  little  chapel  on  the 
downs.  Mephistopheles  endeavors  to  implicate 
him  in  the  guilty  seizure  of  this  Naboth's  vine- 
yard, but  is  again  baffled.  Faust,  become  blind, 
finds  a  clearer  light  dawning  upon  his  spirit :  while 
the  workmen  are  employed  upon  the  canal  which 
completes  his  great  work,  he  perceives  that  he  has 
created  free  and  happy  homes  for  the  coming  gen- 
erations of  men,  and  the  fore-feeling  of  satisfied 
achievement  impels  him  to  say  to  the  passing 
Moment:  "Ah,  still  delay, —  thou  art  so  fair!" 
When  the  words  are  uttered,  he  sinks  upon  the 
earth,  dead. 

The  struggle  of  Mephistopheles  with  the  angels 
for  the  possession  of  Fausfs  soul,  and  a  scene  in 
Heaven,  where  Margaret  appears,  like  Beatrice  in 
Dante's  Paradiso,  as  the  spiritual  guide  of  her 
redeemed  lover,  dose  the  drama.  Although  the 
condition  of  the  compact  has  been  fulfilled,  Meph- 
istopheles loses  his  wager,  fn  willing  the  Bad, 
he  has  worked  the  Good  :  the  "obscure  aspiration" 
in  Faust's  nature  has  lifted  itself,  through  Love, 
Experience,  the  refining  power  of  the  Beautiful, 
and  beneficent  activity,  to  more  than  an  instinct, 
to  a  knowledge  of  "the  one  true  way."  The 
Epilogue  in  Heaven  carries  us  back  to  the  Prol- 
ogue, and  indicates  to  us,  through  a  wondrous, 
mystic  symbolism,  the  victorious  vitality  of  Good 
and  the  omnipotence  of  the  Divine  Love. 

Briefly,  then,  Act  I.  represents  Society  and  Gov- 


ih,Googlc 


eminent;  Acts  II.  and  III.  the  development  of 
the  Idea  of  the  Beautiful  as  the  highest  human 
attribute,  with  almost  a  saving  power ;  Act  IV., 
War ;  and  Act  V.,  Beneficent  Activity,  crowned  by 
Grace  and  Redemption.  The  financial  scheme, 
the  discussion  of  geological  theories,  the  union  of 
the  Classic  and  Romantic,  and  the  introduction 
of  those  three  tricksy  spirits,  the  Boy  Charioteer, 
Homunculus,  and  Euphorion  (whom  I  have  inter- 
preted as  different  personifications  of  Goethe's 
own  Poetic  Genius),  must  be  considered  as  digres- 
sions from  the  direct  course  of  the  plot  In  order 
to  understand  how  they  originated,  and  the  prob- 
able raisons  d'ltre  by  which  the  author  justified 
thera  to  his  own  mind,  I  refer  the  reader  to  the 
Notes,  which  will  be  found  indispensable.  I 
might,  indeed,  have  greatly  added  to  the  latter, 
had  I  not  felt  obliged  to  consider  that  those  to 
whom  the  material  is  not  familiar  may  as  easily 
lose  their  clew  through  too  much  detail  of  inter- 
pretation as  from  the  unexplained  text 

Goethe's  chief  offence  is  the  license  which  he 
allows  himself  in  regard  to  his  language.  We 
find,  especially  in  those  portions  which  were  last 
written,  frequent  instances  of  crabbed,  arbitrary 
construction,  words  and  compounds  invented  in 
defiance  of  all  rule,  and  various  other  deviations 
from  his  own  full,  clear,  and  rounded  style.*    This 

•  "Th»t  which  first  repels  the  reader  in  this  second 
Faust-drama  is  the  philological  element,  which  is  found 
Utioqgboiit  the  greater  part  of  it.     A  dragging  nuuch  of  the 


ih,Googlc 


INTRODUCTlOlf.  xüi 

has  been  contemptuously  called  the  "  Privy-Coun- 
cillor's dialect "  {Gehämrathsspracke)  by  some  of 
the  critics,  who  assail  Goethe  with  cries  of  wrath ; 
but  it  is  a  feature  of  the  original  which  cannot  be 
reproduced  in  the  translation,  and  ought  not  to 
be,  if  it  could  be.  If  the  reader  now  and  then 
falls  upon  an  unusual  compound,  or  a  seemingly 
forced  inversion  of  language,  I  must  beg  him  to 
remember  that  my  sins  against  the  poetical  laws 
of  the  English  language  are  but  a  small  percentage 
of  Goethe's  sins  against  the  German.  The  other 
difficulty  seems  to  tie  partly  in  the  intellectual 
constitution  of  the  critics  themselves,  many  of 
whom  are  nothing  if  not  metaphysical.  The  ful- 
ness of  the  matter  is  such  that  various  apparently 
consistent  theories  may  be  drawn  from  it,  and 
much  of  the  confusion  which  has  thence  ensued 
has  been  charged  to  the  author's  account  Here, 
as  in  the  First  Part,  the  study  of  Goethe's  life  and 
other  works  has  been  my  guide  through  the  laby- 
rinth of  comment ;  1  have  endeavored  to  give,  in 
every  case,  tlie  simplest  and  most  obvious  inter- 
pretation, even  if,  to  some  readers,  it  may  not 
seem  the  most  satisfactory. 

diction,  awkwardly  long  and  painlUlly  complicated  «entenee», 
a  mast  of  unsuccessful  verbal  fonns  and  adaptations,  unne- 
ceMarily  obscure  images,  forced  transitions,  affected  superla- 
tive participles  and  compounds, — all  these  thing;s  operate 
lepellently  enough  upon  manj  persons,  and  spoil,  in  advance, 
their  enjoyment  of  the  work." — KeaÜin,  GottAt'i  Faiat, 
Stau  KriiHUr  und  Aialegtr. 


ih,Googlc 


I  have  adhered,  as  those  familiar  with  the  orig;i- 
nal  text  will  perceive,  to  the  same  plan  of  traa»- 
latiotL  The  original  metres  are  more  closely 
reproduced  than  even  in  the  First  Part,  for  the 
predominance  of  symbol  and  aphorism,  in  the 
place  of  sentiment  and  passion,  has,  in  this  re- 
spect, made  my  task  more  easy;  and  there  are, 
from  beginning  to  end,  less  than  a  score  of  lines 
where  I  have  been  compelled  to  take  any  liberty 
with  either  rhythm  or  rhyme.  Indeed,  the  form, 
e^iecially  in  the  Helena,  is  so  intimately  blended 
with  the  symbolical  meaning,  that  I  cannot  con- 
ceive of  the  two  being  separated ;  for  they  are 
soul  and  body,  and  separation,  to  US,  is  death  of 
the  one  and  disappearance  of  the  other.  The 
dassic  metres,  which  Goethe  uses,  surely  lend 
themselves  as  readily  to  the  English  language  as 
to  the  German ;  and,  while  I  have  rendered  this 
pMtion  of  the  drama  almost  as  literally  as  would 
be  pos^ble  in  prose,  I  can  only  hope  that  the 
unaccustomed  ear  will  not  be  startled  and  repelled 
by  its  new  metrical  character.  I  am  not  aware 
that  either  the  iambic  trimeter  or  the  trochaic 
tetrameter  has  ever  been  introduced  into  English 
verse.  The  classic  reader,  who  may  miss  the 
csesm^  here  and  there,  will,  I  trust,  rec<^ize  both 
the  necessity  and  the  justification. 

In  concluding  this  labor  of  years,  I  venture  to 
express  die  hope  that,  however  I  may  have  fallen 
short  of  reproducing  the  original  in  another,  though 
a  kindred  language,  I  may,  at  least,  have  assisted 


ih,Googlc 


INTRODUCTIOHr.  xv 

m  naturalizing  die  masterpiece  of  Gennan  liteia- 
ture  amoDg  us,  and  to  that  extent  have  explaioed 
the  supreme  place  which  has  been  accorded  to 
Goethe  among  the  poets  of  the  world.  Where  I 
have  differed  from  the  Gennan  critics  and  com- 
mentators, I  would  present  the  plea,  that  the  laws 
of  construction  are  similar,  whether  oike  builds  a 
cottage  or  a  palace  \  and  the  least  of  audiors,  b> 
whom  metrical  expression  is  a  necessity,  may  have 
some  natural  instinct  of  the  conceptions  (rf  the 
highest 

a  T. 

Mvcb.  1871. 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


CONTENTS. 


SECOND   PART  OF  THE  TRAGEDY. 


I.  A  Pleasant  Landscapb  .... 

11.  The  Emperor's  Castle      .... 

III.  Spacious  Hall  [CamiveU Masgutrade)   . 

IV.  Pleasure-Garden  {,  Paptr- Money  Sehcmt)  . 
V.  A  GijjoMV  Gallery  {The Mothers) 

VI.  Brilliantly  Lighted  Halls 

VII,  Hall  op  the  Knights  (Paris  and Neiena) 


ACT  II. 
I.    A  Gothic  Chamber,  formerly  Faust's 
II.     Laboratory  {Homunculus)  .... 
in.    Classical  Walpuro  is -Nicht. 

I.    The  Pharsalian  Fields     . 
II.    Peneus 

III.  On  the  Upper  Peneus.  as  before 

IV.  Rocky  Coves  of  the  i^gean  Sea 
V.    Tblcktnbs  op  Rhodes  ... 


ih,Googlc 


CONTENTS. 
ACT  III. 


Tue  Hklxna 


ACT   IV. 

I.    High  Mountains 21S 

11.    On  thb  Headland  {T%t  BattU^  ,       .  241 

III.    The  Rival  Euferor's  Tent  .   ,    .  359 

ACT  V. 

I.    Open  Country a?! 

II.    In  the  Little  Garden      ....  374 

III.  Palace 176 

IV.  Dead  of  Night 381 

V.    Midnight  (Fauift  Blinäiutt)   ....  386 

VL    Great  Outer  Covet  or  the  Palace  [Fiuaft 

Death) 393 

VII.    Mountain -Gorges,  Forest,  Rock,  Desbkt  305 

NOTES 31S 


ih,Googlc 


SECOND   PART  OF  THE  TRAGEDY. 


IN   FIVE  ACTS. 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


A  PLEASANT   LANDSCAPE. 


Faust,  htddid  en  ßoway  turf,  fatigutd,  rttttas,  mdtauerii^ 
to  sleep.  Circle  of  haveTing  ifiriie  m  rneävit:  gratefiU, 
tÜBtittutivi  figures. 


wi 


(Ciant,  acannfianied  iy  yEoiimt  harfis.) 

7HEN  the  Spring  returns  serener 
Raining  blossoms  over  all ; 
When  the  fields  with  blessing  greener 
On  the  earth-bom  children  call; 
Then  the  craft  of  elves  propitious 
Hastes  to  help  where  help  it  can  i 
Be  he  holy,  be  he  vicious, 
Pity  they  the  luckless  man. 

Who  round  this  head  in  airy  circles  hover. 
Yourselves  in  guise  of  noble  Elves  discover  1 
The  fierce  convulsions  of  his  heart  compose ; 
Remove  the  burning  barbs  of  his  n 


ih,Googlc 


And  cleanse  his  being  from  the  suffered  woes ! 
Four  paases  makes  the  Night  upon  her  courses,' 
And  now,  delay  not,  let  them  kindly  close  t 
First  on  the  coolest  pillow  let  him  slnmber. 
Then  sprinkle  hira  with  Lethe's  drowsy  spray ! 
His  limbs  no  moic  shall  cramps  and  chills  encumber 
When  sleep  has  made  him  strcmg  to  meet  the  day. 
Perform,  ye  Elves,  your  fairest  rite : 
Restore  Um  to  the  holy  light ! 

CHORUS 1 
ifii^fy,  ly  ttpv  or  mitrt,  a/trmaiefy  and  colltctiBdy), 

When  around  the  green-girt  meadow 
Babn  the  tepid  winds  exhale, 
Then  in  fragrance  and  in  shadow 
Twilight  spreads  her  misty  veil : 
Whispers  peace  in  accents  cheery, 
Rocks  the  heart  in  childhood's  play, 
And  upon  these  eyelids  weary 
Shuts  the  golden  gates  of  Day. 

Now  the  Night  already  darkles, 
Holy  star  succeeds  to  star ; 
Dazzling  lights  and  fainter  sparkles 
Glimmer  near  and  gleam  afar  r 
Glimmer  here,  the  lake  reflecting, 
Gleam  in  cloudless  dark  aboon ; 
While,  the  bliss  of  rest  protecting, 
Reigns  in  pomp  the  perfect  moon. 

Now  the  Hours  are  cancelled  for  thee. 
Pain  and  bliss  have  fled  away  : 
Thou  art  whole :  let  faith  restore  thee  1 
Trust  the  new,  the  risii^  Day  ! 


ih,Googlc 


Vales  grow  green,  and  hiUa  arc  liftiDg 
Through  the  shadow-rest  of  mom; 
And  in  waves  of  silver,  drifting 
On  to  harvest,  rolls  the  com, 

Wonldst  thou  win  desires  unbounded, 
Yonder  see  the  glory  bum  1 
Lightly  is  thy  life  surrounded  — 
Sleep 's  a  shell,  to  break  and  spurn  I 
When  the  crowd  sways,  unbelieving^ 
Show  the  daring  will  that  warms  I 
He  is  crowned  with  aU  achieving, 
Who  perceives  and  then  performs. 
iA  trtmtndmu  tumult  announcit  tki  apprBtuh  eflht  Stat.) 
ARIEL. 

Hearken!    Hark!— the  Hours  careering  1 
Sounding  loud  to  spirit-hearing, 
See  the  new-bom  Day  appearing  I 
Rocky  portals  jarring  shatter, 
Phcebus'  wheels  in  rolling  clatter. 
With  a  crash  the  light  draws  near  I ' 
Pealing  rays  and  trumpet-blazes,  — 
Eye  is  blinded,  ear  amazes  : 
The  Unheard  can  no  one  hear  1 
sup  within  each  blossom-bell. 
Deeper,  deeper,  there  to  dwell,  — 
In  the  rocks,  beueath  the  leaf! 
If  it  strikes  you,  you  are  deaf. 

FAUST. 

Life's  pulses  now  with  fresher  force  awaken 
To  greet  the  mild  ethereal  twilight  o'er  mc ; 
Thb  night,  thou.  Earth  I  hast  also  stood  unshaken, 
And  now  thou  breathest  new^refreshed  before  me. 


ih,Googlc 


And  DOW  beginnest,  all  thy  gladness  granting 
A  vigorous  resolution  to  restore  me, 
To  seek  that  highest  life  for  which  I  'm  panting.  — 
The  world  unfolded  lies  in  twilight  glimmer, 
A  thousand  voices  in  the  grove  are  chanting; 
Vale  in,  vale  out,  the  misty  streaks  grow  dimmer ; 
The  deeps  with  heavenly  light  are  penetrated  ; 
The  boughs,  refreshed,  lift  up  their  leafy  shimmer 
From  gulfs  of  air  where  sleepily  they  waited ; 
Color  on  color  from  the  background  cleareth, 
Whereflowerand  leaf  with  tremblingpearls  are  freighted- 
And  all  around  a  Paradise  appeareth. 

Look  up !  —  The  mountain  summits,  grand,  supernal,) 
Herald,  e'en  now,  the  solemn  hour  that  neareth ; 
They  earliest  enjoy  the  light  eternal 
That  later  sinks,  till  here  below  we  find  it 
Now  to  the  Alpine  meadows,  sloping  vernal, 
A  newer  beam  descends  ere  we  divined  it. 
And  step  by  step  unto  the  base  hath  bounded : 
The  sun  comes  forth  I    Alas,  already  blinded, 
I  turn  away,  with  eyesight  pierced  and  n 


'T  is  thus,  when,  unto  yearning  hope's  endeavor, 

Its  highest  wish  on  sweet  attainment  grounded. 

The  portals  of  fulfilment  widely  sever  : 

But  if  there  burst  from  those  eternal  spaces 

A  flood  of  flame,  we  stand  confounded  ever ; 

For  Ufe's  pure  torch  we  sought  the  shining  traces, 

And  seas  of  lire  —  and  what  a  lire  !  —  surprise  us. 

Is  't  Love?    Is't  Hate  ?  that  bumingly  embraces. 

And  that  with  pain  and  joy  alternate  tries  us  ? 

So  that,  our  glances  once  more  earthward  throwing 

We  seek  in  youthful  drapery  to  disguise  us. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I.  f 

Behiod  me,  therefore,  let  the  sun  be  glowing  1 

The  cataract,  between  the  crags  deep-riven, 

I  thus  behold  with  rapture  ever-growing. 

From  plunge  to  plunge  in  thousand  streams  't  is  given, 

And  yet  a  thousand,  to  the  valleys  shaded. 

While  foam  and  spray  in  air  are  whirled  and  driven. 

Yet  how  superb,  across  the  tumult  br^ded, 

The  painted  rainbow's  changeful  life  is  bending. 

Now  clearly  drawn,  dissolving  now  and  faded, 

And  evermore  the  showers  of  dew  descending  1 

Of  human  striving  there  's  no  symbol  fuller : 

Consider,  and  't  is  easy  comprehending — 

Ufe  is  not  light,  but  the  refracted  color.« 


ih,Googlc 


II. 

THE  EMPEROR'S   CASTLE. 

HALL  OF  THE  THRONK 

Couvcn.  OF  State  awaittng  the  Euperor. 

Trumpets. 

Enter  Court  Retatnbrs  ef  all  landt,  tplendidly  dreued. 
TXe  Emperor  advances  ta  the  thrme:  the  An-ROLOGSi 
«n  his  right  hand. 

EMPEROR.' 

I  GREET  you,  WeU-belovcd  and  Tnisty, 
Assembled  here  from  far  and  wide ! 
I  see  the  Wise  Man  at  ray  side ; 
But  where  's  the  Fool,  his  rival  lusty? 

SQUIRE. 

Behind  thy  mantle's  flowing  swell 
Suddenly  on  the  stairs  he  feU : 
They  bOTe  away  the  weight  of  fat ; 
If  dead,  or  drunk  ?  none  knoweth  that 

SECOND  SQUIRE, 

As  quick  as  thought,  through  all  the  pother 
Him  to  replace  there  came  another, 
Adorned  and  prinked  with  wondrous  art, 
Yet  so  grotesque  that  all  men  start. 


ih,Googlc 


The  guards  their  halberds  cross-wise  hold 
To  bar  him  —  them  he  thrusts  apart: 
Lo  I  here  be  comes,  the  Fool  so  bold ! 

UEPHISTOPHELES  {hutling  ii/iirt  Iht  thront). 

What  '5  curaed  and  welcomely  expected  ?* 
What  Is  desired,  yet  always  chased  ? 
What  evermore  with  care  protected  P 
What  is  accused,  condemned,  disgraced  ? 
To  whom  dar'st  thou  not  give  a  hearing  ? 
Whose  name  hears  each  man  willingly  ? 
What  is  't,  before  thy  throne  appearing? 
What  keeps  itself  away  from  thee  ? 


Spare  ns  thy  words  1  the  time  is  pressing ; 

This  is  no  place  for  riddle^essing : 

These  gendemen  such  things  explain. 

Solve  it  thyself  1  —  to  hear  I  'm  fain. 

My  old  Fool  went,  I  fear,  an  endless  distance ; 

Take  thou  his  place,  come  here  and  lend  assistance  t 

JHbFHISTOPHELZS  jw/  up  and  italims  kimidf  on  tht  Eu- 
pkrob's  Uß  hand.) 

MURMURS  OP  THE  CROWD.» 

Another  fool  —  for  worries  new !  — 
Whence  came  he  ?  —  how  did  he  get  through  ? 
The  old  one  feU— he 's  walked  his  path.— 
//if  was  a  barrel — this,  a  latht 

EMPEROR. 

So  now,  my  Well-betoved  and  Loyal, 
Be  welcome  all,  from  near  and  far  ! 
You  meet  beneath  a  fortunate  star ; 
Wel&re  and  luck  are  now  the  aspects  royaL 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

Bat  teil  me  why,  In  days  so  fair," 

When  we  've  withdrawn  ourselves  from  care^ 

And  beards  of  beauty  masquerading  wear,  — 

When  gay  delights  for  us  are  waiting. 

Why  should  we  plague  ourselves,  deliberating? 

Yet,  since  the  task  you  think  we  cannot  shun, 

T  is  settled  then,  so  be  it  done  I 

CHANCELLOR, 

The  highest  virtue,  like  a  halo-zone 
Circles  the  Emperor's  head  ;  and  he  alone 
Is  worthy  validly  to  exercise  iL 
T  is  Justice !  —  all  men  love  and  prize  it, 
None  can  forego,  but  all  require  and  want  it: 
The  people  took  to  him,  that  be  shouM  grant  it 
But,  ah  !  what  help  can  human  wit  impart. 
Or  readiness  of  hand,  or  kindly  heart. 
When  lies  the  State,  as  if  in  fever  fretting, 
And  brooded  Evil  evil  is  begetting? 
Who  looks  abroad  from  ofE  this  height  supreme 
I'hroughout  the  realm,  't  is  like  a  weary  dream. 
Where  one  deformity  another  mouldeth, 
Where  lawlessness  itself  by  law  upholdeth, 
And  't  is  an  age  of  Error  that  unfoldeth  I 

One  plunders  flocks,  a  woman  one, 
Cup,  cross,  and  candlestick  from  altar. 
And  then  to  boast  it  does  not  palter, 
Of  limb  or  life  nowise  undone. 
To  Court  behold  the  plaintiffs  urging. 
Where  puffs  the  judge  on  cushions  warm. 
And  swells,  meanwhile,  with  fury  surging. 
Rebellion's  fast-increasing  storm ! 
His  easy  way  through  crime  is  broken. 
Who  his  accomplices  selects ; 


ih,Googlc 


And  "  Guilty  1 "  hears  one  only  spoken 

Where  Innocence  itself  protects. 

They  all  pull  down  what  they  should  care  for,— 

Destroy  their  weal,  in  self-despite  : 

How  can  the  sense  develop,  therefore. 

Which,  only,  leads  us  to  the  Right  ? 

At  last,  the  man  of  good  intent 

To  flatterer  and  briber  bendeth ; 

The  judge,  debarred  from  punishment, 

Mates  with  the  felon,  ere  he  endeth. 

I  've  painted  black,  but  denser  screen 

I  'd  rather  draw  before  the  scene. 

IFaute.) 
Here  measures  cannot  be  evaded  ; 
When  all  offend,  and  none  are  aided. 
His  Majesty  a  victim  stands, 

GENERAL-IN- CHIEF. 

Id  these  wild  days,  how  discords  thicken  I 

Each  strikes  and  in  return  is  stricken. 

And  they  are  deaf  to  all  commands. 

The  burgher  in  his  fortifications. 

The  knight  upon  his  rocky  nest. 

Have  sworn  to  worry  out  our  patience 

And  keep  their  strength  with  stubborn  crest. 

The  mercenaries,  no  whit  better. 

Impatiently  demand  their  pay. 

And,  if  we  were  not  still  their  debtor. 

They  'd  start  forthwith  and  march  away. 

Let  one  forbid  what  all  would  practise 

And  in  a  hornet's  nest  he  stauds : 

The  realm  which  they  should  guard,  the  fan  is, 

"T  is  devastated  by  their  hands. 

They  give  the  rein  to  wild  disorder, 


ih,Googlc 


And  half  the  world  is  wasted  now ; 
There  RtiU  are  kings  beyond  our  bx^der, 
But  none  thinks  it  concems  him  anyhow. 

TREASURER. 

Trust  allies,  and  we  soon  shall  me  us  1 

The  subsidies  they  promised  to  us — 

Like  water  in  leaky  {upes — don't  come. 

Then,  Sire,  in  all  thy  states  extended 

To  whom  hath  now  the  rule  descended  f 

Where'er  one  goes,  a  new  lord  is  at  home, 

And  hopes  to  live  in  independence ; 

Me  takes  his  course  and  we  look  on ; 

Such  rights  we  've  given  to  our  attendanta 

That  all  our  right  to  anything  is  gone. 

On  parties,  too,  whate'er  the  name  be, 

Our  trust,  to-day,  is  far  from  great ; 

Though  loud  their  praise  or  fierce  thdr  Uame  b 

Indifferent  is  their  love  and  hate. 

The  Ghibellines  and  Guelfs  from  labor 

Are  resting — both  laid  on  the  shell 

Who,  therefore,  now  will  help  his  neighbor? 

Each  has  enough,  to  help  himself. 

The  gate  of  gold  no  more  unlatches, 

And  each  one  gathers,  digs,  and  scratches, 

Whil«  our  strong-box  is  void  indeed. 

LORD  HIGH  STEWARD. 

What  evil  1,  as  well,  am  having ! 

We  're  always  trying  to  be  saving, 

And  ever  greater  is  our  need : 

Thus  daily  grows  this  task  of  mine. 

The  cooks  have  all  they  want  at  present,  — 

Wild-boar  and  deer,  and  hare  and  pheasant, 

Duck,  peacock,  turkey,  goose,  and  chicken: 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I.  ,3 

Tliese,  paid  in  Idnd,  are  certain  picking 

And  do  not  seriously  decline ; 

Yet,  after  ail,  we  're.short  of  wine. 

Where  casks  on  casks  were  once  our  cellars  filEng 

Rare  vintages  of  flavors  finely  thrilling, 

The  noble  lords'  eternal  swilling 

Has  drained  them  oS,  till  Dot  a  drop  appears. 

The  City  Council,  too,  must  tap  their  liquor ; 

They  drink  from  mug,  and  jug,  and  beaker, 

Till  no  one  longer  sees  or  bears. 

*T  is  1  must  pay  for  all  the  dances ; 

The  Jew  will  have  me,  past  all  chances ; 

His  notes  of  hand  and  his  advances 

Will  soon  eat  up  the  coming  years. 

Before  they  're  fat  the  swine  are  taken  ; 

Pawned  is  the  pillow,  ere  one  waken. 

The  bread  b  eaten  ere  the  board  it  sees. 

THE  EMPEROR 
{aßer  leme  reßtcütm,  le  Mefhistophelxs). 
Say,  Fool,  canst  thou  not  add  a  want  to  these? 

HEPHISTOFHELES. 

I  ?    Not  at  all !     1  see  the  circling  splendor — 
Thyselt  and  thine !    Should  one  his  trust  surrender, 
Where  Majesty  thus  unopposed  commands, 
Where  ready  power  the  hostile  force  disbands. 
Where  loyal  wills,  through  understanding  strong, 
And  mixed  activities,  around  thee  throng  ? 
What  powers  for  evil  could  one  see  combining,  — 
For  darkness,  where  such  brilliant  stars  are  shining? 

MURMURS. 

He  is  a  scamp — who  comprehends.  — 
He  lies  his  way — until  it  ends.— 


ih,Googlc 


1  know  it  now — what 's  in  his  mind. — 
What  then? —  A  iwoject  lurks  behind  1 

HEPHISTOFHELES. 

Where,  in  this  world,  dotb  not  some  lack  appear? 
Here  this,  there  that,  —  but  money 's  lacking  here. 
True,  from  the  floor  you  can't  at  once  collect  it, 
But,  deepliest  hidden,  wisdom  may  detect  it. 
In  veins  of  mountains,  under  buildiug-bases, 
Coined  and  uncoined,  there 's  gold  in  many  places^ 
And  ask  you  who  shall  bring  it  to  the  light  i 
A  man  endowed  with  Mind's  and  Nature's  might 

CHANCELLOR. 

Nature  and  Mind — to  Christians  we  don't  speak  aa 

Thence  to  burn  Atheists  we  seek  so. 

For  such  discourses  very  dangerous  be. 

Nature  is  Sin,  and  Mind  is  Devil : 

Doubt  they  lieget  in  shameless  revel, 

Their  hybrid  in  delormity. 

Not  so  with  us  !  —  Two  only  races 

Have  in  the  Empire  kept  their  places, 

And  prop  the  throne  with  worthy  weight. 

The  Saints  and  Knights  are  they  :  "  together 

They  breast  each  spell  of  thunder- weather, 

And  take  for  pay  the  Church  and  State. 

The  vulgar  minds  that  breed  confusion 

Are  met  with  an  opposing  hand : 

They  're  wizards  !  —  heretics !     Delusion 

Through  them  will  ruin  town  and  land. 

And  these  will  you,  with  brazen  juggle, 

Within  this  high  assembly  smuggle  ? 

For  hearts  corrupt  you  scheme  and  struggle ; 

The  Fool's  near  kin  are  all  the  band. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I.  15 

UBPHISTOPHELES. 

By  that,  I  know  the  learned  lord  you  are  I 
What  you  doa't  touch,  is  lying  leagues  afar ; 
What  you  don't  grasp,  is  wholly  lost  to  you ; 
What  you  don't  reckon,  think  you,  can't  be  true; 
What  you  don't  weigh,  it  has  no  weight,  alas  ! 
What  you  doa't  coin,  you  're  sure  it  will  not  pass. 

EHPEKOR. 

Therewith  to  help  our  needs  you  naught  determine. 
What  wilt  thou,  here,  with  such  a  Lenten  sermon  7 
1  'm  tired  of  the  eternal  If  and  How : 
Money  we  want :  good,  then,  procure  it  now  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

1  11  furnish  what  you  wish,  and  more :  't  is,  true, 

A  light  task,  but  light  things  are  hard  to  do. 

The  gold 's  on  hand,  —  yet,  skilfully  to  win  it. 

That  is  the  art :  who  knows  how  to  begin  it  ? 

Consider  only,  in  those  days  of  blood 

When  o'er  the  Empire  poured  a  human  flood. 

How  many  men,  such  deadly  terror  steeled  them. 

Took  their  best  goods,  and  here  and  there  concealed 

"T  was  so  beneath  the  mighty  Roman  away. 

And  ever  so  repeated,  till  our  day. 

All  that  was  buried  in  the  earth,  to  save  it : 

The  Emperor  owns  the  earth,  and  he  should  bava  iL 

TREASURER. 

Now,  for  a  Fool,  hb  words  are  rather  bright; 
That  is  indeed  the  old  Imperial  right 

CHANCELLOR. 

Satan  has  laid  his  golden  snares,  to  try  us ; 
Such  things  as  these  are  neither  right  «or  pious- 


ih,Googlc 


LORD  HIGH  STEWARD. 

Let  him  but  bring  his  gifts  to  Court,  and  share  tben^ 
And  if  things  were  a  little  wrong,  I  'd  bear  them! 


The  Fool  is  shrewd,  to  promise  each  hia  needs  j 
Whence  it  may  come  the  soldier  never  heeds, 

IlEPHISTOPRELES. 

And  should  yon  think,  perchance,  I  overreach  yon. 
Here  's  the  Astrologer  —  ask  him  to  teach  you  t 
The  spheres  of  Hour  and  House  are  in  his  ken :  ■■ 
What  are  the  heavenly  aspects? —  tell  us,  then! 

MURUURS. 

Two  rogues  are  they,  —  in  league  they  've  grown. 
Dreamer  and  Fool  —  so  near  the  throne ! 
The  song  is  old — and  flatly  sung. — 
The  Fool  he  pron^ts  —  the  Wise  Man's  tongne  I 

ASTROLOGER 
(ifimtt:  MRPHISTOPHELKS/nMI/Wl'). 

The  Sun  himself  is  gold  of  purest  ray ; 
The  herald.  Mercury,  serves  for  love  and  pay ; 
Dame  Venus  has  bewitched  you  all,  for  she, 
Early  and  late,  looks  on  you  lovingly ; 
Chaste  Luna  has  her  whims,  no  two  aUke ; 
Mars  threatens  you,  althou^  he  may  not  strike^ 
And  Jupiter  is  still  the  splendid  star. 
Saturn  b  great,  though  seeming  small  and  far: 
As  metal,  him  we  don't  much  venerate. 
Of  value  slight,  though  heavy  in  his  weight 
Now,  when  of  Sol  and  Luna  union 's  had,  — 
Silver  with  gold, — then  is  the  world  made  glad] 
All  else,  with  them,  is  easy  to  attain,  — 
Palaces,  gardens,  cheeks  of  rosy  stain ; 


ih,Googlc 


And  these  procures  this  highly  learned  man, 
Who  that  can  do  which  none  of  us  e'er  can. 

EUPBROR. 

Two  meanings  in  his  words  I  find, 
And  yet  they  don't  convince  my  mind. 

MURMURS. 

Why  tell  us  that  ? — stuff  stale  and  flat  I 
'T  1»  quackery  I  —  *t  is  chemistry ! 
I  "ve  heard  the  strain — and  hoped  in  vain,— 
And  though  it  come — 'tis  all  a  hunL 


They  stand  around,  amazed,  unknowing; 

They  do  not  trust  the  treasure-spell ; 

One  dreams  of  mandrake,  nightly  growing 

The  other  of  the  dog  of  Hell. 

Why,  then,  should  one  suspect  b>ewitching. 

And  why  the  other  jest  and  prate, 

When  in  their  feet,  they,  too,  shall  feel  the  itching 

When  they  shall  walk  with  tottering  gait  ? 

All  feel  the  secret  operation 

Of  Nature's  ever-ruling  might, 

And  from  the  t>ases  of  Creation 

A  living  track  winds  up  to  light 

In  every  limb  when  something  twitches 

In  any  place  uncanny,  old,  — 

Dedde  at  once,  and  dig  for  riches  ! 

There  lies  the  fiddler,  there  the  gold  1  o 

MURMURS. 

It  hangs  like  lead  my  feet  about  — 

I  've  cramp  i'  the  arm  —  but  that  is  gout  — 


ih,Googlc 


1  've  tickling  in  the  greater  toe.  — 
Down  all  my  back  it  pains  me  so. — 
From  signs  like  these  't  is  very  clear 
The  richest  treasure-ground  is  here, 

EMPEROR. 

Haste,  then !    Thou  'It  not  again  make  off  I 
Test  now  thy  frothy,  lying  graces. 
And  show  at  once  the  golden  places  I 
My  sword  and  sceptre  I  will  doff. 
Mine  own  imperial  hands  I  '11  lend  thee. 
If  thou  liest  not,  therein  befriend  thee. 
But,  if  thou  liest,  to  Hell  will  send  thee  t 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  'd  find,  in  any  case,  the  pathway  there  1  — 

Yet  1  cannot  enough  declare 

What,  ownerless,  waits  everywhere. 

The  fanner,  following  his  share, 

Turns  out  a  gold-crock  with  the  mould : 

He  seeks  saltpetre  where  the  clay-walls  stand,- 

And  (indelh  rolls  of  goldenest  gold. 

With  joyful  fright,  in  his  impoverished  hand. 

What  vaults  there  are  to  be  exploded. 

Along  what  shafts  and  mines  corroded, 

The  gold-diviner's  steps  are  goaded. 

Until  the  Under-world  is  nigh  ! 

In  cellars  vast  he  sees  the  precious 

Cups,  beakers,  vases,  plates,  and  dishes, 

Row  after  row,  resplendent  lie; 

Rich  goblets,  cut  from  rubies,  stand  there, 

And,  would  he  use  them,  lo !  at  hand  there 

Is  ancient  juice  of  strength  divine. 

Yet,  trust  to  him  who  's  knowledge  gotten. 

The  wood  o'  the  staves  has  long  been  rotten. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  /.  19 

A  cask  of  tartar  holds  the  wiae.'^ 

Not  only  gold  aod  gems  are  hiding, 

But  of  proud  wines  the  heart  abiding, 

In  terror  and  in  night  profound; 

Herein  assiduously  explore  the  wise ; 

It  is  a  farce,  by  day  to  recognize, 

But  mysteries  are  with  darkness  circled  round. 

BMFEROR. 

See  thou  to  them '.    What  profits  the  Obsctire  ? 

Whate'er  has  value  comes  to  daylight,  sure. 

At  dead  of  night  who  can  the  rogae  betray? 

Then  all  the  cows  are  black,  the  cats  are  gray. 

]f  pots  are  down  there,  full  of  heavy  gold. 

Drive  on  thy  plough  and  tum  them  from  the  mould  I 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Take  hoe  and  spade  thyself,  I  pray  thee, — 
Thou  shall  be  great  through  peasant-toil  I 
A  herd  of  golden  calves,  to  pay  thee. 
Will  loose  their  bodies  from  the  soil. 
And  then  at  once  canst  thou,  with  rapture, 
Gems  for  thyself  and  for  thy  mistress  capture: 
Their  tints  and  sparkles  heighten  the  degree 
Of  Beauty  a£  of  Majesty- 


Then  quickl  atoncel  how  long  will  it  required 

ASTROLOGER 
(prampud  by  Mephistophei.es). 
Sire,  moderate  such  urgence  of  desire ! 
Let  first  the  gay,  the  motley  pastime  end  I 
Not  to  the  goal  doth  such  distraction  tend. 


ih,Googlc 


PAUST. 

First  self-command  must  quiet  and  assure  us ; 
The  upper  things  the  lower  will  procure  us. 
Who  seeks  for  Good,  must  first  be  good; 
Who  seeks  for  joy,  must  moderate  his  blood  ; 
Who  wine  desires,  let  him  the  ripe  grapes  tread; 
Who  miracles,  by  stronger  faith  be  led ! 

EMPEROR. 

Let  us  the  time  in  merriment  efface ! 
And,  to  our  wish,  Ash- Wednesday  comes  vpaaei. 
Meanwhile,  we  'II  surely  celebrate  withal 
More  jovially  the  maddening  Carnival. 

\Tnimpett.     Examt 

UEPHIST0PHEI.E5. 

How  closely  linked  are  Luck  and  Merit, 
Doth  never  to  these  fools  occur : 
Had  they  the  Philosopher's  Stone,  I  swear  it, 
The  Stone  would  tack  the  PhUotK^ber  I 


ih,Googlc 


SPACIOUS  HALL. 

WITH  ADJOINING  APARTMENTS 

Arranged  and  Dtcerairdfer  the  Carnival  Mcugturade.'^ 

HERALD. 

T HI  NK  not,  as  in  our  German  bounds,  your  chance  is 
Of  Death's  or  Fools'  or  Devils'  dances : 
Here  cheerful  revels  you  await 
Our  Ruler,  on  his  Roman  expedition. 
Hath  for  his  profit,  your  fruition. 
Crossed  o'er  the  Alpine  high  partition, 
And  won  himself  a  gayer  State. 
He  to  the  holy  slipper  bowed  him 
And  first  the  right  of  power  besought ; 
Then,  as  he  went  to  get  the  Crown  allowed  him. 
For  us  the  Fool's-cap  he  has  also  brought. 
Now  are  we  all  new-bom,  to  wear  it : 
Each  tactful  and  experienced  man. 
Drawn  cosily  o'er  head  and  ears,  doth  bear  it;  • 

A  fool  he  seems,  yet  he  must  share  it, 
And  be,  thereby,  as  sober  as  he  can. 
They  crowding  come,  I  see  already, 
Close  coupling,  or  withdrawn  unsteady,  — 
The  choruses,  like  youth  from  school 
Come  in  or  out,  bring  on  your  ranks ! 
Before  or  after  —  't  is  the  rule  — 
With  all  its  hundred  thousand  pranks, 
The  World  is  one  enormous  Fool  I 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

OARDEN-GIRLS." 
{Song,  aecampaiütd  with  maruMiati.) 
That  we  win  your  praises  lender 
We  are  decked  in  festal  gear ; 
At  the  German  Court  of  splendor, 
Girls  of  Floreoce,  we  appear. 

On  our  locks  of  chestnut  glosses 
Wear  we  many  a  flowery  bell ; 
Silken  threads  and  silken  flosses 
Here  must  play  their  parts,  as  well. 

Our  desert,  not  over-rated. 
Seems  to  us  assured  and  clear, 
For  by  art  we  've  fabricated 
Flowers  that  blossom  all  the  year. 

Every  sort  of  colored  snipping 
Won  its  own  symmetric  right: 
Though  your  wit  on  each  be  tripfnn^ 
In  the  whole  you  take  delight 

We  are  fair  to  see  and  blooming, 
Garden-girls,  and  gay  of  heart ; 
For  the  natural  way  of  woman 
Is  so  near  akin  to  art 

HERALD. 

I^t  us  see  the  wealth  of  blossoms 
Basket-crowning  heads  that  bear  them. 
Garlanding  your  arms  and  bosoms ! 
Each  select,  and  lightly  wear  them. 
Haste  !  and  bosky  arbors  dressing, 
Let  a  garden  here  enring  us  ! 
Worthy  Ihey  of  closer  pressing. 
Hucksters  and  the  wares  they  bring  vta. 


n-./GoOglc 


ACT  I. 

GARDEN-GIRLS. 

Now  in  cheerful  places  chaffer, 
But  no  marketing  be  ours  1 
Briefly,  clearly,  let  each  laugher 
Know  the  meaning  of  his  flowera. 

OUVE  BRANCH,  WITH  FRUIT." 
Flowery  sprays  I  do  not  covet ; 
Strife  I  shun,  or  branch  above  it, 
Foe  of  conflict  I  remain. 
Yet  am  I  the  marrow  of  nations, 
Pledge  of  happy  consummations. 
Sign  of  peace  on  every  plain. 
Be,  to-day,  my  lucky  fate 
Worthy  head  to  decorate  I 

WREATH  OF  EARS   {pilden). 

You  to  crown,  the  gifts  of  Ceres 
Here  their  kindly  grace  have  sent ; 
Unto  Use  what  chiefly  dear  is 
Be  your  fairest  ornament ! 

FANCY  WREATH. 

Gayest  blossoms,  like  to  mallows,  — 
From  the  moss  a  marvel  grew  I 
Fashion  calls  to  light,  and  hallows. 
That  which  Nature  never  knew, 

FANCY  NOSEGAY. 

What  our  name  is,  Theophrastus  „ 
Would  not  dare  to  say :  contrast  ust 
Yet  we  hope  to  please  you  purely, 
If  not  all,  yet  many,  surely,  — 
Such  as  fain  we  'd  have  possess  us, 
Braiding  us  in  shining  tresses, 


ih,G0Gglc 


Or,  a  fairer  fate  deciding, 
On  the  heart  find  rest  abiding. 

CUAU^NGE. 

Motley  fancies  blossom  may 
For  the  fashion  of  the  day, 
Whimsical  and  strangely  moulded, 
Such  as  Nature  ne'er  unfolded : 
Belb  of  gold  and  stems  of  green 
In  the  plenteous  locks  be  seen  I  — 
Yet  we 

ROSEBUDS 

lie  concealed  behind ; 
Luclcy,  who  shall  freshly  find ! 
When  the  summer-time  returneth. 
And  the  rosebud,  bursting,  bumeth. 
Who  such  blisses  would  surrender? 
Promise  sweet,  and  yielding  tender, 
They,  in  Flora's  realm,  control 
Swiftly  eyes  and  sense  and  soul. 

Undtr  griiH,  Uafy  arauUt,  Ike  Garuen^cirls  aJei 
gnutfiäfy  ex  Aim  fhtir  warts  ) 


{Song,  atcemfanied  juilA  Ihiarbas.) 
Blossoms  there,  that  sprout  in  quiet, 
Round  your  heads  their  charms  are  weaving' 
But  the  fruits  are  not  deceiving, 
One  may  try  the  mellow  diet 

Sunburnt  faces  tempt  with  glowing 
Cherries,  peaches,  plums,  your  vision : 
Buy !  for  vain  the  eye's  decision 
To  the  tongue's  and  palate's  showing. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  1.  ,, 

Ripest  fniit  from  sunniest  closes 
Eat,  with  taste  and  pleasure  smitten  1 
Poems  one  may  write  on  roses, 
But  the  apple  must  be  bitten. 

Then  pennit  that  we  be  mated 
With  your  youth,  so  flowery-fair: 
Thus  is  also  decorated. 
Neighbor-like,  our  riper  ware. 

Under  wreaths  of  fiowery  tether, 
As  the  leafy  arbors  suit, 
All  may  then  be  found  together, 
Buds  and  leaves,  and  flower  and  fruit! 

|WiM  idtematiitg  tongr,  aaompamid  tailk  tnamJolina  and 
tA^eröft,  ieti  CAoruici  cantinui  to  ul forth  Ihiir  ■warn  tifaa 
tttpt  Tiring  alefl,  andte  offtr  thim  to  the  ifi(tatert.\ 

Mother  and  Daughter." 

MOTHER. 

Maiden,  when  thou  cam'st  to  Ught, 
Tiny  caps  I  wrought  thee ; 
Body  tender,  soft,  and  white, 
Lovely  face  1  brought  thee. 
As  a  bride  1  thought  thee,  led 
To  the  richest,  wooed  and  wed, 
As  a  wife  I  thought  thee. 

Ah !  already  many  a  year, 
Profitless,  is  over : 
None  of  all  the  wooers  here 
Now  around  thee  hover; 
Tlioiigh  with  one  wast  wont  to  dance, 
VOL.  n.  3 


ih,Googlc 


Gav'st  another  audge  and  glance,  — 
Hast  not  found  thy  lover  1 

I  to  feast  and  revel  thee 
Vainly  took,  to  match  one: 
Pawns,  and  hindmost  man  of  three. 
Would  not  help  thee  snatch  one. 
Every  fool  now  wears  his  cap : 
Sweetheart  open  thou  thy  lap  I 
Still,  perchance,  mayst  catch  one ! 

\Otkcr  maideH-flaymaUi,y»ing  and  htaiiifid.jMntht  g^dtf- 
girU  :  Iht  totatd  e/famäiar  giatip  it  hiard.  Fithtrs  and 
iird-caicheri,  -wiih  tuili,  fiskin^redi,  tinted  tiaigi,  and  alhrr 
impltmcntj,  affitar,  and  diiptru  thcmsilvei  ameng  tki 
maidttu.  Ktcifrocai  attrmpti  lo  luin,  to  calih.  Is  rieaft,  and 
te  Md_fiut,  giiie  opfortiatäy for  Iht  most  agrutdde  di^ogn€t\ 

WOOD-CUTTERS." 
{Enttr,  ieisttrOHily  and  boeriihly.) 
Room  !  make  a  clearing  ! 
Room  in  your  revel ! 
The  trees  we  level 
That  tumble  cracking : 
Where  we  're  appearing 
Look  out  for  whacking. 
Our  praise  adjudging, 
Make  clear  this  fable  I 
Save  Coarse  were  drudging 
Within  your  borders. 
Would  Fine  be  able 
To  build  their  orders, 
Howe'er  they  fretted  ? 
Be  taught  in  season. 
For  you  'd  be  freezing 
Had  we  not  sweated  1 


ih,Googlc 


PULCIMELLI 
[utueutA,  a/maii  idiolit) 
You,  Fools,  are  trooping, 
Since  birth  so  stooping  ; 
The  wise  ones  we  are, 
From  burdens  freer. 
Our  Caps,  though  sleazy, 
And  jackets  breezy 
To  wear  are  easy : 
It  gives  us  pleasure 
To  go  with  leisure, 
With  slippered  shuffles 
Through  market-scuffles, 
To  gape  at  the  pother. 
Croak  at  each  other ! 
Through  crowded  places 
You  always  trace  us. 
Eel-like  gliding, 
Skipping  and  hiding. 
Storming  tc^ether ; 
Moreover,  whether 
You  praise  —  reprove  us, 
It  does  n't  move  us. 

PARASITES  i/atBHingfy-lust/iil). 

Ye  woodland  bandsmen. 
And  they,  your  clansmen, 
The  charcoal-burners. 
To  you  we  turn  us  : 
For  all  such  plodding, 
Affinnative  nodding. 
Tortuous  phrases, 
fitowing  both  ways  ~  is 
Wanning  or  chilling. 


ih,Googlc 


Just  33  you  're  feeling: 
What  profit  from  it? 
There  might  fall  fire. 
Enormous,  dire, 
From  heaven's  summit. 
Were  there  not  billets 
Aod  coaJ  in  wagons, 
To  boil  your  skillets 
And  warm  your  flagons. 
It  roasts  and  frizzles; 
It  boils  and  sizzles  I 
The  taster  and  picker, 
The  platter-licker, 
He  sniffs  the  roasting. 
Suspects  the  fishes, 
And  clears,  witfa  boastir^, 
His  patron's  dishes. 

SRUNKEK  HAN '3  {uneonjciouify). 

Naught,  to-day,  bring  melancholy ! 
Since  I  feel  so  frank  and  free : 
Fresh  delight  and  songs  so  jolly, 
And  I  brought  them  both  with  me! 
Thus  I  'm  drinking,  drinking,  drinkiogl 
Clink  your  glasses,  clinking,  clinking ! 
You  behind  there,  join  the  rout ! 
Oink  them  stout,  and  then  it 's  out) 

Though  my  wife  assailed  me  loudly, 
Rumpled  me  through  thin  and  thick; 
And,  howe'er  I  swaggered  proudly, 
Called  me  "  masquerading  stick  " : 
Yet  I  'm  drinking,  drinking,  drinking! 
Clink  your  glasses !  clinking,  clinking! 


ih,Googlc 


Masldng  sticks,  smother  bout  1 

When  yon  've  cUoked  them,  drink  them  out  1 

Say  not  mine  a  silly  boast  is  t 

I  am  here  in  clover  laid  : 

Trusts  the  host  not,  trusts  the  hostess, — 

She  refusing,  trusts  the  maid. 

Still  I  'm  drinking,  drinking,  drinking! 

Come,  ye  others,  clinking,  clinkingl 

Each  to  each !  keep  up  the  rout ! 

We,  I  'm  thinking,  drink  them  out 

How  and  where  my  fun  1  'm  sp}in^ 
Let  me  have  it  as  I  planned  I 
Let  me  lie  where  1  am  lying. 
For  I  cannot  longer  stand. 


Every  chum  be  drinking,  drinkitig! 
Toast  afiresh,  with  clinking,  clinking! 
Bravely  keep  your  seats,  and  shout ! 
Under  the  table  he  's  drunk  out 


\T%i  Herald  anmmncts  various  Potls^  —  Potis  ef  Nature, 
Courtly  and  Knightly  Minilrcls,  StntimtnlalisU  as  well  as 
Entkusiaits.  In  the  cnnvd  ef  cemptlilors  of  all  kinds,  ne 
ene  allirws  anolhir  to  camtnemc  his  deilamntion.  One  dipt 
fast  viUk  a  few  words ;] 

SATIRIST. 

Know  ye  what  myself,  the  Poet, 
Would  the  most  rejoice  and  cheer? 
If  I  dared  to  sing,  and  utter. 
That  which  no  one  wants  to  hear. 


ih,Googlc 


30  FAUST. 

[The  Night  and  Churchyard  Patti  txcuit  thmudvet,  htcauie 
they  kaetput  btcemt  tngaged  in  a  mait  interisting  converiO' 
Hon  with  a  nruily-aristn  vampire,  and  therefrom  a  nea 
lekool  ef  poetry  may  possibly  be  drveloptd.  The  Hrrald  it 
obliged  to  accept  their  acutes,  and  mcanuihile  colli  forth  the 
Grecian  Mythology,  which,  even  in  modern  maiti,  lotet 
neither  itt  character  nor  its  power  to  charm,} 

The  Graces.*' 

AGLAIA. 

Ufe  we  bless  with  graces  living ; 
So  be  graceful  in  your  giving  1 


Graceful  be  in  your  receival ; 
Wish  attained  is  sweet  retrieval 

EUPHROSYNE, 

And  in  days  serene  and  spacious, 
In  your  thanks  be  chiefly  gracioosl 

The  Parc«.* 

ATROPOS. 

I,  the  eldest,  to  the  spinning 
Have  received  the  invitation  | 
When  the  thread  of  Life 's  beginning 
There  is  need  of  meditation. 

Finest  flax  I  winnow  featly 
That  your  thread  be  softly  given  ; 
Draw  it  through  my  fingers  neatly. 
Make  it  thin,  and  smooth,  and  even. 

If  too  wanton  your  endeavor, 
Grasping  here  of  joy  each  token. 


ih,Googlc 


Think,  the  thread  won't  stretch  forever  t 
Have  a  care  1  it  might  be  broken. 

CLOTHO. 

Knov  that,  given  to  me  for  wearing. 
Lately  were  the  shears  supplied  ; 
Since  men  were  not  by  the  bearing 
Of  our  eldest  edified. 

Useless  webs  she  long  untangled, 
Draggii^  them  to  air  and  tight; 
Dreams  of  fortune,  hope-bespangled, 
Clipped  and  buried  out  of  sight 

Also  I,  in  ignorance  idle, 
Made  mistakes  in  younger  years, 
But  to-day,  myself  to  bridle, 
In  their  sheath  I  stick  the  shears. 

Thus  restrained  in  proper  measure, 
Favor  1  this  cheerful  place : 
You  these  hours  of  liberal  pleasure 
Use  at  will,  and  run  your  race ! 

LACHESIS. 

In  my  hands,  the  only  skilful. 
Was  the  ordered  twisting  placed; 
Active  are  my  ways,  not  wilful, 
Erring  not  through  over-haste. 

Threads  are  coming,  threads  are  reeling ; 
In  its  course  1  each  restrain : 
None,  from  off  the  circle  wheeling, 
Fidls  to  fit  within  the  skein. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

If  I  once  regardless  gadded, 
For  the  world  my  hopes  were  Toin : 
Hours  are  counted,  years  are  added, 
And  the  weaver  takes  the  chain. 


HERAU). 

You  would  not  recognize  who  now  sf^ar, 

Though  ne'er  so  learned  you  were  in  ancient  writing ; 

To  look  at  them,  in  evil  so  delighting. 

You  'd  call  them  worthy  guests,  and  welcome  here. 

They  are  The  Furies,"  no  one  will  believe  us,  — 
Fair,  well-proportioned,  friendly,  3^ung  in  years : 
But  make  acquaintance,  and  straightway  appears 
How  snake-like  are  such  doves  to  wound,  deceive  us. 

Though  they  are  spiteful,  yet  on  this  occasion, 
When  every  fool  exults  in  all  his  blame, 
They  also  do  not  crave  angelic  £ime. 
But  own  themselves  the  torments  of  the  nation. 

ALECTO. 

What  good  of  that,  for  you  will  trust  us  still !  — 
Each  of  us  young  and  fair,  a  wheedling  kitten. 
Hath  one  of  you  a  girl  with  whom  he  's  smitten, 
We  'II  rub  and  softly  stroke  his  ears,  until 

'T  is  safe  to  tell  him,  spite  of  all  his  loathing. 
That  she  has  also  this  and  the  other  ftame,  — 
A  blockhead  he,  or  humpbacked,  squint  and  lame, 
And  if  betrothed  to  him,  she 's  good-for-nothing  I 

We  're  skilled,  as  well,  the  bride  to  vex  and  sever: 
Why  scarce  a  week  ago,  her  very  lover 


ih,Googlc 


Contemptuous  things  U  her  was  saying  of  her ! 
Though  they  make  up,  there 's  something  rankles  even 


That 's  a  mere  jest !    For,  let  them  once  be  married, 

I  go  to  work,  and  can,  in  every  case, 

The  fairest  bliss  by  wilful  whims  displace. 

Man  has  his  various  moods,  the  hours  are  varied, 

And,  holding  the  Desired  that  once  did  charm  him, 
Each  for  the  More-desired,  a  yearning  fool, 
Leaves  the  best  fortune,  use  has  rendered  cool : 
He  fliea  the  sun,  and  seeks  the  frost  to  warm  him. 

Of  ills  for  all  I  understand  the  brewing 
And  here  Asmodi  as  my  follower  lead,' 
To  scatter  mischief  at  the  proper  need, 
And  send  the  human  race,  in  p^rs,  to  ruin. 

TISIPHONE. 

Steel  and  poison  I,  not  malice, 
Mix  and  sharpen  for  the  traitor: 
Lov'st  thou  others,  soon  or  later, 
Ruin  pours  for  thee  the  chalice. 

Through  the  moment's  sweet  libation 
See  the  gall  and  vrarmwood  stealing! 
Here  no  bargaining,  no  dealing ! 
Like  the  act  and  retaliation. 

No  one  babble  of  forgiving ! 
To  the  rocks  I  cry ;  Revenge/  is 
Echo's  answer :  he  who  changes 
Shall  be  missed  among  the  living. 


ih,Googlc 


34  FAUST. 

HERALD. 

Do  me  the  faror,  now,  to  stand  aside, 

For  that  vhich  comes  is  not  to  you  allied 

You  see  a  moimtain  pressing  through  the  throng,** 

The  flanks  with  brilliant  housings  grandly  hung, 

A  head  with  tusks,  a  snaky  trunk  below,  — 

A  mystery,  yet  I  the  key  will  show. 

A  delicate  woman  sits  upon  his  neck. 

And  with  a  wand  persuades  him  to  her  beck ; 

The  other,  throned  aloft,  superb  to  see. 

Stands  in  a  glory,  dazzling,  blinding  me. 

Beside  him  walk  two  dames  in  chains  ;  one  fearful 

And  sore  depressed,  the  other  glad  and  cheerful 

One  longs  for  freedom  and  one  feels  she  's  free : 

Let  each  declare  us  who  she  be  I 

FEAR. 

Smoky  torches,  lamps  are  gleaming 
Through  the  festal's  wildering  train ; 
Ah  I  amid  these  faces  scheming 
I  am  fastened  by  my  chain. 

Off,  ridiculously  merry  I 
1  mistrust  your  grinning  spite : 
Each  relentless  adversary 
Presses  nearer  in  the  night 

Friend  would  here  as  foe  waylay  me. 
But  1  know  the  masking  shapes ; 
Yonder 's  one  that  wished  to  slay  me,  — 
Now,  discovered,  he  escapes. 

From  the  world  I  fain  would  wander 
Through  whatever  gate  I  find ; 
But  perdition  threatens  yonder. 
And  the  horror  holds  my  mind 


ih,Googlc 


Good  my  sisters,  I  salute  you  1 
Though  to-day  already  suit  you. 
Masquerading  thus  demurely, 
Yet  I  know  your  purpose  surely 
To  reveal  yourselves  to-morrow. 
And  if  we,  by  torches  lighted, 
Fail  to  feel  a  special  pleasure, 
Yet  in  days  of  cheerful  leisure, 
At  our  will,  delight  we  '11  borrow, 
Or  alone  or  disunited 
Free  through  fairest  pastures  ranging^ 
Rest  and  action  ioterchauging, 
And  in  life  no  cares  that  fetter 
■  Naught  forego,  but  strive  for  better. 
Welcome  guests  are  all  around  us, 
Let  us  mingle  with  the  rest ! 
Surely,  what  is  best  hath  found  us. 
Or  we  'U  somewhere  find  the  best 

PRUDENCE. 

Two  of  human  foes,  the  greatest, 
Fear  and  Hope,  I  bind  the  faster. 
Thus  to  save  you  at  the  latest : 
Clear  the  way  for  me,  their  master. 

I  conduct  the  live  colossus. 
Turret-crowned  with  weighty  masses; 
And  unweariedly  he  crosses. 
Step  by  step,  the  steepest  passes. 

But  aJoft  the  goddess  planted. 
With  her  broad  aud  ready  pinions, 
Turns  to  spy  where  gain  is  granted 
Everywhere  in  Man's  dominions. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

Round  her  all  is  bright  aati  glorions ; 
Splendor  streams  on  all  h^r  courses : 
Victory  is  she  —  the  victorious 
Goddess  of  all  active  forces. 

zoTlo-t  h  er  sites.'" 
Ho !  ho !  1  've  hit  the  time  of  day. 
You  're  all  together  bad,  I  say ! 
But  what  appeared  my  goal  to  me 
Is  she  up  there,  Dame  Victory. 
She,  with  her  snowy  wings  spread  out, 
Thinks  she  's  an  eagle,  past  a  doubt ; 
And,  wheresoever  she  may  stir. 
That  land  and  folk  belong  to  her  ; 
But  when  a  famous  thing  is  done 
I  straightway  put  my  harness  on, 
To  lift  the  low,  the  high  upset, 
The  bent  to  straighten,  bend  the  straight  '• 
That,  only,  gives  my  heart  a  glow, 
And  on  this  earth  I  '11  have  it  so. 

HERALD. 

Then  take,  thou  beggar-cur,  the  blow. 
This  magic  baton's  stroke  of  skill  I  — 
So,  twist  and  wriggle  at  Ihy  will  t 
See  how  the  double  dwarfish  ape 
Kolb  to  a  hideous  ball  in  shape  '■  — 
A  marvel !    'T  is  an  egg  we  view ; 
It  puffs  itself  and  cracks  in  two: 
A  pdf  of  twins  come  forth  to  day. 
The  Adder  and  the  Bat  are  they. 
Forth  in  the  dust  one  winds  and  creeps; 
One  darkly  round  the  ceiling  sweeps. 
They  haste  to  join  in  company : 
The  third  therein  1  would  not  bei 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I. 

MURUURS. 

Come !  the  dance  is  yonder  gay.  — 
No  1  1  would  I  were  away.  — 
Feel'st  thou  how  the  phantom  race 
Flits  about  us  in  this  place  ?  — 
Something  whizzes  past  my  hair. — 
Round  my  feet  I  saw  it  fare.  — 
None  of  us  are  injured,  though.  — 
But  we  all  are  frightened  so.  — 
Wholly  spoiled  is  now  the  fun.  — ■ 
Which  the  vermin  wanted  done. 


Since,  as  Herald,  I  am  aiding 

At  your  merry  masquerading, 

At  the  gate  I  'm  watching,  fearftil 

Lest  within  your  revels  cheerful 

Something  slips  of  evil  savor ; 

And  I  neither  shrink  nor  waver. 

Yet,  I  fear,  the  airy  spectres 

Enter,  baffling  all  detectors, 

And  from  goblins  that  deceive  you 

1  'm  unable  to  relieve  you. 

First,  the  dwarf  became  suspicious  ; 

Now  a  mightier  pageant  issues 

Yonder,  and  it  is  my  duty 

To  explain  those  forms  of  beauty : 

But  the  thing  I  comprehend  not. 

How  can  I  its  meaning  mention? 

Help  me  to  its  comprehension  1 

Through  the  crowd  you  see  it  wend  not? 

Lo  !  a  four-horse  chariot  wondrous. 

Hither  drawn,  the  tumult  sunders  ; 

Yet  the  crowd  seems  not  to  share  in  't  — 

Nowhere  is  a  crush  appaient. 


ih,Googlc 


t  FAUST. 

Colored  lights,  m  distance  dimmer. 
Motley  stars  around  it  shimmer; 
Magic  lantern-like  they  glimmer. 
On  it  storms,  as  to  a^saulL 
Clear  the  way  1  1  shudder  I 

BOY  CHAHIOTEER. 

Haiti 
Steeds,  restrain  the  eager  pinion. 
Own  the  bridle's  old  dominion, 
Check  yourselves,  as  I  desire  yon. 
Sweep  away,  when  I  inspire  you  I  — 
Honor  we  these  festal  spaces ! 
See,  the  fast  increasing  faces. 
Circles,  full  of  admiration  I 
Herald,  come  I  and  in  thy  ^hion. 
Ere  we  take  from  here  our  glories, 
Name  tis,  and  describe  and  show  usi 
For  we  're  naught  but  allegories, 
Therefore 't  is  thy  place  to  know  us. 

MBRALD. 

No,  thy  name  from  me  is  hidden,  — 
Could  describe  thee,  were  I  bidden. 

BOV  CHARIOTEER. 

Try  it! 

HERALIX 

Granted,  at  the  start, 
Young  and  beautiful  thou  art,  — 
A  half-grown  boy ;  and  yet  the  woman-nature 
Would  rather  see  thee  in  completed  stature. 
To  me  thou  seem'st  a  future  fickle  wooer, 
Changing  the  old  beUayed  love  for  a  newer. 


ih,Googlc 


BOY  CHARIOTEER. 

Go  on  I    So  far,  't  b  very  fine : 
Mjüce  the  enigma's  gay  solution  thine  1 

HERALD. 

Black  lightnmg  of  the  eyes,  the  dark  locks  gto«ing,> 

Yet  bright  with  jewelled  anadem. 

And  light  thy  robe  as  flower  on  stem, 

From  shoulder  unto  buskin  flowing 

With  tinael-braid  and  purple  hem  ! 

One  for  a  maiden  might  surmise  thee. 

Yet,  good  or  ill,  as  it  might  be, 

The  maids,  e'en  now,  would  take  and  prize  thee : 

rhey  'd  teach  ihee  soon  thy  A  B  C. 

BOY  CHARIOTEER. 

And  he,  who  like  a  splendid  vision, 
Sits  proudly  on  the  chariot's  throne  ? 


He  seems  a  king,  of  mien  Elysian ; 
ßlest  those,  who  may  his  favor  own ! 
No  more  has  he  to  earn  or  capture ; 
His  glance  detects  where  aught 's  amiss. 
And  to  bestow  his  perfect  rapture 
Is  more  than  ownership  and  bliss. 

BOY  CHARIOTEER. 

Thou  darest  not  at  this  point  desist: 
Describe  him  fully,  1  insist ! 

HERALD. 

But  undescribed  is  Dignity. 
The  healthy,  full-moon  face  I  see. 
The  ample  mouth,  the  cheeks  that  fresher 
Shine  out  beneath  his  turban's  pressure, 


ih,Googlc 


Rich  comfort  io  the  robe  he 's  vearing, — 
What  shall  I  say  of  such  a  bearing  ? 
He  seems,  as  ruler,  known  to  me. 

BOV   CHARIOTEER. 

Plutus,  the  God  of  Wealth,  is  he. 
He  hither  comes  in  proud  attire; 
Much  doth  the  Emperor  him  desire. 

HERALD. 

Of  thee  the  WAal  and  //mo  declare  to  me  1 

BOY  CHARIOTEER. 

I  am  Profusion,  1  am  Poesy." 

The  Poet  I,  whose  perfect  crown  is  sent 

When  he  his  own  best  goods  hath  freely  spent 

Yet,  rich  in  mine  unmeasured  pelf, 

Like  Plutus  I  esteem  myself: 

1  pr^Lnk  and  cheer  his  festal  show 

And  whatsoe'er  he  lacks  bestow. 

HERALD. 

Fresh  charm  to  thee  thy  brag  imparts. 
But  let  us  now  behold  thine  arts! 

BOY  CHARIOTEER. 

Just  see  me  fillip  with  my  fingers ! 
What  brilliance  round  the  chariot  lingers, 
And  there  a  string  of  pearls  appears ! 
^:etttinuing  lojillif  and  snap  hisftngirs  in  all  direcfiem :) 
Take  golden  spangles  for  neck  and  ears, 
Combs,  and  diadems  free  of  flaw, 
And  jewelled  rings  as  ne'er  ye  sawl 
I  also  scatter  flamelets  bright. 
Awaiting  where  they  may  ignite. 


ih,Googlc 


HERALD. 

How  Strives  the  crowd  with  eager  longing, 
Almost  upOD  the  giver  thronging ! 
As  in  a  dream  he  snaps  the  toys ; 
All  catch  and  snatch  with  crush  and  noise. 
But  now  new  tricks  have  1  detected : 
What  each  has  zealously  collected 
His  trouble  doth  but  poorly  pay ; 
The  gifts  take  wings  and  fly  away. 
The  pearls  are  loosened  from  their  band 
And  beetles  crawl  within  his  hand; 
He  shakes  them  oS,  and  then  instead. 
Poor  dolt,  they  hum  around  his  head  I 
The  others  find  their  solid  things 
Arc  butterflies  with  gaudy  wings. 
How  much  the  scamp  to  promise  seems, 
And  only  gives  what  golden  gleams!^ 


Masks  to  announce,  I  grant,  thou  'rt  worthy ; 

But  'nealh  the  shell  of  Being  to  bestir  thee 

Is  not  a  herald's  courtly  task: 

A  sharper  sight  for  that  we  asL 

Yet  every  quarrel  I  evade ; 

To  thee,  my  Giief,  be  speech  and  question  made ! 

( Tkming  U>  PLtfTtrs.) 
Didst  thou  not  unto  me  confide 
The  tempest  of  the  steeds  I  guide  ? 
Canst  thou  not  on  my  guidance  reckon  P 
Am  1  not  there,  where  thou  dost  beckon  ? 
And  have  I  not,  on  pinions  boldest. 
Conquered  for  thee  the  palm  thou  holdest  ? 
When  in  thy  battles  I  have  aided, 
I  ever  have  been  fortunate ; 


ih,Googlc 


Thy  brow  whcQ  laurels  decorate, 

Have  I  not  them  with  hand  and  {ancy  bndded?i* 

PLUTÜS. 

If  there  be  need  that  I  bear  witness  now, 

I  'm  glad  to  say :  soul  of  my  soul  art  thou ! 

Thine  acts  are  always  to  my  mind, 

And  thou  the  richer  art,  I  find. 

Thy  service  to  reward,  I  hold 

The  green  bough  higher  than  my  crowns  of  gold. 

To  all  a  true  word  spoken  be : 

Dear  Son,  I  much  delight  in  thee. 

BOY  CHARIOTEER  {ta  tht  Crowd). 

The  greatest  gifts  my  hand  flings  out, 
Seet  I  have  scattered  round  alMut 
On  divers  heads  there  glows  the  tongue 
Of  flame  which  I  upon  them  flung, — 
Leaps  back  and  forth  among  the  shapes, 
On  this  remains,  from  that  escapes, 
But  very  seldom  upward  streams 
In  transient  flush  of  mellow  beams ; 
And  unto  many,  ere  they  mark, 
It  is  extinct  and  leaves  them  dark. 

CHATTER  OF  WOMEN. 

Upon  Ihe  chariot  that  man 

Is  certainly  a  charlatan: 

There,  perched  behind,  the  clown  is  seen, 

From  thirst  and  hunger  grown  so  lean 

As  one  ne'er  saw  him ;  if  you  'd  pinch, 

He  has  n't  flesh  to  feel  and  Hinch. 

THE  STARVELING. 

Disgusting  women,  off !  1  know 
That  when  I  come,  you  'd  have  me  go. 


ih,Googlc 


When  woman  fed  her  own  hearth-flame, 

Then  Avaritia  was  my  name ;  ^ 

Then  throve  the  household  fresh  and  green. 

For  nau^t  went  out  and  much  came  in. 

To  chest  and  press  1  gave  good  heed, 

And  that  you  'd  call  a  vice,  indeed ! 

But  since  in  later  years,  the  fact  is, 

Economy  the  wife  won't  practise, 

And,  like  the  host  of  spendthrift  scholars. 

Has  more  desires  than  she  has  dollars. 

The  husband  much  discomfort  brooks. 

For  there  are  debts  where'er  be  looks. 

She  spends  what  spoil  she  may  recover 

Upon  her  body,  or  her  lover; 

In  luxury  eats,  and  to  excess 

Drinks  with  the  flirts  that  round  her  press ; 

For  me  that  raises  money's  price : 

Male  is  my  gender,  Avarice  1 

LEADER  OF  THE  WOMEN. 

With  dragons,  mean  may  be  the  dragon ; 
It 's  all,  at  best,  but  lying  stuff! 
He  comes,  the  men  to  spur  and  egg  on, 
And  now  they  're  troublesome  enough. 

CROWD  OP  WOMEN. 

The  scarecrow  1    Knock  him  from  the  wagon  I 
What  means  the  fag,  to  threaten  here  i 
As  if  his  ugly  face  we  'd  fear ! 
Of  wood  and  pasteboard  is  each  dragon : 
Come  on — his  words  shall  cost  him  dear! 

HERALD. 

Now,  by  my  wand !    Be  still  —  let  none  stir  I 
Yet  for  my  help  there 's  scarcely  need ; 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

See  how  each  grim  and  grisly  monster, 
Clearing  the  space  arouad  with  sDeed, 
Unfolds  his  fourfold  wings  of  dread  1 
The  dragons  shake  themselves  in  anger, 
With  flaming  throats,  and  acaly  clangor ; 
The  place  is  clear,  the  crowd  has  fled. 

(PLUTUS  discmdsfremt  tht  chariot.) 


How  kingly  comes  he  from  above! 
He  beckons,  and  the  dragons  move; 
Then  from  the  chariot  bring  the  chest 
With  gold,  and  Avarice  thereon. 
Sec,  at  his  feet  the  load  they  rest ! 
A  marvel 't  is,  how  it  was  done. 

PLUTUS  (M  the  Chabioteer). 
Now  thou  hast  left  the  onerous  burden  here, 
Thou  'rt  wholly  free :  away  to  thi  ne  own  sphere  I 
Here  it  is  not !    Confused  and  wild,  to-day, 
Distorted  pictures  press  around  our  way. 
Where  clear  thy  gaze  in  sweet  serenity. 
Owning  thyself,  confiding  but  in  thee, 
Thither,  where  Good  and  Beauty  are  unfurled, 
To  Solitude !  —  and  there  create  thy  world ! 

BOV  CHARIOTEER. 

Thus,  as  an  envoy,  am  I  worthy  of  thee ; 
Thus,  as  my  next  of  kindred,  do  I  love  thee. 
Where  thou  art,  is  abundance;  where  I  go 
Each  sees  a  splendid  profit  round  him  grow, 
fn  inconsistent  life  each  often  wavers. 
Whether  to  seek  from  thee,  or  me,  the  favors. 
Thy  followers  may  be  indolent,  't  is  true ; 
Who  follows  me,  has  always  work  to  do. 


ih,Googlc 


JCT  I.  45 

'  My  deeds  are  never  secret  and  concealed ; 
I  only  breathe)  and  1  'm  at  once  revealed.  \ 
Farewell,  then !    Thou  the  bliss  hast  granted  me ; 
But  whisper  low,  and  I  return  to  thee  I 

\Exit,  as  hi  awu. 

PLUTUS. 

'T  in  time,  now,  to  unchain  the  precious  metals  I 
The  padlocks  with  the  herald's  wand  I  smite : 
The  chest  is  opened:  look!  from  iron  kettles 
It  pour!<  like  golden  blood  before  your  sight 
It  I'oils,  and  threatens  to  devour,  as  fuel. 
Melting  them,  crown  and  ring  and  chain  and  jewel) 

ALTERNATE  CRIES  OP  THE  CROWD. 

See  here,  and  there !  they  boil  and  swim ; 
The  chest  is  filling  to  the  brim !  — 
Vessels  of  gold  are  burning  there. 
And  minted  rolls  are  turning  there, 
And  ducats  jingle  as  they  jump!  — 
O,  how  my  heart  begins  to  thump!  — 
All  my  desire  I  see,  and  more. 
They  're  rolling  now  along  the  floor.  — 
'T  is  offered  you :  don't  be  a  dunce. 
Stoop  only,  and  be  rich  at  once ! — 
Then,  quick  as  lightning  we,  the  rest, 
Will  take  possession  of  the  chest 

HERALD. 

What  aib  ye,  fools  ?    What  mean  ye  all  ? 
'T  is  but  a  joke  of  Carnival. 
To-night  be  your  desires  controlled; 
Think  you  we  'd  give  you  goods  and  gold? 
Why,  in  this  game  there  come  to  view 
Too  many  counters  even,  for  you. 


ih,Googlc 


1  FAUST, 

A  pleasant  cheat,  ye  dolts  !  forsooth 
You  take  at  once  for  naked  truih. 
What 's  troth  to  you  ?  Illusion  bare 
Surrounds  and  rules  you  everywhere. 
Thou  Plutus-raask,  Chief  unrevealed, 
Drive  thou  thb  people  from  the  field !  * 

PLUTUS. 

Thy  wand  thereto  is  fit  and  free ; 

Lend  it  a  little  while  to  me '. 

I  dip  it  in  the  fiery  brew,  — 

Look  out,  ye  maskers !  all  of  you. 

It  shines,  and  snaps,  and  sparkles  throws; 

The  burning  wand  already  glows. 

Who  crowdeth  on,  loo  near  to  me. 

Is  burned  and  scorched  relentlessly, — 

And  now  my  circuit  1  '11  commence. 

CRIES  AND  CROWDING. 

Woe's  me!    We're  lost — there's  no  defence  I- 

Let  each  one  fly.  If  fly  he  can  1  — 

Back !  clear  the  way,  you  hindmost  man !  — 

It  sparkles  fiercely  in  mine  eyes. — 

The  burning  wand  upon  me  lies.  — 

We  all  are  lost,  we  all  are  lost !  — 

Back,  back !  ye  maskers,  jammed  and  tossed !  — 

Back,  senseless  crowd,  away  from  there  I  — 

O,  had  I  wings,  1  'd  take  the  air. 

PLUTUS. 
Now  is  the  circle  crowded  back, 
And  none,  I  think,  scorched  very  blacL 
The  throng  retires. 
Scared  by  the  fires. 
As  guaranty  for  ordered  law, 
A  ring  invisible  I  draw. 


ih,Googlc 


HERALD. 

A  noble  work  b  thioe,  to-night : 
I  thank  thy  wisdom  and  thy  might 

PLUTUS. 

Preserve  thy  patience,  noble  friend, 
For  many  tumults  yet  impend. 

AVARICE. 

Thus,  it  one  pleases,  pleasantly 

May  one  survey  this  circle  stately; 

For,  ever  foremost,  crowd  the  women  greatly, 

If  aught  to  stare  at,  or  to  taste,  there  be. 

Not  yet  entirely  nisty  are  my  senses ! 

A  woman  fair  is  always  fair  to  me : 

And  since,  to-day,  it  makes  me  no  expenses. 

We  11  go  a  courHng  confidently. 

But  in  a  place  so  populate 

All  words  to  every  ear  don't  penetrate; 

So,  wisely  I  attempt,  and  hope  success, 

Myself  by  pantomime  distinctly  to  express. 

Hand,  foot,  and  gesture  will  not  quite  suffice, 

So  I  employ  a  jocular  device. 

Like  clay  will  I  the  gold  manipulate ; 

One  may  transform  it  into  any  state. 

HERALD. 

What  will  the  lean  fool  do  ?"    Has  he, 
So  dry  a  starveling,  humor  ?    See, 
He  kneads  the  gold  as  it  were  dough  I 
Beneath  his  hands  't  is  soft ;  yet,  though 
He  roll  and  squeeze  it,  for  his  pains 
Disfigured  still  the  stu9  remains. 
He  turns  to  the  women  there,  and  they 
All  scream,  and  try  to  get  away. 


ih,Googlc 


With  gestures  of  disgust  and  loathing; 

The  ready  rascal  stops  at  nothing. 

I  fear  he  takes  delight  to  see 

He  has  offended  decency. 

I  dare  not  silently  endure  it: 

Give  me  my  wand,  that  1  may  cure  it  1 

PLUTUS. 

The  danger  from  without  he  does  not  see ; 
Let  him  alone ;  his  FooiVhour  fast  is  waning. 
There  'U  be  no  space  for  his  mad  pranks  rennainingi 
Mighty  is  Law,  mightier  Necessity. 

TUMULT  AND  SONG, 

The  savage  hosts,  with  shout  and  hail. 

From  mountain-height  and  forest-vale 

Come,  irresistibly  as  Fate. 

Their  mighty  Pan  they  celebrate. 

They  know,  forsooth,  what  none  can  guess. 

And  in  the  empty  circle  press. 


I  know  you  well,  and  your  illustrious  Pan ! 
Boldly  together  you  've  performed  your  plan. 
Full  urell  1  know  what  every  orte  does  not, 
And  clear  for  you,  as  duty  bids,  the  spot. 
Be  Fortune  still  her  favor  lending! 
The  strangest  things  may  here  be  bred : 
They  know  not  whitherward  they  're  wending. 
Because  they  h.ive  not  looked  ahead." 

SAVAGE  SONG. 

Furbished  people,  tinsel-stuff! 

They  're  coming  rude,  they  're  coming  rough ; 

In  mighty  ieap,  in  wildest  race, 

Coarse  and  strong  they  take  their  place. 


ih,Googlc 


Fauns,  pair  on  pair, 

Come  dancing  down. 

With  oaken  crown 

On  crispy  hair; 

The  fine  and  pointed  ear  is  seen, 

Leaf-like,  the  clustering  curls  between: 

A  stubby  noae,  face  broad  and  flat, 

The  women  don't  object  to  that; 

For  when  his  paw  hoMs  forth  the  Faun, 

The  fairest  to  the  dance  is  drawn. 

SATYR. 

See  now,  behind,  the  Satyr  skip. 
With  foot  of  goat,  lean  leg  and  hip,  — 
Lean  and  sinewy  must  they  be : 
For,  chamoiS'Iike,  on  mountains  he 
Loveth  to  stand  or  scamper  free. 
Then,  strong  in  freedom  of  the  skies. 
Child,  wife,  and  man  doth  he  despise. 
Who,  deep  in  the  valley's  smoke  and  steam 
That  they  live  also,  snugly  dream; 
While,  pure  and  undisturbed,  alone 
The  upper  world  is  all  his  own. 

GNOUES." 

The  little  crowd  comes  tripping  there; 
They  don't  associate  pair  by  pwr. 
In  mossy  garb,  with  lantern  bright. 
They  move  commingling,  brisk  and  light, 
Each  working  on  his  separate  ground, 
Like  firefly-emmets  swarming  round; 
And  press  and  gather  here  and  there, 
Always  industrious  everywhere. 
With  the  "  Good  People  "  kin  we  own ; 
VOL.  n.  3  D 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

As  sargeona  of  the  rocks  we  're  koown. 

Cupfnng  the  mountains,  bleeding  them 

From  fullest  veins,  depleting  them 

Of  store  of  metals,  which  we  pile. 

And  merrily  greet :  "  Good  cheer ! "  the  whila 

Well-meant  the  words,  believe  us,  then  I 

We  are  the  friends  of  all  good  men. 

Yet  we  the  stores  of  gold  unseal 

That  men  may  pander,  pimp,  and  steal; 

Nor  iron  shall  fail  his  haughty  hand 

Who  universal  murder  planned : 

And  who  these  three  Commandments  brealca 

But  little  heed  o'  the  others  takes. 

For  that  we  're  not  responsible : 

We  're  patient — be  you,  toc^  as  well  I 

GIANTS. 

The  wild  men  of  the  woods  they  're  named. 
And  in  the  Hartz  are  known  and  famed ; 
In  naked  nature's  ancient  might 
They  come,  each  one  a  giant  wight. 
With  ür-tree  trunk  in  brawny  hand, 
Around  the  loins  a  puffy  band. 
The  merest  apron  of  leaf  and  bough : — 
The  Pope  hath  no  such  guards,  I  trow. 

NVMPRS  IN  CHORUS. 
( T%ty  lumund  Iht  great  PAN.) 

He  comes!    We  scan 

The  world's  great  All, 

Whose  part  doth  fall 

To  mighty  Pan. 

Ye  gayest  ones,  advance  to  him, 

Your  maddest  measures  dance  to  biml 

Since  serious  and  kind  is  be. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  1. 

He  wills  that  we  should  joyous  be. 
Under  the  blue,  o'er-vaulting  twA, 
Ever  he  seemeth  slumber-proof; 
Yet  murmurs  of  the  brooks  he  knows, 
And  soft  airs  lull  him  to  repose. 
At  midday  sleeping,  o'er  his  brow* 
The  leaf  is  moveless  on  the  bough ; 
Of  healthy  buds  the  balsam  there 
Pervades  the  still,  suspended  air : 
The  nymph  no  longer  dares  to  leap. 
And  where  she  stands,  she  falls  aaleepi 
But  when,  all  unexpected,  he 
Maketh  his  voice  heard  terribly. 
Like  rattling  thunder,  roar  of  wave, 
TheD  each  odc  seeks  himself  to  save; 
The  serried  ranks  disperse  in  fright, 
The  hero  trembles  in  the  fight. 
Then  honor  to  whom  the  honor  is  duc^ 
And  bail  to  him  who  led  us  to  you  ! 

DEPUTATION  OF  GNOUES 
{to  Ihegreal  Pan). 
When  the  rich  possession,  shining 
Through  the  rocks  in  thread  and  vein, 
To  the  skilful  wand's  divining 
Shows  its  labyrinthine  chain, 

We  in  vaults  and  caverns  spacious, 
Troglodytes,  contented  bide ; 
While  in  purest  daylight,  gracious, 
Thou  the  treasures  dost  divide. 

Now  we  see,  wilt  thou  believe  us, 
Here  a  wondrous  fount^n  run. 
Promising  with  ease  to  give  us 
What  was  hardly  to  be  won. 


ih,Googlc 


3  FAUST. 

Lo!    It  waits  for  thy  attaining: 
Then  be  moved  to  break  the  spell  t 
All  the  wealth  which  thou  art  gaining 
Profits  all  the  world  as  well 

PLUTUS  {te  Hu  HeRALti). 
We,  in  the  highest  sense,  must  be  collected. 
And  let  what  iitay  come,  come,  tliough  uneitpected 
Thy  courage  has  not  yet  been  counted  short : 
The  fearful  thing  we  now  shall  see  will  try  it; 
The  world  and  History  will  both  deny  it, 
So  write  it  faithfully  in  thy  report ! 

HERALD. 

(CraipiHg  the  wand  vikich  VwrvsMJi  in  AiiJimuf.) 
The  dwarfs  conduct  the  great  Pan  nigher. 
Yet  gently,  to  the  fount  of  fire. 
It  bubbles  from  the  throat  profound, 
Then  sinks,  retreating,  to  the  ground, 
And  dark  the  open  crater  shows  ; 
And  then  again  it  boils  and  glows. 
Great  Pan  in  cheerful  mood  stands  by. 
Rejoiced  the  wondrous  things  to  spy. 
And  right  and  left  the  foam-peark  fly. 
How  can  he  in  the  cheat  confide  ? 
He  bends  and  stoops,  to  look  inside.— 
But  now,  behold  !  his  beard  falls  in : 
Whose  is  that  smoothly-shaven  chin  ? 
His  hand  conceals  it  from  our  sight 
What  follows  is  a  luckless  plight ; 
The  beard,  on  fire,  flies  back  to  smite 
His  wreath  and  head  and  breast  with  flame: 
To  pain  is  turned  the  merry  game. 
They  haste  to  quench  the  fire,  but  none 
The  ewiitly -kindling  flames  can  shun. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  /. 

Tfaat  flash  aod  dart  on  other  heads 

Till  wide  the  conflagratioa  spreads : 

Wrapped  in  the  element,  in  tum 

The  masking  groups  take  fire  and  bum. 

But  hark !  what  news  is  bruited  here 

From  mouth  to  mouth,  from  ear  to  ear? 

O  evermore  ill-fated  night, 

That  brings  lo  us  such  woe  and  blight  I 

To-morrow  will  proclaim  to  all 

What  no  one  wishes  to  befall, 

For  everywhere  the  cry  I  hear: 

**  The  Emperor  suffers  pain  severe  I " 

O  were  the  proclamation  wrong  I 

The  Emperor  bums  and  all  his  throng.*' 

Accurst  be  they  who  him  misled, 

With  resinous  twigs  on  breast  and  head, 

To  rave  and  bellow  hither  so, 

To  general,  fatal  overthrow. 

O  Youth  !  O  Youth  !  wilt  never  thou 

Umit  thy  draught  of  joy,  in  season? — 

O  Majesty,  wilt  never  thou. 

Omnipotent,  direct  with  reason  ? 

The  mimic  woods  enkindled  are ; 

The  pointed  tongues  lick  upward  far 

To  where  the  rafters  interlace : 

A  fiery  doom  hangs  o'er  Ihe  place. 

Our  cup  of  misery  overflows, 

For  who  shall  save  us  no  one  knows. 

The  ash-heap  of  a  night  shall  hide, 

To-morrow,  this  imperial  pride. 

PLUTUS, 

Terror  is  enough  created  \ 
Now  be  help  inaugurated  ! 
Smite,  thou  hallowed  wand,  and  make 


ih,Googlc 


Earth  beneath  thee  peal  and  quake  I 
Tfaou,  the  spacious  breadth  of  air, 
Cooling  vapors  breathe  and  bear  1 
Hither  speed,  aroimd  us  growing, 
Miaty  films  and  belts  o'erflowing. 
And  the  fiery  tumult  tame  ! 
Trickle,  whisper,  clouds,  be  crisper, 
Roll  in  masses,  softly  drenching, 
Mantling  everywhere,  and  quenching! 
Ye,  the  moist,  the  broadly  brighl'ning, 
Change  to  harmless  summer  lightning 
All  this  empty  sport  of  flame  !  — 
When  by  spirits  we  're  molested, 
Then  be  Magic  manifested. 


ih,Googlc 


PLEASURE-GARDEN. 

THE  MORNING  SUN. 

7%e  Empbkos,  Ut  Court,  Gentlemen  and  Laditt:  Favst, 
MsFUtsTOPHCLis,  iecamingly,  accerding  to  t/u  mode,  tuH 
thotaily  draitd :  ietA  kneel. 

FA  OST. 

C  IRE,  pardon'st  thou  the  jugglery  of  flame? 

.EllPBROR  {ieeimai^Aimlorüei. 
I  wish  more  exhibitions  of  the  same. 
A-sudden  stood  I  in  a  glowing  sphere ; 
It  almost  seemed  as  if  I  Pluto  were. 
There  lay,  like  night,  with  little  fires  besprent, 
A  rocky  bottom.     Out  of  many  a  vent. 
Whirling,  3  thousand  savage  flames  ascended, 
Till  in  a  single  vault  their  streamers  blended. 
The  tongues  even  to  the  highest  dome  were  shot, 
That  ever  was,  and  ever  then  was  not 
Through  the  far  space  of  spiral  shafts  of  flame 
The  long  processions  of  the  people  came ; 
Crowding,  till  all  the  circle  was  o'errun, 
They  did  me  homage,  as  they  've  ever  done. 
Some  from  my  Court  I  knew  :  to  speak  with  cwdor, 
A  Prince  I  seemed  o'er  many  a  salamander. 

MEPHISTOPHEXES. 

That  art  thou.  Sire !    Because  each  element 
Fully  accepts  thy  Majesty's  intent 


ih,Googlc 


56  FAUST. 

Obedient  Fire  is  tested  now  by  thee  : 
Where  wildest  heaving,  leap  into  the  Sea, 
And  scarce  the  pearly  Hoor  thy  foot  shall  tread, 
A  grand  rotunda  rises  o'er  thy  head: 
Thou  seest  the  green,  translucent  billows  swelling 
With  purple  edge,  for  thy  delightful  dwelling. 
Round  thee,  the  central  point    Walk  thou  at  will, 
The  liquid  palaces  go  with  thee  still  I  . 
The  very  walls  rejoice  in  life,  disporting 
In  arrowy  flight,  in  chasing  and  consorting : 
Sea-marvels  crowd  around  the  glory  new  and  fair. 
Shoot  from  all  sides,  yet  none  can  enter  there. 
There  gorgeous  dragons,  golden' armored,  float ; 
There  gapes  the  shark,  thou  laughest  in  his  throat 
However  much  this  Court  thy  pride  may  please. 
Yet  hast  thou  never  seen  such  throngs  as  these. 
Nor  from  the  loveliest  shall  thou  long  be  parted ; 
The  curious  Nereids  come,  the  wild,  shy-hearted, 
To  thy  bright  dwelling  in  the  endless  waters,  — 
Timid  and  sly  as  fish  the  youngest  daughters, 
The  elder  cunning :  Thetis  hears  the  news 
And  will,  at  once,  her  second  Peleus  choose. 
The  seat,  then,  on  Olympus  high  and  free — 

EHPEROR. 

The  spaces  of  the  air  1  leave  to  thee : 
One  ^  too  early  must  ascend  that  throne. 

HEPH ISTOPHELES. 

And  Earth,  high  Prince  1  already  is  thine  own. 


What  fortune  brought  thee  here,  for  our  delights. 
Directly  from  the  One  and  Thousand  Nights  ? 
If  thou  like  Scheherazade  art  rich  in  stories, 


ih,Googlc 


My  favor  shall  insure  thee  higher  glories. 
Be  ready  always,  when  your  world  of  day, 
As  often  baps,  disgusts  me  every  way  1 

LORD  HIGH  STEWARD  {tntert  kaitüy). 

Highness  Serene,  I  never  dared  expect 

To  trumpet  forth  a  fortune  so  select 

As  this,  supremely  blessing  me. 

Which  I  announce  with  joy  to  thee : 

Reckoning  on  reckoning 's  balanced  squarely ; 

The  usurer^s  claws  are  blunted  rarely ; 

I  'm  from  my  hellish  worry  free : 

Things  can't  in  Heaven  more  cheerful  be. 

GENERAI^lN-CHIEF  {fellimt  Jiaitily). 

Arrears  of  pay  are  settled  duly, 
The  army  is  enlisted  newly; 
The  trooper's  blood  is  all  alive, 
The  landlords  and  the  wenches  thrive. 

EMPEROR. 

How  breathe  your  breasts  in  broader  spaces  t 
How  cheerful  are  your  furrowed  faces ! 
How  ye  advance  with  nimble  speed ! 

TREASURER  la/t/tearing). 

Ask  these,  't  is  they  have  done  the  deed ! 

FAUST. 

It  is  the  Chancellor's  place  the  matter  to  present 

CHANCELLOR  {Toia  cama/imvarif  tiimify). 
In  my  old  days  I  'm  blest,  and  most  content 
So  hear  and  see  the  fortune-freighted  leaf'' 
Which  has  transformed  to  happiness  our  grieL 


ih,Googlc 


58  FAUST. 

(He  rtadt.) 
"  To  all  to  whom  this  cometh,  be  it  known ; 
A  thousand  crowns  in  worth  this  note  doth  own. 
It  to  secure,  as  certain  plec^^e,  shall  stand 
All  buried  treasure  in  the  Emperor's  land : 
And  't  is  decreed,  perfecting  thus  the  scheme. 
The  treasure,  soon  as  raised,  shall  this  redeem." 

EMPEROR. 

A  most  enormous  cheat  —  a  crime,  I  fear ! 
Who  forged  the  Emperor's  sign-manuiil  here  ? 
Has  there  not  been  a  punishment  condign  ? 

TREASURER. 

Remember!    Thou  the  note  didst  undersign; 
Last  night,  indeed.    Thou  stood'st  as  miglity  Pan, 
And  thus  the  Chancellor's  speech,  before  thee,  ran : 
"Grant  to  thyself  the  festal  pleasure,  then 
The  People's  good — a  few  strokes  of  the  pen ! " 
These  didst  thou  give :  they  were,  ere  night  retreated, 
By  skilful  conjurers  thousandfold  repeated ; 
And,  that  a  like  advantage  all  might  claim, 
We  stamped  at  once  the  series  vrith  thy  name : 
Tens,  Thirties,  Fifties,  Hundreds,  are  prepared. 
Thou  canst  not  think  how  well  the  folk  have  fared. 
Behold  thy  town,  half-dead  once,  and  decaying. 
How  all,  alive,  enjoying  life,  are  straying! 
Although  thy  name  long  since  the  world  made  glad, 
Such  currency  as  now  it  never  had. 
No  longer  needs  the  alphabet  thy  nation. 
For  in  this  sign  each  findeth  his  salvation. 

EMPEROR, 

And  with  my  people  does  it  pass  for  gold  ? 

For  pay  in  court  and  camp,  the  notes  they  hold  ? 

Then  I  must  yield,  although  the  thing 's 


ih,Googlc 


LORD  HIGH  STEWARD. 

T  was  scattered  everywhere,  like  wild-fire  bladng, 

As  currency,  and  none  its  course  may  stop. 

A  crowd  surrounds  each  money-changer's  shop. 

And  every  note  is  there  accepted  duly 

For  gold  and  silver's  worth  —  with  discount,  truly. 

Thence  is  it  spread  to  landlords,  butchers,  bakers: 

One  half  the  people  feast  as  pleasure- takers ; 

In  raiment  new  the  others  proudly  go,  — 

The  tradesmen  cut  their  cloth,  the  tailors  sew. 

The  crowd  "  The  Emperor's  health ! "  in  cellars  wishesi 

Midst  cooking,  roasting,  rattling  of  the  dishes. 

HEPHISTOP  HELES. 

If  one  along  the  lonely  terrace  stray, 
He  sees  the  lady,  in  superb  array, 
With  brilliant  peacock-&n  before  one  eye; 
A  note  she  looks  for,  as  she  simpers  by, 
And  readier  than  by  wit  or  eloquence 
Before  Love's  favor  falls  the  last  defence. 
One  is  not  plagued  his  purse  or  sack  to  cany; 
Such  notes  one  lightly  in  his  bosom  bears, 
Or  them  with  fond  epistles  neatly  pairs: 
The  priest  devoutly  in  his  breviary 
Bears  his :  the  soldier  would  more  freely  trip, 
And  lightens  thus  the  girdle  round  his  hip. 
Your  Majesty  will  pardon,  if  my  carriage 
Seems  as  it  might  the  lofty  work  disparage. 

FAUST. 

The  overplus  of  wealth,  in  torpor  bound, 

Which  in  thy  laiids  lies  buried  in  the  ground, 
Is  all  unused ;  nor  boldest  thought  can  measure 
Th*  o»nrowest  boundaries  of  such  a  treasure. 


ih,Googlc 


6o  FAUST. 

Imagination,  in  its  highest  flight. 

Exerts  itself,  but  cannot  grasp  it  quite ; 

Yet  minds,  that  dare  explore  the  secrets  soundless. 

In  boundless  things  possess  a  faith  that 's  boundless 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Such  paper,  stead  of  gold  and  jewelry, 
So  handy  is  — one  knows  one's  property : 
One  has  no  need  of  bargains  or  exchanges, 
But  drinks  of  love  or  wine,  as  fancy  ranges. 
If  one  needs  coin,  the  brokers  ready  stand, 
And  if  it  fail,  one  digs  awhile  the  land. 
Goblet  and  chain  one  then  at  auction  sells, 
And  paper,  liquidated  thus,  compels 
The  shame  of  doubters  and  their  scornful  wit 
The  people  wish  naught  else;  they  're  used  to  it: 
From  this  time  forth,  your  borders,  far  and  wide, 
With  jewels,  gold,  and  paper  are  supplied. 


You  've  given  our  empire  this  prosperity ; 
The  pay,  then,  equal  to  the  service  be  ! 
TTie  soil  intrusted  to  your  keeping,  shall  you 
The  best  custodians  be,  to  guard  its  value. 
You  know  the  hoards,  well-kept,  of  all  the  land. 
And  when  men  dig,  't  is  j-ou  must  give  command. 
Unite  then  now,  ye  masters  of  our  treasure. 
This,  your  new  dignity,  to  wear  witli  pleasure. 
And  bring  the  Upper  World,  erewhile  asunder, 
In  happiest  conjunction  with  the  Under ! 

TREASURER. 

No  further  strife  shall  shake  our  joint  position; 
I  like  to  have  as  partner  the  magician. 

{Exit,  viiih  Fads* 


ih,Googlc 


EMPEROR. 

Man  after  man,  the  Court  will  I  endow : 

Let  each  confess  for  what  he  'II  spend,  and  howl 

PAGE  [rttm/ii^). 

1 11  lead  a  jolly  life,  enjoy  good  cheer. 

A  SECOND  {Ihesame). 

I  II  buy  at  once  some  trinkets  for  my  dear. 

CHAMBERLAIN  {aiceftiiig). 

Wines  twice  as  good  shall  down  my  throat  go  trickling. 

A  SECOND   [the  samt). 

I  feet  the  dice  within  my  pockets  tickling. 

KNIGHT  BANNERET  (reflicthfly). 

My  lands  and  castle  shall  be  &ee  of  debt 

ANOTHER   [tAesame). 

1 11  add  to  other  wealth  the  wealth  I  get 

EMPEROR. 

\  koped  the  gifts  to  bolder  deeds  would  beckon ; 
But  he  who  knows  you,  knows  whereon  to  reckon. 
I  see  that,  spite  of  all  this  treasure-burst. 
You  stay  exactly  as  you  were  at  first. 

FOOL  l,approarhing\. 

VttU  scatter  favors  :  grant  me  also  some ! 

EMPEROR. 

Ihju'rtcome  to  life?    'T  would  go  at  once  for  rum- 


ih,Googlc 


FOOL. 

The  magic  leaves  1  I  don't  quite  comprehend. 

EMPEROR. 

That  I  believe ;  for  them  thou  It  badly  spend. 
There  others  drop:  I  don't  know  what  to  do. 

EMPEROR. 

Just  pick  them  up !  they  fall  to  thy  share,  too. 

POOL. 

Five  thousand  crowns  are  mine  ?    How  unexpected  1 

UBPHISTOPHELES. 

Two-l^g^  wine-skin,  art  thou  resurrected  ? 

FOOL. 

Much  luck  I  've  had,  but  like  this  never  yet 

MEPHISTOPHBLES. 

Thou  'rt  so  rejoiced,  it  puts  thee  in  a  sweat 

FOOI-. 

fiut  look  at  this,  is  't  money's-worth,  indeed  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

T  will  bring  thee  what  thy  throat  and  belly  need. 

FOOL, 

And  cattle  can  I  buy,  and  house  and  land  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Of  course !  just  make  an  offer  once,  off-hand  I 


ih,Googlc 


FOOU 

Cutle  and  wood,  and  chase,  and  fishing  ? 

UBI-HISTOPHBLES. 

AUI 
I  'd  like  upon  Your  Worship  then  to  call. 

FOOL. 

To-night  as  landed  owner  I  shall  sit 

[Exü. 

UEPHISTOPHELES   (salin). 

Who  now  will  doubt  that  this  our  Fool  has  wit? 


ih,Googlc 


wi 


A  GLOOMY  GALLERY. 
Faust.    Mephistopheles. 

uephistopheles. 

/HAT  wilt  thou  with  me  in  this  gloomy  gallery  ? 
Is  there  not  still  enough  of  sport 
There,  in  the  crowded,  motley  Court,  — 
Not  chance  for  tricks,  and  fun,  and  raillery? 

PAUST. 

Don't  tell  me  that !  —  In  our  old  days  the  fun  of  it 

Didst  thou  wear  out,  and  1 11  have  none  of  it. 

Thy  wandering  here  and  there  is  planned 

Just  to  evade  what  1  demand. 

But  1  'm  tormented  something  to  obtain  ; 

The  Marshal  drives  me,  and  the  Chamberlain. 

The  Emperor  orders,  he  will  instantly 

Helen  and  Paris  here  before  him  see, — 

The  model  forma  of  Man  and  Woman,  wearing, 

Distinctly  shown,  their  ancient  shape  and  bearing. 

Now  to  the  work  i    1  dare  not  break  my  word. 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

So  thoughtlessly  to  promise  was  absurd. 


Thou  hast  not,  comrade,  well  reflected 
What  comes  of  hanng  used  thy  powers ; 


ih,Googlc 


We  've  made  him  rich  ;  't  is  now  expected 
That  we  amuse  his  idle  hoora. 

UBFRISTOPHELES. 

Thou  deem'st  the  thing  is  quicldy  fixed: 

Here  before  steeper  ways  we  're  standing ; 

With  strangest  spheres  wonldst  thou  be  mixed, 

And,  sinful,  addest  new  debts  to  the  old,  — 

Think'st  Helen  will  respond  to  thy  commanding 

As  freely  as  the  paper-ghosts  of  gold  t 

With  witches'-riches  and  with  spectre-pictures, 

And  changeling-dwarfs,  1  'II  give  no  cause  for  strictures ; 

But  Devil's-darlings,  though  you  may  not  scold  'em, 

You  cannot  quite  as  heroines  behold  'em. 

PAUST. 

The  old  hand-organ  still  1  hear  thee  play  t 
From  thee  one  always  gets  uncertain  sense, 
The  father,  thou,  of  all  impediments  : 
For  every  means  thou  askest  added  pay. 
A  litüe  muttering,  and  the  thing  takes  place; 
Ere  one  can  turn,  beside  us  here  her  shade  is. 

HEPHISTOFHELES. 

I  've  no  concern  with  the  old  heathen  race ; 
They  house  within  their  special  Hades.*) 
Yet  there  'a  a  way. 

FAUST. 

Speak,  nor  delay  thy  history  I 


Unwilling,  1  reveal  a  loftier  mystery. — 
In  solitude  are  throned  the  Goddesses, 
No  Space  around  them,  Place  and  Time  still  less; 


ih,Googlc 


Oitly  to  sptealc  of  them  embarrasses. 
They  are  The  Mothers  !  ♦* 

FAUST  (terrified). 

MothetsI 


The  Mothers !  Mothers  !  —  a  strange  word  is  said. 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

It  is  so.    Goddesses,  unknown  to  ye. 

The  Mortals,  —  named  by  us  unwillingly. 

Delve  in  the  deepest  depths  must  thou,  to  reach  them : 

'T  is  thine  own  ^ult  that  we  for  help  beseech  them. 


UEPHISTOPHELBS. 

No  way  I  —  To  the  Unreachable, 
Ne'er  to  be  trodden  I    A  way  to  the  Unbeseechable, 
Never  to  be  besought !     Art  thou  prepared  ? 
There  are  no  locks,  no  latches  to  be  lifted  ; 
Through  endless  solitudes  shall  thou  be  drifted. 
Hast  thou  through  solitudes  and  deserts  fared  ? 

FAUST. 

I  think  't  were  best  to  spare  such  speeches; 
They  smell  too  strongly  of  the  witches, 
Of  cheats  that  long  ago  insnared. 
Have  I  not  known  all  earthly  vanities? 
Learned  the  inane,  and  taught  inanities? 
When  as  I  felt  I  spake,  wilh  sense  as  guid<^ 
The  contradiction  doubly  shrill  replied ; 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I.  6 

Enforced  by  odious  tricks,  have  I  not  fled 
To  solitudes  and  wildernesses  dread, 
And  that  I  might  not  live  alone,  unheeded, 
Myself  at  last  unto  the  Devil  deeded  1 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  hadst  thou  swum  to  farthest  verge  of  ocean, 
And  there  the  boundless  space  beheld. 
Still  hadst  thou  seen  wave  after  wave  in  motion. 
Even  though  impending  doom  thy  fear  compelled. 
Thou  hadst  seen  something,  —  in  the  beryl  dim 
Of  peace-lulled  seas  the  sportive  dolphins  swim  j 
Hadst  seen  the  flying  clouds,  sun,  moon,  and  star: 
Naught  shait  thou  see  in  endless  Void  afar, — 
Not  hear  thy  footstep  fall,  nor  meet 
A  stable  spot  to  rest  thy  feet 

FAUST. 

Thou  speak'st,  as  of  all  mystagc^es  the  chie^ 
Who  e'er  brought  faithful  neophytes  to  grief ; 
Only  reversed :  —  I  to  the  Void  am  sent. 
That  Art  and  Power  therein  I  may  augment : 
To  use  me  like  the  cat  is  thy  desire, 
To  scratch  for  thee  the  chestnuts  from  the  fire. 
Come  on,  then!  we  'II  explore,  whate'erbe^; 
In  this,  thy  Nothing,  may  I  find  my  All  I 

KEPKISTOPHELES, 

1  '11  praise  thee,  ere  we  separate:  I  see 
Thou  knowest  the  Devil  thoroughly. 
Here,  take  this  key  1 « 

FAUST. 

That  Uttle  thing? 

HEFHISTOPH  ELES. 

Take  hokl  of  it,  not  undervaluing ! 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

It  glows,  it  ahines, — increases  in  my  hand  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

How  much  't  is  wortli,  tliou  soon  shall  understand. 
The  Key  will  scent  the  true  place  from  all  others : 
Follow  it  down! — 't  will  lead  thee  to  the  Mothers. 

FAUST   (shuddering). 

The  Mothers  I    Like  a  blow  it  strikes  me  still  I 
What  is  the  word,  to  hear  which  makes  me  chill? 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

An  thou  so  weak,  disturbed  by  each  new  word  ? 
Wilt  only  hear  what  thou  'st  already  heard  ? 
To  wondrous  things  art  thou  so  used  already, 
Let  naught,  howe'er  it  sound,  make  thee  unsteady  t 

FAUST. 

Nathless  in  torpor  lies  no  good  for  me ; 
The  chill  of  dread  is  Man's  best  quality. 
Though  from  the  feeling  oft  the  world  may  fend  us, 
Deeply  we  feel,  once  smitten,  the  Tremendous. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Descend,  then !     I  could  also  say :  Ascend ! 
'T  were  all  the  same.     Escape  from  the  Created 
To  shapeless  forms  in  liberated  spaces  ! 
Enioy  what  long  ere  this  was  dissipated  ! 
There  whirls  the  press,  like  clouds  on  clouds  unfolding; 
Then  with  stretched  arm  swing  high  the  key  thou  'rt 
holding  I 

FAUST  (inipirfd). 

Good  !  grasping  firmly,  fresher  strength  I  win : 
My  breast  expands,  let  the  great  work  begin  1 


ih,Googlc 


HEPHISTOPHELES. 

At  last  a  blaziog  tripod  teUs  thee  this, 
That  there  the  utterly  deepest  trattom  is. 
Its  light  to  thee  will  then  the  Mothers  show, 
Some  in  their  seats,  the  others  stand  or  go, 
At  their  own  will :  Formation,  Transformatioo, 
The  Eternal  Mind's  eternal  recrealion, 
Forms  of  all  creatures,  —  there  are  floating  free. 
They  'U  see  thee  not ;  for  only  wraiths  they  see. 
So  pluck  up  heart,  —  the  danger  then  is  great,  — 
Go  to  the  tripod  ere  thou  hesitate, 
And  touch  it  with  the  key ! 

IFaUST,  wilk  thi  key,  aisuma  a  dreidtdly  tomviattditig  atti- 
ttuU.     MeFMISTOPHELES,  obstming  iim.) 

So,  that  is  right! 
It  will  adhere,  and  follow  thee  to  light 
Composedly  mounting,  by  thy  luck  upborne. 
Before  they  notice  it,  shalt  thou  return. 
When  thou  the  tripod  hither  hast  conveyed, 
Then  call  the  hero,  heroine,  from  the  shade,  — 
The  first  that  ever  such  a  deed  perfected: 
'T  is  done,  and  thou  thereto  hast  been  selected. 
For  instantly,  by  magic  process  warmed, 
To  gods  the  incense-mist  shall  be  transformed. 

FAUST. 

What  further  now  ? 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Downward  thy  being  strain  I 
Stamp  and  descend,  stamping  thou  'It  rise  again. 

{Faust  ilatnpi,  and  sinks  gut  of  sight.) 
If  only,  by  the  key,  he  something  learn  1 
I  'm  curious  to  see  if  he  return. 


ih,Googlc 


BRILLIANTLY  LIGHTED  HALLS. 
EifPEROR  AMD  Princes.     The  Court  in  Movb- 

HENT. 
CHAMBERLAIN  {ta  MefhIETOFHELES). 

THE  spirit-scene  you  've  promised,  still  you  owe  us ; 
Our  Lord  's  impatient ;  come,  the  pbantasin  shov 
ust 

LORD  HIGH  STEWARD. 

Just  now  His  Gncious  Sell  did  question  me : 
Delay  not,  nor  offend  His  Majesty] 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

My  comrade  's  gone  to  set  the  worli  in  motion } 

How  to  begin,  he  has  the  propter  notion. 

In  secret  he  the  charms  must  cull. 

Must  labor  with  a  fervor  tragic : 

Who  would  that  treasure  lift,  the  Beautiful, 

Requires  the  highest  Art,  the  sage's  Magic 

LORD  HIGH   STEWARD. 

What  arts  you  need,  is  all  the  same  to  me ; 
The  Emperor  wills  that  you  should  ready  be. 

A  BLONDE  (/o  MbPHISTOPHBLES). 

One  word,  Sir !    Here  you  see  a  visage  lair,  — 

In  sorry  summer  I  another  wear ! 

There  sprout  a  hundred  brown  and  reddish  freckles, 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I.  7, 

And  vex  my  lily  skin  with  ugly  speckles. 
A  cure! 

UEPHISTOFHELBS. 

T  is  pity  1    Shining  fair,  yet  smitten,  — 
Spotted,  when  May  comes,  like  a  panther-kitten  I 
Take  frc^-spawn,  tongues  of  toads,  which  cohobate, 
Under  the  full  moon  deftly  distillate, 
And,  whea  it  wanes,  apply  the  mixture : 
Next  spring,  the  spots  will  be  no  more  a  fixture. 

A  BRUNETTE. 

To  sponge  upon  you,  what  a  crowd  's  advancing  1 
I  beg  a  remedy :  a  frozen  foot 
Annoys  me  much,  in  walking  as  in  dancing; 
And  awkwardly  I  manage  to  salute. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  gentle  kick  pennit,  then,  from  my  foot!" 

THE  BRUNETTE. 

Well,  —  that  might  happen,  when  the  two  are  lovers. 

MEPRISTOPHELES. 
My  kick  a  more  important  meaning  covers: 
Similia  similibus,  when  one  is  sick. 
The  foot  cures  foot,  each  limb  its  hurt  can  paUiate; 
Come  near !  Take  heed !  and,  pray  you,  don't  retaliate  I 

THE  BRUNETTE  {scriaming^. 

Oh !  oh !  it  stings !    That  was  a  fearful  kick, 
Ijke  hoof  of  horse. 

MEPHISTOPKELES. 

But  it  has  cured  you,  quick. 
To  dance  whene'er  you  please,  you  now  are  able; 
To  press  your  lover's  fool,  beneath  the  table. 


ih,Googlc 


J  3  FAUST. 

LADY  (pnstlng forwards). 
Make  room  for  me !    Too  great  is  my  affliction. 
My  tortures  worse  than  those  described  in  fiction : 
Hb  bibs,  till  yesterday,  was  in  my  glances. 
But  now  he  turns  his  back,  and  spins  with  her  romances. 

M  EPHISTOPHELES. 

The  matter  '%  gnvc,  but  listen  unto  me ! 

Draw  near  to  him  with  gentle,  soft  advances ; 

Then  take  this  coal  and  mark  him  stealthily 

On  mantle,  shoulder,  sleeve,  —  though  ne'er  so  slight^ 

Yet  penitent  at  once  his  heart  will  be. 

The  coal  thereafter  you  must  straightway  swallow. 

And  let  no  sip  of  wine  or  water  follow : 

He  '11  sigh  before  your  door  this  very  night 

THE  LADV. 

It  b  not  poison,  sure? 

KEPHISTOFHELES  [pffendtd). 

Respect,  where  it  is  due  I 
To  get  such  coals,  you  'd  travel  many  a  mile ; 
They  're  from  the  embers  of  a  funeral  pile. 
The  fires  whereof  we  once  more  hotly  blew. 

PAGE. 

I  kive,  yet  still  am  counted  adolescent 

M EPHISTOPHELES  {,atidt\. 

I  know  not  whom  to  listen  to,  at  present 

(Tetke  Pagt.) 
Let  not  the  younger  girls  thy  fancies  fetter; 
Those  well  in  years  know  how  to  prize  thee  better.  — 
(Othtrs  crmxd  around  him^ 
Already  others  ?    'T  b  a  trial,  sooth  1 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I. 

I  '11  help  mysell,  at  last,  with  naked  tnith  — 
The  worst  device  1 — so  great  my  misery. 

0  Mothers !  Mothers !  let  but  Faust  go  free  1 

( Gating  around  Ai'w.) 
The  lights  are  burning  dimly  in  the  hall, 
The  Court  is  moving  onnard,  one  and  all : 

1  sec  them  march,  according  to  degrees. 
Through  long  arcades  and  distant  galleries. 
Now  they  assemble  in  the  ample  space 

Of  the  Knights'  Hall;  yet  hardly  all  find  place. 
The  breadth  of  vralls  is  hung  with  arras  rich, 
And  armor  gleams  from  every  nook  and  niche. 
Here,  1  should  chink,  there  needs  no  magic  word: 
The  ghosts  will  come,  and  of  their  own  accord. 


ih,Googlc 


HALL  OF  THE  KNIGHTS,  DIMLY  LIGHTEDi 
( The  Emperor  ana  Ccurt  hoot  aUtrtd.) 


w 


HERALD.« 

r  INE  ancient  office,  to  proclaim  the  action. 
Is  by  the  spirits'  secret  influence  thwarted; 
One  tries  in  vain ;  such  wildering  distraction 
Can't  be  explained,  or  reasonably  reported. 
The  chairs  are  ranged,  the  seats  are  ready  au; 
The  Emperor  sits,  fronting  the  lofty  wall, 
Where  on  the  tapestry  the  battles  he 
Of  the  great  era  may  with  comfort  see. 
Here  now  are  all  —  Prince,  Court,  and  their  belongii^ 
Benches  on  benches  in  the  background  thronging; 
And  lovers,  too,  in  these  dim  hours  enchanted, 
Beside  their  loved  ones  lovingly  are  planted. 
And  now,  since  all  have  found  convenient  places, 
We  're  ready ;  let  the  spirits  show  ibe.r  faces 
Trumptts. 

ASTROLOGER. 

Begin  the  Drama !    'T  is  the  Sire's  command : 
Ye  walls,  be  severed  straightway,  and  expand ! 
Naught  hinders ;  magic  answers  our  desire : 
The  arras  flies,  as  shrivelled  up  by  fire; 
The  walls  are  split,  unfolded ;  in  the  gloom 
A  theatre  appears  to  be  created : 


ih,Googlc 


By  mystic  light  are  we  Illuminated, 
And  I  ascend  to  the  proscenium. 

UB?HlSTOPHELES 
{riiingle  vino  in  Üu prmnpttr'i  box\. 
I  hope  to  win,  as  prompter,  geoerai  glory  ; 
For  prompting  is  the  Devil's  oratory. 

(To  tht  Aslrologtr.) 
Thou  know'st  the  tune  and  time  the  stars  that  lead-, 
Thou  wilt  my  whispers  like  a  master  heed. 

ASTROLOGER. 

By  power  miraculous,  we  here  behold 

A  massive  temple  of  the  days  of  old. 

Like  Atlas,  who  erewhile  the  heavens  upbore, 

The  serried  columns  stand,  an  ample  store : 

Well  may  they  for  the  weight  of  stone  suffice, 

Since  two  might  bear  a  mighty  edifice. 

ARCHITECT.* 

That  the  antique?  As  fine  it  can't  be  rated; 
I  'd  sooner  style  it  awkward,  over- weigh  ted. 
Coarse  is  called  noble,  and  unwieldy,  grand : 
Give  me  the  slender  shafts  that  soar,  expand  I 
To  lift  the  mind,  a  pointed  arch  may  boast ; 
Such  architecture  edifies  us  most. 

ASTROLOGER. 

Receive  with  reverence  the  star-granted  hours ; 
Let  magic  words  bind  Reason's  restless  powers, 
But  in  return  unbind,  to  circle  free. 
The  wings  of  splendid,  daring  Phantasy  ! 
What  you  have  boldly  wished,  see  now  achieved  I 
Impossible  't  is — therefore  to  be  believed. 


ih,Googlc 


76  FAUST. 

[Faust  riiet  fy  vie»  OK  tlu  ather  tidt  ef  tlu  proieeimim^ 
In  priestly  surplice,  crowned,  a  marvellous  man, 
He  now  fulfils  what  he  in  faith  began. 
With  him,  a  tripod  from  the  gulf  comes  up: 
I  scent  the  incense-odors  from  the  cup. 
He  anns  himself,  the  work  to  consecrate, 
And  henceforth  it  can  be  but  fortunate. 

FAUST   (suMimefy). 

Ye  Mothers,  in  your  name,  who  set  your  throne 
In  boundless  Space,  eternally  alone. 
And  yet  companioned!     AU  the  forms  of  Being, 
In  movement,  lifeless,  ye  are  round  you  seeing. 
Whate'er  once  was,  there  bums  and  brightens  free 
In  Splendor — for 't  would  fain  eternal  be-,  *■ 
And  ye  allot  it,  with  all-potent  might, 
To  Day's  pavilions  and  the  vaults  of  Night, 
life  seizes  some,  along  his  gracious  course ; 
Others  arrests  the  bold  Magician's  force ; 
And  he,  bestowing  as  his  faith  inspires. 
Displays  the  Marvellous,  that  each  desires. 

ASTROLOGER. 

The  glowing  key  has  scarcely  touched  the  cup, 
And  lo !  through  all  the  space,  a  mist  rolls  up : 
It  creeps  about,  and  like  a  cloudy  train, 
Spreads,  rounding,  narrowing,  parting,  closed  again. 
And  now,  behold  a  spirit-masterpiece  ! 
Music  is  bom  from  every  wandering  fleece. 
The  tones  of  air,  I  know  not  how  they  flow ; 
Where'er  they  move  all  things  melodious  grow. 
The  pillared  shaft,  the  triglyph  even  rings ; 
I  think,  indeed,  the  whole  bright  temple  sings. 
The  vapors  settle;  as  the  light  film  cleats, 
A  beauteous  youth,  with  rhythmic  step,  appears. 


ih,Googlc 


Here  ends  my  task ;  his  Dame  I  need  Dot  tell : 
Who  doth  not  know  the  gentle  Paris  well  ? " 


O,  what  a  youthful  bloom  and  strength  I  see  1 

A  SECOND. 

Fresh  as  a  peach,  and  full  of  juice,  is  he  I 

A  THIRD. 

The  finely  drawn,  the  sweetly  swelling  lip ! 

A    FOURTH. 

From  such  a  cup,  no  doubt,  you  'd  like  to  sip? 

A   FIFTH. 

He  's  handsome,  if  a  little  unrefined. 

A  SIXTH, 

He  might  be  somewhat  gracefuUer,  to  my  mind. 

KNIGHT, 

The  shepherd  I  detect ;  I  find  him  wearing 
No  traces  of  the  Prince,  or  courtly  bearing. 


O,  yes .'  half-naked  is  the  youth  not  bad  j 
But  let  us  see  him  first  in  armor  clad ! 

LADY. 

He  seats  tumsel^  with  such  a.  gentle  grace  I 

R  NIGHT. 

You  'd  find  his  lap,  perchance,  a  pleasant  place  ? 


ih,Googlc 


He  lifts  his  ami  so  lightly  o'er  his  head. 

CHAMBERLAIN. 

'T  is  not  allowed:  bow  thoroughly  Ul-tiredl 

LADY. 

You  lords  find  fault  with  all  things  evermore^ 


To  stretch  and  yawn  before  the  Emperor ! 

LADY. 

He  only  acts :  he  thinks  he 's  quite  alone. 


Even  the  play  should  be  politely  shown. 


Now  sleep  falls  on  the  graceful  youth  so  sweetly. 

CHAMBERLAIN. 

Now  will  he  snore :  't  is  natural,  completely  I 

VOUNG  LADV. 

Mixed  with  the  incenae-steam,  what  odor  precious 
Steab  to  my  bosom,  and  my  heart  refreshes  i 

OLDER  LADY. 

Forsooth,  it  penetrates  and  warms  the  feeling! 
It  comes  from  him, 

OLDEST  LADY. 

His  flower  of  youth,  unsealing, 
It  b:  Youth's  fine  ambrosia,  ripe,  unfading. 
The  atmosphere  around  bis  form  pervading, 
(  Hklbka  tarnet /arwarJ. ) 


n-./GoOglc 


WEFHISTOPHELES. 

So,  that  is  she  ?    My  sleep  she  would  not  waste: 
She 's  pretty,  truly,  but  she 's  not  my  taste. 


There  's  nothing  more  for  me  to  do,  1  trow ; 
As  man  of  honor,  I  confess  it  now. 
The  Beauty  comes,  and  had  I  tongues  of  fire,  — 
So  many  songs  did  Beauty  e'er  inspire,  — 
Who  sees  her,  of  his  wits  is  dispossessed, 
And  who  possessed  her  was  too  highly  blessed. 


Have  I  still  eyes  F    Deep  in  my  being  springs 

The  fount  of  Beauty,  in  a  torrent  pouring ! 

A  heavenly  gain  my  path  of  terror  brings. 

The  world  was  void,  and  shut  to  my  exploring, — 

And,  since  my  priesthood,  how  hath  it  been  graced  t 

Enduring  't  is,  desirable,  firm-based. 

And  let  my  breath  of  being  blow  to  waste, 

If  I  for  thee  unlearn  my  sacred  duty ! 

The  form,  that  long  erewhile  my  fancy  captured,** 

That  from  the  magic  mirror  so  enraptured, 

Was  but  a  frothy  phantom  of  such  beauty ! 

T  is  Thou,  to  whom  the  stir  of  all  my  forces, 

The  essence  of  my  passion's  courses,  — 

Love,  fancy,  worship,  madness,  —  here  I  render ! 

MEPHISTOFHELES  {/fBin  tht  tox). 

Be  calm ! — you  lose  your  r&le,  to  be  so  tender ! 

OLDER  LADY. 

Tall  and  well-formed  1    Too  small  the  head,  alone. 

YOUKGER  LADY. 

Just  see  her  foot !    A  heavier  ne'er  was  shown. 


ih,Googlc 


DIPLOMATIST. 

Princesses  of  her  style  I  've  often  seen : 
From  head  to  foot  she 's  beautiful,  I  ween. 

COURTIER. 

She  near  the  sleeper  steals,  so  soft  and  slj. 

LADV. 

How  ugly,  near  that  youthful  purity  I 

POET. 

Her  beauty's  light  is  on  him  like  a  dawn. 


Endymion  and  Luna — as  they  're  drawn  I 

POET. 

Quite  right !    The  yielding  goddess  seems  to  sink. 
And  o'er  him  bend,  his  balmy  breath  to  drink- 
Enviable  fate  —  a  kiss  t — the  cup  is  full  1 

DUENNA. 

Before  all  people  l  —  that  is  more  than  cooL 

FAUST, 

A  featful  favor  to  the  boy ! 

UEPHISTCPHELES. 

Be  still ! 
Suffer  the  shade  to  do  whate'er  it  will  J 

COURTIER. 

She  slips  away,  light-footed :  he  awakes. 

LADY. 

Just  as  I  thought !    Another  look  she  takes. 


ih,Googlc 


COURTIER. 

He  stares :  what  haps,  to  him  a  marvel  ia. 
But  none  to  her,  what  she  before  her  sees  t 

COURTIER. 

She  turns  around  to  him  with  dignity. 

LADY. 

I  see,  she  means  to  put  him  through  his  paces : 

All  men,  in  such  a  case,  act  stupidly. 

Then,  too,  he  thinks  that  first  he 's  won  her  graces. 

KNIGHT. 

Kajestically  fine  1  —  She  pleases  me. 

LADY. 

The  courtesan !    How  very  vulgar  she  I 

PAGE. 

Just  where  he  is,  is  where  1  'd  like  to  be  I 

COURTIER. 

Who  would  not  fain  be  caught  in  such  sweet  meshes? 

Through  many  a  hand  hath  passed  that  jewel  precious ; 
The  gilding,  too,  is  for  the  most  part  gone. 

ANOTHER. 

She  ha«  been  worthless  from  her  tenth  year  on. 

K.VIGHT. 

Each  takes  the  best  that  chance  for  him  obtains; 
I  'd  be  contented  with  these  fair  n 


ih,Googlc 


I  freely  own,  though  I  distinctly  see, 
'T  is  doubtful  if  the  genuine  one  she  be. 
The  Present  leads  us  to  exaggeration. 
And  1  hold  fast  the  wrilten,  old  relation. 
1  read  that,  truly,  ere  her  bloom  was  blighted, 
The  Trojan  gray-beards  greatly  she  delighted. 
And  here,  methinks,  it  tallies  perfectly: 
1  am  not  young,  yet  she  delighteth  me. 

ASTROLOGER. 

No  more  a  boy !    A  bold,  heroic  form. 
He  clasps  her,  who  can  scarce  resist  the  storm. 
With  arm  grown  strong  he  lifts  her  high  and  free ; 
Bleans  be  to  bear  her  off  i 

FAUST, 

Rash  fool,  let  be ! 
Thou  dar'stf     Thou  hear'st  not?     Hold!  — I 'B  be 
obeyed. 

HEP  HISTOPHELES. 

The  spectral  drama  thou  thyself  hast  made! 

ASTROLOGER. 

A  word  more  1    After  all  we  've  seen  to-day, 
1  call  the  piece;  TAe  Rape  of  Helena.'^ 

PAUST. 

What  I    R.ipe  ?    Am  I  for  nothing  here  ?    To  stead  m^ 

Is  not  this  key  still  shining  in  my  hand  ? 

Through  realms  of  terror,  wastes,  and  waves  it  led  roe, 

Through  solitudes,  to  where  I  firmly  stand. 

Here  foothold  is !     Realities  here  centre ! 

The  strife  with  spirits  here  the  mind  may  venture^ 

And  on  its  grand,  its  double  lordship  enter ! 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  T.  83 

Ho«  iai  sbe  na^,  and  aearer,  how  divine  1 

I  "11  rescue  her,  and  make  her  doubly  mine. 

Ye  Mothers  !  Mothers  I  crown  this  wild  endeavor  I 

Who  knows  her  once  must  hold  her,  and  forever! 

ASTROLOGER. 

What  art  thou  doing,  Faust  ?    O,  look  at  him  1 

He  seizes  her:  the  form  is  growing  dim. 

He  turns  the  key  against  the  youth,  and,  lot 

It  touches  him  —    Woe's  me  I    Away  now  1    Woe  on 

woe! 
{Bxploäen.    V WSt  litt  upon  tki  lartk.     Tht  S^riti  ^aehit 

HEPK ISTOPHELES 
(taking  Faust  upon  hit  tieutders). 
You  have  it  now  I    One's  self  with  fools  to  hamper. 
At  last  even  on  the  Devil  puts  a  damper. 
Darknta.    TimuU. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT    II 


A  HIGH-ARCHED,  NARROW,  GOTHIC  CHAM- 
BER, FORMERLY  FAUST'S,  UNCHANGED. 

HEFHISTOPKELES 
'eoming forth  frem  bthind  a  eiirtain.i>     fViiU  ht  kold$  it  tif 
and  loots  htkind  him,  FaUST  is  atn  lying  sIriUhtd  aul  upem 
an  antiqtatid  bed). 

LIE  there,  ill-atarred !  seduced,  unwise, 
To  bonds  that  surely  hold  the  lover ! 
Whom  Helena  shall  paralyze 
Not  soon  his  reason  will  recover. 

{Ltwking  around  him, ) 

I  look  about,  and  through  the  glimmer 

Unchanged,  uninjured,  all  appears : 

The  colored  window-panes,  methinks,  are  dimmer, 

The  cobwebs  have  increased  with  years. 

The  ink  is  dry,  the  paper  old  and  brown, 

But  each  thing  in  its  place  I  find : 

Even  the  quill  is  here  laid  down, 

Wherewith  his  compact  with  the  Devil  he  signed. 

Yea,  deeper  in,  the  barrel 's  red 

With  trace  of  blood  I  coaxed  him  then  to  shed. 

A  thing  so  totally  unique 

The  great  collectors  would  go  far  to  seek. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  II. 


85 


HaU  from  its  hook  the  old  fur-robe  is  falling, 
That  ancient  joke  of  mine  recalling. 
How  once  1  taught  the  boy  such  truth 
As  still,  it  may  be,  nourishes  the  youth. 
The  wish  returns,  with  zest  acuter, 
Aided  by  thee,  thou  rough  disguise, 
Once  more  to  take  on  airs  as  college  tutor. 
As  one  infallible  in  one's  own  eyes. 
The  sm/ans  this  assurance  know : 
The  Devil  tost  it,  long  ago ! 

\I/t  tiaiei  tht/ur  vikkh  he  has  taten  doum  :  molhs,  crickcli, 

and  beilUs  fly  aul.) 

CHORUS  OF  INSECTS. 

Welcome,  and  hail  to  thee ! 
Patron,  to-day : 
We  're  flying  and  humming 
We  hear  and  obey. 
Singly  and  silently 
Us  thou  hast  sown ; 
Hither,  by  thousands, 
Father,  we  've  flown. 
The  imp  in  the  bosom 
Is  snugly  concealed ; 
But  lice  in  the  fur-coat 
Arc  sooner  revealed. 

MEPHISTO  PHELES. 

What  glad  surprise  I  feel,  from  this  young  life  bestowed ' 
One  reaps  in  time,  if  one  has  only  sowed. 
Once  more  1  'II  shake  the  ancient  fleeces  out : 
Still  here  and  there  a  chance  one  flies  about,  — 
Off,  and  around  '  in  hundred  thousand  nooks 
Hasten  lo  hide  yourselves  —  among  the  books, 
There,  in  the  pasteboard's  wormy  holes. 


ih,Googlc 


86  FAUST. 

Here,  ia  the  smoky  parchment  scrolls. 
In  dusty  jars,  that  broken  lie. 
And  yonder  skull  with  empty  eye. 
In  all  this  trash  and  mould  unmatched, 
Crotchets  forever  must  be  hatched.*" 

(Htputionthf/urmanllc.) 
Come,  once  again  upon  my  shoulders  fall! 
Once  more  am  I  the  Principal. 
Hut 't  is  no  good  to  ape  the  college; 
Kor  where  are  those  who  will  my  claim  acknowledge  ? 
I  //•  pullt  Ihe  belt,  lehieh  givts  out  a  shritl,  ptnetraling  sound, 
calling  tht  kails  te  trtmiti  atid  thi  doors  to  fly  ofeti.) 


[lollrring  hither  dmtrn  the  Ifg,  dart  gallery). 
What  a  sound  1    What  dreadful  quaking ! 
Stairs  are  rocking,  walls  are  shaking; 
Through  the  colored  windows  brightening 
I  behold  the  sudden  lightning; 
Floors  above  me  crack  and  rumble, 
Lime  and  lumber  round  me  tumble, 
And  the  door,  securely  boiled, 
Is  by  magic  force  unfolded.  — 
There  1     How  terrible !  a  Giant 
Stands  in  Faust's  old  fur,  defiant! 
As  he  looks,  and  beckons  thither, 
1  could  fall,  my  senses  wither. 
Shall  I  fly,  or  shall  I  wait? 
What,  O  what  shall  be  my  fate  I 

HEPHISTOFHELES  {bechoning). 

Come  hither.  Friend !    Your  name  is  Nicodemus. 

FAUULUS. 

Most  honored  Sir,  such  is  my  name  —  Oremus/ 


ih,Googlc 


I  ACT  II. 


HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Dispense  with  that ! 


O  joy !  you  know  me  yet 

llEPHtSTOP  HELBS. 

Old,  and  a  student  still,  —  1  don't  forget. 

Most  mossy  Siri    Also  a  learned  man 

Continues  study,  since  naught  else  he  can. 

'Tis  thus  one  builds  a  moderate  house  of  cards; 

The  greatest  minds  ne'er  end  them,  afterwards. 

Your  master  is  a  skilful  fellow,  though : 

The  noble  Doctor  Wagner  all  must  know. 

The  first  in  all  the  learned  world  is  he, 

Who  now  together  holds  it  potendy, 

Wisdom  increasing,  daily  making  clearer. 

How  thirst  for  knowledge  listener  and  bearert 

A  mighty  crowd  around  him  flocks. 

None  for  the  rostrum  e'er  were  meeter: 

The  keys  he  holds  as  doth  Saint  Peter, 

The  Under  and  the  Upper  he  unlocks. 

Hb  Ught  above  all  others  sparkles  surer, 

No  name  or  fame  beside  him  lives : 

Even  that  of  Faust  has  grown  obscurer; 

T  is  he  alone  invents  and  gives. 


Pardon,  most  honored  Sir !  if  1  am  daring 

To  contradict  you,  in  declaring 

All  that  upon  the  subject  has  no  bearing ; 

For  modesty  is  his  allotted  part 

The  incomprehensible  disappearing 

Of  that  great  man  to  him  is  most  uncheering; 

From  his  return  he  hopes  new  strength  and  joy  of  heart 


ih,Googlc 


88  FAUST.    I 

As  in  the  days  of  E>octor  f  aust,  the  room, 
Since  he  's  away,  all  things  unchanged. 
Waits  for  its  master,  long  estranged. 
To  venture  in,  I  scarce  presume.  — 
What  stars  must  govern  now  the  skies ! 
It  seemed  as  if  the  basements  quivered ; 
The  door-posts  trembled,  bolt*  were  shivered : 
You  had  not  entered,  otherwise. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Where  may  his  present  dwelling  Iw  ? 
Lead  me  to  him !    Bring  him  to  me  1 

FAUULUS. 

Mis  prohibition  b  so  keen  I 

1  do  not  dare  to  intervene. 

For  months,  his  time  unto  the  great  work  giving, 

In  most  secluded  silence  he  is  living. 

The  daintiest  of  distinguished  learners, 

His  face  is  like  a  charcoal-burner's, 

From  DOse  to  ears  all  black  and  deadened  ; 

His  eyes  from  blowing  flames  are  reddened ; 

Thus  he,  each  moment,  pants  and  longa, 

And  music  make  the  clattering  tongs. 

UBPHISTOPHELES. 

An  entrance  why  should  he  deny  me  ? 
I  -U  expedite  his  luck,  if  he  11  but  tiy  me  I 

\T%t  Vawlvs goet  eff:  Mephistophelks ^aWj  himiel/viiA 
gravity.) 
Scarce  have  I  taken  my  position  here, 
When  there,  behind,  I  see  a  guest  appear. 
1  know  him ;  he  is  of  the  schoal  new-founded, 
And  his  presumption  will  be  quite  unbounded. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  TT. 

BACCALAVREUS  »  {itiMming  alimg  tht  (orridof). 

Doors  and  entrances  are  open ! 

WcU,  —  at  last  there  's  ground  for  hoping 

That  no  more,  in  mouldy  lumber, 

Death-tike,  doth  the  Living  slumber. 

To  himself  privations  giving, 

Till  he  dies  of  very  living ! 

All  this  masonry,  I  'm  thinking, 
To  its  overthrow  is  sinkit^; 
And,  unless  at  once  we  huny, 
Us  will  crash  and  ruin  bury. 
Daring  though  1  be,  't  were  murther 
Should  I  dare  to  venture  further. 

What  is  that  I  see  before  me  ? 

Here,  (what  years  have  since  rolled  o'er  me !) 

Shy  and  unsophisticated, 

1  as  honest  freshman  waited; 

Here  I  let  the  gray-beards  guide  me, 

Here  their  babble  edified  me  I 

Out  of  dry  old  volumes  preaching, 
What  they  knew,  they  lied  in  teaching; 
What  they  knew,  themselves  believed  not. 
Stealing  life,  that  years  retrieved  not 
What !  —  in  yonder  cell  benighted 
One  still  sits,  obscurely  lighted ! 

Nearer  now,  1  see,  astounded, 
Still  he  sits,  with  furs  surrounded,  — 
Truly,  as  I  saw  him  last. 
Roughest  fleeces  round  him  cast) 
Then  adroit  he  seemed  to  be, 
Not  yet  understood  by  me : 


ih,Googlc 


But  to-day  t  will  naught  avail  him — 
O,  1 11  »either  fear  nor  fail  him ! 

If,  ancient  Sir,  that  bald  head,  sidewards  bending, 
Hath  not  been  dipped  in  Lethe's  river  cold, 
See,  hitherward,  your  grateful  scholar  wending, 
Outgrown  the  academic  rods  of  old. 
You  're  here,  as  then  when  I  began ; 
But  /  am  now  ansther  man. 

UEPKlSTOrHELES. 

I  "m  glad  my  bell  your  visit  brought  roe. 

Your  talents,  then,  I  rated  high ; 

The  worm,  the  chrysalid  soon  taught  me 

The  future  brilliant  butterfly. 

Your  curly  locks  and  rufHe-laces 

A  childish  pleasure  gave ;  you  wooed  the  graces 

A  queue,  I  think,  you  've  never  nnm? 

But  now  your  head  is  cropped  and  shorn. 

Quite  bold  and  resolute  you  appear. 

But  don't  go,  absolute,  home  from  here  I " 

BACCALAUREUS. 

Old  master,  in  your  old  place  leaning. 
Think  how  the  time  has  sped,  the  while ! 
Spare  me  your  words  of  double  meaningi 
We  take  them  now  in  quite  another  style. 
You  teased  and  vexed  the  honest  youth; 
You  found  it  easy  then,  in  truth. 
To  do  what  no  one  dares,  to-day. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

If  to  the  young  the  simple  truth  we  say. 
The  green  ones  find  it  nowise  pleasant  play, 
But  afterwards,  when  years  are  over, 


ih,Googlc 


And  they  the  troth  through  their  own  hide  discover, 
Then  they  conceive,  themselves  have  found  it  out: 
"  The  master  was  a  few)  I  "  one  hears  them  shout 

BACCALAUREUS. 

A  rc^e,  perhaps !    What  teacher  will  declare 
The  truth  to  us,  exactly  fair  and  square  f 
Each  knows  the  way  to  lessen  or  exceed  it, 
Now  stem,  now  lively,  as  the  children  need  it 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

Beyond  a  doubt,  there  is  a  time  to  learn ; 
But  you  are  skilled  to  teach,  I  now  discern. 
Since  many  a  moon,  some  circles  of  the  sun, 
The  riches  of  experience  you  have  won. 

BACCALAUREUS. 

Experience !  mist  and  froth  alone ! 
Nor  with  the  mind  at  all  coequal : 
Confess,  what  one  has  always  known 
Is  not  worth  knowing,  in  the  sequel'. 

HEFKtSTOPHELES  {aftir  a  paiiu). 

It 's  long  seemed  so-to  me.     I  was  a  fool: 
My  shallowness  I  now  must  ridicule. 

BACCALAUREUS. 

I  'm  glad  of  that!    1  hear  some  reason  yet— ■ 
The  first  old  man  of  sense  1  ever  met ! 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  sought  for  hidden  treasures,  grand  and  golden, 
And  hideous  coals  and  ashes  were  my  share. 

BACCALAUREUS. 

Confess  that  now  your  skull,  though  bald  and  olden, 
Is  worth  no  more  than  is  yon  empty,  there ! 


ih,Googlc 


1)3  FAUST. 

HEPHISTOPHELES  iamiaUy). 

Knovr'st  thou,  my  friend,  how  rude  thou  art  tome? 

BACCALAUREUS. 

One  Ues,  in  German,  would  one  courteous  be. 

HEPHISTOPHELES 
{wh^lin/c  iü  chair  still  ntarer  to  Iht  fmtttmim,  to  Ike  if» 

Up  here  am  t  deprived  of  light  and  air; 
Shall  I  find  shelter  down  among  you  there? 

BACCALAUREUS. 

It  is  presumptuous,  that  one  will  try 

Still  to  be  something,  when  the  time 's  gone  by. 

Man's  life  lives  in  his  blood,  and  where,  in  sooth, 

So  stirs  the  blood  as  in  the  veins  of  youth  ? 

There  living  blood  in  freshest  power  pulsates, 

And  newer  life  from  its  own  life  creates. 

Then  something's  done,then  moves  and  works  the  man; 

The  weak  fall  out,  the  sturdy  take  the  van. 

While  half  the  world  beneath  our  yoke  is  brought. 

What,   then,    have    you    accomplished  7     Nodded  — 

thought — 
Dreamed,  and  considered  —  plan,  and  always  plan  1 
Age  is  an  ague-fever,  it  is  clear. 
With  chills  of  moody  want  and  dread ; 
When  one  has  passed  his  thirtieth  year. 
One  then  is  just  the  same  as  dead." 
'T  were  best,  betimes,  to  put  you  out  o'  the  way. 

MEPHISTOPKELES. 

The  Devil,  here,  has  nothing  more  to  say. 

BACCALAUREUS. 

Save  through  my  will,  no  Devil  can  there  be. 


ih,Googlc 


The  Devil,  though,  will  trip  thee  presently  t 

BACCALAUREUS. 

This  is  Youth's  noblest  calling  and  most  fit  1 

The  world  was  not,  ere  I  created  it ; 

The  sun  1  drew  from  out  the  orient  sea ; 

The  moon  began  her  changeful  course  with  me; 

The  Day  put  on  his  shining  robes,  to  greet  me ; 

The  Earth  grew  green,  and  burst  in  flower  to  meet  ax, 

And  when  1  beckoned,  from  the  primal  night 

The  stars  unveiled  their  splendors  to  my  sight 

Who,  save  myself,  to  you  deliverance  brought 

From  commonplaces  of  restricted  thought? 

1,  proud  and  free,  even  as  dictates  my  mind. 

Follow  with  joy  the  inward  light  I  find. 

And  speed  along,  in  mine  own  ecstasy. 

Darkness  behind,  the  Glory  leading  me  ! 

[Sxit 

M  EPHISTOPH  ELES. 

Go  hence,  magnificent  Original !  — 
What  grief  on  thee  would  insight  cast! 
Who  can  think  wise  or  stupid  things  at  all. 
That  were  not  thought  akeady  in  the  Pastps» 
Yet  even  from  him  we  're  not  in  special  peril ; 
He  will,  erelong,  to  other  thoughts  incline : 
The  must  may  foam  absurdly  in  the  barrel, 
Nathless  it  turns  at  last  to  wine. 

{To  the  younger  farterre,  which  dots  n^  i^flimd.] 
My  words,  I  see,  have  left  you  cold  ; 
For  you,  my  children,  it  may  fall  so : 
Consider  now,  the  Devil 's  old ; 
To  understand  him,  be  old  also  I 


ih,Googlc 


LABORATORY. 

After  tfu  mmtfur  of  lie  Middtt  Agtt;  exiensivt,  fondenum 
apparaiui  for  farUastu  purposes. 

WAGNER  {at  the fumate). 

THE  loud  bell  chimes  wilh  fearful  clangor, 
The  sooty  walls  feel  the  vibration ; 
Soon  must  the  long  suspense  be  ended 
Of  ray  most  earnest  expectation. 
It  shines,  the  darknesses  are  rended : 
Within  the  phial's  inmost  chamber 
It  gleams,  as  doth  a  living  ember,  — 
Yea,  a  carbuncle,  burning,  bright'ning, 
It  rays  the  darkness  with  its  lightning. 
Now  white  and  dear  the  lustres  blend  I 
O  that  I  hold,  nor  lose  it  more  I 
Ah,  God!  what  rattles  at  the  doorP 

MEPHISTOPHELES  {ttiterins)- 

Welcome  1     I  mean  it  as  a  friend. 


Be  welcome  to  the  planet  of  the  hour ! 

{(Vhisperitig.) 
Yet  breath  and  speech  suspend!    A  work  of  powei* 

A  splendid  work,  will  soon  be  here  displayed. 

MEPHISTO  PHELES   [aiAisptriilg\' 

What  is  it,  then  ? 


ih,Googlc 


WAGNER  {whiiftring). 

A  man  is  being  mad«. 

BIEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  man?    And  what  enamored  pair 
Have  you  within  the  chimney  hidden? 

WAGNER. 

Nay,  God  forbid !    This  procreation  is  most  rare : 

Of  the  old,  senseless  mode  we  're  now  well  ridden. 

The  tender  point,  whence  Life  commenced  its  course, 

The  outward  stress  of  gracious  inward  force, 

Which  took  and  gave,  itself  delineating, 

First  near,  then  foreign  traits  assimilating, 

We  now  of  ail  its  dignity  divest : 

The  beast  therein  may  further  find  a  zest. 

But  Man  must  leani,  with  his  great  gifts,  to  win 

Henceforth  a  purer,  loftier  origin. 

[T^iming Imiiardi  thi fumau.) 
It  brightens,  — see !    Sure,  now,  my  hopes  increase 
That  if,  from  many  hundred  substances, 
Through  mixture  —  since  on  mixture  all  depends  — 
The  human  substance  gently  be  compounded. 
And  by  a  closed  retort  surrounded. 
Distilled,  and  fed,  and  slowly  founded, 
Then  in  success  the  secret  labor  ends. 

{Afoin  turning  leraards  tkefiimate.) 
T  will  be  !  the  mass  is  working  clearer  I 
Conviction  gathers,  truer,  nearer  I 
The  mystery  which  for  Man  in  Nature  lies 
We  dare  to  test,  by  knowledge  led; 
And  that  which  she  was  wont  to  organize 
W«  crystallize,  instead. 


ih,Googlc 


^  FAUST. 

KEPHISTOPRELES. 

Who  lives,  learns  many  secrets  to  unravel ; 

For  him,  upon  this  earth,  there 's  nothing  nev  can  be: 

I  've  seen  already,  in  my  years  of  travel. 

Much  crystallized  humanity. 

WAGNER 
(ly)  U  thit  time  coittinuously  altentn/t  Id  IhepAial), 
It  mounts,  it  lightens,  grows,  —  't  is  won  1 
A  moment  more,  and  it  is  done  ! 
Insane,  at  first,  appears  a  great  Intent; 
We  yet  shall  laugh  at  chance  in  generation ; 
A  brain  like  this,  for  genuine  thinking  meant, 
Wm  henceforth  be  a  thinker^s  sure  creation. 

(RaftwOHily  inifecling  Ihepkial.) 
The  glass  vibrates  with  sweet  and  powerful  tone ; 
It  darkens,  clears :  it  must  arrive  at  being ! 
And  now  in  delicate  shape  is  shown 
A  pretty  manikin,  moving,  living,  seeing! 
What  more  can  we,  what  more  the  world  demand? 
The  secret,  solved,  all  men  may  reach : 
Hark  I  as  the  ringing  tones  expand, 
They  form  a  voice,  result  in  speech. 

HOMUNCULUS" 
(i»  the  phial,  A>  WACKEig. 
How  goes  it,  Daddy?    It  was  then  no  jest  I 
Come,  press  me  tenderly  upon  thy  breast! 
But  not  loo  hard,  for  fear  the  glass  might  shatter  I 
This  is  the  quality  of  matter; 
For  what  is  natural,  scarce  the  world  has  place; 
What 's  artificial,  needs  restricted  space. 

(Tir  Mefhistofhelesl) 
Thou  n^;ue,  Sir  Cousin!  here  I  find  thee,  too? 


ih,Googlc 


And  at  the  proper  lime !     My  thanks  arc  I'.ue : 
A  lucky  fortune  led  thee  here  to  rae ; 
Since  I  exist,  then  1  must  active  be. 
I  'd  fain  begin  my  work  without  delay : 
Thou  art  adroit  in  shortening  roy  way. 

WAGNER. 

But  first,  a  word !    I  'm  shamed  that  answers  fail  me ; 

For  old  and  young  with  problems  so  assail  inc. 
Now,  for  example,  none  e'er  comprehended 
How  soul  and  body  wedded  are  and  blended, — 
Hold  fast,  as  if  defying  separation, 
Yet  never  cease  their  mutual  irritation. 
Therefore  — 

HBPHISTOPKELES. 

Desist !    1  'd  rather  ask  htm  why 
The  man  and  wife  ^ree  so  wretchedly. 
To  thee,  my  friend,  the  thing  will  ne'er  be  clear : 
There  's  work  to  do :  for  that  the  little  fellow  's  here. 


IIEPHISTOPHELES  [fviTtlingte  a  nde-door). 

Thy  talents  here  employ ! 

WAGNER  [Hill  gamng  at  the  pMal). 

Forsooth,  thou  art  the  very  loveliest  boy ! 

\T%t  tidt-daer  optHS :  Tli-Ksss  is  aen  itrttchtd  out  upon  a  cauck.) 

KOUUNCULtIS  {attoniihed). 

Significant!  — 

\.Tke  fkial  ilift  out  0/ VI KQKt-K's  hands,  haoers  over  FaUSI; 
and  ihinei  npvn  him.) 
Fair  scenery !  *■  —  Waters,  moving 
VOL.  It.  5  G 


ih,Googlc 


^8  FAUST. 

In  forest  shadows:  women  there,  undressing 

The  loveliest  fonns! — the  picture  is  improving. 

One,  marked  by  beauty,  splendidly  expressing 

Descent  from  Gods  or  high  heroic  races. 

Now  dips  her  foot  in  the  translucent  shimmer: 

The  living  flame  of  her  sweet  form  displaces 

The  yielding  crystal,  cool  around  the  swimmer. 

But  what  a  sound  of  wings  I    What  rapid  dashing 

Across  the  glassy  pool,  what  fluttering,  splashingl 

The  maidens  fly,  alarmed ;  but  only  she, 

The  queen,  looks  on,  composed  and  terrorjiee, 

And  sees  with  proud  and  womanly  delight 

The  swan-prince  press  her  knee  with  plumage  whiter 

Importunately  tame '.  he  grows  acquainted.  — 

But  all  at  once  floats  up  a  vapor  pale. 

And  covers  with  its  closely-woven  veil 

The  loveliest  picture  ever  dreamed  or  painted. 

MEPH ISTOPHELES. 

How  much  hast  thou  to  tell,  —  what  stories  meny  I 
So  small  thou  art,  so  great  a  visionary  1 
Nothing  see  I !  — 

HOUUNCUL.US. 

Of  course.    Thou,  from  the  Nortt^ 
And  in  the  age  of  mist  brought  forth. 
In  knighthood's  and  in  priestcraft's  murky  den, 
How  should  thy  sight  be  clearer,  then  ? 
Id  gloom  alone  art  thou  at  home. 

( Gtaing  anmnd. ) 
Brown  masonry,  repellent,  crumbling  slowly, 
Arch-pointed,  finical,  fantastic,  lowly!  — 
If  this  man  wakes,  another  danger 's  nigh ; 
At  once  upon  the  spot  he  'II  die. 
Wood-fountains,  swans,  and  naked  beauties, 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  II. 

Such  was  his  dream  of  presage  fair: 
How  should  these  dark  surroundiDgs  suit  his 
Desires,  when  them  /  scarce  can  bear  ? 
Away  with  him ! 

UEPH  [STOP  HELES. 

I  hail  the  issue's  chances. 


Command  the  warrior  to  the  Sght, 
Conduct  the  maiden  to  the  dances, 
And  all  is  finished,  is  is  right 
Just  now  —  there  breaks  on  me  a  light  — 
T  is  Classical  Walpurgis-Night ; 
Whate'er  may  come,  it  is  the  best  event. 
So  bring  him  to  his  proper  element ! 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  like  of  that  I  never  heard  one  mentioo. 

KOMUNCULUS. 

How  should  it  have  attracted  your  attention? 
Only  romantic  ghosts  are  known  to  you ; 
A  genuine  phantom  must  be  classic  too. 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

But  whitherward  shall  then  we  travel,  tell  met 
Your  antique  cronies  in  advance  repel  me. 

HOMUNCULU5. 

Northwestwards,  Satan,  is  thy  park  and  pale. 

But  we,  this  time,  southeast  wards  saiL 

Penens,  there,  the  great  plain  wanders  through, 

By  thickets,  groves,  and  silent  coves,  and  meadow 


ih,Googlc 


MEPHISTOFHELES. 

Alas !  have  done !     Bring  not  that  fell  collisioD 

Of  tyrant  and  of  slave  before  my  vision  ! 

I  'm  tired  of  that ;  for  scarcely  is  it  done 

Than  they  the  same  thing  have  again  begun ; 

And  no  one  marks  that  he  'a  the  puppet  blind 

Of  sly  Asmödi,  lurking  there  behind. 

They  fight,  we  're  told,  their  freedom's  right  to  save; 

But,  clearlier  seen,  't  is  slave  that  fights  with  slave.*" 


I.eave  unto  men  their  fractiousness  and  clatter: 
Each  must  protect  himself,  as  best  he  can, 
From  boyhood  up,  and  thus  becomes  a  man. 
How  this  one  shall  recover,  is  our  matter. 
Hast  thou  a  method,  let  it  tested  be  1 
But  bast  thou  none,  so  leave  the  case  to  met 

MEFKISTOPHELES. 

There  's  many  a  Brocken-method  I  might  try. 
But  pagan  bolts,  I  find,  the  way  deny. 
The  Grecian  race  was  little  worth,  alway ; 
It  dazzles  with  the  senses'  freer  play. 
To  cheerful  sins  the  heart  of  man  entices; 
While  ours  are  ever  counted  gloomy  vi'ces. 
Now,  what  shall  be  ? 

HOMUNCÜLÜS. 

Shyness  was  ne'er  thy  blan 
When  I  to  thee  Thessalian  witches  name, 
1  've  not  said  nothing,  that  I  know. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I/.  ,o 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (Imtfully). 

Thessalian  witches  t    Well !    The  persons,  those, 
Whom  I  inquired  for,  long  aga 
Night  after  night  beside  them  to  repose, 
I  think  would  hardly  suit:  but  sc^ 
■  A  mere  espial,  trial,  — 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Here !  cast  o'er 
The  knight  your  magic  mantle,  and  infold  him ! 
The  rag  will  still,  as  heretofore. 
Upon  his  airy  course — and  thine — uphold  him. 
I  11  light  the  way. 

WAGNER  (anxietuty). 
And  I? 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Eh?    You 
Will  stay  at  home,  most  weighty  work  to  da 
Unfold  your  ancient  parchments,  and  collect 
Life's  elements  as  yovr  recipes  direct, 
One  to  the  other  with  due  caution  fitting. 
The  What  consider,  more  the  Hovi  and  Why  I 
Meanwhile,  about  the  world  at  random  flitting, 
]  may  detect  the  dot  upon  the  "  1.'"" 
The  lofty  aim  will  then  accomplished  be ; 
Such  an  endeavor  merits  such  requital: 
Gold,  honor,  glory,  healthy  forces  vital. 
And  science,  too,  and  virtue, — possibly. 
Farewell ! 

WAGNER  {sornne/ully). 

Farewell !     It  doth  depress  my  heart: 
I  fear,  already,  we  forever  part 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

HEPHISTOPHBLES. 

Down  to  Pencils,  with  his  aid! 
Sir  Cousin  is  a  deft  attendant 

[Ad  tfieclalarti.) 
Upon  the  creatures  we  have  made 
We  arc,  ourselves,  at  las^  dependent*) 


ih,Googlc 


CLASSICAL  WALPURGIS-NIGHT.«» 


THE  PHARSALIAN  FIELDS. 
JDarinfti. 
ERICHTHO. 

TO  this  nighfs  awful  festival,  as  oft  before, 
1  enter  here,  Erichtho,  I,  the  gloomy  one : 
Not  so  atrocions  as  the  evil  poets  draw, 
In  most  supierfluous  slander —  for  they  never  cease 
Their  blame  or  praises  .  . .  Over-whitened  I  behold 
The  vale,  with  waves  of  tents  that  glimmer  gray  afar, 
The  after-vision  of  that  fatal,  fearful  night 
How  oft  is  it  repeated !  —  will  forever  be 
Forever  re-enacted !    No  one  grants  the  realm 
Unto  another:  unto  him  whose  might  achieved 
And  rules  it,  none  ;  for  each,  incompetent  to  rale 
His  own  internal  self,  is  all  too  fain  to  sway 
His  neighbor's  will,  even  as  his  haughty  mind  inclines. 
But  here  a  lesson  grand  was  battled  to  the  end, 
How  force  resists  and  grapples  with  the  greater  force, 
The  lovely,  thousand-blossomed  wreath  of  Freedom 

rends, 
And  bends  the  stubborn  laurel  round  the  Ruler's  brow. 
Here,  of  his  days  of  early  greatness  Pompey  dreamed: 
Before  the  trembling  balance  Cxsar  yonder  watched  I 
It  will  be  weighed :  the  world  knows  imto  whom  it  turned. 


ih,Googlc 


I04  FAUST. 

The  watch-fires  flash  and  glow,  spendthrift  of  niddjr 

flame; 
Reflections  of  the  squandered  blood  the  earth  exhales, 
And,  lured  by  rare  and  nurvellous  splendor  of  the  nigh^ 
The  legion  of  Hellenic  legends  gathers  here. 
Round  all  the  fires  uncertain  hover,  or  at  ease 
Sit  near  them,  ^bulous  forms  of  ancient  days. . . . 
The  moon,  imperfect,  tnily,  but  oi  clearest  beam, 
Arises,  scattering  mellow  radiance  everywhere : 
Vanish  the  phantom  tents,  the  fires  are  burning  blue. 

But  o'er  my  head  what  unexpicted  meteor! 
It  shines,  illuminates  the  sphtr«  of  earth  below. 
I  scent  the  Living  I  therefore  it  becomes  me  not 
Them  to  approach,  I  being  harmful  unto  them  : 
An  evil  name  it  brings  me,  and  it  profits  naught. 
Already  now  it  sinks :  discreetly  v  withdraw. 

[ExA 
7%e  Airy  TmtUm  -iooi. 

HOHUNCULUS. 

Once  again  the  circle  fol'i^w, 
O'er  the  flames  and  horroni  hover  I 
Ghostly  't  is  in  vale  and  hc^oiv. 
Spectral  all  that  we  discover 

UBPHISTOPHELES. 

I^  as  through  my  window  nigfa^y 
In  the  grewsome  North,  I  see 
Spectres  hideous  and  unsightly. 
Here  is  home,  as  there,  to  me. 


Seel  a  tall  one  there  is  striding 
On  l>efore  us,  in  the  shade. 


ih,Googlc 


MEPKISTOPHELES. 

Throi^h  the  air  she  saw  us  ghdJn^ 
And  it  seems  she  is  afraid. 

HOHUNCULUS. 

Let  her  stride !    The  knight  be  taken 
Now,  and  set  upon  the  strand : 
Here  to  life  again  he  11  waken, 
Seeking  it  in  ^ble-land. 

FAUST  (<u  kt  tamkti  the  earth). 
Where  is  she?— 

HOMUNCULUS. 

It 's  more  than  we  can  tell, 
But  to  inquire  would  here  be  welL 
Thou  'rt  free  to  hasten,  ere  the  day, 
From  flame  to  flame,  and  seek  her  so : 
Who  to  the  Mothers  found  his  way, 
Has  nothing  more  to  undergo. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  also  claim  my  share  in  the  excursion  ; 
Yet  know  no  better  plan  for  our  diversion, 
Than  that  each  one,  amid  these  fires. 
Should  seek  such  fortunes  as  he  most  desires. 
Then,  as  a  sign  to  reunite  us. 
Let,  little  one,  thy  lantern  sound  and  light  us  I 

HOUUNCULUS. 

Thtis  shall  it  shine,  and  thus  shall  ringi 

( 7^e  gimi  shittn  and  riagi  fstoerfully.) 

And  now,  away  to  many  a  marvellous  thing  1 


ih,Googlc 


I06  FAUST. 

FAUST  («/«). 

Where  is  she  7  —  But  no  further  question  make  t 
If  this  were  not  the  soil  that  bore  her  feet. 
If  not  the  wave  that  to  her  coming  beat, 
Yet 't  is  the  air  that  knows  the  tongue  she  spake. 
Here,  by  a  marvel  I     Here,  on  Grecian  land  1  '< 
I  felt  at  once  the  earth  whereon  I  stand. 
Through  me,  the  sleeper,  fresher  spirit  stealing 
I  rise  refreshed,  Antaeus  in  my  feeling. 
Together  here  I  find  the  strangest  store ; 
Let  me  this  labyrinth  of  flames  explore. 


S  ipryiifg  armimi). 
And  as  among  these  fires  I  wander,  aimless, 
I  find  myself  so  strange,  so  disconcerted :" 
Quite  naked  most,  a  few  are  only  shirted ; 
The  Griffins  insolent,  the  Sphinxes  shameless. 
And  what  not  all,  with  pinions  and  with  tresses. 
Before,  behind,  upon  one's  eyesight  presses !  — 
Indecency,  't  is  true,  is  our  ideal. 
But  the  Antique  is  too  alive  and  real ; 
One  must  with  modem  thought  the  thing  bemaster, 
And  in  the  fashion  variously  o'erplaster : — 
Disgusting  race !    Yet  I,  perforce,  must  meet  them, 
And  as  new  guest  with  due  decorum  greet  them.  — 
Hail,  then.  Fair  Ladies  t    Graybeards  wise,  good  cheeri 


Not  graybeards !    Graybeards  ?    No  one  likes  to  hear 
One  call  him^iiy.    For  in  each  word  there  rings 
The  source,  wherefrom  its  derivation  springs.^ 
Cray,  growling,  grewsome,  grinning,  graves,  and  grimly 
Etymologically  accord,  nor  dimly. 
And  make  us  grim. 


ih,Googlc 


UBPHISTOPHELBS. 

And  yet,  why  need  you  atiflfen  t 
Yon  like  fhegrif  in  your  proud  tide,  "  Griffia." 

GRIFFIN 
(at  atove,  mid  amitutmuly  a>). 
Of  course !  for  this  relation  is  found  fit ; 
Though  often  censured,  oftener  praised  was  it. 
Let  one  bul^^j^  at  maidens,  crowns,  and  gold : 
Fortune  is  gracious  to  the  Griper  bold. 

ANTS 
[of  I  he  eolostal  kind). 
You  speak  of  gold,  much  had  ourselves  collected; 
In  rocks  and  caverns  secretly  we  trapped  it: 
The  Arimaspean  race  our  store  detected,  — 
They  're  laughing  now,  so  far  away  they  've  snapped  iL 

'     THE  GRIFFINS. 

We  soon  shall  force  them  to  confess. 

THE  ARIWASPEANS." 

But  not  in  this  free  night  of  jubilee. 
Before  the  morrow,  all  will  squandered  be ; 
This  time  our  efforts  will  obtain  success. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 
[viha  hat  seattd  himstlf  bihattn  tkt  SPHINXES^ 
How  soon  I  feel  familiar  here,  among  you ! 
I  understand  you,  one  and  aU. 


Our  spirit-tones,  when  we  have  sung  you, 

Become,  for  }'ou,  material. 

Now  name  thyself,  till  we  shall  know  thee  better. 


ih,Googlc 


I08  FAUST. 

HEFHISTOPH  ELES. 

With  many  names  would  men  my  nature  fetter. 
Are  Britons  here  ?    So  round  the  world  they  wheel, 
To  stare  at  battle-fields,  historic  traces, 
Cascades,  old  walls,  and  classic  dreary  pbces; 
And  here  were  something  worthy  of  their  zeaL 
Their  Old  Plays  also  testify  of  me ; 
Men  saw  roe  there  as  "  Old  Iniquity." 

SPHINX. 

How  did  they  hit  on  that  ? 


Perhaps  I    Hast  thou  in  star-lore  any  power  ? 
What  say's!  thou  of  the  aspects  of  the  hour? 


ä  {loekingup\. 
Star  shoots  on  star,  the  cloven  moon  doth  ride 
In  brilliance ;  in  this  place  I  'm  satisfied : 
1  wann  myself  against  thy  lion's  hide. 
It  were  a  loss  to  rise  from  out  these  shades :  — 
Propose  enigmas,  or  at  least  charades ! 

Express  thyself,  and  't  will  a  riddle  be.«» 
Try  once  thine  own  analysis ;  't  were  merry. 
"To  both  Devout  and  Wicked  necessary: 
To  those,  a  breast-plate  for  ascetic  fighting; 
To  these,  boon-comiade,  in  their  pranks  uniting; 
And  both  amusing  Zeus,  the  fun-delighting." 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  II. 
FIRST  GRIFFIN  (jKOr/ntf). 


CRIFFIN  [snarling  man grvgfy'i. 
What  will  the  feUow  here  ? 

BOTH. 

The  Nasty  One  is  aot  of  us,  't  is  clear  I 

UEFHISTOPHELES  {tnOaUy). 

Think'st  thou,  perhaps,  thy  guest  has  nails  to  scratch, 
That  wilh  thy  sharper  talons  cannot  match  ? 
Just  try  it  once  I 

SPHINX  (gmtly). 
Stay,  shouMst  thou  find  it  well; 
But  from  our  ranks  thou  wilt  thyself  expeL 
In  thine  own  land  thou  'rt  wont  thyself  to  pamper. 
Yet  here,  1  think,  thy  spirits  feel  a  damper. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thine  upper  part  entices ;  naught  is  fairer  ; 
But,  further  down,  the  beast  exciies  my  terror. 


Bitter,  False  one,  will  be  thy  expiation; 
Our  cl.iws  are  sound  and  worthy  proof. 
But  (hou,  with  withered  horse's-hoof, 
Art  ill  At  ease  in  our  association. 

( TAf  Sirens  pretttU  aitw.) 

MEFHl  STOP  HELES. 

On  yonder  popUis  by  the  river, 
What  are  the  birds  that  swing  above? 


ih,Googlc 


SPHINX. 

Beware !    The  very  best  that  ever 
Existed,  they  have  lured  to  love. 

SIRBNS.'" 

Ah,  why  vitiate  your  senses, 
Where  those  Uglinesses  darken  ? 
We,  in  crowds,  come  hither:  hearken 
How  the  accordant  strain  commences, 
Meet  for  Sirens'  soft  pretences  I 

SPHINXES 
imocJajig  them,  in  tht  latne  mtlfdy). 
Let  them  to  descend  be  bidden ! 
In  the  branches  they  have  hidden 
Hideous  falcon-claws  they  're  wearing, 
And  you  '11  feel  their  cruel  tearing. 
Once  you  lend  them  willing  ear. 


Banish  hate  and  envy,  rather! 
We  the  purest  pleasures  gather. 
Under  Heaven's  auspicious  sphere  I 
On  the  earth  and  on  the  ocean. 
We,  with  cheerful  beckoning  motion, 
Bid  the  wanderer  welcome  here. 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

These  are  of  novelties  the  neatest. 

Where  from  the  throat  and  harp-string  sweetest 

The  tones  around  each  other  twine. 

They  're  lost  on  me,  these  tinkling  trickles; 

The  sound  my  ear-drum  pats  and  tickles. 

But  cannot  reach  this  heart  of  mine. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  U.  I 

SPHINXES. 

Speak  not  of  heart  I    Fool,  so  to  call  It  I 
An  old  and  wrinkled  leathern  wallet 
Would  better  suit  that  face  of  thine- 

FAUST  (approackiitg). 

How  strange !     1,  satisfied,  behold  these  oeatureB,  - 

In  the  Repulsive,  grand  and  solid  features : " 

A  fate  propitious  1  behold  advance. 

Whither  transports  me  now  this  solemn  glance  ? 

{PantiHg  to  lie  Sphinxes.) 
Once  before  these  took  CEdipus  his  stand: 

{PainlinglB  lit  Sehens  | 

These  made  Ulysses  writhe  in  hempen  band ; 

(Faintingto  tht  ANTS.) 

By  these  the  highest  treasure  was  amassed : 

(PaintiHg  te  tht  GvÄtvna.) 
By  these  't  was  held  inviolate  and  fast: 
Fresh  spirit  fills  me,  face  to  face  with  these — 
Grand  are  the  Forms,  and  grand  the  Memories! 


Once  thou  hadst  cursed  such  crude  antiques, 
But  now,  it  seems,  they  've  comfort  given ; 
For  when  a  man  his  sweetheart  seeks. 
Welcome  to  him  are  monsters,  even. 

FAUST  \IB  the  Sphinxes). 
Ye  woman-forms,  give  ear,  and  say 
Hath  one  of  you  seen  Helena? 


Before  her  day  our  line  expired  in  Greece ; 
Our  very  last  iras  slain  by  Hercules : 


ih,Googlc 


Yet  ask  of  Chiron,  if  thou  please. 

He  gallops  round  throughout  this  ghostly  night. 

And  if  he  halt  for  thee,  tliy  chance  is  bright 

SIRENS. 

Thou  art  not  to  failure  fated! 
How  Ulysses,  lingering,  learned  us. 
Nor,  regardless  passing,  spumed  us, 
Manifold  hath  he  narrated : 
All  to  thee  shall  be  confided, 
Seekest  thou  our  meads,  divided 
By  the  dark-green  anna  of  Ocean. 

SPHINX. 

Let  not  thyself  thus  cheated  be ! 
Not  like  Ulysses  bound, — but  we 
Will  with  good  counsel  thee  environ : 
If  thou  canst  find  the  noble  Chiron, 
Thou  It  learn  what  1  have  promised  thee. 

[Faust  £w/anH] 

MEPHISIOPHELES  (Ul-Umptredly). 

What  croaks  and  flaps  of  wings  go  past  I 
One  cannot  see,  they  fly  so  fast, 
In  single  file,  from  first  to  last : 
A  hunter  would  grow  tired  of  these. 

SPHINX. 

The  storm-wind  like,  that  winter  harrows, 
Reached  hardly  by  Alcides'  arrows, 
They  are  the  swift  Stymphalides  ; 
And  not  ill-meant  their  greetings  creak, 
With  goose's  foot  and  vulture's  beak. 
They  fain  would  join  us  in  our  places, 
And  show  themselves  as  kindred  races. 


ih,Googlc 


HEFHISTOPHELES  {ai  if  inlimidaUd). 

Some  other  bnite  is  hissing  shrill. 

SPHINX. 

Be  not  afraid,  though  harsh  the  pieanl 

They  are  the  hydra-heads,  the  old  Leratean, 

Cut  from  the  trunk,  yet  think  they  're  something  itilL 

But  say,  what  means  your  air  distressed  ? 

Why  show  your  gestures  such  um-est  ? 

Where  will  you  go?     Then  fake  your  leave! 

That  chorus,  there,  I  now  perceive, 

Turns  like  a  weathercock  your  neck.    Advance !  — 

Greet  as  you  will  each  lovely  countenance  I 

They  are  the  Lamiie,  wenches  vile, 

With  brazen  brows  and  lips  that  smile. 

Such  as  the  satyr-folk  have  found  so  fair: 

A  cloven  foot  may  venture  all  things  there. 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

But  stay  you  here,  that  I  again  may  find  you  i 

SPHINX. 

Yes !    Join  the  airy  rabble,  there  behind  you  ! 
From  Egypt  we,  long  since,  with  all  our  peers, 
Accustomed  were  to  reign  a  thousand  years. 
If  for  our  place  your  reverence  be  won. 
We  rule  for  you  (he  days  of  Moon  and  Sun. 
We  sit  before  the  Pyramids 
For  the  judgment  of  the  Races, 
Inundation,  War,  and  Peace, — 
With  eternal  changeless  faces. 


ih,Googlc 


{furroundid  viUh  NVHPHS  and  Tribuiary  Strtams). 
PEN  EU  S." 

STIR  yourselves,  ye  whispering  rushes, 
Rustle,  slender  willow-bushes. 
Sister  reeds,  breathe  softer,  crisper, 
Trembling  poplar-branches,  whisper 
To  the  interrupted  dream ! 
Fearful  premonitions  wake  me, 
Secret  shudders  thrill  and  shake  me 
In  my  rippling,  sleeping  stream. 

FAUST  {achiaHeitig  to  iHe  river). 
Here,  behind  the  vines  that  dangle 
O'er  tlie  thicket's  bowery  tangle, 
If  I  heard  aright,  were  noises 
Similar  to  human  voices. 
Babbling  seemed  the  wave  to  patter, 
And  the  breeze  in  sport  to  chatter. 

NYMPHS  (to  Faust). 
For  thee  were  it  better 
To  lie  here,  reviving 
In  coolness  thy  body, 
Ouiwearied  with  striving,  — 
The  rest,  that  eludes  thee, 
To  taste,  and  be  free  : 
We  '11  rustle  and  n 
And  whisper  to  thee. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

I  am  awake  !     Let  them  delay  me, 

The  incomparable  Forms  1  —and  sway  me, 

As  yonder  to  my  sight  confessed  ! 

How  strangely  am  I  moved,  how  nearly ! 

An  they  but  dreams  ?  or  memories,  merely  ? 

Already  once  was  I  so  blest. 

Beneath  the  swaying  bushes  hiding. 

The  full,  fresh  waves  are  softly  gliding; 

They  scarcely  rustle  on  their  path : 

A  hundred  founts  from  all  sides  hasten, 

To  fill  a  pure  and  sparkling  basin, 

The  hollowed  level  of  a  bath. 

The  &ir  young  limbs  of  women  trouble 

The  watery  glass  tha.t  makes  them  double, 

And  doubles,  thus,  the  eye's  delight : 

In  joyous  bath  each  otlier  aiding, 

Ot  boldly  swimming,  shyly  wading. 

Then  cry,  and  splash,  and  foamy  fight 

It  were  enough,  the  picture  viewing, — 

My  healthy  eyesight  here  renewing,— 

Yet  I  desire  the  still  unseen. 

My  gaze  would  pierce  through  yonder  cover, 

Whose  leafy  wealth  is  folded  over 

The  vision  of  the  sutely  Queen. 

Strange!  across  the  crystal  skimming, 
From  the  coves  the  swans  are  swimming, 
Moving  in  majestic  state : 
Floating  calmly  and  united. 
But  how  proud  and  self-delighted, 
Head  and  neck  they  lift  elate ! . . . 
One,  his  feathers  proudly  plum'ng, 
Boldly  jn  his  grace  presuming. 
Leads  the  others  in  the  race; 


ih,Googlc 


Il6  FAUST. 

With  his  whitest  plumage  showing 
Wave-like  on  the  wave  he  's  throwing 
Speeds  he  to  the  sacred  place. .  . . 
The  others  back  and  forth  together 
Swim  on  with  smoothly  shining  feather, 
And  soon,  in  mimic  battle  met. 
Shall  chase  aside  the  maids  affrighted, 
Till,  for  their  own  protection  suited, 
Their  bounden  service  they  forget 

NYHFHS. 

Sisters,  bend  and  lay  the  ear 
On  the  turf  beside  the  river ! 
Sound  of  hoofs,  if  right  I  hear. 
Swift  approaching,  seems  to  shiver. 
Would  I  knew  whose  rapid  flight 
Brings  a  message  to  the  Night  1 

FAUST. 

As  I  think,  the  earth  is  ringing 
From  a  charger,  hither  springing. 

See  there!  See  thereJ 

A  fortune  comes,  most  fair: 

Shall  I  attain  its  blessing  ? 

O,  marvel  past  expressing  I 
A  rider  trots  towards  us  free  : 
Spirit  and  strength  in  hiro  I  see, — 
Upon  a  snow-white  steed  careering. . . . 
I  know  him  now,  1  hail  with  awe 
The  famous  son  of  Phllyra  1  — 
Halt,  Chiron,  halt  1    I  've  something  for  thy  hearings 

CHIRON." 

What  then?    What  is  it? 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

Thy  course  delay  I 

CHIRON. 

I  rest  not 

FAUST. 

Take  me  vith  thee,  then,  I  pray  I 

CHIRON. 

Mount !  and  1  thus  can  ask,  at  leisure. 
Whither  thy  way.    Thou  standest  on  the  shore ; 
I  11  bear  thee  through  the  flood,  witli  pleasure. 

FAUST  (mountins)- 

Whither  thou  wilt.     I  thank  thee  evermore.  . . . 

The  mighty  man,  the  pedagogue,  wliose  place 

And  fame  it  was,  to  teach  a  hero-race,  — 

The  splendid  circle  of  the  Argonauts, 

And  all  whose  deeds  made  quick  the  Poet's  thoughts. 

CHIRON. 

We  will  not  further  speak  of  these ! 
As  Mentor  even  Pallas  is  not  venerated ; 
And,  after  all,  they  manage  as  they  please, 
As  if  they  'd  not  been  educated. 

FAUST. 

The  leech,  who  knoweth  flower  and  fruit. 
Whose  lore  can  sound  the  deepest  root,  — 
Who  heals  the  sick,  and  soothes  the  wounded  place. 
Him,  here,  in  mind  and  body  I  embrace  '. 

CHIRON. 

When  heroes,  near  me,  felt  the  smart, 
My  helpful  knowledge  failed  them  seldom ; 


ih,Googlc 


But,  at  the  last,  1  left  mine  art 

To  priest  and  simple-gathering  beldam. 


Thy  speech  the  true  great  man  betrays, 
Who  cannot  hear  a  word  of  praise ; 
His  modesty  would  fain  confound  us 
To  think  his  equals  still  were  round  us. 

CHIRON. 

Thou  seemest  skilled  to  feign  such  matter^ 
People  and  Prince  alike  to  flatter. 


But  surely  thou  wilt  grant  to  me 

That  ihou  the  greatest  of  thy  time  didst  see, 

Upon  their  paths  of  proud  achievement  trod. 

And  lived  thy  days,  a  serious  demigod. 

Among  those  grand,  heroic  forms  of  old, 

Whom  didst  thou  for  the  best  and  worthiest  hold? 

CHIRON. 

Of  those  beneath  the  Argonauts'  bright  banner. 
Each  worthy  was  in  his  peculiar  manner. 
And  by  the  virtue  of  his  strength  selective 
Sufficed  therein,  where  others  were  defective. 
Castor  and  Pollux  were  as  victors  hailed, 
Where  beauty  and  the  grace  of  youth  prevailed: 
Decision,  the  swift  deed  for  others'  aid. 
Gave  the  fair  crown  before  the  Boreads  laid ; 
Retleciive,  prudent,  strong,  in  council  wise. 
So  Jason  ruled,  delight  of  women's  eyes; 
Then  Orpheus,  gentle,  silent,  brooding,  lowering 
But  when  he  struck  the  lyre,  all-overpowering. 
Sharp-sighted  Lynceus,  who  by  day  and  dark 


ih,Googlc 


Through  Bhoreward  bretücers  steered  the  sacred  bariL 
Danger  is  best  endured  where  men  are  brothers ; 
When  one  achieves,  then  praise  hiro  all  the  others. 

FAUST. 

But  Hercules  thy  speech  is  wronging  — 

CHIRON. 

Ah,  me  1  awaken  not  my  longing ! . . , 
I  had  not  seen,  in  Fields  Elysian, 
How  Phoebus,  Ar^,  Hermes,  shine; 
But  there  arose  before  my  vision 
A  form  that  all  men  called  divine. 
A  king  by  birth,  as  ne'er  another, 
A  youth  magnilicenl  to  view  ; 
Though  subject  to  his  elder  brother, 
And  to  the  loveliest  women,  too. 
No  second  such  hath  Giea  granted," 
Or  Hebe  led  to  Heaven  again ; 
For  him  the  songs  are  vainly  chanted, 
The  marble  hewn  for  him  in  vain. 

FAUST. 

Though  ever  to  his  form  addicted, 
His  grace  the  sculptors  could  not  wreak. 
The  fairest  Man  hast  thou  depicted, 
Now  of  the  fairest  Woman  speak  I 

CHIRON. 

AVhat  t —  Little  worth  is  woman's  beauty, 
So  oft  an  image  dumb  we  see : 
I  only  praise,  in  loving  duty, 
A  being  bright  and  full  of  glee. 
For  Beauty  in  herself  delighteth; 
And  irresistibly  she  smiteth 


ih,Googlc 


When  sweetly  she  with  Grace  uniteth, 
Like  Helena,  when  her  I  bore. 

FAUST. 

Her  ^dst  thou  bear  ? 

CmRON. 

This  back  she  pressed. 

FAUST. 

Was  I  not  wild  enough,  before  i 
And  now  such  seat,  to  make  me  blest ! 


Just  80  she  grasped  me  by  the  hair 
As  thou  dost 

FAUSt 

0,  I  scarcely  dare 
To  trust  my  senses  !  —  tell  me  more  1 
She  is  my  only  aspiration  ! 
Whence  didst  thou  bear  her — to  «liat  shore  ? 

CHIRON. 

Not  difficult  is  the  relation. 

T  was  then,  when  came  the  Dioscuri  bold 

To  free  their  sister  from  the  robbers'  hoW ; 

But  these,  accustomed  not  to  be  subdoed, 

Regained  their  courage  and  in  rage  pursued. 

The  swamps  below  Eleusis  did  impede 

The  brothers'  and  the  sister's  flying  speed : 

The  brothers  waded  :  splashing  throu^  the  reed, 

I  swam :  then  ofl  she  sprang,  and  pressing  me 

On  the  wet  mane,  caressing  me, 

She  thanked  with  sweetly-wise  and  conscious  tongnft 

How  charming  was  she  I — dear  to  age,  so  young  I 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

But  seven  years  old  I  — 

CHIRON. 

Philologists,  1  see, 
Even  as  they  cheat  themselvn,  have  cheated  tbe& 
T  is  curious  with  your  mythologic  dame  : " 
The  Poet  takes  her  when  he  needs  her  name ; 
She  giona  not  old,  stays  ever  young  and  warm, 
And  of  the  most  entidng  form ; 
Seduced  in  youth,  in  age  enamoring  sitll, — 
Enoi^  I  no  time  can  bind  the  Poet's  will 

FAUST. 

Then  let  no  bonds  of  Time  be  thrown  around  her  I 
Even  as  on  Pherx's  isle  Achilles  found  her, 
Beyond  the  bounds  of  Time.     Wha.t  blessing  rare, 
In  spite  of  Fate  such  love  to  win  and  wear  i 
And  shall  not  I,  by  mightiest  desire. 
Unto  my  life  that  sole  iair  form  acquire, 
That  shape  eternal,  peer  of  Gods  above, 
Tender  as  grand,  sublime  as  sweet  with  loveP 
Thou  saw'st  her  once  ;  to-day  I  saw  her  beam, 
The  dream  of  Beauty,  beautiful  as  Dream  ! 
My  soul,  my  toeing,  now  is  bound  and  chained ; 
I  cannot  live,  unless  she  be  attained. 

CHIRON. 

Thou,  Stranger  1  feel'st,  as  man,  such  ecstasy; 
Among  us,  Spirits,  mad  thou  seem'sl  to  be. 
yet,  as  it  haps,  thy  fortune  now  i.'i  omened  ; 
For  every  year,  though  only  for  a  moment. 
It  is  my  wont  to  call  at  Manto's  dwelling, — 
She,  Esculapius'  child,  whose  prayers  are  swelling 
Unto  her  father,  that,  his  fame  to  brighten, 

VOL.   II.  8 


ih,Googlc 


132  FAUST. 

The  brains  of  doctors  he  at  last  enlighten. 
And  them  from  rashly  dealing  death  may  frighten. 
I  like  her  best  of  all  the  guild  of  Sibyls,— 
Helpful  and  kind,  with  no  fantastic  fribbles ; 
She  hath  the  art  if  thou  the  time  canst  tiorrow, 
With  roots  of  power  to  give  thee  healing  thoroti^ 


But  I  will  not  be  healed!  my  aim  Is  mij^ty: 
I  will  not  be,  like  others,  meanly  flighty! 


The  noble  fountain's  cure  neglect  thou  not : 
But  quick  dismount !    We  've  reached  the  spot 

FAUST. 

And  whither,  in  this  dreary  night,  hast  thou 
To  land  through  pebbly  rivers  brought  me  now? 


Here  Rome  and  Greece  in  battle  tried  their  powers ; 
Here  flows  Peneus,  there  Olympus  towers,  — 
The  greatest  realm  that  e'er  was  lost  in  sand. 
The  nwnarch  flies,  the  conquering  burghers  stand 
Look  up  and  see,  in  moonlight  shining  clear, 
The  memorable,  eternal  Tempte  near! 

UANTO'*  {dreaming- tm/Ain). 

From  horse-hoofs  tremble 

The  sacred  steps  of  the  Temple  I 

The  Demigods  draw  near. 


Quite  riglit ! 

Open  your  eyes,  and  s< 


ih,Googlc 


HAXTO  {minimg). 

Welcome !    Thou  dost  not  fail,  1  see. 


And  still  thy  temple  stands  for  thee  1 

UANTO. 

And  speedest  thou  still  unremitting  7 

CHIRON. 

And  thou  in  peaceful  calm  art  sitting, 
While  1  rejoice  in  restless  heels  ? 

UANTO. 

I  wait,  and  Time  around  me  wheels. 
And  her 

CHIRON. 

The  vortex  of  this  night 
Hath  whirled  him  hither  to  thy  sight. 
Helen,  with  mad,  distracted  senses, 
Helen  he  'd  win  by  all  pretences. 
And  knows  not  how  or  where  the  task 
But  he  deserves  the  Ksculapian  cure. 

UANTO. 

To  whom  the  Impossible  is  lure 
I  love. 

(Chiron  is  atriady  far  away.) 

Rash  one,  advance !  there  's  joy  for  thee ! 
This  dark  way  leads  thee  to  Persephone. 
Under  Olympus'  hollow  foot. 
Secret,  she  waits  prohibited  salute. 
I  smuggled  Orpheus  in  to  her,  of  old : 
Use  tky  chance  better !    On  ! — be  bold ! 

\Tlity  tUittnd- 


ih,Googlc 


ON  THE  UPPER  PENEUS,  AS  BEFORE. 

SIRENS. 

PLUNGE  in  cool  Peneus'  wave ! 
There  't  is  well  to  sport  in  swimming, 
Songs  with  chorded  voices  hymning, 
That  the  ill-slarred  folk  we  save. 
Health  is  none  where  water  fails ! " 
Let  our  hosts,  with  sounding  pxan, 
Hasten  to  the  blue  Mgxan, 
Where  each  joy  shall  swell  our  sails. 

( Eartiquaie.) 
Back  the  frothy  wave  Is  flowing, 
Now  DO  longer  downward  going ; 
Shakes  the  bed,  the  waters  roar, 
Cracks  and  smokes  the  stony  shore. 
Let  us  fly !     Come,  every  one ! 
By  this  marvel  profit  none. 
Leave,  ye  guests,  this  wild  commotioD 
For  the  cheerful  sports  of  Ocean, 
Shining,  where  the  quivering  reaches, 
Lightly  heaving,  bathe  the  beaches, — 
There,  where  Luna's  double  splendor 
Freshens  us  with  night-dews  tender. 
There  the  freest  life  delights  us ; 
Here  the  threatening  Earthquake  frights  tis: 
Who  is  prudent,  haste  away  1 
Fearful  is  it,  here  to  stay. 

SEiSMOS" 
(grauiling  andjollmg  in  the  tieptii). 
Once  again  the  force  applying. 
Bravely  with  the  shoulders  prying. 


ih,Googlc 


We  to  get  above  are  trying, 
Where  to  as  must  all  give  way. 


What  a  most  repulsive  shaking, 
Terrible  and  hideous  quaking  I 
What  a  quivering  and  shocking. 
Hither  rolling,  thither  rocking! 
What  vexation  and  dismay! 
But  we  shall  not  change  our  station, 
Were  all  Hell  in  agitation.  . . . 
Now  behold  a  dome  upswelling, 
Wonderful '.    'T  is  ie,  compelling,  — 
He,  the  hoary,  antiquated, 
He  who  Delos'  isle  created. 
Bidding  it  from  ocean  break, 
For  the  childed  woman's  sake. 
He,  with  all  his  force  expended, 
Rigid  arms  and  shoulders  bended, 
Like  an  Atlas  in  his  gesture 
Pushes  up  the  earth's  green  vesture. 
Loam  and  grit,  and  sand  and  shingle. 
Where  the  shore  and  river  mingle ; 
Thus  our  valley's  bosom  quiet 
Cross-wise  tears  he,  in  his  riot 
In  unwearied  force  defiant. 
He,  a  caryatid-giant, 
Be^rs  a  fearful  weight  of  boulders, 
Buried  still  below  his  shoulders  ; 
But  no  further  shall  be  granted, 
For  the  Sphinxes  here  arc  planted,'» 

SEISMOS. 

The  work  alone  I  've  undertaken ; 
The  credit  will  be  given  to  me : 


ih,Googlc 


i6  PAUST. 

Had  I  not  jolted,  shoved,  and  shaken, 

How  should  this  world  so  beauteous  be  ? 

How  stood  aloft  your  mounta.ins  ever, 

In  pure  and  splendid  blue  of  air, 

Had  I  not  heaved  with  huge  endeavor 

Till  they,  like  pictures,  charm  you  there? 

When,  where  ancestral  memory  brightens. 

Old  Night  and  Chaos  saw  me  sore  betrayed, 

And  in  the  company  of  Titans 

With  Pelion  and  Ossa  as  with  balls  we  played. 

None  could  in  ardent  sport  of  youth  surpass  us« 

Until,  outwearied,  at  the  last. 

Even  as  a  double  cap,  upon  Parnassus 

His  summits  wickedly  we  cast 

Apollo,  now,  upon  that  mount  of  wonder 

Finds  with  the  Muses  his  retreat; 

For  even  Jove,  and  for  his  bolls  of  thunder, 

I  heaved  and  held  the  lofty  seat 

Thus  have  I  forced  the  fierce  resistance 

And  struggled  upward  from  the  deep; 

And  summon  now  to  new  existence 

The  joyous  dwellers  of  the  steep. 

SPHIKXES. 

'T  is  true,  the  hill  would  seem  primeval, 
And  warranted  of  old  to  stand, 
Had  we  not  witnessed  its  upheaval, 
Toiling  and  towering  from  the  land. 
A  bushy  forest,  spreading,  clothes  its  face, 
And  rocks  on  rocks  are  pressing  to  their  plac& 
A  Sphinx,  therefrom,  is  by  no  fear  o'ertaken ; 
We  shall  not  let  our  sacred  seats  be  shaken. 

GRIFFINS,*" 

Gold  In  spangle,  lea:^  and  spark 


ih,Googlc 


Glimmers  through  the  fissurea  dark. 
Qaick,  lest  others  should  detect  it, 
Haste,  ye  Emmets,  and  collect  it  1 


As  they,  the  giant  ones, 
Upward  have  thrown  i^ 
Quick-footed,  pliajit  oaes, 
Climb  it  and  own  it  1 
Rapidly  in  and  out  I 
In  each  such  fissure 
Is  every  crumb  about 
Wealth  for  the  wisher  I 
Seek  for  them  greedily, 
Even  the  slightest : 
Everywhere  speedily 
Gather  the  brightest  I 
Diligent  be,  and  bold  — 
Swarm  to  the  fountain : 
Only  briag  in  the  Gold  1 
Heed  not  the  Mountain  I 

GRIFFINS. 

Come  in  !  come  in  I  —  the  treasure  heap  t 
Our  claws  upon  it  we  shall  keep. 
The  most  efficient  bolts  they  are ; 
The  greatest  wealth  they  safely  bar. 

FYGUIES. 

Verily,  here  we  sit  securely  j 
How  it  happened,  is  not  clear. 
Ask  not  whence  we  came  ;  for  surely 
'T  is  enough  that  we  are  here. 
Unto  Life 's  delighted  dwelling 
Suitable  is  every  land ; 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

Where  a  rifted  rock  is  swelling. 

Also  is  the  Dwarf  at  hand. 

Male  and  female,  busy,  steady, 

We  as  models  would  suffice : 

Who  can  tell  if  such  already 

Labored  so  in  Paradise  ? 

Here  our  lot  as  best  we  measure, 

And  our  star  of  (ate  is  blest : 

Mother  Earth  brings  forth  with  pleasure 

In  the  East  as  in  the  West 


If  she,  hi  a  single  night, 
The  Pygmies  brought  to  light, 
Pygmiest  of  all  she  '11  create  yet, 
And  each  find  his  mate  yet  I 

pyGHY-ELI>ERS. 

Be  ye,  in  haste. 
Conveniently  placed  I 
Litbor,  and  lead 
Strength  unto  speed ! 
Peace  is  yet  with  ye, 
Build  now  the  smithy,- — 
The  host  be  arrayed 
With  annor  and  blade  I 
Emmets,  laborious. 
Working  victorious, 
Scorning  to  settle. 
Furnish  us  metal  1 
Dactyls,  your  host. 
Smallest  and  most. 
Hear  the  requiring. 
Bring  wood  for  firing  I 
Heap  in  the  chambers 


ih,Googlc 


Fael,  antiriag : 
Furnish  us  emben  I 


With  arrow  and  bow, 
Encounter  the  foe ! 
Bj  yonder  t^nks 
The  heron-ranks. 
The  countless-nested, 
The  haughty-breasted. 
At  one  quick  blow 
Shoot,  and  bring  lov  I 
All  together. 
That  we  may  feather 
Our  hehneta  >o. 

EUHETS  AND  DACTYLS. 

Who  now  will  save  us  I 
We  bring  the  iron, 
And  chains  enslave  us. 
To  break  our  fetters 
Were  now  defiant ; 
We  bide  our  season,  — 
Meanwhile,  be  pliant  1 

THE  CRANES  OF  IBYCUS." 

Murder-cries  and  moans  of  dying  I 
Startled  wings  that  flap  in  flying  I 
What  lament,  what  pain  and  fright 
Pierces  to  our  airy  height ! 
All  have  fallen  in  the  slaughter. 
Reddening  with  their  blood  the  water} 
Pygmy-lust,  misformed  and  cruel, 
Robs  the  heron  of  his  jewel. 
On  their  helms  the  plumage  waves, — 


ih,Googlc 


tjo  FAUST. 

Yonder  fat-paunched,  bow-legged  knaves  I 

Comrades  of  oar  Ales  of  modoii, 

Serried  waoderers  of  ocean, 

You  we  summon  to  requital 

In  a  cause  to  you  so  vital. 

Strength  and  blood  let  no  one  spare  I 

Endless  hate  to  them  we  swear ! 

{Täey  dispersi,  croaking  in  Iht  aä:} 

HEPHISTOPHELES  («M  tit ^ain). 

With  ease  the  Northern  witches  I  controlled, 
But  o'er  these  foreign  sprites  no  power  1  hold. 
The  Blocksberg  is  a  most  convenient  place; 
Howe'er  one  strays,  one  can  bis  path  retrace. 
Dame  Use  watches  for  us  from  her  stone,^ 
And  Henry  sits  upon  his  mountain-throne : 
The  Snorers  snart  at  Elend  —  snorting  peers,  — 
And  all  is  finished  for  a  thousand  years. 
But  here,  who  knows  if,  even  where  he  stand. 
Beneath  his  feet  may  not  puff  up  the  land  ? 
1  cheerily  wander  through  a  level  ^de. 
And,  all  at  once,  behind  me  heaved,  is  made 
A  mountain  —  scarcely  to  be  called  so,  true  ; 
Yet  high  enough  the  Sphinxes  from  my  view 
To  intercept. . .  .  Still  many  a  fire  Hares  out 
Adown  the  vale,  the  mad  concern  about . . . 
Still  dance  and  hover,  beckoning  and  retreating, 
The  gay  groups  round  me,  with  their  knavish  greeting 
But  gently  now !    For,  spoiled  by  stealthy  pleasure. 
One  always  seeks  to  snatch  some  dainty  treasure. 

LAHLG  '} 

{dramng  Mbphistophblks  after  iMem). 

Quicker  and  quicker ! 

And  further  take  himi 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  II.  13 

Then  hesitating, 
Chattering  and  prating  I 
'T  is  fun  to  make  him  — 
Old,  sinful  Tricker  !  — 
Follow  behind  us : 
To  penance  comes  he 
With  halt-foot  clumsy ; 
He  marches  hobbling^ 
Aod  forwards  wobbling ; 
His  leg  he  trails 
In  haste  to  find  us  ; 
We  fly  — he  fails. 

HEPHISTOPHELES  (tlanding  iHlfy. 

Accurst  £ate  \    Deceived,  as  oft ! 
Since  Adam's  time  seduced  and  scoffed  t 
Though  old  we  grow,  not  wisely  schocded : 
Enough  already  I  've  been  fooled ! 
We  know,  how  wholly  worthless  is  the  race, 
With  body  corseted  and  painted  face; 
Of  health  responsive  own  they  not  a  little, 
Where'er  one  grasps  them,  every  limb  is  brittle. 
The  thing  is  known,  and  patent  to  our  glances, 
And  yet,  whene'er  the  trollops  pipe,  one  dances. 

LAMI£  (pausing). 

Halt !  he  reflects ;  his  steps  delay : 
Turn  back  to  meet  him,  lest  he  get  away  I 

HEPHISTOPHELES  (striäing forwards). 

Forwards  !  the  doubt,  my  strength  benumbing, 
I  won't  encourage  foolishly ; 
For  were  the  witches  not  forthcoming, 
Why,  who  the  devil  would  Devil  t« ! 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST.- 
LAMtA  (very  graeiimtly). 
Roind  this  hero  lightly  moving. 
Let  his  heart,  the  choice  approving^ 
One  of  us  select  for  loving  J 


True,  in  this  uncertain  lustre, 
Seem  ye  &ir  maids,  in  a  cluster; 
Fain  would  I  to  you  be  juster. 

EUPUSA  (pretring/ermardi). 
Not  me,  too  ?  1  'm  also  fitted 
la  your  train  to  be  admitted ! 

UMIM. 

She  '3  one  too  many ;  for,  in  short, 
She  always  ruins  all  our  sport 

EUPUSA  (ta  Mbphistofheles). 
Empusa,  with  the  ass's  foot,** 
Thy  cousin  dear,  gives  thee  salute  I 
Only  a  horse's  hoof  is  thine. 
And  yet,  Sir  Cousin,  greeting-  fine  1 

MEPH  ISTOPHEtES. 

Strangers  I  here  anticipated, 
And  find,  alas  !  my  near-related ; 
The  old  tale  —  instances  by  dozens  — 
From  Harti  to  Hellas  always  cousins  I 


I  act  with  promptness  and  decision ; 
In  many  fonns  could  meet  thy  vision* 
Yet  in  thy  honor  now,  instead. 
Have  I  put  on  the  ass's  head. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  II. 


'33 


HEFHISTOPHELES. 

Gmit  things,  I  see,  are  here  portended, 
Thus  with  the  race  as  kinsman  blended : 
Let  come  what  may,  since  I  have  known  her— 
The  ass's  head  —  I  'd  fain  disown  her. 

LAMI£. 

Leave  her,  the  Ugly !     She  doth  scare 

Whatever  lovely  seems  acd  fair; 
Whate'er  was  lovely,  fair  to  see. 
When  she  comes,  ceases  so  to  be, 

MEPHISTOPMELES. 

These  cousins  also,  —  soft,  delicious. 
Are  one  and  all  to  me  suspicious : 
f  fear,  beneath  their  cheeks  of  rose* 
Some  metamorphosis  reposes. 

LAMI£. 

But  try  —  take  hold  !     For  we  are  many, 

And  if  thou  hast  a  lucky  penny, 

Secure  thyself  the  highest  prize  ! 

What  means  thy  wanton  organ-grinding? 

A  wretched  wooer  'I  is,  we  're  finding, 

Yet  swagger'st  thus,  and  seem'at  so  wise  I . .« 

Now  one  of  us  will  he  lay  hand  on, 

So  by  degrees  your  masks  abaadoo, 

And  show  your  natures  to  his  eyes  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  fairest  here  have  I  selected.  .  .  . 

\Clasping  ktr.) 

O,  what  a  broomstick,  unexpected  I 

(Grasping  anether.) 
And  this  one  ?  . . .  Vilest  countenance  ( 


ih,Googlc 


Think  not  thoii  'rt  worth  a  better  chance  I 


That  little  one,  she  warms  my  giizard.  .  ,  . 
But  throi^h  my  hand  she  slips,  a  lixard ; 
Her  smooth  braids,  snaky-lilie,  intwine. 
I  try  the  tall  one,  yet  she  worse  is,  — 
I  only  grasp  a  Bacchic  thyrsus. 
The  head  a  scaly  cone  of  pine. 
What  follows  next  ?    Behold  a  fat  one : 
Perhaps  I  '11  find  delight  in  tkal  one, 
So,  once  for  all,  the  chance  renew ! 
The  Turks,  for  one  so  puffy,  flabby. 
Would  pay  a  price  by  no  means  shabby . . . 
But,  ah  1  the  puff-ball  bürste  in  two  t 


Now  scatter  widely,  hovering,  feigning, 
In  lightning-like,  dark  flight  enchaining 
The  interloping  nitch's-son  I 

Uncertain  circles,  awful,  poiseless  1 
Horrid  bat-wings,  flying  noiseless  t 
He  'scapes  too  cheaply,  when  it 's  done. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (ihaHng  Mmtilf). 

I  've  not  become,  it  seems,  a  great  deal  shrewder; 

The  North 's  absurd,  't  is  here  absurder,  ruder, 

The  spectres  here  preposterous  as  there. 

People  and  poets  shallow  ware. 

This  masquerade  resembles  quite  — 

As  everywhere  —  a  dance  of  appetite. 

1  sought  a  lovely  masked  procession. 

And  caught  such  things,  1  stood  a^iast . , . 


ih,Googlc 


I  'd  give  myseU  a  false  Impression, 
If  this  would  only  longer  last 

{Luiing  hitnal/ammg  lie  rockt.) 
Where  am  1  then?  and  whither  sped  ? 
There  was  a  path ;  't  is.now  a  dread. 
By  level  ways  1  've  wandered  hither, 
Where  rubble  now  is  piled  together. 
I  clamber  up  and  down  in  vain ; 
Where  shall  I  find  my  Sphinx  again? 
1  bad  not  dreamed  so  mad  a  sight, — 
A  mount^n  in  a  single  night ! 
A  bold  witch-journey,  to  my  thought : 
Their  Blocksberg  with  them  they  have  brought 

OREAD  ijrom  th<  naSural  red).'' 
Come  up  to  me  1     My  mountain  old 
In  its  primeval  form  behold ! 
Revere  the  sleep  and  rocky  stairs,  ascending 
Where  Pindus'  offshoots  with  the  plain  are  blending! 
Unshaken,  thus  I  heaved  my  head 
When  o'er  my  shoulders  Pompey  fled. 
Beside  me  this  illusive  rock 
Will  vanish  at  the  crow  of  cock. 
I  see  such  fables  oft  upChrown, 
And  suddenly  again  go  down. 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Honor  to  thee,  thou  reverend  Head, 
With  strength  of  oak  engarlanded ! 
The  dearest  moonlight  never  cleaves 
The  darkness  of  your  crowded  leaves. 
I  see  between  the  bushes  go 
A  lig^t,  with  unpretending  glow. 
How  all  things  fit  and  balance  thus  t 


ih,Googlc 


T  is  verily  Homunculus. 

Now  whence  thy  way,  thou  little  lover? 

HOMUNCULUS. 

From  pUce  to  place  I  flit  and  hover. 

And,  in  the  best  sense,  I  would*  fain  exist. 

And  most  impatient  am,  my  glass  to  shattH: 

But  what  till  now  I  've  witnessed,  is  't 

Then  strange  if  I  mistrust  the  matter  P 

Yet  1  11  be  confidenlial,  if  thou  list : 

1  follow  two  Philosophers  this  way, 

'T  was  "  Nature ! "   "Nature!" — all  I  heard  them  say; 

I  '11  cling  to  them,  and  see  what  they  are  seeing, 

For  they  must  understand  this  earthly  being, 

And  I  shall  doubtless  learn,  in  season. 

Where  to  betake  me  with  the  soundest  reason. 

HEFHISTOFHELES. 

Then  do  it  ctf  thy  own  accord  I 

For  here,  where  spectres  from  their  bell  come, 

Is  the  philosopher  also  welcome. 

That  so  his  art  and  iavor  delectate  yon, 

At  once  a  dozen  new  ones  he  '11  create  you. 

Unless  thou  errest,  thou  wilt  ne'er  have  sense ; 

Wouldst  thou  exist,  thyself  the  work  commence  I 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Good  counsel,  also,  is  not  to  reject 

MEP  mSTOPK  ELES. 

Then  go  thy  way !    We  further  will  inspect. 


3  (ft>  Thales)." 
Thy  stubborn  mind  will  not  be  rightened  : 
What  else  is  needful,  that  thou  be  enlightened  ? 


ih,Googlc 


To  every  wind  the  billows  yielding  are ; 

Vet  from  the  cliff  abrupt  they  Iceep  themsetvet  aiai. 

ANAXAGORAS. 

By  fiery  vapors  rose  this  rock  you  're  seeing. 

THALES. 

In  moisture  came  organic  life  to  being. 

HOMUNCULUS  {ithnten  tAt  tmo). 

To  walk  with  you  may  I  aapire  ? 
To  come  to  being  is  my  keen  desire. 

AN  AX  ACORUS. 

Hast  thou,  O  Thales  I  ever  in  a  night 

Brought  forth  from  mud  such  mountain  to  the  light? 

THALES. 

Nature,  the  living  current  of  her  powers. 
Was  never  bound  to  Day  and  Night  and  Hours ; 
She  makes  each  form  by  rules  that  never  fait, 
And  t  is  not  Force,  even  on  a  mighty  scale.'' 

ANAXAGORAS. 

But  here  it  «mm  /  —  Plutonic  fire,  the  shaper  1 
Explosive  force  of  huge  vtolian  vapor 
Broke  through  the  level  Earth's  old  crust  primeval. 
And  raised  the  new  hill  with  a  swift  upheaval ! 

THALES. 

What  further  shall  therefrom  result  ?    The  hill 
Is  there :  't  is  well !  —  so  let  it  stand  there  still  I 
In  such  a  strife  one  loses  leisure  precious. 
Yet  only  leads  the  patient  folk  In  leashes. 


ih,Googlc 


13«  FAUST. 

ANAXAGORAS. 

The  Mountain's  rocky  defts  at  once 
Are  peopled  thick  with  Myrmidons, 
With  Pygmies,  Emniets,  Fingerlings, 
And  other  active  little  things. 

(T^HoiltlNCÜLÜS.) 

To  greatness  hast  thou  ne'er  aspired, 
But  lived  an  eremite  retired ; 
Canst  thou  persuade  thy  mind  to  govern, 
1  '11  have  thee  chosen  as  their  sovereign. 

HOHUNCULDS. 

What  says  my  Thales  ? 

THALES. 

—  Will  not  recommend : 
For  small  means  only  unto  small  deeds  tend. 
But  great  means  make  the  small  man  great 
See  there  1    The  Cranes,  vrith  purpose  hejnousl'* 
The  troubled  populace  they  menace, 
And  they  would  menace  thus  the  king. 
With  pointed  beaks  and  talons  ample 
The  Utile  men  they  pierce  and  trample : 
Doom  comes  already  thundering. 
It  was  a  crime,  the  heron-slaughter, 
Beset  amid  their  peaceful  water ; 
But  from  that  rain  of  arrows  deadly 
A  fell  revenge  arises  redly. 
And  calls  the  kindred  o'er  the  flood 
To  spill  the  Pygmies'  guilty  blood. 
What  use  for  shield  and  helm  and  spear  i 
Or  for  the  dwarfs  the  heron-feather  f 
Dactyl  and  Emmet  hide  together: 
Their  coborU  scatter,  seek  the  rear  I 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  II.  139 

AXAXACORAS 
(<0(r  4  f""*»  teltmtily). 
Though  I  the  subterranean  powers  approve, 
Yet  help,  in  this  case,  musl  be  sought  above. . . . 
O  thou  aloft,  in  grace  and  vigor  vernal, 
Tri-named,  tri-featured,  and  eternal. 
By  all  my  people's  woe  I  cry  to  thee, 
Diana,  Luna,  Hecatä ! 

Thou  breast-expanding  One,  thou  deeply-pondehng, 
Thou  calmly-shining  One,  majestic  wandering. 
The  fearful  craters  of  thy  shade  unseal. 
And  free  from  spells  thine  ancient  might  reveal  I 

Am  I  too  swiftly  heard  ? 

Has  then  my  cry 

To  yonder  sky. 

The  course  of  Nature  from  its  orbit  stirred? 

And  greater,  ever  greater,  drawing  near. 
Behold  the  Goddess'  orb^  throne  appear, 
Enormous,  fearful  in  its  grimness. 
With  fires  that  redden  through  the  dimness  I  . . . 
No  nearer  1     Disk  of  dread,  tremendous. 
Lest  thou,  with  land  and  sea,  to  ruin  send  usl 
Then  were  it  true,  Thessalian  Pythonesses  " 
With  guilty  spells,  as  Song  confesses, 
Once  from  thy  path  thy  steps  enchanted, 
Till  fatal  gifts  by  thee  were  granted  ?  . . . 
The  shield  of  splendor  slowly  darkles, 
Then  suddenly  splits,  and  shines,  and  sparkles  1 
What  rattbng  and  what  hissing  follow. 
With  roar  of  winds  and  thunders  hollow  1  — 
Before  thy  throne  I  speak  my  error. . . , 
O,  pardon  1  /  invoked  the  terror, 

{CaOl  Aimitl/ufen  kiifael.) 


ih,Googlc 


I40 


FAUST. 


THALES. 

How  many  things  can  this  man  see  and  hear? 
What  happed,  is  not  to  me  entirely  clear; 
I  've  not,  like  liim,  experienced  it 
The  Hours  are  crazy,  we  II  admit ; 
For  Luna  calmly  shines,  and  free, 
In  her  high  place,  as  formerly. 

HOUU.NCULUS. 

Look  yonder  where  the  Pygmies  fled  1 

The  round  Hill  has  a  pointed  head. 

I  felt  a  huge  rebound  and  shock ; 

Down  from  the  moon  had  fallen  the  rock. 

And  then,  without  the  least  ado, 

Both  foe  and  friend  it  smashed  and  slew. 

1  praise  such  arts  as  these,  that  show 

Creation  in  a  night  fulfilled; 

That  from  above  and  from  below 

At  once  this  mountain-pile  could  build. 


Be  still !    'T  was  but  imagined  so. 

Farewell,  then,  to  the  ugly  brood  t 

That  thou  wast  not  their  king,  is  good. 

Off  to  the  cheerful  festals  of  the  Sea  I 

There  as  a  marvellous  guest,  they  11  honor  thee. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 
[clintöingup  tkc  opfiaiii tidi\. 
Here  must  I  climb  by  steep  and  rocky  stairways. 
And  roots  of  ancient  oaks  —  the  vilest  rare  ways  ! 
Upon  my  Harti,  the  resinous  atmosphere 
Gives  hint  of  pitch,  to  me  almost  as  dear 
As  sulphur  is,  —  but  here,  among  these  Greeks, 


ih,Googlc 


For  such  a  smell  one  long  and  vainly  seeks ; 
And  curious  am  1  — for  'tis  worth  the  knowing — 
To  find  wherewith  they  keep  their  fires  of  Hell  a-goin^ 


At  home,  be  wise  as  it  befits  thee  there ; 

Abroad,  ihou  hast  no  cleverness  to  spare. 

Thou  shouldst  not  homeward  turn  thy  mind,  but  here 

The  honor  of  the  ancient  oaks  revere. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 
One  thinks  on  all  relinquished  there ; 
Use  made  it  Paradise,  and  keeps  it  fair. 
But  say,  what  is  't,  in  yonder  cave 
Obscure,  a  crouching  triple-shape  resembling? 


The  Phorkyads  !  *    Co  there,  if  thou  art  brave ; 
Address  them,  if  thou  canst,  untrembling ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Why  not !  .  .  I  something  see,  and  am  dumbfounded ! 

Proud  as  I  am,  I  must  confess  the  truth : 

I  've  never  seen  their  like,  in  sooth, — 

Worse  than  our  hags,  an  Ugliness  unbounded  1 

How  can  the  Deadly  Sins  then  ever  be 

Found  ugly  in  the  least  degree, 

When  one  this  triple  dread  shall  see  ? 

We  would  not  suffer  them  to  dwelt 

Even  at  the  dreariest  door  of  Hell ; 

But  here,  in  Beauty's  land,  the  Greek, 

They  're  famed,  because  they  're  called  antique. . , . 

They  stir,  they  seem  to  scent  my  coming; 

Uke  vampire-bats,  they  're  squeaking,  twittering,  hunk- 


ih,Googlc 


THE  PHORKYADS. 

Give  me  the  eye,  my  sisters,  that  it  spy 
Who  to  our  temple  ventures  now  so  nigh. 


Most  honored  Dame !    Approaching^  by  your  leave, 

Grant  that  your  triple  blessing  I  receive. 

I  come,  though  still  unknown,  yet,  be  it  statetl. 

If  I  mistake  not,  distantly  related. 

Old,  reverend  Gods,  already  did  1  sec ; 

To  Ops  and  Rhea  have  I  bowed  the  knee  ; 

The  Parcae  even — your  sisters  —  yesterday. 

Or  day  before,  they  came  across  my  way  i 

And  yet  the  like  of  you  ne'er  met  my  sight ; 

Silent  am  1,  and  ravished  with  delight 

THE  PHORKVADS. 

This  spirit  seems  to  have  intelligence. 

«EPHISTOPHELES. 

I  am  amazed  no  poet  has  the  sense 

To  sing  your  praises,  —  say,  how  can  it  lie 

That  we  no  pictures  of  your  beauty  see  ? 

Should  not,  through  you,  the  chisel  strive  to  wean  us 

From  shapes  like  those  of  Juno,  Pallas,  Venus  7 

THE  PHORKYADS. 

Sunken  in  solitude  and  stillest  night, 
The  mind  of  us  ne'er  took  so  far  a  flight 

M  EPHISTOPHELES. 

How  should  it,  then?  since  here,  concealed  from  view, 

None  ever  see  you,  none  are  seen  by  you ! 

But  choose  thiKe  dwelling-places,  and  be  known. 


ih,Googlc 


Where  Art  and  Splendor  share  an  equal  throne  ; 
Where  swift,  with  double  tread,  day  after  day, 
A  marble  block  as  hero  walks  away ; 
Where  — 

THE  PHORKYAD5. 

Cease,  and  rouse  in  us  no  longer  vi»on  I 
What  profit,  if  we  knew  them  with  precision  ? — 
We,  bom  in  night,  akin  to  gloom  alone, 
Unto  ourselves  almost,  to  others  quite,  onknown. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  such  a  case  there  's  little  more  to  say. 

But  one  erne's  self  to  others  can  convey. 

One  eye  supplies  you  three,  one  tooth  as  well, 

So  were  it  mythologically  possible 

In  two  the  being  of  the  Three  to  cover, 

And  unto  me  the  third  fair  form  make  over, 

A  short  time,  only. 

ONE. 

WiU  it  do,  forsooth? 


THE  C 

We  11  try  it  I — but  without  or  eye  or  tooth. 


Now  just  the  best  thing  have  you  taken  away. 
How  shall  I  then  the  image  stem  display  ? 

ONE. 

T  is  easily  done  :  just  close  one  eye, 
And  let  thy  one  side-tusk  be  seen  thereby : 
In  profile,  thus,  with  not  a  trait  diminished, 
Thy  sisterly  resemblance  will  be  finished. 


ih,Googlc 


FA  VST. 
MEFHISTOPHELES. 


THE  PHORKVADS. 

So  b«  it! 


UEPHISTOPHELES 
((M  PuOkKYAD  infr^). 

Me  behold, 
The  mucb-beloved  son  of  Chaos  old  1 

THE  PHORKVADS. 

Daughters  of  Chaos  are  we,  by  good  rig^t 

MEP  HtSTOPH  ELES. 

Disgrace  !    They  11  call  me  now  hermaphrodite. 

THE  PHORKVADS. 

In  our  new  sister-triad  what  a  beauty  ! 

Two  eyes  have  we,  two  teeth,  for  further  du^. 

HEFH I5TOPHELE5. 

Now  from  all  eyes  1 11  hide  this  visage  fell, 
To  fright  the  devib  in  the  pool  of  Hell. 


ih,Googlc 


ROCKY  COVES  OF  THE  -EGEAN  SEA.<" 

Tie  MtoH  dtlaying  in  the  Ztmlh . 

SIRENS 
{tüMeieii  upon  the  clißfi  around,  ßuting  and  tir^iitffi. 

THOUGH  erewhile,  by  spells  nocturnal, 
Thee  Thessali.in  hags  infernal 
Downward  drew,  with  guilt  intended,  — 
Look,  from  where  thine  arch  is  bended, 
On  the  multitudinous,  splendid 
Twinkles  of  the  billowy  Ocean! 
Shine  upon  the  throngs  in  motion 
O'er  the  waters,  wild  and  free ! 
To  thy  service  vowed  are  we : 
Fairest  Luna,  gracious  be  I 

NEREIDS  AND  TRITONS 
{of  WoHdeTi  efthi  Sta). 

Call  with  clearer,  louder  singing, 
Through  the  Sea's  broad  bosom  rii^g, 
Call  the  tenants  of  the  Deep ! 
When  the  storm  swept  unimpeded 
We  to  stillest  depths  receded; 
Forth  at  sound  of  song  we  leap. 
See  !  delighted  and  elated, 
We  ourselves  have  decorated. 
With  our  golden  crowns  have  crowned  us. 
With  our  spangled  girdles  bound  ua. 
Chains  and  jewels  hung  around  us  I 
All  are  spoils  which  you  purvey  I 
VOL.  u.  7  J 


ih,Googlc 


Treasures,  here  in  shipwreck  swallowed, 
You  have  lured,  and  we  have-followed 
You,  the  DsemODs  of  our  bay. 


In  the  crystal  cmI,  delicious. 
Smoothly  sport  the  happy  fishes, 
Pliant  lives  that  notliing  mar; 
Yet,  ye  festive  crowds  that  ga.ther, 
We,  ttxlay,  would  witness,  rather, 
That  ye  more  than  fishes  are. 

NEREIDS  AND  TRITONS- 

We,  before  we  hither  wandered, 
Thoroughly  the  question  pondered : 
Sisters,  Brothers,  speed  afar ! 
Briefest  travel,  light  endurance, 
Yield  the  validest  assurance 
That  we  more  than  fishes  are. 

SIRENS. 

OR  I  they  have  left  the  placed 

Steering  away  to  Samothrace,«* 

Vanished  with  favoring  wind. 

What  is  their  purpose  there,  in  the  dreary 

Domain  of  the  lofty  Cabiri  ? 

Gods  are  they,  but  the  strangest  crew, 

Ever  begetting  themselves  anew, 

And  unto  their  own  being  blind. 

In  thy  meridian  stay, 
Luna  I — graciously  delay. 
That  the  Night  still  embrace  us. 
And  the  Day  not  chase  us  1 


ih,Googlc 


THALES 
{en  tAi shore,  to  Homunculus). 
I  fain  would  lead  Ihee  unto  Nereus  old. 
Not  distant  are  we  from  his  cavern  cold. 
But  stubbornness  is  his  delight, 
The  peevish  and  repulsive  wight 
Howe'er  the  human  race  has  Iried, 
The  Grumbler  's  never  satisfied: 
Yet  he  the  Future  hath  unsealed, 
And  men  thereto  their  reverence  yield, 
And  give  him  honor  in  his  station. 
Many  his  benefits  have  tasted. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Then  let  us  try,  without  more  hesitation  ! 
My  glass  and  flame  will  not  at  once  be  wasted. 

NEREUS. 

Are  human  voices  those  that  reach  mine  ear? 
At  once  my  wruth  is  kindled,  keen  and  clear. 
Aspiring  forms,  that  high  as  Gods  would  ramble, 
Yet  ever  damned  their  own  selves  to  resemble. 
In  ancient  years  could  I  di^nely  rest, 
Yet  was  impelled  to  benefit  the  Best ; 
And  when,  at  kst,  I  saw  my  deeds  completed, 
It  fully  seemed  as  were  the  work  defeated. 

THALES. 

And  yet  we  trust  thee,  Graybeard  of  the  Sea  1 
Thou  art  the  Wise  One ;  drive  us  not  from  thee ! 
Behold  this  Flame,  in  man's  similitude  ; 
It  yields  itself  unto  thy  counsel  good. 

NEREUS. 

WhatI    Counsel?    When  did  ever  men  esteem  it? 


ih,Googlc 


148  FAUST- 

Wise  words  in  hard  ears  are  but  lifeless  lore. 

Oft  as  the  Act  may  smite  them  when  they  scheme  i^ 

The  People  are  as  self-willed  as  before. 

How  warned  I  Paris,  in  paternal  trust. 

Before  a  foreign  woman  woke  his  lust ! 

Upon  the  Grecian  strand  he  stood  so  bold ; 

I  saw  in  spirit,  and  to  him  foretold 

The  smoky  winds,  the  overwhelming  woe, 

Beams  all  a-blaie,  murder  and  death  below, — 

Troy's  judgment-day,  held  fast  in  lofty  rhyme, 

A  terror  through  a  thousand  years  of  time  I 

My  words  seemed  sport  unto  the  reckless  one  : 

His  lust  he  fallowed :  fallen  was  tlion,  — 

A  giant  carcass,  stiff,  and  hacked  with  steel, 

To  Pindus'  eagles  't  was  a  welcome  raeaL 

Ulysses,  too  !  did  I  not  him  presage 

The  wiles  of  Circe  and  the  Cyclops'  rage? 

His  paltering  mind,  his  crew's  inconstant  strain, 

And  what  not  all  ?  —  and  did  it  bring  him  gain  ? 

Till  him,  though  late,  the  favoring  billow  bore, 

A  much-tossed  wanderer,  to  the  friendly  shore. 

THALES. 

3uch  conduct,  truly,  gives  the  wise  man  pain, 
And  yet  the  good  man  once  will  try  again. 
An  ounce  of  gratitu:le,  his  help  repaying. 
Tons  of  ingratitude  he  sees  outweighing. 
And  nothing  trifling  now  we  beg  of  thee ; 
The  boy  here  wishes  to  be  bom,  and  be. 


Let  not  my  rarest  mood  be  spoiled,  I  pray  I 
Far  other  business  waits  for  me  to-day. 
I  've  hither  bidden,  by  the  wave  and  breeze, 
The  Graces  of  the  Sea,  the  Doridcs.'* 


ih,Googlc 


Olympus  bears  not,  nor  your  lucent  arch, 

Such  lovely  fonns,  in  such  a  lightsome  march : 

They  Aiag  themselves,  in  wild  and  wanton  dalliance, 

Froni  the  sea-dragons  upon  Neptune's  stallions. 

Blent  with  the  element  so  freely,  brightly. 

That  even  the  foam  appears  to  lift  them  lightly. 

In  Venus'  chariot-shell,  with  hues  of  mom, 

Comes  Galatea,  now  the  fairest,  borne; 

Who,  since  that  Cypris  turned  from  us  her  face, 

In  Paphos  reigns  as  goddess  in  her  place. 

Thus  she,  our  loveliest,  long  since  came  to  own. 

As  heiress,  templed  town  and  chariot- throne. 

Away !  the  father's  hour  of  rapture  clips 

Hate  from  the  heart,  and  harshness  from  the  lips. 

Away  to  Proteus !    Ask  that  wondrous  man 

Of  Being's  and  of  Transformation's  planl 

{//i  rrlira  iMoardi  tlu  ua. 


We,  by  this  step,  gain  nothing:  one  may  meet 
Proteus,  and  straight  he  melts,  dissolving  fleet 
Though  he  remain,  he  only  says 
That  which  confuses  and  astonishes. 
However,  of  such  counsel  thou  hast  need; 
So,  at  a  venture,  let  us  thither  speed] 

I  Thty  depart 
SIRENS   (on  the  rocks  abirvt). 

What  is  t,  that,  far  advancing. 
Glides  o'er  the  billows  dancing  F 
As,  when  the  winds  are  shifted. 
Shine  snowy  sails,  uplifted. 
So  shine  they  o'er  the  waters. 
Transfigured  Ocean-daughters. 
We  'II  clamber  down,  and,  near  them. 
Behold  their  forms,  and  hear  them. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 
NERCIDS  AND  TRITONS. 

What  in  our  hands  we  bear  you 
Much  comfort  shall  prepare  you. 
Chelone's  buckler  giant 

Shines  with  its  forms  defiant ;  — 
They  're  Gods  that  we  are  bringing 
High  songs  must  you  be  singing! 

SIRENS. 

Small  to  the  sight. 
Great  in  their  might,  — 
Saviours  of  the  stranded. 
Ancient  Gods,  and  banded. 

NEREIDS  AND  TRITONS. 

We  bring  you  the  Cabiri 
To  festals  calm  and  cheery ; 
For  where  their  sway  eutendeth 
Neptune  the  realm  befriendeth. 

SIRENS. 

We  yield  to  your  claim ; 
When  a  shipwreck  came. 
Irresistibly  you 
Protected  the  crew. 

NEREIDS  AND  TRITONS. 

Three  have  we  brought  hither," 
The  fourth  refused  us  altogether: 
He  was  the  right  one,  said  he, — 
Their  only  thinker  ready. 

SIRENS. 

One  God  the  other  God 
Smites  with  the  scoffer's  rod: 
Honor  all  grace  they  bring, 
Fear  all  evil  they  fling  I 


ih,Googlc 


NEREIDS  AND  TKITONS. 

Seven  are  they,  really. 

SIRENS. 

Where,  then,  stay  the  other  three  ? 

NEREIDS  AND  TRITONS. 

The  truth  we  cannot  gather : 
Ask  on  Olympus,  rather ! 
There  pines  the  eighth,  forgotten, 
By  no  one  ever  thought  on  ! 
In  grace  to  us  entreated. 
But  not  yet  all  completed. 

These  incomparable,  unchainable,'* 
Are  always  further  yearning. 
With  desire  and  hunger  burning 
For  the  Unattainable  I 

SIRENS. 

These  are  our  ways : 
The  God  that  sways 
Sun,  Moon,  or  other  blaze, 
We  worship :  for  it  pays. 

NEREIDS  AND  TRITONS. 

Highest  glory  for  us  behold. 
Leading  these  festals  cheery  1 

SIREMS. 

The  heroes  of  the  ancient  time 

Fail  of  their  glory's  prime. 

Where  and  howe'er  it  may  unfold ; 

Though  they  have  won  the  Fleece  of  Gold.— 

Ye,  the  Cabin ! 


ih,Googlc 


Ija  FAUST. 

{Repeattd  aifuü  chorus. ) 
Though  they  have  won  the  Fleece  of  Gold,— 
We !    Ye  1  the  Cabiri ! 

{Tht  Nereids  ani/ Tritons  iHi>w /art.) 
HOMUKCULUS. 

These  Malformations,  every  one, 
Had  earthen  pots  for  models :  m 
Against  them  now  the  wise  men  run. 
And  break  their  stubborn  noddles. 


That  is  the  thing  one  wishes,  just! 
The  coin  takes  value  from  its  rust. 

PROTEUS  {uttpmfhiid\. 

This  pleases  me,  the  old  fable-ranger  I 
The  more  respectable,  the  stranger. 

THALES. 

Where  art  thou,  Proteus  ? 

PROTEUS 
\sptakinglictUrilequaUy,  now  near,  nmo  at  a  ditlaiut). 
Here !  and  here  1 

THALES. 

I  pardon  thee  thine  ancient  jeer. 

Cheat  not  a  friend  with  vain  oration ; 

Thou  speak'st,  I  know,  from  a  delusive  station. 


THALES  {leftty  la  HOHUKCULUS). 

He  is  quite  near  :  shine  brilliantly  1 
For  curious  as  a  fish  is  he ; 


ih,Googlc 


And  in  whatever  form  he  hide, 
A  flame  will  make  him  hither  glide. 


At  once  a  flood  of  light  1  'II  fling, 
.  Yet  softly,  lest  the  glass  should  spring. 


{in  lAe/orm  e/agiani  lorteitt). 
What  shines  so  fair,  so  gradously  ? 

TKALES  (eaveriHg  HOMUNCULUS). 

Goodl    IE  thou  wishest,  canst  thou  nearer  see. 
Be  not  annoyed  to  take  a  little  trouble. 
And  show  thyself  on  man's  foundation  double. 
What  we  disclose,  to  whomsoe'er  would  see  it, 
With  oiu-  will  only,  by  our  favor,  be  it ! 

PROTEUS  {in  a  imtlt  form). 

Still  world-wise  pranks  thou  fallest  to  forget. 

THALES. 

To  change  thy  form  remains  thy  pleasure  yeL 
(Äf  umwert  Homunculus.) 

PROTEUS  (.atlonisAtd). 

A  shining  dwarf !    The  like  1  ne'er  did  see  1 

THALES. 
He  asks  thy  counsel,  he  desires  to  be. 
He  is,  as  I  myself  have  heard  him  say, 
(The  thing  's  a  marvel ! )  only  bom  half-way. 
He  has  no  lack  of  qualities  ideal. 
But  far  too  much  of  palpable  and  real.«* 
Till  now  the  glass  alone  has  given  him  weight, 
And  he  would  fain  be  soon  incorporate. 


ih,Googlc 


PROTEUS. 

Thou  art  a  genuine  virgin's-son : 
Finished,  ere  thou  shouldst  be  begun  ! 

THALES  {vrki^iering). 

Viewed  from  another  side,  the  thing  seems  critical: 
He  is,  methinlcs,  hennaphroditical ! 

PROTEUS. 

Then  all  the  sooner  't  will  succeed : 

Let  him  but  start,  't  will  be  arranged  with  speed. 

No  need  to  ponder  here  his  origin  ; 

On  the  broad  ocean's  breast  must  thou  be^n ! 

One  starts  there  first  within  a  narrow  pale," 

And  finds,  destroying  lower  forms,  enjoyment : 

Little  by  little,  then,  one  climbs  the  scale. 

And  fits  himself  for  loftier  employment. 

HOHUNCULUS. 

Here  breathes  and  blows  a  tender  air ; 
And  1  delight  me  in  the  fragrance  rare. 

PROTEUS. 

Yea,  verily,  my  loveliest  stripling ! 

And  farther  on,  far  more  enjoyable. 

Around  yon  narrow  spit  the  waves  are  rippling 

The  halo  bright  and  undestroyable ! 

There  to  the  host  we  II  nearer  be. 

Now  floating  hither  o'er  the  sea. 

Come  with  me  there ! 

THALES. 

I  'It  go  along. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

A  spirit-puipcee,  triply  strong ! 


ih,Googlc 


TELCHINES   OF   RHODES." 
On  Sea-A^rer  and  Sta-Dn^etu,  mdJiiig  Nepluiu 


'\KJ  E  "ve  forged  for  old  Neptune  the  trident  that  urges 
"  *     To  smoothness  and  peace  the  refractory  surges 
When  Jove  tears  the  clouds  of  the  tempest  asunder, 
'T  is  Neptune  encounters  the  ro!l  of  the  thunder: 
The  lightnings  above  may  incessantly  glow, 
äut  wave  upon  wave  dashes  up  from  below. 
And  all  that,  between  them,  the  terrors  o'erpower, 
Ixng  tossed  and  tormented,  the  Deep  shall  devour; 
.  And  Ihence  he  hath  lent  us  his  sceptre  to^y.— 
Now  float  we  contented,  in  festal  arr^y. 

SIRENS. 
'  You,  to  Helios  consecrated, 
To  ihe  bright  Day's  blessing  fated,  — 
You  to  this  high  Hour  we  hail: 
Luna's  worship  shall  prevail ! 

TELCHINES. 

O  loveliest  Goddess  by  night  over-vaulted! 
Thou  hearest  with  rapture  thy  brother  exalted: 
To  listen  to  Rhodes  thou  wilt  lean  from  the  skies ; 
To  him,  there,  the  psans  eternally  rise. 
When  the  day  he  begins,  when  he  ends  its  career. 
His  beam  is  the  brightest  that  falls  on  us  here. 
The  mountains,  the  cities,  the  sea  and  the  shore, 
Are  lovely  and  bright  to  the  God  they  adore : 


ih,Googlc 


156  FAUST. 

No  mist  hovers  o'er  us,  and  shoiild  one  appear, 
A  beam  and  a  breeze,  and  the  Island  is  clear! 
There  Phoebus  his  form  may  by  hundreds  behold,— 
Colossal,  as  youth,  as  the  Gentle,  the  Bold ; 
For  we  were  the  first  whose  devotion  began 
To  shape  the  high  Gods  in  the  image  of  Man. 

PROTEUS. 

But  leave  them  to  their  boasting,  singing  1 

Beside  the  holy  sunbeams,  bringing 

All  life,  their  dead  works  are  a  jest 

They  melt  and  cast,  with  zeal  impassioncd- 

And  what  they  once  in  bronze  have  fashioned, 

They  think  it  'a  something  of  the  best 

These  proud  ones  are  al  last  made  lowly ; 

The  forms  of  Gods,  that  stood  and  shone, 

Were  by  an  earthquake  overthrown. 

And  long  since  have  been  melted  wholly. 

This  earthly  toil,  whate'er  it  be, 

Is  never  else  thai»  drudgery : 

A  better  life  the  waves  declare  thee. 

And  now  to  endless  seas  shall  bear  thee 

Proteus-Dolphin. 

{Ife  Iransformr  kialtrl/.) 
'Tis  done!    Behold! 
Unto  thy  fairest  fortune  waken  : 
Upon  my  back  shalt  thou  be  taken, 
And  wedded  to  the  Ocean  old. 

THALES. 

Yield  to  the  wish  so  wisely  stated. 
And  at  the  source  be  thou  created  I 
Be  ready  for  Che  rapid  plan ! 
There,  by  eternal  canons  wending, 


ih,Googlc 


Through  thousand,  myriad  forms  ascending, 
Thou  shalt  attain,  in  time,  to  Man. 
(HoHL'NCULUS  mounts  the  Prattui-Doi^n.) 


In  spirit  seelt  the  watery  distance! 
Boundless  shall  there  be  thine  existence, 
And  where  to  move,  ihy  will  be  free. 
But  strudle  not  to  higher  orders  '. 
Once  Man,  within  the  human  borders. 
Then  all  is  at  an  end  for  thee. 

THALRS. 
That 's  as  it  haps :  't  is  no  ill  fate 
In  one's  own  day  to  be  true  man  and  great 

PROTEUS  (/oThalbs). 
Some  one,  perchance,  of  thine  own  kind  ! 
Their  lives  continue  long,  1  find  : 
For  with  thy  pallid  phantom-peers 
1  've  seen  thee  now  for  many  hundred  j-ears. 

SIRENS  (""  l>i'  yocks). 
See  !  what  rings  of  cloudlets,  gliding 
Round  the  moon,  in  circles  play ! 
They  are  doves  whom  Love  is  guiding, 
With  their  wings  as  white  as  day. 
Paphos  hither  sends  them  fleetly. 
All  her  ardent  birds,  to  us, 
And  our  festival  completely 
Crowns  with  ]>urest  rapture,  thus  ! 

NEREUS  {ruliiaiicing  to  TH^Lr.•i). 
Though  some  nightly  wanderer's  vision 
Deem  yon  ring  an  airy  spectre, 


ih,Googlc 


t58  FAUST. 

We,  the  spirits,  with  deciston 
Entertain  a  view  correcler : 
They  are  doves,  whose  convoy  gathers 
Round  my  daughter's  chariot-shell. 
With  a  flight  of  wondrous  spell, 
I^eamed  in  old  days  of  the  fathers. 

THALES. 

That  I  also  think  is  best," 
Which  the  true  man  comfort  gives, 
When  in  warm  and  peaceful  nest 
Something  holy  for  him  lives. 

PSYLLl  AND  UARSI  '" 
(im  sta-tiäli,  tra-kä/trs  and  tea-rami). 
In  hollow  caves  on  Cyprus'  shore, 
By  the  Sea-God  still  unbattered. 
Not  yet  by  Seismos  shattered. 
By  eternal  winds  breathed  o'er. 
And  still,  as  in  days  that  are  measured. 
Contented  and  silently  pleasured, 
The  chariot  of  Cypris  we  've  treasured. 
By  the  murmurs,  the  nightly  vibrations. 
O'er  the  waves  and  their  sweetest  pulsations. 
Unseen  to  the  new  generations, 
The  loveliest  daughter  we  lead. 
We  fear  not,  as  lightly  we  hie  on, 
Either  Eagle  or  wing-lifted  Lion, 
Either  Crescent  or  Cross, 
Though  the  sky  it  emboss,  — 
Though  it  changefuUy  triumphs  and  Hashes, 
In  defeat  to  forge tfulness  dashes. 
Lays  the  fields  and  the  cities  in  ashes  1 
Straightway,  with  speed. 
The  loveliest  oE  mistresses  forth  we  lead. 


ih,Googlc 


SntENS. 

Lightly  moved,  with  paces  graver, 
Circle  round  the  car  again ; 
line  on  line  inwoven,  waver 
Snake-like  in  a  linking  chain,  — 
Stalwart  Nereids,  come,  enring  us, 
Rudest  women,  wild  and  free ; 
Tender  Dorides,  ye  bring  us 
Her,  the  Mother  of  the  Sea,— 
Galatea,  godlike  woman, 
Worthiest  immortality. 
Yet,  like  those  of  lineage. human, 
Sweet  with  loving  grace  is  she. 

DORIDES 
(f'x  {hartu,  mvunltd  (m  dolpkitis,  paiting  NERBUS). 

I^nd  us,  Luna,  light  and  shadow. 
Show  this  youthful  flower  and  fire  I 
For  we  bring  beloved  spouses, 
Praying  for  them  to  our  sire. 

(roNEREUS.) 

They  are  boys,  whom  we  have  rescued 
From  the  breaker's  teeth  of  dread ; 
They,  on  reeds  and  mosses  bedded, 
Back  to  light  and  life  we  led: 
Now  must  they,  with  glovring  kisses, 
Thank  us  for  the  granted  blisses  ; 
On  the  youths  thy  favor  shed  I 


Lo,  now !  what  double  gains  your  deed  requite  1 
You  show  compassion,  and  you  talce  delight 


ih,Googlc 


9  FAUST. 

DORIDES. 

If  thou  praisest  our  endeavor, 
Father,  grajit  the  fond  request,-^ 
Let  us  hold  them  fast  forever 
On  each  young,  immortal  breast 

NE  REUS. 

Take  joy  in  what  you  've  finely  captured, 

And  shape  to  men  the  youthful  crew ; 

I  cannot  grant  the  boon  enraptured 

Which  only  Zeus  can  give  to  you. 

The  billows,  as  they  heave  and  rock  you, 

Allow  to  love  no  firmer  stand, 

So,  when  these  fancies  fade  and  mock  you. 

Send  quietly  the  youths  to  land. 


Fair  boys,  we  must  part,  forsooth ; 
Yet  we  love  you,  we  vow  it ! 
We  have  asked  for  eternal  truth, 
But  the  Gods  wiU  not  allow  it 

THE  YOUTHS. 

We  sailor-boys,  if  still  you  would 
Give  love,  as  first  you  gave  it. 
We  've  never  had  a  life  so  good, 
And  would  not  better  have  it! 
(Galatea  approathts  en  her  einfiel  a/iAtll.) " 


T  is  thou,  O  my  darling ! 

GALATEA. 

O,  Sire  1  what  delight 
Dnger,  ye  dolphins !    1  cling  to  the  sight. 


ih,Googlc 


Already  past,  they  swiftly  wander 

On,  m  circling  courses  wheeling! 

What  care  they  for  the  heart's  profoundest  feeling? 

Ah,  would  they  took  me  vnth  them  yooder ! 

Yet  a  single  glance  can  cheer 

AH  the  livelong  barren  year. 

THALES. 

Hail !    All  bait  I  with  newer  voices : 

How  my  spirit  rejoices, 

By  the  True  and  the  Beautiful  penetrated  I 

From  Water  was  everything  first  created ) 

Water  doth  everything  still  sustain! 

Ocean,  grant  us  thine  endless  reign ! 

If  the  clouds  thou  wert  sending  not, 

Tbe  swelling  streams  wert  spending  not, 

The  winding  rivers  bending  not, 

And  all  in  thee  were  ending  not, 

Could  mountains,  and  plains,  and  the  world  itself  be  ? 

The  freshest  existence  is  nourished  by  thee  I 

ECHO 
(tAorus  ef  tht  celUclhit  drclts). 
The  freshest  existence  flows  ever  from  thee  I 


NBREUS. 

They  turn  and  wheel  again,  aizx  ; 
No  longer  face  to  face  (hey  are. 
In  linking  circles,  wide  extending,  — 
In  their  festive  dances  blending,  — 
The  countless  cohorts  now  appear. 
But  Galatea's  chariot-shell 
StiU  I  see,  and  see  it  well: 


ih,Googlc 


1 6a  FAUST. 

It  shines  like  a  star 

Through  the  crowds  intwiaing. 

Love  from  the  tumult  still  is  shioiiig ! 

Though  ne'er  so  far, 

It  shimmers  bright  and  clear, 

Ever  true  and  near. 

HOHUNCULUS. 

This  softly  heaving  brine  on, 
Whatever  I  may  shine  on 
Is  all  with  beauty  crowned. 

PROTEUS. 

Within  this  moisture  living, 
Thy  lamp  now  first  b  giving 
A  clear  and  splendid  sound. 


What  mystery  new,  'mid  the  crowds  that  are  wheeling, 

Is  DOW  to  our  vision  its  wonders  revealing? 

What  flames  round  the  shell  at  the  feet  of  t^e  Queen  ? — 

Now  flarii^  in  force,  and  now  shining  serene, 

As  if  by  the  pulses  of  love  it  were  fed. 


Homunculus  is  it,  by  Proteus  misled ! . . . 
And  these  are  the  signs  of  imperious  yearning 
The  presage  of  swelling,  impatienüy  spuming: 
He  '11  shiver  his  glass  on  the  glittering  throne  — 
He  glows  and  he  flashes,  and  now  he  hath  flown  1 

SIRENS. 

What  fiery  marvel  the  billows  enlightens,"* 
As  one  on  the  other  is  brolcen  and  brightens  ? 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  II.  lö 

It  flashes,  and  wavers,  and  hitherward  plays  ! 
On  the  path  of  the  Night  are  the  bodies  ablaze, 
And  all  things  arouod  are  with  flames  overrun : 
Then  Eros  be  ruler,  who  all  things  begun ! 

Hail,  ye  Waves!     Hail,  Sea  unbounded, 
By  the  holy  Fire  surrounded  I 
Water,  hail !     Hail,  Fire,  the  splendidi 
Hail,  Adventure  rarely  ended  ! 

ALL  TOGETHER. 

Hail,  ye  Airs  that  softly  flow  I 
Hail,  ye  caves  of  Earth  below ! 
Honored  now  and  evermore 
Be  the  Elemental  Fourl 


ih,Googlc 


1.64 


BEFORE  THE   PALACE  OF    MENELAUS    IN 
SPARTA. 


I  MUCH  admired  and  much  reviled,—  I,  Helena, 
,  Come  from  the  strajid  where  we  have  disembarked 
but  now, 
StiU  giddy  from  the  restless  rocking  of  the  wares 
Of  Ocean,  which  from  Phrygian  uplands  hitherwards 
On  high,  opposing  backs  —  Poseidon's  favor  won 
And  Euros'  strength  —  have  bome  us  to  our  native  bay. 
Below  there,  with  the  bravest  of  his  warriors,  now 
King  Menelaus  feels  the  joy  of  his  return; 
But  thou,  O  bid  me  welcome  back,  thou  lofty  House 
Which  Tyndarus,  my  father,  on  the  gentle  slope, 
Returning  from  the  Hill  of  Pallas,  builded  up ; 
And  when  I  here  with  Clytcmnestra  sister-like, 
With  Castor  and  with  Pollux  gayly  sporting,  grew, 
Before  all  Sparta's  houses  nobly  was  adorned. 
Ye  valves  of  yon  dark  iron  portals,  3^  I  hail ! 
Once  through  your  festive  and  inviting  opening 
It  happened  that  to  me,  from  many  singled  out, 
The  coming  of  the  bridegroom  Menelaus  shone. 
Unfold  again  for  me,  that  I  the  King's  command 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III. 


165 


Fulfil  with  strictness,  as  uato  a  spiouse  is  meet : 
Give  entrance  now,  and  let  all  things  be  left  behind 
Which  hitherto  have  stormed  upon  me,  full  of  doomi 
For,  since  this  place  all  unsuspicious  1  forsook 
For  Cj'thersea's  fane,  as  holy  duty  called. 
But  there  the  robber  seized  me,  he  the  Phrygian, — 
Happened  have  many  things,  which  people  far  and  wide 
So  fain  relate,  but  which  so  fain  hears  not  (he  one 
Of  whom  the  legend  rose,  and  to  a  fable  grew. 

CHORUS. 
Disdain  thou  not,  O  beautiful  Dame, 
Possession  proud  of  the  highest  estate  t 
For  the  greatest  fortune  is  thine  alone, 
The  fame  of  beauty  that  towers  o'er  all 
The  name  of  the  hero  heralds  his  path, 
Thence  proudly  he  strides ; 
Yet  bends  at  once  the  stubbomest  man. 
And  yields  to  atl-conquering  Beauty's  might 

HELENA. 

Enough,  with  mine  own  spouse  have  1  been  hither 

shipped, 
And  now  by  him  beforehand  to  his  city  sent; 
Yet  what  his  purposes  may  Ije,  I  fail  to  guess. 
Do  I  come  here  as  wife?    Or  do  I  come  as  queen? 
Or  come,  an  offering  for  the  Prince's  bitter  pain. 
And  tor  the  long-endured  misfortune  of  the  Greeks  ? 
For  they,  the  Immortals,  verily  fixed  my  Fame  and  Fate 
Ambiguously,  attendants  twain  of  doubtful  worth 
To  Beauty,  who  upon  this  very  threshold  stand 
With  gloomy  and  with  threatening  presence  at  my  side. 
Then,  even,  in  the  hollow  ship,  but  seldom  looked 
My  spouse  on  me,  nor  ever  word  of  comfort  spake : 


ih,Googlc 


As  if  he  brooded  evil,  frontiDg  me  he  sat 

But  now,  when  speeding  towards  the  strand  of  that  deep 

Eurotas  makes,  scarce  had  the  foremost  vessels'  prows 
The  land  saluted,  than  he  spake,  as  urged  the  Gods : 
"  Here,  in  their  ordered  rank,  my  warriors  disembark  ■, 
Them  shall  I  muster,  ranged  along  the  ocean-strand. 
But  thou  go  ever  onwards,  up  the  hallowed  banks 
Of  fair  Eurotas,  dowered  with  gifts  of  plenteous  fruit, 
Guiding  the  stallions  o'er  the  bloom  of  watery  meads. 
Till  there,  on  that  most  lovely  plain  thy  journey  ends, 
Where  Lacedemon,  once  a  fruitful  spreading  field, 
Surrounded  by  austerest  moimtains,  built  its  seat 
Set  thou  thy  foot  within  the  high-towered  princely  Houses 
And  muster  well  the  maids,  whom  there  behind  I  left, 
Together  with  the  old  and  faithful  Stewardess. 
Let  her  display  to  thee  the  wealth  of  treasures  stored, 
Even  as  thy  father  them  bequeathed,  and  I  myself 
In  war  and  peace  accumulating,  have  amassed. 
All  things  shall  thou  in  ancient  order  find  ;  because 
It  is  the  Ruler's  privilege,  that  he  all  things 
In  faithful  keeping  find,  returning  to  his  house, — 
Where'er  be  may  have  left  it,  each  thing  in  its  place; 
For  power  to  change  in  aught  possesses  not  the  slave.* 


CHORUS. 

Let  now  the  splendid,  accumulate  wealth 

Rejoice  and  cheer  thee,  in  eye  and  heart ! 

For  the  gleam  of  chain  and  the  glory  of  crown 

Are  lying  idly  in  haughty  repose  : 

But  enter  thou  in  and  challenge  them  all. 

And  they  will  respond. 

I  rejoice  to  witness  Beauty  compete 

With  gold  and  pearl  and  the  jewel-stone. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III.  167 

HELENA. 

Thereafter  further  came  my  lord's  imperious  speech : 
"  Now  when  all  things  in  order  thou  inspected  hast. 
Then  take  so  many  tripods  as  thou  needful  deem'st, 
And  vessels  manifold,  such  as  desires  at  hand 
Who  offers  to  the  Gods,  fulfilling  holy  use,  — 
The  kettles,  also  bowls,  the  shallow  basin's  disk; 
The  purest  water  from  the  sacred  fountain  fill 
In  lofty  urns ;  and  further,  also  ready  hold 
The  well-dried  wood  that  rapidly  accepts  the  fiame; 
And  let  the  knife,  well-sharpened,  fail  not  finally ; 
Yet  all  besides  will  1  relinquish  to  thy  care." 
So  spake  he,  uiging  my  departure ;  but  no  thing 
Of  living  breath  did  he,  who  ordered  thus,  appoint. 
That  shall,  to  honor  the  Olympian  Gods,  be  slain. 
'T  is  critical ;  and  yet  I  banish  further  care, 
And  let  all  things  be  now  to  the  high  Gods  referred. 
Who  that  fulfil,  whereto  their  minds  may  be  disposed, 
Whether  by  men  't  is  counted  good,  or  whether  bad; 
In  either  case  we  mortals,  we  are  doomed  to  bear. 
Already  lifted  oft  the  Offerer  the  axe 
In  consecration  o'er  the  bowed  neck  of  the  beast. 
And  could  not  consummate  the  act ;  for  enemies 
Approaching,  or  Gods  intervening,  hindered  him. 

CHORUS. 

What  shall  happen,  imagin'st  thou  not 

Queen,  go  fonrärds 

With  courage ! 

Blessing  and  evil  come 

Unexpected  to  men : 

Though  announced,  yet  we  do  not  believe. 

Burned  not  Ilion,  saw  we  not  also 

Death  in  the  face,  shamefullest  death  ? 

And  are  we  not  here. 


ih,Googlc 


With  thee  qompanioned,  joyoiisly  serving. 
Seeing  the  dazzliog  sun  in  the  heavens, 
And  the  fairest  of  earth,  too,  — 
Kindest  one,  thee,  —  we,  the  happy  ? 


Let  come,  what  may !    Whate'er  awaits  me,  it  beseemi 
That  I  without  delay  go  up  in  the  Royal  House, 
Which,  long  my  need  and  yearning,  forfeited  almost, 
Once  more  hath  risen  on  my  sight,  I  know  not  how. 
My  feet  no  longer  bear  me  with  such  fearlessness 
Up  the  high  steps,  which  as  a  child  I  sprang  across. 


Cast  ye,  O  sisters  !  ye 

Sorrowful  captives, 

All  your  trouble  far  from  ye ! 

Your  mistress's  joy  partake, 

Helena's  joy  partake, 

Who  the  paternal  hearth 

Delightedly  now  is  approaching, 

Truly  with  late-reluming 

But  with  firmer  and  surer  feet  I 

Praise  ye  the  sacredest. 
Still  re-establishing 
And  home-bringing  Immortals  I 
How  the  delivered  one 
Soars  as  on  lifted  wings 
Over  asjjerities,  while  in  vain 
The  prisoned  one,  yearningly, 
Over  the  foriress.parapet 
Pineth  with  outspread  arms ! 

But  a  God  took  hold  of  her, 
The  Expatriate, 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III. 

And  from  Ilion's  mins 

Hither  hath  borne  her  again, 

To  the  ancieot,  the  newly  embelUshed 

Paternal  house. 

From  unspeakable 

Raptures  and  tonnen ts, 

Early  youthful  days, 

Now  refreshed,  to  remember. 


It  Leader  of  thb  Chorus). 
Forsake  ye  now  the  joy-encompassed  path  of  Song, 
And  towards  the  portal's  open  valves  your  glances  turn  I 
What,  Sisters,  do  I  see?    Retumeth  not  the  Queen 
With  swift  and  agitated  step  again  to  us  ? 
What  is  it  now,  great  Queen,  what  could  encounter  thee 
To  move  and  shake  thee  so,  within  thy  house's  balls, 
Instead  of  greeting?  Thou  canst  not  conceal  thi;  thing; 
For  strong  repulsion  written  on  thy  brow  I  see. 
And  noble  Indignation,  struggling  with  amaze. 

HELENA 
{who  htu  lifi  ihi  wingt  af  the  portal  efen,  txciuHly). 
K  common  fear  beseemeth  not  the  child  of  Zeus  ; 
No  lightly-passing  hand  of  terror  touches  her  ; 
But  that  fell  Horror,  which  the  womb  of  ancient  Night 
Wilh  first  of  things  delivered,  rolled  through  many  foiiti«, 
Likeglowingclouds  that  from  the  mountain's  fiery  throai 
Whirl  up  expanding,  even  heroes'  breasts  may  shnVe. 
Thus  terribly  have  here  to-day  the  Stygian  Gods 
Mine  entrance  in  the  house  betokened,  and  1  fain, 
Even  as  a  guest  dismissed,  would  take  myself  awav 
From  thi«  oft-trodden  threshold  I  so  longed  to  tread. 
But,  no  !  hither  have  1  retreated  to  the  light ; 
Nor  further  shall  ye  force  me,  Powers,  be  who  ye  may  I 


ih,Googlc 


Some  consecTation  wiU  I  muse :  then,  purified, 

The  hearth-fire  may  the  wife  so  welcome,  as  the  lord 

LEADER  OF  THE  CHORUS. 

Discover,  noble  Dame,  unto  thy  servants  here, 
Who  reverently  assist  thee,  what  iiath  come  to  pass. 


What  1  beheld,  shall  ye  with  your  own  eyes  behold, 
If  now  that  shape  the  ancient  Night  hath  not  at  once 
Re-swallowed  to  the  wonders  of  her  deepest  breast 
But  I  with  words  will  yet  declare  it,  that  ye  know. 
When  solemnly,  my  nearest  duty  borne  in  mind, 
The  Royal  House's  gloomy  inner  court  1  trod, 
Amazed  1  saw  the  silent,  dreary  corridors. 
No  sound  of  diligent  labor,  going  forwards,  met 
The  ear,  no  signs  of  prompt  and  busy  haste  the  eye ; 
And  not  a  maid  appeared  to  me,  no  stewardess 
Such  as  is  wont  to  greet  the  stranger,  friendly-wise. 
But  when  towards  the  ample  hearth-stone  I  advanced, 
1  saw,  beside  the  glimmering  ashes  that  remained, 
A  veiled  and  giant  woman  seated  on  the  ground. 
Not  like  to  one  who  sleeps,  but  one  deep-sunk  in  thought 
With  words  of  stem  command  1  summoned  her  to  work, 
The  stewardess  surmising,  who  meanwhile,  perchance, 
My  spouse  with  forethought  there  had  staüoned  when 

he  left ; 
But  she,  still  crouched  together,  sat  immovable. 
Stirred  by  my  threats  at  last,  she  lifted  the  right  arm 
As  if  from  hearth  and  hall  she  beckoned  me  away. 
1  turned  indignantly  from  her,  and  swiftly  sped 
Unto  the  steps  whereon  aloft  the  I'halamos 
Adorned  is  set,  and  near  thereto  the  treasure-room : 
But  suddenly  from  the  floor  the  wondrous  figure  SfKang, 
Barring  my  way  imperiously,  and  showed  herself 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III.  171 

In  haggard  height,  with  hollow,  blood-discolored  eyes, 
A  shape  so  strange  that  eye  and  mind  confounded  are. 
But  to  the  winds  I  speak :  for  all  in  vain  doth  Speech 
Fatigue  itself,  creatively  to  build  up  forms. 
There  look,  yourselves  i  She  even  ventures  forth  to  light ! 
Here  are  we  masters,  till  the  lord  and  king  shall  come. 
The  horrid  births  of  Night  doth  Phcebus,  Beauty's  friend, 
Drive  out  of  sight  to  caverns,  or  he  binds  them  fast 
{Vaotx.\A&  afpears  on  Ihi  thrtskeU,  betwicn  tht  dooT'Posti.) 


Much  my  experience,  although  the  tresses, 
Youthfully  clustering,  wave  on  my  temples; 
Many  the  terrible  things  I  have  witnessed, 
Warriors  lamenting,  llion's  night, 
When  it  felL 

Through  the  beclouded,  dusty  and  tnaddened 
Throngs  of  the  combatants,  heard  1  the  Gods  then 
Terribly  calling,  heard  I  the  iron 
Accents  of  Discord  clang  through  the  field. 
City- wards. 

Ah,  yet  stood  they,  llion's 
Ramparts;  but  ever  the  fiery  glow 
Ran  from  neighbor  to  neighbor  walls, 
Ever  extending  from  here  and  there, 
With  the  roar  of  its  own  storm. 
Over  the  darkening  city. 

Flying  saw  I,  through  smoke  and  flame, 
And  the  tongues  of  the  blinding  fire, 
Fearful  angering  presence  of  Gods, 
Stalking  marvellous  figures, 
Giant-great,  through  the  gloomy 
Fire-illuminate  vapors. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

Saw  1,  or  was  it  but 
Dread  of  the  mind,  that  fashioned 
Forms  so  affrighting?    Never  can 
Justly  r  say  it?    Yet  that  I  Her, 
Horrible,  here  with  eyes  behold, 
Is  to  me  known  and  certain : 
Even  to  my  hand  were  palpable. 
Did  not  the  terror  restrain  me, 
Holding  me  back  from  the  danger. 

Which  one  of  Phorkys' 
Daughters  then  art  thou  ? 
Since  1  compare  thee 
Unto  that  family. 

Art  thou,  perchance,  of  the  Graiic, 
One  of  the  dreaded  gray-bom. 
One  eye  and  toolh  only 
Owning  alternately  ? 

Darest  thou.  Monster, 

Here  beside  Beauty, 

Unto  high  Phcebus' 

Vision  display  thee? 

Step  thou  forth,  notwithstanding  I 

For  the  Ugly  beholds  he  not, 

Even  as  his  hallowed  glances 

Never  beheld  the  shadow. 

Yet  a  sorrowful  adverse  fate. 

Us  mortals  compelleth,  alas ! 

To  endure  the  unspeakable  eye-pain 

Which  She,  the  accuret,  reprehensible, 

Provokes  in  the  lovers  of  Beauty. 

Yes,  then  hearken,  if  thou  brazenly 
Us  shalt  encounter,  hear  the  curse,  — 


ih,Googlc 


Hear  the  threat  of  every  abuse 

From  the  denouncii^  mouths  of  the  Fortunate, 

Whom  the  Gods  themselves  have  fashioned! 

PHORKYAS.'"' 

Old  is  the  saw,  and  yet  its  sense  is  high  and  true, 
That  Shame  and  Beauty  ne'er  together,  band  in  hand. 
Pursued  their  way  across  the  green  domains  of  Earth. 
Deep-rooted  dwells  in  both  such  force  of  ancient  hate, 
Tlial  wheresoever  on  their  way  one  haps  to  meet 
The  other,  each  upon  her  rival  turns  her  back : 
Then  forth  again  vehemently  they  hasten  on, 
Shame  deep  depressed,  but  Beauty  insolent  and  bold, 
Till  her  at  last  the  hollow  night  of  Orcus  taltes, 
If  Age  hath  not  beforehand  fully  tamed  her  pride. 
So  now'l  find  ye,  shameless  ones,  come  from  abroad 
With  arrogance  o'erfiowing,  as  a  file  of  cranes 
That  with  their  hoarse,  far-sounding  clangor  high  in  air, 
A  cloudy  line,  slow-moving,  send  their  creaking  tones 
Below,  the  lone,  belated  wanderer  to  allure 
That  he  look  up ;  but,  notwithstanding,  go  their  way, 
And  he  goes  his :  and  likewise  will  it  be,  with  us. 
Who,  then,  are  you,  that  round  the  Royal  Palace  high 
Like  Mxnads  wild,  or  like  Bacchantes,  dare  to  rave  ? 
Who,  then,  are  you,  that  you  the  House's  stewardess 
Assail  and  howl  at,  as  the  breed  of  d(^  the  moon? 
Think  ye  from  me  't  is  hidden,  of  what  race  yc  are  ? 
Ye  brood,  in  war  begotten  and  in  battle  bred. 
Lustful  of  man,  seducing  no  less  than  seduced. 
Emasculating  soldiers',  burghers'  strength  alike] 
Methinks,  to  see  your  crowd,  a  thick  cicada-swarm 
Hath  settled  on  us,  covering  the  green-sown  fields. 
Devourcrs  ye  of  others'  toil !     Ve  snatch  and  taste. 
Destroying  in  its  bud  the  land's  prosperity ! 
Wares  are  ye,  plundered,  bartered,  and  in  market  sold  I 


ih,Googlc 


174 


FAUST. 


HELENA. 

Who  ra.tes  tlie  servant-maids  in  presence  of  the  Dame 
Audaciously  invades  the  Mistress'  household-right: 
Her  only  it  becometh  to  commend  what  is 
Praiseworthy,  as  to  punish  what  is  blamable. 
Content,  moreover,  am  I  with  the  service  which 
They  gave  me,  when  the  lofty  strength  of  llion 
Beleaguered  stood,  and  fell  in  ruin :  none  the  less 
When  we  the  sorrowful  and  devious  hardships  bore 
Of  errant  travel,  where  each  thinks  but  of  himself. 
Here,  too,  the  like  from  this  gay  throng  do  I  expect: 
Not  what  the  slave  is,  asks  the  lord,  but  how  he  serves. 
Therefore  be  silent,  cease  to  grin  and  jeer  at  them ! 
If  thou  the  Palace  hitherto  hast  guarded  well 
In  place  of  Mistress,  so  much  to  thy  credit  stands ; 
But  now  that  she  herself  hath  come,  shouldst  thou  retire 
Lest  punishment,  in  place  of  pay  deserved,  befall ! 

PHORKYAS. 

To  threaten  the  domestics  is  a  right  assured. 

Which  she,  the  spouse  august  of  the  God-prospered 

king, 
By  many  years  of  wise  discretion  well  hath  earned. 
Since  thou,  now  recognlied,  thine  ancient  station  here 
Again  assum'st,  as  Queen  and  Mistress  of  the  House, 
Grasp  thou  the  reins  so  long  relaxed,  be  ruler  now. 
Take  in  thy  keep  the  treasure,  and  ourselves  thereto! 
But  tirst  of  all  protect  me,  who  the  eldest  am. 
From  this  pert  throng,  who  with  thee,  Swan  of  Beauty 

matched. 
Are  only  stumpy-winged  and  cackling,  quacking  geese. 

LEADER  OP  THE  CHORUS. 

How  ugly,  near  to  Beauty,  showeth  Ugliness  t 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III.  175 

PHORKTAS. 

How  slUy,  near  to  understanding,  want  of  sense  1 
{HauefoTtk  tkt  Choretids  anmxr  in  turn,  ttffping  singly 
ferthfTom  iht  Chobus.) 

CHOKETID  I."* 

Of  Falber  Erebus  relate,  relate  of  Mother  Night  I 

FHORKYAS. 

Speak  thou  of  Scylla,  sister-children  of  one  flesh  1 

CKORETID  n. 

Good  store  of  hideous  monsters  shows  thy  family  tree  ! 

FHORK.VAS. 

Co  down  to  Orcus !    There  thy  tribe  and  kindred  seek  1 

CHORETID  IlL 

Those  who  dwell  there  are  all  by  far  too  young  for  thee. 


On  oM  Tiresias  try  thy  lascivious  arts  I 

CHORETID  IV. 

Orion's  nurse  was  great-great-grandchtld  unto  thee! 

PHORKYAS- 

rhee  harpies,  1  suspect,  did  nurse  and  feed  on  filth. 

CHORETID  V, 

Wherewith  dost  thou  such  choice  emaciation  feed  ? 

PHORKYAS. 

Not  with  the  b!ood,  for  which  thou  all  too  greedy  art 


ih,Googlc 


CHORETID  VI. 

Thou,  hungering  for  corpses,  hideous  corpse  thyself  I 

PHORKYAS. 

The  teeth  of  vampires  in  thy  shameless  muzzle  shine  I 

LEADER  OP  THE  CHORUS. 

Thine  shall  I  slop,  when  I  declare  thee  who  thou  art 

PHORKYAS. 

Then  name  thyself  the  lirst !    The  riddle  thus  is  solved 


Not  angered,  but  in  sorrow,  do  I  intervene, 
Prohibiting  the  storm  of  this  alternate  strife  I 
For  nothing  more  injurious  meets  the  ruling  Und 
Than  quarrels  of  his  faithful  servants,  underhand. 
The  echo  of  his  orders  then  returns  no  more 
Accordantly  to  him  in  swiftly  finished  acts, 
But,  roaring  wilfully,  encompasses  with  storm 
Him,  self-confused,  and  chiding  to  the  empty  air. 
Nor  this  alone :  in  most  unmannered  anger  ye 
Have  conjured  hither  pictures  of  the  shapes  of  dread, 
Which  so  surround  me,  that  to  Orcus  now  I  feel 
My  being  whirled,  despite  these  well-known  native  fields. 
Can  it  be  memory  ?    Was  it  fancy,  seizing  me  ? 
Was  all  that,  I  ?  and  am  I,  now?  and  shall  1  hence- 
forth be 
The  dream  and  terror  of  those  town-destroying  ores  ? 
1  see  tlie  maidens  shudder:  but,  the  eldest,  thou 
Composedly  standest  —  speak  a  word  of  sense  to  me  I 

PHORKYAS. 

Whoe'er  the  fortune  manifold  of  years  recalls, 
Sees  as  a  dreim  at  last  the  favor  of  the  Gods. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III. 


177 


But  thou,  so  highly  dowered,  so  past  all  measure  helped, 
Saw'st  in  the  ranks  of  life  but  love^esirous  men. 
To  every  boldeEt  hazard  kindled  soon  and  spurred. 
Thee  early  Theseus  snatched,  excited  by  desire, 
LJke  HeracISs  in  strength,  a  splendid  form  of  man. 

HELENA. 

He  bore  me  forth,  a  ten-year-old  and  slender  roe, 
And  shut  me  in  Aphidnus'  tower,  in  Attica. 

PHORKYAS. 

But  then,  by  Castor  and  by  Pollux  soon  released. 
The  choicest  crowd  of   heroes,  wooing,  round  thee 


Yet  most  my  secret  favor,  freely  I  confess, 
Patroclus  won,  the  likeness  of  Pelides  he. 

PHORKYAS. 

Wed  by  thy  father's  will  to  Menelaus  then, 

r,  the  sustainer  of  his  house. 


My  sire  the  daughter  gave  him,  and  the  government : 
Then  from  our  wedded  nearness  sprang  Hermione. 

PHORKYAS. 

Yet  when  he  boldly  claimed  the  heritage  of  Crete, 
To  thee,  the  lonely  one,  too  fair  a  guest  appeared. 


Why  wilt  thou  thus  recall  that  semi-widowhood, 
And  all  the  hideous  ruin  it  entailed  on  me? 


ih,Googlc 


i;8  FAUST. 

PHORKYAS. 

To  me,  3  free-bom  Cretan,  did  that  journey  bring 
Imprisonment,  as  well, — protracted  slavery. 

HELENA. 

At  once  he  hither  ordered  thee  as  stewardess, 
Giving  in  charge  the  fortress  and  the  treasure-stores. 

FHORi^YAS. 

Which  thou  forsookest,  wending  to  the  towered  town 
Of  llion,  and  the  unexhausted  joys  of  love. 


Name  not  those  joys  to  mel  for  sorrow  all  too  stem 
Unendingly  was  poured  upon  my  breast  and  brain. 

PHORKYAS. 

Nathless,  they  say,  dost  thou  appear  in  double  form', 
Beheld  in  llion,  —  in  Egypt,  too,  beheld. 

HELENA. 

Make  wholly  not  confused  my  clouded,  wandering  sense  I 
Even  in  this  moment,  who  I  am  1  cannot  telL 


And  then,  they  say,  from  out  the  hollow  Realm  of  Shades 

Achilles  yet  was  joined  in  passion  unto  thee, 

Who  earlier  loved  thee,  'gainst  all  ordinances  of  Fate  I 

HELENA. 

To  him,  the  Vision,  I,  a  Vision,  wed  myself;  "^ 

It  was  a  dream,  as  even  the  words  themselves  declare 

I  vanish  hence,  and  to  myself  a  Vision  grow, 

iSke  ÜHki  into  tht  armi  cftht  Sehichorus.) 


ih,Googlc 


Silence  t  silence  1 

False-seeing  one,  ^se-speaking  one  1 

Out  of  the  hideous,  single-toothed 

Mouth,  wha.t  should  be  exhaled  from 

Such  abominable  horror-throat  I 

For  the  Malevolent,  seeming  benevolent, — 

Wolfs  wrath  under  the  sheep's  woolly  fleece,— 

Fearfuller  far  is  unto  me  than 

Throat  of  the  three-headed  dog. 

Anxiously  listening  stand  we  here. 

When  ?  how  ?  where  shall  break  again  forth 

Further  malice 

From  the  deeply-ambushed  monster? 

Now,  stead  of  friendly  words  and  consoling, 

Lethe-bestowing,  gratefully  mild, 

Stirrest  thou  up  from  all  the  Past 

Evillest  more  than  good  things, 

And  darkenest  all  at  once 

Both  the  gleam  of  the  Present 

And  also  the  Future's 

Sweetly  glimmering  dawn  of  hope  I 

Silence!  silence! 
That  the  Queen's  high  spirit, 
Nigh  to  forsake  her  now, 
Hold  out,  and  upbear  yet 
The  Form  of  all  forms 
Which  the  sun  shone  on  ever. 
(Helena  Aai  rtccvirid,  and  standi  again  in  tkt  cmtre.) 

PHORKVAS. 

Forth  from  transient  vapors  comes  the  lofty  sun  of  this 
bright  day, 


ih,Googlc 


l8o  FAUST. 

That,  obscured,  could  so  delight  us,  but  in  splendor 

dazxies  now. 
As  the  world  to  thee  is  lovely,  thou  art  lovely  unto  us; 
Though  as  ugly  they  revile  me,  well  1  know  tlie  Beautiful 

HELEN- A. 

Tottering  step  I  from  the  Void  that— diszy,  fainting, — 

round  me  closed ; 
And  again  would  fain  be  resting,  for  so  weary  are  my 

Yet  to  Queens  beseemeth  chiefly,  as  to  all  men  It  be- 


PHORKVAS 

Standing  now  in  all  thy  greatness,  and  iu  all  thy  beauty, 

Saj-s  thine  eye  that  thou  commandest :  what  command'at 
thou  ?  speak  it  out ! 


Beprepared,  for  much  neglected  in  your  quarrel,  to  atone! 
Haste,  a  sacrifice  to  furnish,  as  the  king  hath  ordered  me ! 

PHDRKVAS. 

AH  is  ready  in  the  palace  —  vessels,  tripods,  sharpened 

axe. 
For  the  sprinkling,  fumigating :  iihow  to  me  the  victim 

ilELEKA. 

This  the  king  not  indicated. 


PHORKYAS. 

Spake  it  not  ?    O  word  of  woe  I 


ih,Googlc 


HELENA. 

What  distress  hath  overcome  thee  f 


PHORKYAS. 

Queen,  the  offering  art  the«  I  "* 

HELENA. 


And  these. 

CHORUS. 

Ah,  woe  and  sorrow ! 


Thou  shall  fall  beneath  the  axe. 

HELENA. 

Fearful,  yet  foreboded !    1,  alas  I 

FHORKYAS. 

There  seemeth  no  escape. 

CHORUS. 

Ah  I  and  what  to  us  will  happen  f 

PHORKYAS. 

She  will  die  a  noble  death  ; 
But  upon  the  lofty  beam,  upholding  rafter-frame  and  roof. 
As. in  binding-time  the  throstles,  ye  in  turn  shall  strug- 
gling hang ! 
(Helena  and  tht  Chorus  stand  amattd  and  alami^d,  in 
Itriiittg,  well-orrangtd groHfi.) 

PHORKYAS. 

Ye  Phantoms !  —  lilce  to  frozen  images  ye  stand. 
In  terror  thtis  from  Day  to  part,  which  is  not  yours. 


ih,Googlc 


1 8a  FAUST. 

Men,  and  the  race  of  spectres  like  you,  one  and  aE, 
Renounce  not  willingly  the  bright  beams  of  the  sun; 
But  from  the  end  may  none  implore  or  rescue  them. 
All  know  it,  yet  't  is  pleasant  unto  very  few. 
Enough  I  ye  all  are  lost ;  now  speedily  to  work ! 
{She  (laps  her  hands  :  ihtretipott  appear  in  Ike  dooromy  muf 

tUd  dwarfish  forms,  mhicA  at  onie  carry  out  iailh  aiatritj 

Ihe  eemmands  expreiied.) 
This  way,  ye  gloomy,  sphery-bodied  monster  throng  I 
Koil  hitherwards  !  ye  here  may  damage  as  ye  wilL 
The  altar  portable,  the  golden-homed,  set  up  ! 
The  axe  let  shimmering  lie  across  the  silver  rim ! 
The  urns  of  water  fill!    For  soon,  to  wash  away. 
Shall  be  the  black  blood's  horrible  and  smutching  stains. 
Here  spre.ii!  the  costly  carpets  out  ujwn  the  dust, 
That  so  the  offering  may  kneel  in  queenly  wise, 
And  folded  then,  although  with  severed  head,  at  once 
With  decent  dignity  be  granted  sepulture  ! 
LEADER  OF  THE  CHORUS. 

The  Queen  is  standing,  sunk  in  thought,  beside  us  here, 
The  maidens  wither  like  the  late-mown  meadow  grass ; 
Methinks  that  I,  the  eldest,  in  high  duty  bound, 
Should  words  exchange  with  thee,  primeval  eldest  thou  ' 
Thou  art  experienced,  wise,  and  seemest  well-disposed, 
Although  this  brainless  throng  assailed  thee  in  mistake. 
Declare  then,  if  thou  knowest,  possible  escape  1 

PHORKVAS. 

'T  is  easy  said.     Upon  the  Queen  it  rests  alone. 
To  save  herself,  and  ye  appendages  with  her. 
But  resolution,  anti  the  swiftest,  needful  is. 

CHORUS. 

Worthiest  and  most  reverend  of  the  Parcx,  wisest  sibil 
thou. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III.  183 

Hold  the  golden  shears  yet  open,  then  declare  us  Day 

and  Help  I 
We  already  feel  discomfort  of  the  soaring,  swinging, 

struggling; 
And  our  limbs  in  dances  first  would  rather  move  in  joy 

cue  cadence. 
Resting  afterwards  on  lovers'  breasts. 

HELENA. 

Let  these  be  timid  I     Pain  1  feel,  but  terror  none ; 
Yet  if  thou  know'st  of  rescue,  grateful  I  accept  I 
Unto  the  wise,  wide^seeing  mind  is  verily  shown 
The  Impossible  oft  as  possible.    Then  speak,  and  say  > 

CHORUS. 

Speak  and  tell  us,  tell  us  quickly,  how  escape  we  now 

the  fearful. 
Fatal  nooses,  that  so  menace,  like  the  vilest  form  d 

necklace. 
Wound  about  our  tender  throats  ?    Already,  in  anticl- 

We  can  feel  the  choking,  smothering  —  if  thou,  Rhea^ 

lofty  Mother 
Of  the  Gods,  to  mercy  be  not  moved. 

PHORKYAS. 

Have  you  then  patience,  such  long-winded  course  of 

speech 
To  hear  in  silence?    Manifold  the  stories  are. 

CHORUS. 

Patience  enough  1     Meanwhile,  in  hearing,  still  we  liv& 

PHORKYAS, 

Whoso,  to  guard  his  noble  wealth,  abides  at  home, 
And  in  his  lofty  dwelling  well  cements  the  chinks 


ih,Googlc 


And  also  from  the  pelting  rain  secures  the  root. 
With  him,  the  long  days  of  his  life,  shall  all  be  well : 
But  whosoe'er  his  threshold's  holy  square-hewn  stone 
Lightly  with  Hying  foot  and  guilty  oversteps, 
Finds,  when  lie  comes  again,  the  ancient  place,  indeed, 
But  all  things  altered,  if  not  utterly  o'ertbrowo. 

HELENA. 

Wherefore  decl^m  such  well-known  sayings  here,  as 

these? 
Thou  wouldst  narrate :  then  stir  not  up  annoying  themes  I 

PHORKYAS. 

It  is  historic  truth,  and  nowise  a  reproach. 
Sea-plundering,  Menelaus  steered  from  bay  to  bay; 
He  skirted  as  a  foe  the  islands  and  the  shores. 
Returning  with  the  booty,  which  in  yonder  rusts. 
Then  ten  long  years  he  passed  in  front  of  Uioa ; 
But  for  the  voyage  home  how  many  know  I  not 
And  now  how  is  it,  where  we  stand  by  Tyndarus' 
Exalted  House?    How  is  it  with  the  regions  round? 

HELENA. 

Has  then  Abuse  become  incarnated  in  thee. 

That  canst  not  open  once  thy  lips,  except  to  blame  ? 

PHORKYAS. 

So  many  years  deserted  stood  the  valley-hills 
That  in  the  rear  of  Sparta,  nortihwards  rise  aloft. 
Behind  Taygetus ;  whence,  as  yet  a  nimble  brook, 
Eurotas  downward  rolls,  and  then,  along  our  vale 
By  reed-beds  broadly  (lowing,  nourishes  your  swans. 
Behind  there  in  the  mountain-dells  a  daring  breed 
Have  settled,  pressing  forth  from  the  Cimmerian  Night, 


ih,Googlc 


And  there  have  built  a  fortress  inaccessible, 

Whence  land  and  people  now  they  harry,  as  they  please. 

HELENA. 

Have  they  accomplished  that?    Impossible  it  seems. 

PHORKYAS. 

They  had  the  time :  it  may  be  twen^  years,  in  alL 

HELENA. 

Is  one  a  Chief?  and  are  they  robbers  many  —  leagued  ? 

PHORKYAS. 

Not  robbers  are  they ;  yet  of  many  one  is  Chief :  "• 
[  blame  him  not,  although  on  me  he  also  fell. 
He  might,  indeed,  have  taken  all ;  yet  was  content 
With  sottu:  free-gi/ts,  he  said :  tribute  he  called  it  noL 


How  looked  the  man  ? 

PHORKYAS. 

By  no  means  ill :  he  pleased  me  well. 
Cheerful  and  brave  and  bold,  and  nobly-formed  is  he, 
A  prudent  man  and  wise,  as  few  among  the  Greeks. 
They  call  the  race  Barbarians  ;  yet  I  question  much 
If  one  so  cruel  be,  as  there  by  Ilion 
In  man-devouring  rage  so  many  heroes  were ; 
His  greatness  1  respected,  did  confiüe  In  him. 
And  then,  his  fortress !     That  should  ye  yourselves 

behold  ! 
'T  is  somelliing  other  than  unwieldy  masonry, 
The  which  your  fathers,  helter-skelter  tumbling,  piled,  — 
Cyclopean  like  the  Cyclops,  stones  undressed  at  once 
On  stones  r.ndressed  upheaving  :  there,  however,  there 


ih,Googlc 


1 86  FAUST. 

All  plumb  and  balanced  is,  conformed  to  square  and  rule. 
Behold  it  from  without !     It  rises  heavenward  up 
So  hard,  so  tight  of  joint,  and  mirror-smooth  as  sleel. 
To  climb  up  there — nay,  even  your  Thought  itself  slides 

off! 
And  mighty  courts  of  ample  space  within,  enclosed 
Around  with  structures  of  all  character  and  use. 
There  you  see  pillars,  pillarets,  arches  great  and  small, 
Balconies,  galleries  for  looking  out  and  in, 
And  coats  of  arms. 


What  are  they  ? 

PHOSKVAS. 

Ajax  surely  bore 
A  twisted  serpent  on  his  shield,  as  ye  have  seen. 
The  Seven  also  before  Thebes  had  images, 
Each  one  upon  his  shield,  with  many  meanings  rich. 
One  saw  there  moon  and  star  on  the  nocturnal  sky. 
And  goddesses,  and  heroes,  ladders,  torches,  swords, 
And  whatsoe'er  afflicting  threateneth  good  towns. 
Such  symbols  also  bore  our  own  heroic  band. 
In  shining  lints,  bequeathed  from  eldest  ancestry. 
You  see  there  lions,  eagles,  likewise  claws  and  beaks, 
Then  buffalo-horns,  with  wings  and  roses,  peacock's- tails, 
And  also  bars — gold,  black  and  silver,  blue  and  red. 
The  like  of  these  in  halls  are  hanging,  row  on  row, — 
In  halls  unlimited  and  spacious  as  the  world : 
There  might  ye  dance ! 

CHORUS, 

But  tell  us,  are  there  dancers  there' 

FHORKVAS. 

Ay,  and  the  best !  —  a  blooming,  gold-haired  throDg  o( 
boys, 


ih,Googlc 


Breathing  ambrosia]  youth !    So  only  Paris  breathed. 
When  he  approached  too  nearly  to  the  Queen. 

HELENA. 

Thou  fall'st 
Entirely  from  thy  part :  speak  now  the  final  word  1 

PHORKVAS. 

Tisthoushaltspealcit:  saywithgrave distinctness, Yes! 
Then  straight  will  I  surround  thee  with  that  fortress. 

CHORUS. 

Speak, 
O  speak  the  one  brief  word,  and  save  thyself  and  us.' 

HELENA. 

What!     Shall  1  tear  King  Menelaus  may  trniiRgrcss 
So  most  inhumanly,  as  thus  to  smite  myself? 

PHORKVAS. 

Hast  thou  forgotten  how  he  thy  Deiphobus, 
Brother  of  fallen  Paris,  who  with  stubborn  claim 
Took  thee,  the  widow,  as  his  fere,  did  visit  with 
Unheard-of  mutilation?    Nose  and  ears  he  cropped, 
And  otl)erwise  disfigured :  't  was  a  dread  to  see. 

HELENA. 

That  did  he  unto  him :  he  did  it  for  my  sake. 

PHORKVAS. 

Because  of  him  he  now  will  do  the  like  to  thee. 
Beauty  is  indivisible  : '"'  who  once  possessed 
Her  wholly,  rather  slays  than  only  share  in  part 

(  Trumptts  in  the  diilatKi:  the  CHORUS  itarti  tu  terror.) 
Even  as  the  trumpet's  piercing  clangor  gripes  and  tears 
The  ear  and  entiail-nerves,  thus  Jealousy  her  claws 


ih,Googlc 


Drives  in  the  bosom  of  Ihe  man,  who  ne'er  forgets 
What  once  was  his,  but  now  is  lost,  possessed  no  mor& 


Hear'st  thou  not  the  trumpets  pealing  ?  see'st  thou  not 
the  shine  of  swords  ? 

phorkvaS. 
King  and  Lord,  be  welcome  hither  I  willing  reckoning 
will  1  give. 

CHORUS. 

What  of  us? 

PHORKYAS. 

You  know  it  clearly,  see  her  death  before  your  eyes ; 
There,  within,  your  own  shall  follow :  nay,  there  is  no 
help  for  you  I 


HELtWA. 

What  I  may  venture  first  to  do,  have  I  devised 
A  hostile  Daemon  art  thou,  that  I  feet  full  well, 
And  much  1  fear  thou  wilt  convert  the  Good  to  Bad. 
But  first  to  yonder  fortress  now  I  follow  thee; 
What  then  shall  come,  I  know:  but  what  the  Queen 

thereby 
As  mystery  in  her  deepest  bosom  may  conceal. 
Remain  unguessed  by  all !    Now,  Ancient,  lead  the  way  I 

CHORUS. 


O  how  gladly  we  go, 
Hastening  thither! 
Chasing  us,  Death, 
And,  rising  before  us, 
The  towering  castle's 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  I/I.  It 

iDaccessible  ramparts. 

Guard  us  as  well  may  thejr 

As  Ilion's  citedel-fort. 

Which  at  last  alone 

Fell,  through  contemptible  wiles  I 

jriu  and  spread,  obscuring  the  background,  oIm  t 
nearer  portion  of  tht  scene,  aifleaaire.) 
How  is  it?  how? 
Sisters,  look  around! 
Was  it  not  cheerfullest  day? 
Banded  vapors  are  hovering  up 
Out  of  Euroias'  holy  stream; 
Vanished  e'en  now  hath  the  lovely 
Reed-engnrlanded  shore  Trom  (he  sight) 
Likewise  the  free,  gracefully-proud. 
Silently  floating  swans. 
Mated  in  joy  oi  their  swimming. 
See  1,  alas  !  no  more. 

Still  — but  still 
Crying,  I  hear  them. 
Hoarsely  crying  afar! 
Os)inou5,  de»[h-presaging! 
An,  may  to  us  the  tones  not  a\to, 
Stead  of  deliverance  promised, 
Ruin  announce  at  the  lasCl  — 
Us,  the  awan-like  and  slender. 
Long  white- throated,  and  She, 
Our  fair  swan-begotten. 
Woe  to  ua,  woe  I 

All  is  covered  and  hid 
Round  us  with  vapor  and  cloud : 
Each  other  behold  we  not! 
What  happens  ?  do  we  advance? 


ih,Googlc 


I90  FAUST. 

Hover  we  only  with 

Skipping  footstep  slong  the  ground? 

Seest  thou  naught  ?    Soars  not  even,  perchance, 

Hermes  before  us?    Shines  not  the  golden  raid, 

Bidding,  commanding  us  back  again 

To  the  cheerless,  gray-twilighted, 

Full  of  impalpable  phantoms, 

Over-filled,  eternally  empty  Hades  ? 

Ves,  at  once  the  air  is  gloomy,  sunless  vanish  now  the 

Gray  and  darkly,  brown  as  buildings.    Walls  present 

themselves  before  us. 
Blank  against  our  clearer  vision.     Is't  a  court?  a  moat, 

or  pitfall? 
Fear- ins  pi  ring,  any  way!  and  Sisters,  ah,  behold  ut 

prisoned,  — 
Prisoned  now,  as  ne'er  before  ! 

\liiHer  c<mrlyard  of  a  Caattt,"-^  turrounded  with  rüi,  fim 
taitic  buildings  of  tht  Middle  Agii.) 

LEADER  OF  THE  CHORUS. 

Precipitate  and  foolish,  type  of  women  ye  I 
Dependent  on  the  moment,  sport  of  every  breeze 
That  blows  mischance  or  luck  I  and  neither  ever  ye 
Supported  calmly.    One  is  sure  to  contradict 
The  oihers  Aercely,  and  cross-wise  the  others  her: 
Only  in  joy  and  pain  ye  howl  and  laugh  alike. 
Be  silent  now,  and  hearken  what  the  Mistress  here, 
High-thoughled,  may  determine  for  herself  and  us  I 

HELENA. 

Where  art  thou.  Pythoness  ?  Whatever  be  thy  name, 
Step  forth  from  out  these  arches  of  the  gloomy  keep) 
If  tliou  didst  go,  uuto  the  wondrous  hero-tord 


ih,Googlc 


Me  to  announce,  preparing  thus  reception  (it, 
Then  take  my  thanks,  and  lead  me  speedily  to  him  t 
[  wish  the  wandering  dosed,  I  wish  for  rest  abac. 

LEADER  OP  THE  CHORUS- 

In  vain  thou  lookest,  Queen,  all  ways  around  thee  here} 
Tliat  [nU.\  shape  hath  vanished  hence,  perhaps  remained 
Therein  themists,  from  out  whose  bosom  hitherwards—» 
I  know  not  how — we  came,  awiflly,  without  a  step. 
Perhaps,  indeed,  she  strays,  lost  in  ihe  labyrinth 
or  many  castles  wondrously  combined  in  one, 
Seeking  august  and  princely  welcome  from  the  lord. 
Hut  see  I  up  yonder  moves  in  readiness  a  crowd ; 
In  galleries,  at  windows,  through  the  portals,  comes 
A  multitude  of  servants,  hastening  here  and  there  ; 
And  this  proclaims  distinguished  welcome  to  the  guest 

CHORUS. 

i>fy  heart  is  relieved  I    O,  yonder  behold 

How  so  orderly  downward  with  lingering  step 

The  crowd  of  the  jrouths  in  dignity  comes, 

In  regular  march  !     Who  hath  given  command 

That  they  marshal  in  ranks,  and  so  promptly  disposed, 

The  youthfullest  boys  of  the  beautiful  race  7 

What  shall  most  I  admire  ?    Is  't  the  delicate  gait, 

Or  the  curls  of  the  hair  on  the  white  of  the  brow, 

Or  the  twin-rounded  cheeks,  blushing  red  like  the  peacl^ 

And  also,  like  them,  with  ihe  silkiest  down  ? 

Fain  therein  would  I  bite,  yet  I  fear  me  to  try  j 

For,  in  similar  case,  was  the  mouth  thereup«» 

Filled  —  I  shudder  to  tell  !t !  —  with  ashes. 

But  they,  the  fairest^ 
Hither  ihey  come: 
What  do  they  bear  ^ 


ih,Googlc 


If)»  ■  FAUST. 

Steps  to  the  throne 

Carpet  and  seat, 

Curtain  and  tent, 

Or  similar  gear ; 

Waving  around,  and 

Cloudy  wreaths  forming 

O'er  the  head  of  our  Queen; 

For  she  already  ascendeth, 

Invited,  the  sumptuous  couch. 

Come  forward,  now. 

Step  by  step. 

Solemnly  ranged ! 

Worlhy,  O,  threefold  worthy  her, 

May  such  a  reception  be  blessed ) 

\4U  that  is  described  by  the  ClIORUS  takes  place  by  ■'egrea 
Afltr  the  bays  and  squires  Aave  deicended  in  a  limgproees- 
lion,  Faust  appears  aieve,  at  the  head  ef  the  staircase,  in 
knightly  Court  cDslume  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  then  conf 
dawn  slaialy  and  viiti  dignity. ) 

LEADER  OF  THE  CHORUS 
[observing  htpt  attentively). 
If  now,  indeed,  the  Gods  to  this  man  have  not  lent  — 
As  oft  they  do  to  men  —  a  brave,  transcendent  foim, 
A  winning  presence,  stalely  dignity  of  mien, 
For  temporary  service,  all  he  undertakes 
Will  always  bring  him  triumph,  whether  in  fight  with 

Or  in  the  minor  wars  with  fairest  ladies  waged. 
Him,  verily,  to  hosts  of  others  I  prefer, 
Whom,  highly-famed  withal,  1  have  myself  beheld. 
With  slow  and  solemn  siep,  by  reverence  restrained, 
I  see  the  Prince  approach :    turn  thou  ihy  head,  0 
Queen! 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III.  ,91 

PAUST 
\fipprBaehing:  a  man  in  fillers  at  hit  n'iü). 

Instead  of  solemn  greeting,  as  beseems, 
Or  reverential  welcome,  bring  I  thee. 
Fast-bound  in  welded  fetters,  here,  the  knave 
Whose  duty  slighted  cheated  me  of  mine.'" 
Kneel  down,  thou  Culprit,  that  this  lofty  Dame 
May  hear  the  prompt  confession  of  thy  guilt! 
This,  Sovereign  Mistress,  is  the  man  select 
For  piercing  vision,  on  the  turret  high 
Stationed  to  look  around,  the  space  of  heaven 
And  breadth  of  earth  to  read  with  sharpest  glance. 
If  here  or  there  perchance  come  aught  to  view,  — 
Between  the  stronghold  and  the  circling  hills 
If  aught  may  move,  whether  the  billowy  herds 
Or  waves  of  arm^d  men :  those  we  protect, 
Encounter  these.    To-day  —  what  negligence  I 
Thou  comest,  he  proclaims  it  not:  we  fail 
In  honorable  reception,  most  deserved, 
Of  such  high  guest.     Now  forfeited  hath  he 
Hia  guilty  life,  and  should  have  shed  the  blood 
Of  death  deserved ;  but  only  thou  shall  mete 
Pardon  or  punishment,  at  thy  good  will 


So  high  the  power,  which  thou  hast  granted  me, 

As  Mistress  and  as  Judge,  although  it  were 

(1  may  conjecture)  meant  but  as  a  test,  — 

Yet  now  1  use  the  Judge's  bounden  right 

To  give  the  Accused  a  hearing :  speak  then,  thou-i 

LVNCEUS,  THE  WARDER  OF  THE  TOWER. 

Let  me  kneel,  and  let  me  view  her. 
Let  me  live,  or  let  me  die ! 
VOL.  11.  9  H 


ih,Googlc 


For  enslaved,  devoted  to  her, 
This  God-granted  Dame,  am  I. 

Watching  for  the  Morn's  advancing 
Where  her  pathways  eastward  run, 
All  at  once,  a  sight  entrancing, 
In  the  South  arose  the  sun."i 

There  to  look,  the  Wonder  drew  me: 
Not  the  glens,  the  summits  cold, 
Space  of  sky  or  landscape  gloomy, — 
Only  Her  did  I  behold. 

Beain  of  sight  to  me  was  given, 
Like  the  Ij-ni  on  highest  tree  ; 
But  in  vain  I  've  urged  and  striven, 
'T  was  a  dream  that  fettered  me. 

Could  1  know,  or  how  be  aided  ? 
Think  oi  tower  or  bolted  gate  ? 
Vapor.>  JOse  and  vapors  faded. 
And  the  Goddess  came  in  state  I 

Eye  and  heart  did  I  surrender 
To  the  sottly-shining  spell: 
Blinding  all  with  Beauty's  spIendcM-, 
She  hath  blinded  me,  as  weU. 

I  forgot  the  warder's  duty 
And  the  trumpet's  herald-call: 
Threaten  to  destroy  me  !    Beauty 
Bindeth  anger,  frees  her  thrall. 

The  Evil  which  I  bro  ight,  I  dare  no  more 
Chastise.    Ah,  woe  to  ve !    What  fate  sever« 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III.  195 

Pursues  me,  everywhere  the  breasts  of  men 
So  to  infatuate,  that  nor  them,  nor  aught 
Besides  of  worth,  they  spare?    Now  plundering, 
Seducing,  fighting,  hurried  to  and  fro, 
Heroes  and  Demigods,  Gods,  Demons  even. 
Hither  and  thither  led  me,  sore-perplexed. 
Sole,  I  the  world  bewildered,  doubly  more; 
Now  threefold,  fourfold,  woe  on  woe  I  bring. 
Remove  this  ^iltless  man,  let  him  go  free  I 
The  God-deluded  merits  no  disgrace. 

FAUST. 

Amazed,  O  Queen,  do  I  behold  alike 

The  unerring  archer  and  the  stricken  prey. 

I  see  the  bow,  wherefrom  the  arrow  sped 

That  wounded  him.     Arrows  on  arrows  fly, 

And  strilce  me.     1  suspect  the  feathered  hum 

Of  bolts  cross-fired  through  all  the  courts  and  tower& 

What  am  I  now?    At  once  rebellious  thou 

Makest  my  faithfullest,  and  insecure 

My  walls.    Thence  do  I  fear  that  even  my  hosts 

Obey  the  conquering  and  unconquered  Dame. 

What  else  remains,  but  that  I  give  to  thee 

Myself,  and  all  1  vainly  fancied  mine? 

Let  me,  before  thy  feety  in  fealty  true. 

Thee  now  acknowledge,  Lady,  whose  approach 

Won  thee  at  once  possession  and  the  throne  I 

LYNCEUS 
{with  a  ehtil,  and  mm  iiihe  follow,  btaring  ntheri). 
Thou  seest  me.  Queen,  returned  and  free ! 
The  wealthy  begs  a  glance  from  thee : 
Thee  he  beheld,  and  feeleth,  since, 
As  be^ar  poor,  yet  rich  as  prince. 


ih,Googlc 


S  FAUST. 

What  was  1  erst  ?    What  now  am  I  ? 
What  shall  I  will  ?  —  what  do,  or  try  ? 
What  boots  the  eyesight's  shaqKst  ray? 
Back  from  thy  throne  it  bounds  away. 

Forth  from  the  East  we  hither  pressed,"« 
And  all  was  over  with  the  West : 
So  long  and  broad  the  people  massed, 
The  foremost  knew  not  of  the  last. 

The  foremost  fell,  the  second  stood; 
The  third  one's  lance  was  prompt  and  good ; 
Each  one  a  hundred's  strength  supplied ; 
Unnoted,  thousands  fell  and  died. 

We  onward  pressed,  in  stormy  chase ; 
The  lords  were  we  from  place  to  place ; 
And  where,  to-day,  /  ruled  as  chief. 
The  morrow  brought  another  thieL 

We  viewed  the  ground,  but  viewed  in  haste : 
The  fairest  woman  one  embraced, 
One  took  the  oxen  from  the  stall; 
The  horses  followed,  one  and  all. 

But  my  delight  was  to  espy 
What  rarest  was,  to  mind  and  eye ; 
And  all  that  others  might  amass 
To  me  was  so  much  withered  grass. 

I  hunted  on  the  treasure-trail 
Where'er  sharp  sight  could  me  avaU: 
In  every  pocket  did  I  see, 
And  every  chest  was  glass-to  «e. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III. 

And  heaps  of  gold  I  came  to  own, 
With  many  a  splendid  jewel-stone: 
The  emeralds  only  worthy  seem 
Greenly  upon  thy  breast  to  gleam. 

'Twjxt  lip  and  ear  let  swaying  sleep 
The  pearly  egg  of  Ocean's  deep ; 
Snch  place  the  rubies  dare  not  seek. 
They  're  blanched  beside  the  rosy  cheek. 

And  thus,  the  treasure's  offering 
I  here  before  thy  presence  bring: 
Laid  at  thy  feet,  be  now  revealed 
The  spoils  of  many  a  bloody  field  1 

Though  I  have  brought  of  chests  a  store. 
Yet  iron  caskets  have  I  more. 
Let  me  attend  thee,  do  thy  will, 
And  I  thy  treasure-vaults  wiU  fill. 


For  scarcely  didst  thou  mount  the  throne, 
Than  bowed  to  own  and  bent  to  own 
Thy  Beauty's  sway,  that  very  hour, 
Wisdom,  and  Wealth,  and  sovereign  Power. 

All  such  I  held  secure,  as  mine ; 
Now  freed  therefrom,  behold  it  thine ! 
I  deemed  its  worth  and  value  plain; 
Now  see  I,  it  was  null  and  vain. 

What  1  possessed  from  me  doth  pass, 
Dispersed  like  mown  and  withered  grass. 
One  bright  and  beauteous  glance  afford, 
And  all  its  worth  is  straight  restored ! 


ih,Googlc 


,8  FAUST. 

PAUST. 

Remove  with  speed  the  burden  boldly  won, 
Not  blamed,  indeed,  but  neither  with  reward. 
All  is  her  own  already,  which  the  keep 
Within  it  holds  ;   and  special  offer  thus 
Is  useless.    Go,  and  pile  up  wealth  od  wealth 
In  order  fit!     Present  the  show  august 
Of  splendors  yet  unseen !    The  vaulted  halls 
Make  shine  like  clearest  heaven  I     Let  Paradise 
From  lifeless  pomp  of  life  created  be  I 
Hastening,  before  her  footsteps  be  unrolled 
The  flower-embroidered  carpets  !     Let  her  tread 
Fall  OD  the  softest  footing,  and  her  glance. 
Cods  only  bear  undated,  on  proudest  pomp  1 


What  the  lord  commands  is  slight ; 
For  the  servants,  labor  tight : 
Over  wealth  and  blood  and  breath 
This  proud  Beauty  govemeth. 
Lo  !  thy  warrior-throngs  are  tame ; 
All  the  swords  are  blunt  and  lame ; 
Near  the  bright  fortn  we  behold 
Even  the  sun  is  pale  and  cold ; 
Near  the  riches  of  her  face 
All  things  empty,  shorn  of  grace. 

HELENA  (A.  Faust). 
Fain  to  discourse  with  thee,  I  bid  thee  come 
Up  hither  to  my  side !    The  empty  place 
Invites  its  lord,  and  thus  secures  me  mine. 

FAUST. 

First,  kneeling,  let  the  dedication  be 
Accepted,  lofty  Lady  \    I^  me  kiss 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III. 

The  gracious  hand  that  lifts  me  to  thy  side. 
Confirm  me  as  co-regent  of  thy  realm, 
Whose  borders  are  unknown,  and  win  for  thee 
Guard,  slave  and  worshipper,  and  all  in  one  ! 


I  hear  and  witness  marvels  manifold ; 

Amazement  takes  me,  much  would  I  inquire. 

Yet  now  instruct  me  wherefore  spake  the  man 

With  strangely-sounding  speech,  friendly  and  strange: 

Each  sound  appeared  as  yielding  to  the  next,  "J 

And,  when  a  word  gave  pleasure  to  the  ear. 

Another  came,  caressing  then  the  first 

FAUST. 

If  thee  our  people's  mode  of  speech  delight, 
O  thou  shale  be  enraptured  with  our  song. 
Which  wholly  satisfies  both  ear  and  mind) 
But  it  were  best  we  exercise  it  now : 
Alternate  speech  entices,  calls  it  forth. 


Canst  thou  to  me  that  lovely  speech  impart? 

PAUST. 

T  is  easy :  it  must  issue  from  the  heart ; 
And  ii  the  breast  with  yearning  overflow, 
One  looks  around,  and  asks  — 

HELENA. 

Who  shares  the  glov 

FAUST. 

Nor  Past  nor  Future  shades  an  hour  like  this  ; 
But  wholly  in  the  Present — 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

HELENA. 


FAUST. 

Gain,  pledge,  and  fortune  in  the  Present  stand : 
What  confirmation  does  it  ask? 


My  hand. 

CHORUS. 

Who  wouVd  take  it  amiss,  that  our  Princess 
Granteth  now  to  the  Castle's  lord 
Friendliest  demonstration  ? 
For,  indeed,  collectively  are  we 
Captives,  as  ofttimes  already. 
Since  the  infamous  down^ll 
Of  Ilion,  and  the  perilous, 
Labyrinthine,  sorrowful  voyage. 

Women,  to  the  love  of  men  accustomed, 

Dainty  choosers  are  they  not. 

But  proficients  skilful ; 

And  unto  golden-haired  shepherds. 

Perchance  black,  bristly  Fauns,  xaa. 

Even  as  comes  opportunity, 

Unto  the  limbs  in  their  vigor 

Fully  award  they  an  equal  right 

Near,  and  nearer  already  sit 
They,  to  each  other  drawn, 
Shoulder  to  shoulder,  knee  to  knee ; 
Hand  in  hand,  they  bend  and  sway 
Dver  the  throne's 
Softly-piUowed,  luxurious  pomp. 


ih,Googlc 


Majesty  here  not  withholds  its 
Secretest  raptures. 
Wilfully,  boldly  repealed 
Thus  to  the  eyes  of  the  people. 


I  feel  so  far  away,  and  yet  so  near; 

And  am  so  fain  to  say :  "  Here  am  I !  here." 

FAUST, 

1  scarcely  breathe  ;  I  tremble;  speech  is  dead: 
It  b  a  dream,  and  day  and  place  have  fied. 


I  seem  as  life  were  done,  and  yet  so  new. 
Blent  thus  with  thee,  —  to  Ihee,  the  Unknown,  ti 


To  probe  this  rarest  fate  be  not  impelled  ! 
Beli^  is  duty,  though  a  moment  held. 

PHORKYAS  (viaUntly  mlerins). 
Spell  in  lovers'  primers  sweetly! 
Probe  and  dally,  cosset  featly, 
Test  your  wanton  sport  completely  ! 
But  there  is  not  time,  nor  place. 
Feel  ye  not  the  gloomy  presage? 
Hear  ye  not  the  trumpet's  message? 
For  the  niin  comes  apace. 
Menelaus  with  his  legions 
Storms  across  the  hither  regions; 
Call  to  batUe  all  your  race ! 
By  the  victors  execrated, 
Like  Deiphobus  mutilated, 
Thou  shalt  pay  for  woman's  grace: 


ih,Googlc 


First  shall  dangle  every  light  one, 
At  the  altar,  then,  the  Bright  One 
Find  the  keen  axe  in  its  place  1 


Disturbance  rash !  repulsively  she  presses  in ; 
Not  even  in  danger  meet  is  senseless  violence. 
Ill  message  makes  the  fairest  herald  ugly  seem ; 
Thou,  Ugliest,  delightest  but  in  evil  news. 
Yet  this  lime  shall  thou  not  succeed  ;  with  empty  breath 
Stir,  shatter  thou  the  air!    There  is  no  danger  here, 
And  unto  us  were  danger  but  an  idle  threat 
[Signalt,  txplonans  froin  Ik4  tmaers,"*  irumpil$  and  contdt, 
marlUU  music.     A  povurfui  armed  force  marehet  pott.) 
No !  hero-bands,  none  ever  braver. 
At  once  shall  thou  assembled  see  : 
He,  sole,  deserves  the  ladies'  favor. 
Whose  ann  defends  them  gallantly. 
{Thlit  leitdert  b/ Ikt  traept,  taho  detaeh  themsetvei  from  tiU 
cfflumni,  and  tame  for^vardi.) 

With  rage  restrained,  in  silence  banded, 
And  certain  of  the  victory-feast, 
Ye,  Northern  blossoms,  half  expanded. 
Ye,  flowery  fervors  of  the  East ! 

The  light  upon  their  armor  breaking. 
They  plundered  realm  on  realm,  at  will : 
They  come,  and  lo !  the  earth  is  quaking; 
They  march  away,  it  thunders  stilt  I 

In  Pylos  we  forsook  the  waters ; 
The  ancient  Nestor  is  no  more, 
And  soon  our  lawless  army  scatters 
The  troopa  of  kings  on  Grecian  shore. 


ih,Cooi^lc 


ACT  in.  20J 

Back  from  these  walls,  no  more  delaying, 
Drive  Menelaus  to  the  sea  I 
There  let  him  wander,  robbing,  slaying^ 
As  was  his  wish  and  destiny. 

1  hail  you  Dukes,  as  forth  ye  sally 
Beneath  the  rule  of  Sparta's  Queen ! 
Now  lay  before  her  mount  and  valley. 
And  you  shall  share  the  kingdom  green ! 

Thine,  Gennan,  be  the  hand  that  forges 
Defence  for  Corinth  and  her  bays : 
Acha'ia,  with  its  hundred  gorges, 
1  give  thee,  Goth,  to  hold  and  raise. 

Towards  Elis,  Franks,  direct  your  motion  ; 
Messene  be  the  Saxon's  state  : 
The  Norman  claim  and  sweep  the  ocean. 
And  Ai^lis  again  make  great ! 

Then  each  shall  dweU  in  homes  weU-dowered, 
And  only  outer  f oemen  meet ; 
Yet  still  by  Sparta  over-towered. 
The  Queen's  ancestral,  ancient  seat 

Each  one  shall  she  behold,  abiding 
In  lands  that  lack  no  liberal  right ; 
And  at  her  feet  ye  'II  seek,  confiding 

Your  confirmation,  law  and  light ! 

[Faust  Asctnds  from  Iht  threiu:  Ihe  Prituti  farm  a  dn. 
areund  Aim,  in  order  to  receive  sftcial  commands  and  h 
"■) 

CHORUS. 

Who  for  himself  the  Fairest  desires. 
First  (rf  all  things,  let  him 


ih,Googlc 


304  FÄU!.T. 

Biavely  and  wisely  a  weapon  acquire  I 
Flattering,  indeed,  he  may  conquer 
What  on  earth  is  the  highest; 
But  he  quietly  may  not  possess. 
Wily  sneaks  entice  her  away. 
Robbers  boldly  abduct  her  from  him : 
This  to  hinder  be  he  prepared! 

Therefore  now  our  Prince  I  praise, 
Holding  him  higher  than  others, 
Since  he  wisdom  and  strength  combines. 
So  that  the  strong  men  obedient  stand. 
Waiting  his  every  beckon. 
They  his  orders  faithfully  heed. 
Each  for  the  profiting  of  himself 
As  for  the  Ruler's  rewarding  thanks, 
And  for  the  highest  renown  of  both. 

For  who  shall  tear  her  away 

Now,  from  the  mighty  possessor  ? 

His  is  she,  and  to  him  be  she  granted, 

Doubly  granted  by  us,  whom  he. 

Even  as  her,  within  by  sure  walls  hath  sun 

And  without  by  a  powerful  host 

FAUST. 

The  gifts  they  've  won  by  o_.  , 

In  fee  to  each  a  wealthy  land, — 

Are  grand  and  fair :  grant  them  possession ! 

We  in  the  midst  will  take  our  stand. 

And  they  in  rivalry  pioiect  thee, 

Half-Island,  girdled  by  the  sea 

With  whispering  waves,  —  whose  soft  hill-chains  cc 

thee 
With  the  last  branch  of  Europe's  mountain-tree ! 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  TIT.  3< 

This  land,  before  all  lands  id  splendor,'" 
On  every  race  shall  bliss  confer,  — 
Which  to  my  queen  in  glad  surrender 
Yields,  as  it  first  looked  up  to  her, 

When,  'mid  Eurotas'  whispering  rushes 
She  burst  from  Leda's  purple  shell, 
So  blinding  in  her  beauty's  flushes, 
That  mother,  brothers,  felt  the  spell! 

This  Irnd,  which  seeks  thy  sole  direction, 

lis  brightest  bloom  hath  now  unfurled: 
Prefer  thy  fatherland's  affection 
To  what  is  wholly  thine,  the  world  ! 

And  though  upon  its  ridgy  backs  of  mountains 
The  Sun's  cold  arrow  smites  each  cloven  head. 
Yet,  where  the  rock  is  greened  by  falling  fountains. 
The  wild-goat  nibbles  and  is  lightly  fed. 

The  springs  leap  forth,  the  streams  united  follow; 
Green  are  the  gorges,  slopes,  and  meads  below : 
On  hundred  hillsides,  cleft  with  many  a  hollow. 
Thou  seest  the  woolly  herds  like  scattered  snow. 


Divided,  cautious,  graie  with  measured  paces 
The  cattle  onward  to  the  diizy  edge, 
Yet  for  them  all  are  furnished  sheltered  places, 
Whrre  countless  caverns  arch  the  rocky  ledge. 

Pan  guards  them  there,  and  nymphs  of  life  are  dwelling 
In  bushy  clefts,  that  moist  and  freshest  be; 
And  yearningly  to  higher  regions  swelling. 
The  branches  crowd  aloft  of  tree  on  tree. 


ih,Googlc 


2o6  FAUST. 

Primeval  woods!  the  strong  oak  there  is  regnant. 
And  bough  crooks  out  &oni  bough  in  stubborn  state ; 
The  maple  mild,  with  sweetest  juices  pregnant. 
Shoots  cleanly  up,  and  dallies  with  its  weight 

And  motherly,  in  that  still  realm  of  shadows, 
The  warm  milk  flows,  for  child's  and  lambkin's  lijjs : 
At  hand  is  fruit,  the  food  of  fertile  meadows. 
And  from  the  hollow  trunk  the  honey  drips. 

Here  comfort  is  in  birth  transmitted  ; 
To  cheek  and  lip  here  joy  is  sent : 
Each  is  immortal  in  his  station  fitted. 
And  all  are  healthy  and  content 

And  thus  the  child  in  that  bright  season  gaineth 
The  father- strength,  as  in  a  dream  : 
We  wonder;  yet  the  question  still  remainetli. 
If  they  are  men,  when  Gods  they  seem. 

So  was  Apollo  shepherd-like  in  feature. 
That  other  shepherds  were  as  fair  and  fleet; 
For  where  in  such  clear  orbit  moveth  Nature, 
All  worlds  in  inter-action  meet"' 

(  Taking  Ail  leal  bfsidf  her. ) 

Thus  hath  success  my  fate  and  thine  attended ; 
Henceforth  behind  us  lei  the  Past  be  furled ! 
O,  feel  thyself  from  highest  God  descended ! 
For  thou  belongcst  lo  the  primal  world. 

Thy  life  slnll  circum'^cribe  no  fortress  frowning! 
Still,  in  eternal  youth,  stands  as  it  stood. 
For  us,  our  slay  with  every  rajjture  crowning, 
Arcadia  in  Sparta's  neighborhood. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III.  207 

To  tread  this  happy  soil  at  last  incited, 
Thy  flight  was  towards  a  joyous  destiny  I 
Now  let  our  throne  become  a  bower  unblighted, 
Our  bliss  )>econie  Arcadian  and  free  1 

1  TTu  seem  ofatHon  is  lemplitely  transformed.  Againila  rangt 
of  rocky  tautrtts  cleie  öirweTi  art  conslrucUd.  A  tkadaiay 
grcve  exttndi  /<•  tht  foot  of  tht  rocks  vhkh  rist  an  all  lidts. 
Fausv  and  He.LEHKart  not  tan:  Ike Chokvs  lies  ttaOend 
aimU,  sltipiiig\ 

PHORKYAS. 

How  long  these  maidens  have  been  sleeping,  know  I  not : 
If  they  allowed  themselves  to  dream  what  now  mine  eyes 
So  clearly  saw,  is  equally  unknown  to  me. 
Therefore,  1  wake  them.    They,  the  Young,  shall  be 

amazed,  — 
Ye  also,  Bearded  Ones,  who  sit  below  and  wait,'"  — 
Solution  of  these  marvels  fioaUy  to  see. 
Awake  !  arise !  and  shake  from  off  your  locks  the  dew, 
The  slumber  from  your  eyes !   Listen,  and  cease  to  blink  I 

CHORUS. 

Speak  and  teU  us,  quickly  tell  us,  all  the  wonders  that 

have  happened  I 
We  shall  hear  with  greater  pleasure,  if  belief  we  cannot 

give  it. 
For  both  eye  and  mind  are  weary,  to  behold  these  rocks 

PHORKYAS. 

Children,  you  have  hardly  rubbed  your  eyes,  and  are  you 

Hear  me,  then  \     Williin  these  caverns,  in  the  grottos 

and  the  arbors, 
Screen  and  shelter  liave  been  lent,  as  unto  twain  idyllic 

To  our  Lord  and  to  our  Lady. 


ih,Googlc 


9o8  FAUST. 

CHORUS. 

How?  «ritbin  there? 

PRORXVAS. 

Separated 
Frcm  tbe  world,  me  only  did  they  summon  to  their  qoiet 

Honored  thus,  I  stood  beside  them,  but,  as  fit  in  one  so 

Looked  around  at  something  other,  turning  here  and  there 

at  random,  — 
Seeking  roots,  and  bark,  and  mosses,  being  skilled  in 

healing  simples,  — 
And  the  twain  were  left  alone. 

CHORUS. 

Speakest  thou  as  if  within  were  spaces  roomy  as  the 

world  is ; 
Wood  and  meadow,  lakes  and  rivers, — what  a  fable 

dost  thou  spin ! 

PHORKYAS. 

Certainty,  ye  Inexperienced  I     Those  are  unexplored 


Hall  on  hall,  and  court  on  court  succeeding,  mu^ngly  I 

tracked. 
All  at  once  a  laughter  echoes  through  the  spaces  of  the 

As  I  look,  a  Boy  is  leaping  from  the  mother's  lap  to 

father's. 
From  the  father  to  the  mother  :  the  caressing  and  the 

dandling, 
Teasing  pranks  of  silly  fondness,  cry  of  sport  and  shout 

of  rapture. 
They,  alternate,  deafen  me. 


ih,Googlc 


Acr  I/T  209 

He,  a  G«nius  naked,  wingless,  like  a  Fatm  witlioiit  the 

beasthood. 
Leaps  upon  the  solid  pavement  -,  ^et  the  pavement  now 

reacting. 
Sends  him  flying  high  in  air,  and  at  the  second  bound 

or  third,  he 
Seema  to  graze  the  vaulted  roof. 
Cries,  disquieted,  the  mother:    "Leap  repeatedly,  at 

•pleasure, 
But  beware  of  flying!  for  prohibited  is  flight  to  thee." 
And  thus  warns  the  f aithiul  father :  "  Dwells  in  earth 

the  force  elastic 
Which  thee  upwards  thus  impelleth  ;  touch  but  with  thy 

toe  the  sur&ce, 
Uke  the  son  of  Earth,  Antxus,  straighturay  art  thou 

strong  again." 
So  he  springs  upon   the  rocky  masses,  from  a  dizzy 

To  another,  and  around,  as  springs  a  ball  when  sharply 

struck. 
Yet,  a-sudden,  in  a  crevice  of  the  hollow  gulf  he  's  van- 

And  it  seemeth  we  have  lost  him !     Mother  mourns,  and 

father  comforts, 
Shoulder-shru^ing,  anxiously  1  stand.    But  now,  again, 

what  vision ! 
Are  there  treasures  yonder  hidden?    Garments  striped 

with  broidered  blossoms 
Hath  he  worthily  assumed. 
Tassels  from  his  shoulders  swaying,  fillets  flutter  round 

his  bosom, 
In  his  hand  the  golden  lyre,  completely  like  a  little 

Phcebus, 
Cheerily  to  the  brink  he  steps,  the  jutting  edge:  we 

stand  astounded, 


ih,Googlc 


aro  FAUST. 

And  the  parents  in  their  rapture  clasp  each  other  to  the 

What  around  his  head  is  shining?    What  it  is,  were 

hard  to  warrant, 
Whether  golden  gauds,  or  flame  of  all-subduing  strength 

So  he  moves  with  stately  gesture,  even  as  boy  himself 

proclaimiag 
Future  Master  of  all  Beauty,  all  the  melodies  eternal 
Throbbing  in  his  flesh  and  blood  ;  and  you  shall  thus^ 

delighted,  hear  him,  — 
Thus  shall  you  behold  him,  with  a  wonder  never  felt 

before  I 

CHORUS. 

Call'st  thou  a  marvel  this, 
Creta  's  begotten  ?  ™ 
Poetic-didactical  word 
Hast  thou  listened  to  never? 

Never  yet  hearkened  Ionia's 
Never  received  also  Hellas' 
Godlike,  heroical  treasure 
Of  ancient,  primitive  legends  ? 

All  that  ever  happens 
Now  in  the  Present 
Mocks  like  a  mournful  echo 
The  grander  days  of  the  Fathers. 
Not  comparable  is  thy  story 
Unto  that  loveliE:tt  falsehood, 
Than  Truth  more  credible, 
Sung  of  the  Son  of  Mala ! 

This  strong  and  delicate,  yet 
Scarcely  delivered  suckling. 
Swathe  ye  in  purest  downy  bands, 


ih,Googlc 


Bind  ye  in  precious  diapered  stuffs, 

As  is  ihe  gossiping  nurse's 

Unrea.son..ble  notion ! 

Strongly  anti  daintily  draws,  no  less, 

Now  the  r<^ue  the  flexible, 

Firm  yet  elastic  body 

Cunningly  out,  and  leaveth  the  close. 

Purple,  impeding  shell 

Quietly  there  in  its  place, 

Like  Ihe  completed  butterfly. 

Which  from  the  chilly  chrysalid 

Nimbly,  pinion-unfolding,  slips, 

Boldly  and  wilfully  fluttering  llirougb 

Sunshine-pervaded  ether. 

So  he,  too,  the  sprightliest ; 

That  unto  thieves  and  jugglers  — 

All  the  seekers  of  profit,  as  well, — 

He  the  favorable  Dxmon  was. 

Did  he  speedily  manifest 

By  the  skilfullesl  artifice. 

Straight  from  the  Ruler  of  Ocean  stole 

He  the  trident,  — from  ArSs  himself 

Slyly  the  sword  from  the  scabbard ; 

/uTows  and  bow  from  Phcebus,  and  then 

longs  that  Hephxstos  was  using. 

Even  from  Zeus,  the  Father,  bolts  liad  he 

Filched,  had  the  Are  not  scared  him. 

Eros,  also,  he  overcame 

In  leg-tripping  wrestling  match ; 

Then  from  Cypris,  as  she  caressed  him, 

Plundered  the  lone  from  her  bosom. 
L4n  ixquiitlt,  pttriiy  melodicus  music  rf  siringtd  iiulr:::;ientt 
mounds  from  thi  cavern.     All  btcatni  attenlivt.  ana  soon 
a^iptat  tv  Ac  deeply  moved.    From  l/ih  pinnt  IP  tht  fituM 
diägnalid,  there  ii  a  full  muiical  ac!einfanimt>it.\ 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

FHORKYAS. 

Hark  \  the  music,  pure  and  golden ; 
Free  from  fables  be  at  last ! 
All  your  Gods,  the  medley  olden, 
Let  depart !  their  day  is  past 
You  no  more  are  comprehended ; 
We  require  a  higher  part : 
By  the  heart  must  be  expended 
What  shall  work  upon  the  heart. 
\Slu  retires  tcnvatdi  Iht  roetl.) 
CHORUS. 

If  the  flattering  music  presses. 
Fearful  Being,  to  thine  ears, 
We,  restored  to  health,  confess  us 
Softened  to  the  joy  of  tears. 
Let  the  sun  be  missed  from  heaven, 
When  the  soul  is  bright  with  mom ! 
What  the  world  has  never  given 
Now  within  our  hearts  Is  bom. 


EUPHORION."' 

Hear  ye  songs  of  childish  pleasure, 
Ye  are  moved  to  playful  glee ; 
Seeing  me  thus  dance  in  measure, 
Leap  your  hearts  parentally. 

HKLSNA. 

Love,  in  human  wise  to  blest  tu, 
In  a  noble  Fair  must  be; 
But  divinely  to  possess  us, 
It  must  form  a  precious  Three. 


ih,Googlc 


All  ne  seek  has  therefore  found  us ; 
I  am  thine  and  thou  art  mine .' 
So  we  stand  as  Love  hath  bound  us : 
Other  fortune  we  resign. 

CHORUS. 

Many  years  shall  they,  delighted, 
Gather  from  the  shining  boy 
Double  bliss  for  hearts  united  : 
In  their  union  what  a  joy ! 

EUPHORION. 

Let  me  be  skipping, 
Let  me  be  leaping! 
1\>  soar  and  circle, 
Through  ether  sweeping, 
Is  now  the  passion 
That  me  hath  won. 


But  gently!  gently! 
Not  rashly  fMing; 
Lest  plunge  and  ruin 
Repay  thy  daring. 
Perchance  destroy  thee. 
Our  darling  son ! 

EUPH  ORION. 

I  will  not  longer 
Stagnate  below  here  I 
Let  go  my  tresses. 
My  hands  let  go,  hercl 
Let  go  my  garments  I 
They  all  are  mine. 


ih,Googlc 


O  tliiiik !    Bethink  thee 
To  whom  thou  belongest  I 
How  it  would  grieve  us, 
And  how  ihou  wrongest 
The  fortune  Eairest, — 
Mine,  His,  and  Thine  1 

CHORUS. 

Soon  shall,  I  fear  me. 
The  sweet  bond  untwine  1 

HBLENA  AND  FAUST. 

Curb,  thou  Unfortunate  1 
For  our  desiring. 
Thine  over-importunate 
Lofty  aspiring ! 
Rurally  quiet. 
Brighten  the  plain  I 

EU  P  MORION. 

Since  you  will  that  I  try  It, 
My  flight  I  restrain. 
M  dance  through  tht  Chorus,  and  dratmi^  tkem 
■aiith  J/in.j 
Round  them  I  hover  free ; 
Gay  is  the  race  : 
Is  this  the  melody  ? 
Move  I  with  grace? 


Yes,  that  is  featly  done : 
Lead  them  through,  every  one. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  irr. 

FAUST. 

SooD  let  it  ended  be  t 
Sight  of  such  jugglery 
Troubles  my  heart. 


ftnM  EuPKOmoN,  daiuing  nmily  tmd  lingiitg,  in  inttrlink- 
ing  ranit). 
When  thou  thine  arms  so  fsür 
Giarmingly  liftest, 
The  curls  of  thy  shining  hair 
Sbakest  and  shiftest; 
/Then  thou,  with  foot  so  light, 
Brusheat  the  earth  in  flight. 
Hither  and  forth  ag^n 
Leading  the  Unk61  chain. 
Then  is  thy  goal  in  sight, 
Loveliest  Boy  1 
All  of  our  hearts  in  joy 
Round  thee  unite. 

eUPHORIOM. 

Not  yet  repose, 
Ye  light-footed  roes  I 
Now  to  new  play 
Forth,  and  away  1 
I  am  the  hunter, 
You  are  the  game. 


Wouldst  thou  acquire  us, 
Be  not  so  fast  I 
We  are  desirous 


ih,Googlc 


Only,  at  last, 
Clasping  thy  beauty. 
Kisses  to  claim  f 


Through  groves  and  through  hedges  I 
O'er  cliffs  and  o'er  ledges  f 
Lighdy  what  fell  to  me, 
That  I  detest: 
What  I  compel  to  me 
Pleases  me  best 

HELENA  AND  FAUST. 

How  perverse,  how  wild  he 's  growing! 
Vain  to  hope  for  moderation ; 
Now  it  sounds  like  bugles  blowing, 
Over  vale  and  forest  pealing: 
What  disorder !    What  a  brawl ! 


{tnleriHg  tiagly,  in  kasti). 

Forth  from  us  with  swiftness  ran  he  I 
Spuming  us  with  scornful  feeling. 
Now  he  drags  from  out  the  many 
Here,  the  wildest  one  of  all. 

EUPHORION  {tearing a yeuitgUAiaK»). 

Here  I  drag  the  little  racer, 
And  by  force  will  I  embrace  her  j 
For  my  bliss  and  for  my  zest 
Press  the  fair,  resisting  breast, 
Kiss  the  mouth,  repellent  still,  — 
Manifest  my  strength  and  will. 

MAIDEN. 

Let  me  go  t    This  frame  infoldeth 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III 

Also  courage,  strength  of  soul : 
Strong  as  thine,  our  will  upholdeth, 
When  another  would  control. 
1  am  in  a  strait,  thou  deemest  ? 
What  a  force  thine  arm  would  cl^m ! 
Hold  me.  Fool,  and  ere  thou  dreamest 
I  will  scorch  thee,  in  my  game. 
{She  turtu  tff  flame  <mäfla$hei  ufi  in  tie  air.) 
To  the  airy  spaces  follow, 
Follow  me  to  caverns  hollow. 
Snatch  and  hold  thy  vanished  aim! 

EUPHORION 
{lAaiing  off  the  last  flames'). 
Rocks  all  around  me  here. 
Over  the  forests  hung ! 
Why  should  they  bound  me  here  "i 
Still  am  1  fresh  and  young. 
Tempests  are  waking  now, 
Billows  are  breaking  now ; 
Both  far  away  I  hear; 
Fain  would  be  near. 

(He  leaps  ever/arlAer  up  tile  roekt.) 

HELENA,  FAUST,   AND  CHORUS. 

Chamois-like,  dost  thou  aspire  ? 
Fearful  of  the  fall  are  we, 

EUPHORION. 

I  must  clamber  ever  higher. 
Ever  further  must  I  see. 


Now,  where  I  aro,  I  spy  I 
Midst  of  the  Isle  am  1 1 


VOL.  II. 


ih,Googlc 


Midst  of  Pelops'  land, 
Kindred  in  soul,  I  sUnd ! " 

CHORUS. 

Bide  thon  by  grove  and  hitl, 
Peacefully,  rather  t 
We  from  the  vineyards  will 
Grape»  for  thee  gather,— 
Grapes  from  the  rii^es  taaoe«^ 
Figs,  and  the  apple's  gold : 
Ah  t  yet  the  lovely  land, 
Loving,  behold  I 

EUFHORION. 

Dream  ye  the  peaceful  day  ? 
Dream,  then,  who  may .' 
War!  is  the  countersign: 
Victory  —  word  divine  1 

CHORUS. 

Who  peace  and  tmity 
Scometh,  for  war's  array. 
With  impunity 
Slays  his  hope  of  a  better  day. 

EUPHORION. 

They,  who  diis  land  have  led 
Through  danger  and  dread, 
Free,  boundlessly  brave. 
Lavish  of  blood  they  gave, — 
May  they,  with  glorious 
Untamable  might, 
Make  us  victorious, 
Now,  in  the  fight  I 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III. 

CHORUS. 

Look  aloft !  he  seeks  the  Faniess, 
Yet  to  U9  not  small  he  seems. 
Aa  for  battle,  as  in  harness, 
He  like  steel  and  silver  gleams. 


Walls  and  towers  no  more  immurinfc, 
Each  in  vigor  stands  confessed  t 
Fortress  firm  and  most  enduring 
Is  the  soldier's  iron  breast 

Would  ye  dwell  in  freemen's  houses? 
Arm,  and  forth  to  combat  wild ! 
See,  as  Amazons,  your  spouses, 
And  a  hero  every  child  I 


Hallowed  Poesy, 
Heavenward  mounting,  see ! 
Shining,  the  fairest  star. 
Farther,  and  still  more  far  t 
Yet,  from  the  distance  blown. 
Hear  ¥fe  the  lightest  tone. 
And  raptured  are. 

EUPHORION. 

No,  't  is  no  child  which  thou  behoMest  — 

A  youth  in  arms,  with  haughty  browt 

And  nrith  the  Strongest,  Freest,  Boldest, 

His  soul  is  pledged,  in  manly  vow. 

Igol 

For,  lol 

Tbe  path  to  Glory  opens  now.'» 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

HELENA  AND  PAUST. 

Thou  ihy  being  scarcely  leamest. 

Scarcely  feel'st  the  Day's  glad  beam, 

When  from  giddy  steeps  thou  yeamcst 

For  the  place  of  pain  supreme  1 

Are  then  we 

Naught  to  thee  ? 

Is  the  gracious  bond  a  dream  ? 

EUPHORION. 

And  hear  ye  thunders  on  the  ocean  ? 

From  land  the  thunder-echoes  call  ? 

In  dust  and  foam,  with  fierce  commodon. 

The  armies  shock,  the  heroes  fall ! 

The  command 

Is,  sword  in  hand. 

To  die :  't  is  certain,  once  for  alL 

HELENA,  PAUST,  AND  CHORUS. 

What  a  horror !    We  shall  rue  it ! 
Ah,  is  Death  command  to  thee  ? 


Shall  1  from  the  distance  view  it? 
No !  the  fate  be  shared  by  me ! 

THE  ABOVE. 

Danger  his  arrogance  brings : 
Fatally  bold ! 

EUPHORION. 

Yes !  —  and  a  pair  of  wings 
See  me  unfold  I 

Thitherl     I  must! — and  thus! 
Grant  me  the  flight ! 
\Htcaat  himttlf  into  tkt  air:  lAt garmenti  tearhima  m^ 
mtnt,  hit  head  is  iäumiaatiä,  and  a  itrtai  cf  light  faUafai.\ 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  III.  aai 

CHORUS. 

Icarus  1     Icarus  t 

Sorrowful  sight ! 
\A  htauHful  Youth  fallt  at  tkt  fat  of  the  parents.  Wt  imagine 
thai  in  the  dead  body  me  pirceioe  a  wtll-kntium  form  ;  yet 
tht  cerporeal  part  vanishes  at  once,  and  the  aureole  rises  lite 
a  lemtt  taaards  heaven.  Tht  garment,  mantle,  and  lyre 
Ttmain  upon  tht  ground^ 

HELENA  AND  FAUST. 

Joy  is  followed,  when  scarce  enjoyed, 
By  bitterest  moan. 

EUPHORION  (Jrom  tht  drpths). 

Leave  me  here,  in  the  gloomy  Void, 
Mother,  not  thus  alone  ! 

CHORUS.      [Dirge.]"* 

Not  alone  1  where'er  thou  bidest ; 
For  we  know  thee  what  thou  art. 
Ah!  if  from  the  Day  thou  hidest, 
Still  to  thee  will  cling  each  heart 
Scarce  we  venture  to  lament  thee, 
Singing,  envious  of  thy  fatei 
For  in  storm  and  sun  were  lent  thee 
Song  and  courage,  fair  and  great 

Ah !  for  earthly  fortune  fashioned. 
Strength  was  thine,  and  proud  descent: 
Early  erring,  o'er-impassioned. 
Youth,  alas !  from  thee  was  rent. 
For  the  world  thine  eye  was  rarest, 
All  the  heart  to  thee  was  known : 


ih,Googlc 


.Thine  wei«  loves  of  women  fairea^ 
And  a  song  thy  very  owd. 

Yet  thou  rannest  uncontrolledly 

In  the  net  the  fancies  draw, 

Thus  thyself  divorcing  boldly 

As  from  custom,  so  from  law ; 

Till  the  highest  thought  expended 

Set  at  last  thy  courage  free : 

Thou  wouldst  win  achievement  splen<Ud, 

But  it  was  not  given  to  thee. 

Unto  whom,  then  ?    Question  dreary. 
Destiny  will  never  heed ; 
When  in  evil  days  and  weary. 
Silently  the  people  bleed. 
But  new  songs  shall  still  elate  them : 
Bow  no  longer  and  deplore  I 
For  the  soil  shall  generate  them, 
As  it  hath  done  heretofore. 

Cem^^  paust.     Tht  mmit  aatt. 

HELENA  (ts  Faust). 
Also  in  me,  alas!  an  old  word  proves  its  truth, 
That  Bliss  and  Beauty  ne'er  enduringly  unite. 
Tom  is  the  link  of  Life,  no  less  than  that  of  Love ; 
So,  both  lamenting  painfully  I  say :  Farewell  I 
And  cast  myself  again — once  only  —  in  thine  arms. 
Receive,  Persephone,  receive  the  boy  and  me. 
\Ske  embraut  FautT  :  her  torporeal  part  diiafpean,  htr  gar- 
vunt  and  vrii  remain  in  ^s  amu.) 

FHORKYAS  (A>  FaUST). 

Hold  ^t  what  now  alone  remans  to  thee  I 
The  garment  let  not  go!    Already  twitch 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  HI.  333 

The  Demons  at  its  skhts,  and  they  would  fain 
To  the  Nether  Regions  drag  itl     Hoklitbstt 
It  is  no  more  the  Goddess  tbou  hast  kwt, 
But  godlike  is  it    For  thy  use  em[doy 
The  grand  and  priceless  gift,  and  soar  aloft  I 
'T  will  bear  thee  swift  from  all  things  mean  and  low 
To  ether  high,  so  long  thou  canst  endure. 
We  '11  meet  again,  far,  very  far  from  here. 
\KKixtt\'i  garaunti  diaclvt  inta  clcuds,'^  turrmmd  Paust, 
lift  Aim  aloft  in  tkt  air,  and  ibom  aaay  tiiUh  him. ) 

PHORKYAS 
\laitt  up  EuphorIOn's  luni^,  mantti,  and  lyre  from  thiiarik, 
tttpt  forward  te  HUproieemant,  koldi  ateft  thtie  remains,  and 
tpiaii). 

Good  leavings  have  I  still  discovered  1 
The  Flame  has  vanished  where  it  hovered, 
Yet  for  the  world  no  tears  I  spend. 
Enough  remains  to  start  the  Poets  living, 
And  envy  in  their  guilds  to  send ; 
And,  if  their  talents  are  beyond  my  giving, 
At  least  the  costume  I  can  lend. 
{She  laUt  Atrtelf  ufvH  a  raiumn  in  de praiftnium.) 


Now  hasten,  maidens  1  we  are  from  the  magic  freed, 
The  old  Thessalian  trollop's  mind-compelling  spell, — 
Freed  from  the  jingling  drone  of   much-be wildcring 

The  ear  confusing,  and  still  more  the  inner  sense. 
Down,  then,  to  Hades!   since  beforehand  went  the 

Queen, 
With  solemn  step  descending.     Now,  upon  the  track, 
Let  straightway  follow  her  the  step  of  faithful  maids ! 
Her  shall  we  find  beside  the  unfathomed,  gloomy  King. 


ih,Googlc 


924  FAUST. 

CHORUS. 

Queens,  of  course,  are  satisfied  everywhere; 

Even  in  Hades  take  they  highest  rank, 

Proudjy  associate  with  their  peers. 

With  Persephone  cloeely  allied: 

We,  however,  in  the  background 

Of  the  asphodel-besprinkled  meadows, 

With  the  endless  rows  of  poplars 

And  the  fruitless  willows  ever  mated,  — 

What  amusement,  then,  have  we  ? 

Bat-like  lo  squeak  and  twitter 

In  whispers  uncheery  ajid  ghostly  ! 

LEADER  OF  THE  CHORUS. 

Who  hath  not  won  a  name,  and  seeks  not  noble  works, 
Belongs  but  to  the  elements :  away  then,  ye ! 
My  own  intense  desire  is  with  my  Queen  to  be ; 
Service  and  faith  secure  the  individual  life.'^ 

\Exa. 

Given  again  to  the  daylight  are  we, 

Persons  no  more,  't  b  true,  — 

We  feel  it  and  know  it,  — 

But  to  Hades  return  we  never  I 

Nature,  the  Ever-living,'" 

Makes  to  us  spirits 

Validest  claim,  and  we  to  her  also. 

A  PART  OF  THE  CHORUS. 

We,  in  trembling  whispers,  swaying  nistle  of  a  thousand 

branches 
Sweetly  rocked,  will  lightly  lure  the  rills  of  life,  the 

rootbom,  upwards 
To  the  twigs ;  and,  or  with  foliage  or  exuberant  gush 

of  blossoms. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  in. 


«s 


Will  we  freely  deck  their  flying  hair  for  prosperous  airy 
growth. 

Then,  when  falls  the  fruit,  will  straightway  gather  glad- 
dened herds  and  people, 

Swiftly  coming,  briskly  pressing,  for  the  picking  and 
the  tasting : 

All,  as  if  before  the  early  Gods,  frill  then  around  us 
bend. 

A  SECOND  FART. 

We,  beside  these  rocks,  upon  the  far-ofE  shining,  glassy 

Coaxingly  will  bend  and  fluctuate,  moving  with  the  gen- 
tle waters ; 

We  Vi  every  sound  will  hearken,  song  of  bird  or  reedy 
piping  i 

Though  the  dreadful  voice  of  Pan,  a  ready  answer 
shall  we  give ; 

Comes  a  munnur,  we  re-munnur,  — thunder,  we  our 
thunders  waken 

In  reverberating  crashes,  doubly,  trebly,  tenfold  flung  I 

A  THIRD  FART. 

Sisters,  we,  of  nimbler  fancy,  hasten  with  the  brooklets 

onward; 
For  allure  us  yonder  distant,  richly-mantled  mountain 

Ever  downwards,  ever  deeper,  in  meandering;  curves 

First  the  meadow,  then  the  pasture;  then  the  garden 

round  the  house. 
Marked  by  slender  peaks  of  cypress,  shooting  clearly 

into  ether 
O'er  the  landscape  and  the  waters  and  the  fading  line 

of  shore. 


ih,Googlc 


136  FAUST. 

A  FOURTH  PART. 

Fare,  ye  othen,  at  your  pleasure ;  we  will  ^rdle  and 
o'errustle 

The  completely-planted  hillside,  where  the  sprouting 
vines  are  green. 

There  at  every  hour  the  passion  of  the  vint^^er  is  wit- 
nessed. 

And  the  loving  diligence,  that  hath  so  doubtful  a  result. 

Now  with  hoe  and  now  with  shovel,  then  with  billing 
pruning,  tying, 

Unto  all  the  Gods  be  prayeth,  chiefly  to  the  Sun's 
bright  god. 

Small  concern  hath  pampered  Bacchus  for  hi»  faidiful 

But  in  arbors  rests,  and    cavenis,  toyii^    widi  die 

youngest  Faun. 
For  his  semi^drunken  visions  whatsoever  be  hath  needed, 
It  is  furnished  him  in  wine-skios,  and  in  amphorse  and 

Kight  and  left  in  cool  recesses,  cellared  for  eternal  time. 
But  if  now  the  Gods  together,  Helios  before  the  others. 
Have  with  breeze  and  dew  and  warmth  and  glow  the 

berries  6Ued  with  juice. 
Where  the  vintager  in  silence  labored,  all  Is  life  and 

motion, 
Every  trellis  stirs  and  rnstles,  and  they  go  fnxa  stake  to 

stake. 
Baskets  creak  and  buckets  rattle,  groaning  tubs  are 

borne  on  back, 
All  towards  the  vat  enonnous  and  the  treaders'  lusty 

So  is  then  the  sacred  bounty  of  the  pure-bom,  juicy 

berries 
Rudely  trodden;  foaming,  spirting,  they  are  mixed  aad 

grimly  crushed. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  .WI-  327 

Now  the  ear  is  pierced  with  cymbals  and  the  clash  of 

brazen  bosses, 
For,  behold,  is  Dionysos  from  his  mysteries  revealed ! 
Forth  he  comes  with  goat-foot  Satyrs,  whirling  goat-foot 

Satjresses, 
While  amid  the  rout  Silenus'  big-eared  beast  unruly 

Naught  is  spared !    The  cloven  hoofs  tread  down  all 

decent  custom ; 
AH  the  senses  whirl  bewildered,  fearfully  the  ear  b 

stunned. 
Drunkards  fumble  for  the  goblets,  over-full  are  heads 

and  paunches ; 
Here  and  there  hath  one  misgivings,  yet  increases  thus 

the  tumult ; 
For,  the  fresher  must  to  gamer,  empty  they  the  ancient 

skinl 
\The eurlaiH  falls.'^  Phorkvas,  in  lAt  freictnium,  ritttte 
a  giant  height,  ilept  dmim  from  tki  cothurni,  rtmaves  ktr 
maiM  and  veil,  and  rnieals  htrself  as  Mefhibtophiles,  in 
ardtr,  to  far  at  it  may  it  ntetttary,  to  cemment  tifon  tit 
fitet  by  -a/ay  of  Efi!egtu.\ 


ih,Googlc 


HIGH   MOUNTAINS. 

Streng,  serrated  rocky  ptakj.     A  doHd  approaclUi,  fauiei,  and 
leälet  dcvm  upon  a  frojeeting  Itdgt.    It  then  divUts. 

FAUST  {jtept forth). 

DOWN-GAZING  on  (he  deepest  solitudes  below, 
I  tread  deliberately  this  summit's  lonely  edge, 
Relinquishing  my  cloudy  car,  which  hither  bore 
Me  softly  through  the  shining  day  o'er  land  and  Ma. 
Unscattered,  slowly  moved,  it  separates  from  me. 
Off  eastward  strives  the  mass  with  rounded,  rolling 

And  strives  the  eye,  amazed,  admiring,  after  it. 
In  motion  it  divides,  in  wave-like,  changeful  guise  ; 
Yet  seems  to  shape  a  figure.'"'  —  Yes!  mine  eyes  not 

On  sim-illumined  pillows  beauteously  reclined, 

Colossal,  truly,  but  a  godlike  woman-form, 

I  see  !     The  like  of  Juno,  Leda,  Helena, 

Majestically  lovely,  floats  before  my  sight ! 

Ah,  now  't  is  broken !     Towering  broad  and  formlessly, 

It  rests  along  the  east  like  distant  icy  hills. 

And  shapes  the  grand  significance  of  fleeting  days. 

Yet  still  there  clings  a  light  and  delicate  band  of  mist 


ih,Googlc 


Around  my  breast  and  brow,  caressing,  cheering  me. 
Now  light,  delaylngly,  it  soars  and  higher  soars. 
And  folds  together.  —  Clieats  me  an  ecstatic  form, 
As  early- youthful,  long-foregone  and  highest  bliss? 
The  first  glad  treasures  of  my  deepest  heart  break  forth ; 
Aurora's  love,  so  light  of  pinion,  is  its  type, 
The  swiftly-felt,  the  first,  scarce<ompreh ended  glance, 
Outshining  every  treasure,  when  retained  and  held. 
Like  Spiritual  Beauty  mounts  the  gracious  Form, 
Dissolving  not,  but  lifts  itself  through  ether  iar, 
And  from  my  inner  being  bears  the  best  away. 
{A  Sevm-lengHt  Boot  trips  forarard :  'y  an^htr  immediately 

ßllnai.     tAEFHiSTOPHELis  t/fft  ml  ir/' tAem.     TAi Beoti 

ttride  omixird  in  hasti. ) 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  call  that  genuine  forward-striding! 

But  what  thou  mean'st,  I  'd  have  thee  own, 

That  In  such  horrors  art  abiding, 

Amid  these  yawning  jags  of  stone  ? 

It  was  not  here  I  learned  to  know  them  well ; 

Such  was,  indeed,  the  bottom-^ound  of  HeU. 

FAUST. 

hi  foolish  legends  thou  art  never  lacking ; 
Again  thy  store  thou  sei'st  about  unpacking. 

HEPHISTOPHELES  (siriouily). 
When  Cod  the  Lord  —  wherefore,  1  also  know,  -. 
Banned  us  from  air  to  darkness  deep  and  central. 
Where  round  and  round,  in  fierce,  intensest  glow. 
Eternal  fires  were  whirled  in  Earth's  hot  entrail, 
We  found  ourselves  too  much  illuminated. 
Yet  crowded  and  uneasily  situated. 
The  Devils  all  set  up  a  coughing,  sneezing, 


ih,Googlc 


ajo 


FAUST. 


At  every  vent  without  ceasition  wheedng : 
With  sulphur-s tench  and  acids  Hell  dilated, 
And  such  enormous  gas  was  thence  created. 
That  very  soon  Earth's  level,  iar  extended, 
Thick  as  it  was,  was  heaved,  and  spht,  and  rended ! 
The  thing  is  plain,  no  theories  o'ercome  it : 
What  fonnerly  was  bottom,  now  is  summit 
Hereon  they  base  the  law  there  's  no  disputing, 
To  give  the  undermost  the  topmost  footing : 
For  we  escaped  from  fiery  dungeons  there 
To  overplus  of  lordship  of  the  air ;  — 
A  mystery  manifest  and  well  concealed,"»" 
Actd  to  the  people  only  late  revealed. 


To  me  are  mountain-masses  grandly  dumb  : 
I  ask  not.  Whence  ?  and  ask  not,  Why  ?  they  come. 
When  Nature  in  herself  her  being  founded, 
Complete  and  perfect  then  the  globe  she  rounded. 
Glad  of  the  summits  and  the  gor^s  deep. 
Set  rock  to  rock,  and  mountain  steep  to  steep, 
The  hills  with  easy  outlines  downward  moulded. 
Tin  gently  from  their  feet  the  vales  unfolded ! 
They  green  and  grow ;  with  joy  therein  she  ranges, 
Requiring  no  insane,  convulsive  changes. 

HBPHISTOPHELES. 

Yes,  so  you  talk !    You  think  it  clear  as  sun ; 
But  he  knows  otherwise,  who  saw  it  done. 
For  1  was  there,  while  still  bek>w  was  surging 
The  red  abyss,  and  streamed  the  flaming  tide,  — 
When  Moloch's  hammer,  welding  rocks  and  forging, 
Scattered  the  mountain-ruins  far  and  wide. 
O'er  all  the  land  the  foreign  blocks  you  spy  there ;  ■" 
Who  solves  the  force  that  hurled  them  to  their  place  i 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  jy. 

The  lore  of  learned  men  is  all  awi?  there ; 

There  lies  the  rock,  xai  «e  must  let  it  lie  there ; 

We  've  thought  already — to  our  own  disgrace. 

Only  the  common,  faithful  people  know, 

And  nothing  shakes  them  in  their  firm  believing  i 

Their  wisdom  ripened  lot^  ago,  — 

A  marvel 't  is,  of  Satan's  own  achieving. 

On  crutch  of  f^th  my  traveller  climbs  the  ridges, 

Past  Devil's  Rocks  and  over  Devil's  Bridget. 

FAUST. 

Well, — 't  is  remarkable  and  new 
To  note  how  Devils  Nature  view. 


What 's  all  to  me  P    Her  shape  let  Nature  wear! 

The  point  of  honor  is,  the  Devil  was  there  ! 

We  are  the  folk  to  compass  grand  designs : 

Tumult,  and  Force,  and  Nonsense  !     See  the  signs  I  — 

Yet  now,  with  sober  reason  to  address  thee, 

Did  nothing  on  our  outside  shell  impress  \hef.  ? 

From  this  exceeding  height  thou  saw'st  unfurled 

The  glory  of  the  Kingdoms  of  the  World.'is 

Yet,  as  thou  art,  unsatisfied, 

Didst  feel  no  lust  of  power  and  pride  ? 

FAUST. 

I  did !    A  mighty  plan  my  fancy  won ; 
Canst  guess  it  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That  is  quickly  done. 
1  'd  take  some  town,  —  a  capital,  perchance,  — ■ 
Its  core,  the  people's  need  of  sustenance  ; 
With  crooked  alleys,  pointed  gables. 
Beets,  cabbage,  onions,  on  the  market-tables ; 


ih,Googlc 


'33 


FAUST. 


With  meat-stands,  wher«  the  blue  flies  muster, 

And  round  fat  joints  like  gourmands  cluster : 

There  shall  thou  find,  undoubtedly, 

Stench,  always,  and  activity. 

Then  ample  squares,  and  streets  whose  measure 

Assumes  an  air  of  lordly  leisure ; 

And  last,  without  a  gate  to  bar, 

The  boundless  suburbs  stretching  far. 

'T  were  joy  to  see  the  coaches  go. 

The  noisy  crowding  to  and  fro. 

The  endless  running,  hither,  thither. 

Of  scattered  ants  that  stream  together ; 

And  whether  walking,  driving,  riding. 

Ever  their  central  point  abiding. 

Honored  by  thousands,  should  be  I. 

FAUST. 

Therewith  I  would  not  be  contented  I 
One  likes  to  see  the  people  multiply. 
And  in  their  wise  with  comfort  fed,  — 
Developed  even,  taught,  well-bred. 
Yet  one  has  only,  when  all 's  said. 
The  sum  of  rebels  thus  augmented. '^^ 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Then  1  should  build,  with  conscious  power  and  grace, 
A  pleasure- castle  in  a  pleasant  place  ; 
Where  hill  and  forest,  level,  meadow,  field. 
Grandly  transformed,  should  park  and  garden  yield. 
Before  green  walls  of  foliage  velvet  meadows. 
With  ordered  paths  and  artful-falling  shadows ; 
Plunge  of  cascades  o'er  rocks  with  skill  combined. 
And  fountain-jets  of  every  form  and  kind. 
There  grandly  shooting  upwards  from  the  middle, 
While  round  the  sides  a  thousand  spirt  and  piddle. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV.  ,33 

Then  for  the  fairest  women,  fresh  and  rosy, 
I  'd  build  a  lodge,  convenient  and  cosey; 
And  so  the  bright  and  boundless  time  1  should 
Pass  in  the  loveliest  social  soliiude- 
Womea,  I  say ;  and,  once  for  all,  believe 
That  in  the  plural  I  the  sex  conceive  I 

FAUST, 

Sardanapalus  I    Modem,  —  poor  1 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Then  might  one  guess  whereunto  thou  hast  striven  ? 
Boldly-sublime  it  was,  1  'm  sure. 
Since  nearer  to  the  moon  thy  flight  was  driven, 
Would  now  thy  mania  that  realm  secure  ? 

FAUST. 

Not  so  !    This  sphere  of  earthly  soil 
Still  gives  us  room  for  lofty  doing. 
Astounding  plans  e'en  now  are  brewing : 
1  feel  new  strength  for  bolder  toil 

MEPH ISTOPHELES. 

So,  thou  wilt  Glory  earn  ?    'T  is  plain  to  see 
That  heroines  have  been  thy  company. 


Power  and  Estate  to  win,  inspires  my  thought ! 
The  Deed  is  everything,  the  Glory  naught 


Yet  Poets  shall  proclaim  the  matter. 
Thy  fame  to  future  ages  flatter, 
By  folly  further  folly  scatter  1 


ih,Googlc 


All  that  is  tax  beyond  thy  reach. 
How  canst  thou  know  what  men  beseech  ? 
Thy  cross-grained  self,  in  malice  banned, 
How  can  it  know  what  men  demand  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELBS. 

According  to  thy  will  so  let  it  be  I 
Confide  the  compass  of  thy  whims  to  me  1 

FAUST, 

Mine  eye  was  drawn  to  view  the  open  Ocean :  '^ 
It  swelled  aloft,  self-heared  and  over-vaulting, 
And  then  withdrew,  and  shook  its  waves  in  motion. 
Again  the  breadth  of  level  strand  assaulting. 
Then  I  was  vexed,  since  arrogance  can  spite 
The  spirit  free,  which  values  every  right, 
And  through  excited  passion  of  the  blood 
Discomfort  it,  as  did  the  haughty  flood. 
I  thought  it  chance,  my  vision  did  I  strain  ; 
The  billow  paused,  then  thundered  back  agato, 
Retiring  from  the  goal  so  proudly  won  : 
The  hour  returns,  the  sport 's  once  more  begun. 

MEPHtSTOPHELES  (ad  tptelatons). 

'T  is  nothing  new  whatever  that  one  hears  ; 
I  've  known  it  many  a  hundred  thousand  years. 


{contimäng  impasntnedty). 
The  Sea  sweeps  on,  in  thousand  quarters  flowing, 
Itself  unfruitful,  barrenness  bestowing; 
It  breaks  and  swells,  and  rolls,  and  overwhelms 
The  desert  stretch  of  desolated  realms. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV.  335 

There  endless  waves  hold  swny,  in  strength  erected 
And  then  withdrawn, — and  nothing  is  effected. 
If  aught  could  drive  me  to  despair,  't  were,  truly 
The  iümless  force  of  elements  unruly. 
Then  dared  my  mind  its  dreams  to  over-soar : 
Here  would  I  fight,  —  subdue  this  fierce  uproar ! 
And  possible  't  is  !  —  HoweVr  the  tides  may  fill, 
They  gently  fawn  around  the  steadfast  hill ; 
A  moderate  height  resists  and  drives  asunder, 
A  moderate  depth  allures  and  leads  them  on. 
So,  swiftly,  plans  within  my  mind  were  drawn : 
Let  that  high  joy  be  mine  forevermore, 
To  shut  the  lordly  Ocean  from  the  shore, 
The  watery  waste  to  limit  and  to  bar, 
And  push  it  back  upon  itself  afar  I 
From  step  to  step  1  settled  how  to  fight  it : 
Such  is  my  wish :  dare  thou  to  expedite  it  I 
\firtimt  and  martial  naait  in  tAe  rtar  ef  tht  sftilateri,  freu' 
the  JiitaiKe,  on  tht  rig^t  htaid.') 

UEFHISTOPHELES. 

Howeasy,  that!— Hear'st  thou  the  drums  ?'"•* 

FAUSI. 

Who  's  wise  likes  not  to  hear  of  coming  war. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  War  or  Peace,  't  is  wise  to  use  the  chance, 
And  draw  some  profit  from  each  circumstance. 
One  watches,  marks  the  moment,  and  is  bold : 
Here  's  opportunity! — now,  Faust,  take  bold  I 

FAUST. 

Spare  me  the  squandering  of  thy  riddle-pelf  I 
What  means  i^  once  for  all  ?    Explain  thyself  I 


ih,Googlc 


^  FAUST. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Upon  my  way,  to  me  it  was  discovered 

Ttiat  mighty  troubles  o'er  the  Emperor  hovered  : 

Thou  knowest  him.     The  while  we  twain,  beside  him, 

With  weaJth  illusive  bounteously  supplied  him, 

Then  all  the  world  was  to  be  had  for  pay; 

For  as  a  youth  he  held  Imperial  sway, 

And  he  was  pleased  to  try  it,  whether 

Both  interests  would  not  smoothly  pair. 

Since  't  were  desirable  and  fair 

To  govern  and  enjoy,  together. 

FAUST. 

A  mighty  error  I    He  who  would  command 
Must  in  commanding  find  his  highest  blessing: 
Then,  let  his  breast  with  force  of  will  expand, 
But  what  he  wills,  be  past  another's  guessing! 
What  to  his  faithful  he  hath  whispered,  that 
Is  fumed  to  act,  and  men  amaze  thereat ; 
Thus  will  he  ever  be  the  highest-placed 
And  worthiest ! — Enjoyment  makes  debased. 

MEPHISTOPHELES, 

Such  is  he  not!    He  /A'rf enjoy,  even  he! 

Meanwhile  the  realm  was  torn  by  anarchy, 

Where  great  and  smalt  were  warring  with  each  other. 

And  brother  drove  and  slaughtered  brother, 

Castle  to  castle,  town  'gainst  town  arrayed, 

The  nobles  and  the  guilds  of  trade, 

The  Bishop,  with  his  chapter  and  congregation, — 

All  meeting  eyes  but  looked  retaliation. 

In  churches  death  and  murder;  past  the  gates, 

The  merchants  travelled  under  evil  fates; 

And  all  grew  bolder,  since  no  rule  was  drawn 

For  life,  but :  Self-defence  !  —  So  things  went  od. 


ih,Googlc 


They  went,  they  limped,  they  fell,  arose  again, 
Then  tumbled  headlong,  aod  in  heaps  rem^n. 

HEPHISTOPHELES. 

Such  a  condition  do  man  dared  abuse. 

Each  would  be  something,  each  set  forth  his  dues; 

The  smallest  even  as  full-measured  passed: 

Yet  for  the  best  it  grew  too  bad  at  last 

The  Capible,  they  then  arose  with  energy, 

And  sii;l ;  "  Who  gives  us  Peace,  shall  ruler  be. 

The  Emprror  can  and  will  not !  —  Be  elected 

An  Emperor  new,  anew  the  realm  directed, 

Each  one  secure  and  sheltered  stand, 

And  in  a  fresh-constructed  land 

Justice  and  Peace  be  mated  and  perfected  !" 

FAUST, 

Priest-like,  that  sounds. 

MEPH ISTOPHELES. 

Priests  were  they,  to  be  sure ; 
They  meant  their  well-fed  bellies  to  secure; 
They,  more  than  all,  therein  were  implicated.*)' 
The  riot  rose,  the  riot  was  consecrated. 
And  now  our  Emperor,  whom  we  gave  delight. 
Comes  hitherward,  perchance  for  one  last  fight 

FAUST. 

I  pity  him ;  he  was  so  frank,  forgiving. 

MEPH  ISTOPHELES. 

Come,  we  '11  look  on !  There 's  hope  while  one  is  livingl 
Let  us  release  him  from  this  narrow  valley  I 
He 's  saved  a  thousand  times,  if  once  he  rally. 


ih,Googlc 


Who  knows  how  yet  the  dice  may  fall  f 
It  he  has  fortuae,  vassals  come  withal. 

I  TAey  crvii  avrr  Ihi  middle  rangt  »f  mautUaim,  and  vitw 
arrangtment  ef  Iht  army  in  Hit  valley.  Drums  and  m 
tary  mutie  risotmdfrom  Af/«o.] 

HEFHISTOPRELBS. 

A  good  position  is,  I  see,  secured  them  ; 
We  'U  join,  then  victory  wiU  be  assured  them. 


What  further,  I  should  Uke  to  know  ? 
Cheat!    Blind  delusion  I    Hollowshowl 

HEPHlSrOPUELES. 

No,  —  stratagems,  for  battle-winning  I 
Be  steadfast  for  the  grand  beginning, 
And  think  upon  thy  lofty  aim  ! 
If  we  secure  the  realm  its  rightful  claimant, 
Then  shall  thou  boldly  kneel,  and  claim 
The  boundless  strand  in  feoS,  as  payment 

FAUST. 

In  many  arts  didst  thou  excel : 
Come,  win  a  battle  now,  as  well ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

No,  tkou  Shalt  win  it !    Here,  in  brief, 
Shalt  thou  be  General-in-Chief. 

FAUST. 

A  high  distinction  thou  wouldst  lend, — 

There  to  command,  where  naught  1  comprehe&d^ 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV.  s 

UEPKISTOPHBLES. 

Leave  to  the  Staff  the  work  and  Mame, 
Then  the  Field-Marshal 's  sure  of  fame ! 
Of  War-UncouncUs  I  have  had  eaough, 
And  my  War-Council  fashion  of  the  stuff 
Of  primal  mountains'  primal  human  might : 
He  's  blest,  for  whom  its  elements  unite ! 

PAUST. 

What  do  I  see,  with  arms,  in  jouder  place  ? 
Hast  thou  aroused  the  mountain-race  7 

llEPHISTOPHEI.ES, 

Nol     But  I  've  brought,  like  Peter  Squence,'» 
From  all  the  raff  the  quintessence. 

TV  7%ra  Mikity  Mtn  afiptar.'* 

MEPH  ISTOFHEI.es. 

My  fellows  draw  already  near ! 

Thou  seest,  of  very  different  ages, 

Of  different  garb  and  armor  they  appear : 

They  will  not  serve  thee  ill  when  battle  rages. 

{Ad  ifiatatora,) 
Now  every  child  delights  to  see 
The  harness  and  the  helm  of  knightly  action  ' 
And  allegoric,  as  the  blackguards  be. 
They  '11  only  all  the  more  give  satisfaction. 

BULLY 
{yimng,  ligMliy  armed,  eladin  motlty). 
When  one  shall  meet  me,  face  to  face, 
My  fisticuffs  shall  on  his  chops  be  showered; 
And  midway  in  his  headlong  race, 
Fast  by  his  fl>-ing  hair  1  '11  catch  the  coward. 


ih,Googlc 


^O  FAUST. 

HAVEQUtCK 
i(maiily,  tetll-armed,  richly  ilad). 
Such  empty  brawls  are  only  folly  I 
Tbey  spoil  whate'er  occasion  brings. 
In  biking,  be  unwearied  wholly, 
And  after,  look  to  other  things  I 

HOLDFAST 
{wtll  inyiari,  strongiy^annai,  wilhctä  nämeiii). 

Yet  little  gain  thereafter  lingers! 
Soon  slips  great  wealth  l>etween  your  fingers, 
Borne  by  the  tides  of  Life  as  down  they  run. 
T  is  well  to  take,  indeed,  but  better  still  to  hold: 
Be  by  the  gray  old  churl  controlled, 
Aad  thou  shalt  plundered  be  by  none, 
(Thty  dtxmd tkt  mnmlaiH  l^ttitr.) 


ih,Googlc 


ON  THE  HEADLAND.« 


Dmmi  and  military  naaiifrom  Mm.     The  Ehpexor'S  tint 
ispitcAtJ. 

EuPEKOR.    General-in-Chief.    Life-Guari>shen. 

GEHEKAL-IN-CHIEF. 

IT  still  appears  the  prudentest  of  courses 
That  here,  in  this  appropriate  vale, 
We  have  withdrawn  and  strongly  massed  our  forces; 
I  firmly  trust  we  shall  not  fail. 

EMPEROR. 

What  comes  of  it  will  soon  be  brought  to  light ; 
Yet  I  dislike  this  yielding,  semi-flight 


GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 

Look  down,  my  Prince,  where  our  right  flank  is  planted  t 
The  field  which  War  desires  hath  here  been  granted : 
Not  steep  the  hills,  yet  access  not  preparing, 
To  us  advantage,  to  the  foe  insnaring ; 
Their  cavalry  will  hardly  dare  surround 
Our  strength  half  hid,  on  undulating  ground. 

EUPEROH. 

My  commendation,  only,  need  I  speak ; 
Now  arm  and  courage  have  the  test  they  seek. 

VOL.  IL  I  [ 


ih,Googlc 


GENRRAL-IN-CKIEP. 

Here,  on  the  middle  meadow's  level  spaces 
Thou  seest  the  phalanx,  eager  in  their  places. 
In  air  the  lances  gleam  and  sparkle,  kissed 
By  sunshine,  through  the  Glniy  morning  mist 
How  darkling  sways  the  grand  and  powerful  squarel 
The  thousands  bum  for  grea.t  achievements  there. 
Therein  canst  thou  perceive  the  strength  of  masses ; 
And  thine,  be  sure,  the  foemen's  strength  surpasses. 


Now  first  do  1  enjoy  the  stirring  si^t : 
An  army,  thus,  appears  of  double  might 

GENBRAL-IN-CHIBP. 

But  of  our  left  I  've  no  report  to  make. 

Brave  heroes  garrison  the  rocky  brake; 

The  stony  cliffs,  by  gleams  of  weapons  specked. 

The  entrance  to  the  close  defile  protect 

Here,  as  I  guess,  the  foemen's  force  will  shatter, 

Forced  unawares  upon  the  bloody  matter. 


And  there  they  march,  false  kin,  one  like  the  otherl 
Even  as  they  styled  me  Uncle,  Cousin,  Brother, 
Assuming  more,  and  ever  more  defying. 
The  sceptre's  power,  the  throne's  respect,  denying; 
Then,  in  their  feuds,  the  realm  they  devastated, 
And  now  as  Rebels  march,  against  me  mated  I 
Awhile  with  halting  minds  the  masses  go, 
Then  ride  the  stream,  wherever  it  may  flow. 

GENEK  A  L-IN-CHl  EP. 

A  faithful  man,  sent  out  some  news  to  win. 
Comes  down  the  rocks :  may  he  have  lucky  been  I 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV.  843 

FIRST  SFt. 

Luckily  have  we  succeeded ; 

Helped  by  bold  and  cunning  art, 

Here  and  there  have  pressed,  and  heeded, 

But 't  is  ill  news  we  impart. 

Many,  purest  homage  pledging. 

Like  the  faithful,  fealty  swore,  — 

For  inertness  now  alleging 

People's  danger,  strife  in  store. 

EMPEROR. 

They  leant  from  selfishness  self-preservation. 

Not  duty,  honor,  grateful  inclination. 

You  do  not  thiiiK  that,  when  your  reckoning  's  shown, 

The  neighbor's  burning  house  shall  fire  your  own  I 

GEMERAL-IN- CHIEF. 

The  Second  comes,  descending  slowly  hither; 
A  weary  man,  whose  strength  appears  to  wither. 

SECOND  spy. 
First  with  comfort  we  detected 
What  their  plan  confused  was  worth ; 
Then,  at  once  and  unexpected, 
Came  another  Emperor  forth. 
As  he  bids,  in  ordered  manner 
March  the  gathering  hosts  away-. 
His  unfokled  lying  banner 
All  have  followed.  —  Sheep  are  they  I 

EMPEROR. 

Now,  by  a  Rival  Emperor  shall  I  gain : 
That  /  am  Emperor,  thus  to  me  Is  plaia 


ih,Googlc 


But  as  a  soldier  1  the  mail  put  on ; 
Now  for  a  higher  aim  the  sword  be  drawn  I 
At  all  my  shows,  however  grand  to  see, 
Did  nothing  lack :  but  Danger  lacked,  to  mt. 
Though  you  but  lilting  at  llie  ring  suggested, 
My  heart  beat  high  to  be  in  tourney  tested; 
And  had  you  not  from  war  my  mind  dissuaded, 
For  glorious  deeds  my  name  were  now  paraded. 
But  independence  then  did  I  acquire, 
When  I  stood  mirrored  in  the  realm  of  fire : 
In  the  dread  element  I  dared  to  stand ;  — 
'T  was  but  a  show,  and  yet  the  show  was  grand. 
Of  fame  and  victory  I  have  dreamed  alone ; 
But  for  the  base  neglect  I  now  atone  1 

(7^  IISRALUS  are  dtspal€ktd la  ikilltjige  the  Xivai  Emptror 

Faust  entirs,  in  armor,  with  kal/ilosed  visor.     The  Thxes 
MiGHTV  Men,  armed  and  clothid.  as  alriady  dtscribtd. 


We  come,  and  hope  our  coming  Is  not  chidden ; 

Pnidence  may  help,  though  by  the  need  unbidden. 

The  mountain  race,  thou  know'st,  think  and  explore,  - 

Of  Nature  and  the  rocks  they  read  the  lore. 

The  Spirits,  forced  from  the  level  land  to  sever. 

Are  of  the  rocky  hilb  more  fain  than  ever. 

Silent,  they  work  through  labyrinthine  passes, 

In  rich,  metallic  fumes  of  noble  gases, 

On  solving,  testing,  blending,  most  intent: 

Their  only  passion,  something  to  invent 

With  gentle  touch  of  spiritual  power 

They  build  transparent  fabrics,  hour  by  hour; 

For  they,  in  crystals  and  their  silence,  furled,'* 

BehoU  events  that  rule  the  Upper  World. 


ih,Googlc 


EHPEROR. 

I  understand  it,  and  can  well  agree ; 

But  My,  thou  gallant  man,  what 's  that  to  me  F 

The  Sabine  old,  the  Norcian  necromancer, '■■ 
Thy  true  and  worthy  servant,  sends  thee  answer: 
What  fearful  fate  it  was,  that  overhung  him  I 
The  fagots  crackled,  fire  already  stung  him  ; 
The  billets  dry  were  closely  round  him  fixed, 
With  pitch  and  rolls  of  brimstone  intermixed; 
Not  Man,  nor  God,  nor  Devil,  him  could  save,— 
The  Emperor  plucked  him  from  his  fiery  grave. 
It  was  in  Rome.     Still  is  he  bound  unto  thee  ; 
Upon  thy  path  his  anxious  thoughts  pursue  thee  ; 
Himself  since  that  dread  hour  forgotten,  he 
Questions  the  stars,  the  depths,  alone  for  thee. 
Us  he  commissioned,  by  the  swiftest  courses 
Thee  to  assist.    Great  are  the  mountain's  forces; 
There  Nature  works  all-potenlly  and  free, 
Though  stupid  priests  therein  but  magic  see. 

EHPEROR. 

On  days  of  joy,  when  we  the  guests  are  greeting, 
Who  for  their  gay  delight  are  gayly  meeting. 
Each  gives  us  pleasure,  as  they  push  and  pull. 
And  crowd,  man  after  man,  the  chambers  full ; 
Yet  chiefly  welcome  is  the  brave  man,  thus. 
When  as  a  bold  ally  he  brings  to  us 
Now,  in  the  fateful  morning  hour,  his  talents, 
While  Destiny  uplifts  her  trembling  balance. 
Yet,  while  the  fates  of  this  high  hour  unfold. 
Thy  strong  hand  from  the  willing  sword  withhold,— 
Honor  the  moment,  when  the  hosts  are  striding. 
For  or  against  me,  to  the  field  deciding ! 


ih,Googlc 


146  FAUST. 

Self  is  the  Man  1 '•*  Whocrowii  uidlhrone  wouldclaim 

Musi  personally  be  worthy  of  the  »me. 

And  may  the  Phantom,  which  against  us  stands, 

The  self-styled  Emperor,  Lord  of  all  our  lands. 

The  army's  Duke,  our  Princes'  feudal  head, 

With  mine  own  hand  be  hurled  among  the  dead  I 

FAUST. 

Howe'er  the  need  that  thy  great  work  be  6nl£hed, 
Risked  were  thy  head,  the  chances  were  diminished 
Is  not  the  helm  adorned  with  plume  ^nd  crest  ? 
The  head  it  shields,  that  steels  our  courage  best 
Without  a  head,  what  should  the  members  bridle  \ 
Let  it  but  sleep,  they  sink  supine  and  idle. 
If  it  be  injured,  all  the  hurt  confess  in  't, 
And  all  revive,  when  it  is  convalescent 
Then  soon  the  arm  its  right  shall  reassert, 
And  lift  the  shield  to  save  the  skull  from  hurt: 
The  sword  perceives  at  once  its  honored  trust, 
Parries  with  vigor,  and  repeats  the  thrust : 
The  gallant  foot  its  share  of  luck  will  gain,       , 
And  plants  itself  upon  the  necks  of  slain. 


Such  is  my  «Tath ;  I  'd  meet  him  thus,  undaunted, 
And  see  bis  proud  head  as  my  footstool  planted  1 

HERALDS  (rWbnwfff ). 
little  honor  was  accorded ; 
We  have  met  with  scorn  undoubted: 
Our  defiance,  nobly  worded. 
As  an  empty  farce  they  flouted : 
"  Lo,  your  Lord  is  but  a  vision,  — 
Echo  of  a  vanished  prime : 
When  we  name  him,  says  Tradition  : 
'Me  was — once  upon  a  timt  /'" 


n-./GoOglc 


FAOST. 

It 's  happened  as  the  best  would  f^n  have  planned, 
Who,  film  and  faidiful,  stUl  beside  thee  stand. 
There  comes  the  foe,  thj  amy  waits  and  wishes ; 
Order  attack  1  the  moment  is  auspicious. 

EUPEROR. 

Yet  I  decline  to  exercise  command. 

( Tb  tkt  General- in-Chief.) 
Thy  du^,  Prince,  be  trusted  to  thy  hand  I 

GEMBRAL-IN<HIEF. 

Then  let  the  right  wing  now  advance  apace ! 
The  enemy's  left,  who  just  ijegin  ascending. 
Shall,  ere  the  movement  dose,  give  up  their  place, 
Before  the  youthful  force  onr  field  defending. 

FAUST, 

Permit  me,  then,  that  this  gay  hero  may 
Be  stationed  in  thy  ranks,  without  delay, — 
That  with  thy  men  most  fully  he  consort, 
And  thus  incorporate,  ply  his  vigorous  sport  I 

{HefoitUi  tf  tkt  MlGHTV  Man  an  lie  right.) 

BULLY  {cemiHg/onpard),"^ 
Who  shows  his  face  to  me,  before  he  turn 
Shall  find  his  cheekbones  and  his  chops  are  shattered : 
Who  shows  his  back,  one  sudden  blow  shall  earn. 
Then  head  and  pig-tail  dangling  hang,  and  battered! 
And  if  thy  men,  like  me,  will  lunge 
With  mace  and  sword,  beside  each  other, 
Man  over  man  the  foe  shall  plunge 
And  in  their  own  deep  blood  shall  smother  I 

[Exit, 


ih,Googlc 


»4»  FAUST. 

GEHERAI^IH-CHIEF. 

Let  then  our  centre  phalanx  follow  slow,  — 
Engage  with  caution,  yet  with  might,  the  foe) 
There  to  the  right,  already  overtaken. 
Our  furious  force  their  plan  has  rudely  shaken  I 

FAUST  (pointing  tB  thi  middit  ent\. 

Let  also  this  one  now  obey  thy  word  1 

HAVEQUICK  (cemttfOTVardS. 

Unto  the  host's  heroic  duty  . 
Shall  now  be  joined  the  thirst  for  booty ; 
And  be  the  goal,  where  all  are  sent. 
The  Rival  Emperor's  sumptuous  tent  I 
He  shall  not  long  upon  his  seat  be  lorded: 
To  lead  the  phalanx  be  to  me  acc<wded  I 

SPEEDBOOTV 
(tutUriss,  fawtting  upon  him). 
Though  never  tied  to  him  by  priest, 
He  is  my  sweetheart  dear,  at  least 
Our  auiumn  't  is,  of  ripest  gold  ! 
Woman  b  fierce  when  she  takes  hold, 
And  when  she  robs,  is  merciless  : 
All  is  allowed,  so  forth  to  victory  press  t 

\ExeuntMK 

GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 

Upon  our  left,  as  was  to  be  foreseen. 

Their  right  is  strongly  hurled.    Yon  rocks  between. 

Ours  will  resist  their  furious  beginning. 

And  hinder  them  the  narrow  pass  from  winning. 

FAUST 
(btckont  to  tht  MrCHTV  MaN  <■«  the  lift). 

I  beg  you,  Sire,  let  this  one  also  aid ; 

'T  Is  well  when  even  the  strong  are  stronger  made 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV. 


r  [coming fiira>ard£\. 
Now  let  the  left  wing  have  no  fear ! 
The  ground  is  surely  held,  where  I  appear  : 
1  am  the  Ancient  you  were  told  of : 
No  lightning  splits  what  I  keep  hold  of  I 


HEPHISTOPHELBS 
{ätscrtidiHg from  aioiie). 
And  now  behold,  how,  more  remote, 
From  every  jagged  rocky  throat 
Comes  forth  an  armdd  host,  increasing, 
Down  every  narrow  pathway  squeezing. 
With  helm  and  harness,  sword  and  spear, 
A  living  rampart  in  our  rear. 
And  wait  the  sign  to  charge  the  foemen  t 

{iliiiü,  tu  the  knowing  im«.] 
You  must  not  ask  whence  comes  the  omen. 
I  have  not  been  a  careless  scout. 
But  cleared  the  halls  of  armor  round  about. 
They  stood  a-foot,  they  sat  on  horses. 
Like  Lords  of  Earth  and  real  forces : 
Once  Emperors,  Kings,  and  Knights  were  they, 
Now  empty  shells,  — -  the  snails  have  crawled  away. 
Full  many  ghosts,  arrayed  so,  have  for  us 
Revamped  the  Middle  Ages  thus. 
Whatever  Devils  now  the  shells  select, 
This  once  't  will  still  create  effect 

{Aloud.) 
Hark !  in  advance  ihey  stir  their  an^r, 
Each  jostling  each  with  brassy  clangor  1 
The  banner-rags  of  standards  flutter  flowing. 
That  restless  waited  for  the  breeze's  blowing. 


ih,Googlc 


(^O  FAUST. 

Here  standeth  ready,  tuiw,  an  ancient  race ; 
Id  the  new  conflict  it  would  £aiii  have  place. 
\Tnmtttdoia ftal of  tnanpttt frem  ahavi:  apereeftiiUvii 
ing  im  tht  hostile  artny.) 

FAUST. 

The  near  horizon  dims  and  darkles ; 

Yet  here  and  there  with  meaning  sparklet 

A  ruddy  and  presaging  glow ;  *" 

The  blades  are  red  where  strife  is  sorest, 

The  atmosphere,  the  rocks,  the  forest, 

The  very  heavens  the  combat  show. 

HEPH ISTO  PHELES. 

The  right  flank  holds  its  ground  with  vigor: 
There,  towering  over  all,  defiant, 
Jack  Bully  works,  the  nimble  giant, 
And  drives  them  with  his  wonted  rigor. 

EUPBKOR. 

I  first  beheld  one  arm  uplifted. 
But  DOW  a  dozen  tossed  and  shifted : 
Unnatural  such  things  appear. 

FAUST, 

Hast  thou  not  heard  of  vapors  Banded. 
O'er  the  Sicilian  coasts  expanded  ? 
There,  hovering  in  daylight  clear. 
When  mid-air  gleams  in  rarer  phases, 
And  mirrored  in  especial  hazes, 
A  vision  wonderful  awakes : 
There  back  and  forth  are  cities  bending, 
With  gardens  rising  and  descending, 
As  form  on  form  the  ether  breaks. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV. 
EUFEKOR. 

Yet  how  suspicious  I    I  behold 

The  tall  spears  tipped  with  gleams  of  gold ; 

Upon  our  phalanx'  shining  lances 

A  nimble  host  of  flaroelets  dances : 

Too  spectral  it  appears  to  roe. 

FAÜST. 

Pardon  me.  Lord,  those  are  the  traces 

Of  spirits  of  the  vanished  races,  —■ 

The  fires  of  Pollux  and  of  Castor, 

Whom  seamen  call  on  in  disaster : 

They  here  collect  their  final  strength  for  thee. 


But  say,  to  whom  are  we  indebted, 
That  Nature  hath  our  plans  abetted, 
With  shows  of  rarest  potency  P 

«EPHISTOPHELES. 

To  whom,  indeed,  but  that  old  Roman 

Whose  care  for  thee  at  last  is  proved  ? 

By  the  strong  menace  of  thy  foemen 

His  deepest  nature  has  been  moved. 

His  gratitude  would  see  thee  now  delivered, 

Though  his  own  being  for  thy  sake  be  shivered. 

EMPEROR. 

They  cheered  my  march,  with  every  pomp  invested; 

I  felt  my  power,  I  meant  to  see  it  tested ; 

So,  carelessly,  I  found  it  well,  as  ruler. 

To  send  the  white  beard  where  the  air  was  cooler. 

1  robbed  the  Clei^  of  a  pleasant  savor. 

And,  truly,  have  not  thus  acquired  their  favor. 


ih,Googlc 


Shall  I,  at  lasi,  since  many  years  are  over, 
The  payment  for  that  merry  deed  recover? 

FAUST. 

Free-hearted  help  heaps  interest; 
Look  up,  and  cease  to  watch  the  foemeni 
Methinks  that  he  will  send  an  omen ; 
Attend  !  the  sign  is  now  expressed. '"J 

BHPEROR. 

An  Eagle  hovers  In  the  heavenly  vault ; 
A  GrifEn  follows,  menacing  assault 

FAUST. 

Give  heed  I     It  seems  most  favorable. 
The  Griffin  is  a  beast  of  fable : 
How  dare  he  claim  a  rival  regal, 
And  meet  in  fight  a  genuine  Eagle  P 

EHPEKOR. 

And  now,  in  circles  wide  extended. 
They  wheel  Involved,  —  then,  like  a  flash. 

Upon  each  other  swifüy  dash. 

That  necks  be  cleft  and  bodies  rended  I 

FAUST. 

Mark  now  the  evil  Griffin  quail ! 
Rumpled  and  torn,  the  foe  he  fearetl^ 
And  with  his  drooping  lion's-tail. 
Plunged  in  the  tree-tops,  disappeareth. 


Even  as  presaged,  so  may  it  be  I 
I  take  the  sign,  admiringly. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV. 
UEPHISTOPHELES  (towardi  Ihr  righf). 

From  the  force  of  blows  repeated 
Have  our  enemies  retreated; 
And  in  fight  uncertain,  shifting, 
Towards  their  right  Ihey  now  are  drifting 
Thus  confusing,  by  their  courses. 
All  the  left  flank  of  their  forces. 
See !  our  phalanx,  fimily  driven, 
Moves  to  right,  and,  like  the  levin, 
Strikes  them  in  the  weak  position. — 
Now,  like  waves  in  wild  collision. 
Equal  powers,  with  rage  opposing, 
In  Ihe  double  fight  are  closing. 
Gloriously  the  weapons  rattle ; 
We,  at  last,  have  won  the  battle  1 

EUPEROR 

{en  thr  Itfl.  to  FaUst). 
Look!  it  yonder  seems  suspicious; 
For  otir  post  the  luck  's  capricious. 
Not  a  stone  I  see  them  throw  there ; 
Mounted  are  the  rocks  below  there. 
And  the  upper  ones  deserted. 
Now! — to  one  hujtc  mass  converted 
Nearer  moves  the  foe,  unshaken. 
And  perchance  the  pass  hath  taken. 
Such  the  unholy  plan's  conclusion ! 
All  your  arts  are  but  delusion. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

There  come  my  ravens,  croaking  presage; 
What  nature,  then,  may  be  their  message? 
I  fear  we  stand  in  evil  plight 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 
EMPEROR. 

What  mean  these  fatal  birds  enchanted  ? 
Their  inky  sails  are  hither  slanted, 
Hot  from  the  rocky  field  of  fight 

MEPHISTOPHELES   [fe  the  Ravtni). 

Sit  at  mine  ears,  your  flight  retarded  I 
He  is  not  lost  whom  you  have  guarded ; 
Your  couDsel  'a  logical  and  right 

FAUST  (lo  tht  Emfiror). 
Thou  hast,  of  course,  been  told  of  pigeons, 
Taught  to  return  from  distant  regions 
To  nests  upon  their  native  coast 
Here,  differently,  the  plan  's  succeeded; 
The  pigeon-post  for  Peace  ts  needed. 
But  War  requires  the  raven-post 

UEPHISTOPKELES. 

The  birds  announce  us  sore  mischances. 
Sec,  yonder,  how  the  foe  advances 
Against  our  heroes'  rocky  wall, 
The  nearest  heights  even  now  attaining  1 
Should  they  succeed  the  pass  in  gaining, 
Our  fortunes,  then,  were  criUcaL 

EMPEROR. 

Defeat  and  cheat  at  last  are  on  me ! 
Into  your  meshes  you  have  drawn  me: 
I  shudder,  since  they  bind  me  fast 

MEPHISTO  PHELES. 

Courage  \    Not  yet  the  die  is  cast 
Patience  and  knack,  for  knot-untying  I 
The  close  will  be  the  fiercest  stand. 


ih,Googlc 


Snre  meBsengera  for  me  are  flying: 
Command  that  I  may  give  command  I 

GEKERAL-IK-  CHIEF 
{aiAo  hat  mtamoMiU  arrwed). 
To  follow  these  hast  thou  consented ; 
Thence  all  the  time  was  I  tonnented : 
No  fortune  comes  of  jugglery. 
The  battle  'a  lost,  I  cannot  mend  it ; 
'T  was  they  began,  and  they  may  end  it : 
My  baton  I  return  to  tbee. 

EHFEROR. 

Retain  it  for  the  better  season 
Which  Fortune  still  to  us  may  send  I 
I  dread  the  customers  with  reason,  — 
The  ravens  and  their  ugly  friend. 
{To  Mbphistofheles.) 
As  for  the  baton,  thou  must  leave  it ; 
Thou  'rt  not,  methinks,  the  proper  man. 
Command  the  fight,  canst  thou  retrieve  it ! 
Let  happen  all  that  happen  can  ! 

[Exit  into  fhe  lent  with  the  General-in-Chiei 

HEPH ISTOPHBLES. 

The  blunt  stick  still  be  his  protection  t 
'T  would  naught  avail  in  our  direction  ; 
There  was  a  sort  of  Cross  thereon. 

FAUST. 

What 's  to  be  done  ? 

HEFHISTOFH  ELES. 

The  thing  is  done !  >^  — 
Now,  my  black  cousins,  speed  upon  your  duties 


ih,Googlc 


35*  FAUST. 

To  the  mountain-Uke !    The  Undines,  watery  beantles, 
Entreat,  the  appearance  of  their  floods  to  spare  1 
By  female  arts,  beyond  our  sharpest  seeing. 
They  can  divide  the  Appearance  from  the  Being, 
And  all  will  swear  the  Being  's  there  ! 


Our  ravens  must,  with  flattery  beladen, 

Have  sweetly  coaxed  each  winsmne  water-maiden ; 

The  trickling  streams  at  once  descend. 

The  bald  and  rocky  shoulders  of  the  mountains 

Give  birth  to  full  and  swiftly-flowing  fountains  ; 

Their  victory  is  at  an  end. 

MEPHISTOPRBLES. 

To  such  reception  they  're  not  used : 
The  boldest  climbers  grow  confused. 

FAUST. 

Now  brook  roars  down  to  brook  with  mighty  bubble ; 
Then  from  the  mouths  of  glens  they  issue  double. 
And  fling  themselves,  in  arches,  o'er  the  pale ; 
Then  suddenly  spread  along  the  rocky  level, 
And  to  and  fro  foam  onward  in  their  revel, 
As  down  a  stairway  hurled  into  the  vale. 
What  boots  their  gallant,  hero-like  resistance  ? 
The  billow  bursts,  and  bears  them  down  the  distance ; 
Before  such  wild  uproar  even  1  must  quail 


Nothing  I  see  of  all  this  moist  illusion : 
To  human  eyes,  alone,  it  brings  confusion,    ■ 
And  in  the  wondrous  chance  1  take  delight 
They  fly  in  headlong,  hurried  masses ; 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  ZV.  J57 

That  they  are  drowning,  think  the  asses  : 
Though  on  the  solid  land,  they  see  an  ocean, 
And  run  absurdly  with  a  swimming  motion. 
It  is  a  most  bewildering  plight. 

( The  Rtniens  return^ 
To  the  high  Master  will  I  praise  you  duly; 
But  would  you  test  yourselves  as  masters  fully, 
Then  hasten  to  that  smithy  eerie, 
Where  the  dwarf-people,  never  weary, 
Hammer  the  sparks  from  ore  and  stone. 
Demand,  while  there  you  prate  and  flatter, 
A  fire  to  shine,  and  shoot,  and  scatter, 
As  in  the  highest  sense  't  is  known. 
'T  is  true  that  distant  lightning,  quivering  far-lights, 
And  failing,  quick  as  wink,  of  highest  star-lights. 
May  happen  any  summer  night ; 
Bnt  lightning,  loose  among  the  tangled  bushes, 
Aod  stars  that  hiss  and  fizsle  in  the  rushes, 
Are  shows  that  seldom  meet  the  sight. 
Take  no  great  pains,  you  understand ; 
But  first  entreat,  and  then  command  I 

{ExaiiUthe  Ratani.    All takei plare at preicribtd^ 
Upon  the  foe  falls  Night's  thick  curtain. 
And  step  and  march  become  uncertain  I 
In  every  quarter  wandering  blazes. 
And  sudden  glare,  that  blinds  and  dazes  1 
All  that  seems  fine;  yet  we  should  hear 
Their  wild,  commingled  cries  of  fear. 

FAUST. 

The  hollow  armor  from  the  vaulted  chambers 
In  the  free  air  its  ancient  strength  remembers : 
It  rattles  there,  and  clatters  all  around,  — 
A  wonderful,  a  cheating  sound. 


ih,Googlc 


HEPHISTOPHEIXS. 

Quite  right  I    The  fonns  there 's  no  restraining: 
Already  knightly  whacks  are  raining, 
As  in  the  splendid  times  of  old. 
The  brassarts  there,  as  well  as  cuisses, 
Are  GueUs  and  Ghibellines ;  and  this  is 
Renewal  of  the  feud  they  hold. 
Firm  in  transmitted  hate  they  anchor, 
And  show  implacably  their  rancor : 
Now  far  and  wide  the  noise  hath  rcdled. 
At  last,  the  Devils  find  a  hearty 
Advantage  In  the  hate  of  Party, 
Till  dread  and  nun  end  the  tale : 
Repvbive  sounds  of  lage  and  panic. 
With  others,  piercing  and  Satanic, 
Resound  along  the  frightened  vale  I 
{Warliki  tumuÜ  in  tht  Orchtttra, ßtiaüy  fatting  imit  livdj 
martiai  mtaiurti.) 


ih,Googlc 


III. 

THE  RIVAL  EMPEROR'S  TENT. 

Throne;  Rich  Surroundings. 

Havequick.    Speedbooty, 

sfeedbooty. 

CO,  we  are  here  the  first,  I  see  I 

HAVEQUICK. 

No  raven  fliea  so  swift  as  we. 

SPEEDBOOTY. 

O,  how  the  treasure-piles  extend ' 
Where  shall  1  once  begin  ?  where  end  ? 

HAVEQUICK. 

But  all  the  space  is  full  I    And  now 
I  kcow  not  what  to  take,  I  vow  I 

SPEEDBOOTY. 

This  carpet  is  the  thing  I  need  t 
My  couch  is  often  hard  indeed. 

HAVEQUICK. 

Here  hangs  a  morning-star,  so  strong, 
The  like  of  which  I  've  wanted  long. 

SPEEUBOOTY. 

This  crimson  mantle,  bound  with  gold. 
Is  like  the  one  my  dreams  foretold. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 
HAVEQUICK  {lakiHg thiweapBtt'). 

With  this,  a  man  Is  quickly  sped; 
One  strikes  him  dead,  and  goes  ahead. 
Thou  art  already  latleii  so, 
And  nothing  riglit  thy  sack  can  shov. 
This  rubbish,  rather,  here  forsake, 
And  one  of  yonder  caskets  take ! 
The  army's  modest  pay  they  hold, 
Their  bellies  full  of  purest  gold. 

SPEEDBOOTY. 

0  what  a  murderous  weight  is  there  I 

1  cannot  lift  it,  cannot  bear. 

HAVEQUICK. 

Quick,  bend  and  squat  to  take  the  pack  1 
I  'U  heave  it  on  thy  sturdy  back. 

SPEEDBOOTY. 

O  me !    Alack !  the  burden  slips  : 

The  weight  has  crushed  my  back  and  hips. 

( Tkt  clust  falls  and  bursli  optK.\ 
HAVEQUICK. 

There  lies  the  red  gold  in  a  heap ! 

Quick,  rake  and  take  what  thou  canst  keepl 

SPEEDBOOTY  ({nmihii^  ä(mn\. 
Quick,  let  the  booty  fill  my  lap! 
T  will  still  be  quite  enough,  mayhap. 

HAVEQUICK. 

So  I  there  's  enough  !    Now  haste,  and  go  t 

{Sluri^s.) 

The  apron  has  a  hole,  ah  woe  1 


ih,Googlc 


Wherever  thou  dost  walk  or  stand, 
Thou  sowest  treasure  on  the  land.'" 

GUARDSMEN   (ofenr  EmfEKOR). 

What  seek  ye  here  with  wanton  eyes  ? 

Ye  rummage  the  Imperial  prize  I 

HAVEQUICK. 

We  hazarded  our  limbs  for  pay, 
Aod  now  we  take  our  share  of  prey. 
In  hostile  tents  't  is  always  so, 
And  we  are  soldiers  too,  you  know. 


Among  our  troops  he  comes  to  grief 
Who  's  both  a  soldier  and  a  thief: 
Who  serves  our  Emperor  fair  and  free, 
I^t  him  an  honest  soldier  be ! 

HAVEQUICK. 

O  yes !  such  honesty  we  know : 
'T  is  Contribution,  —  call  it  so !  ■•> 
In  the  same  mould  you  all  are  made  . 
"  Give ! "  is  the  password  of  your  trade. 

( To  Speedbootv.) 
With  what  thou  hast,  the  coast  we  '11  dear : 
As  guests  we  are  not  welcome  here. 

\Exema. 

FIRST  GUARDSMAN. 

Why  didst  thou  not  at  once  bestow 
On  the  scamp's  face  a  smashing  blow  ? 


I  know  not, — had  not  strength  to  strike; 
They  seemed  to  me  so  phantom4ike. 


ih,Googlc 


THIRD. 

Something  there  was  disturbed  my  si^l^— 
A  flash :  1  could  not  see  aright 


I,  also,  can  declare  it  not: 
The  whole  day  loi^  it  was  so  hoi^ 
So  sultry,  close,  and  terrible ; 
One  man  stood  finn,  another  fell ; 
We  groped  and  fought,  with  valor  rash. 
The  foemen  fell  at  every  slash  ; 
Before  one's  eyes  there  was  a  mist. 
And  something  roared,  and  hummed,  and  hissed ; 
So  to  the  end,  and  here  are  we. 
And  how  it  happened,  cannot  see. 

( 7^  EiiPBROB  ffCWs,  aeeampanied  hy  Foira  PaiHCKS.     Tlu 
Gl^AKDSMEN  reHn.) 

EMPEROR. "» 

Now  fare  he,  as  he  may  I    For  us  is  won  the  battle, 
And  o'er  the  plain  the  foe  have  fled  like  frightened  cattle. 
The  trait'rous  treasure,  here,  the  empty  throne,  we've 

found. 
That,  hung  with  tapestry,  contracts  the  space  around. 
Enthroned  in  honor  we,  true  guardsmen  us  protecting. 
The  preople's  envoys  are  imperially  expecting. 
The  messengers  of  joy  arrive  from  every  side. 
And,  loyal  now  to  us,  the  realm  is  pacified. 
Though  in  ourfight,  perchance,  some  jugglery  was  woi;pn, 
Yet,  at  the  last,  our  own  unaided  strength  we  've  proven. 
True,  accidents  sometimes  for  combatants  are  good ; 
A  stone  may  fall  from  heaven,  on  foes  a  shower  of  blood ; 
From  rocky  caves  may  ring  tremendous  strains  of  wonder, 
That  lift  our  hearts  with  faith,  and  drive  the  foe  asunder. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV.  363 

The  Conquered  yielded,  scourged  by  Scorn's  iminOTta] 

rod; 
The  Victor,  as  he  boasts,  exalts  the  favoring  God ; 
And  all  responsive  shout,  unordered,  unentreated : 
"  We  praise  Thee,  God  our  Lord  1 "  from  million  throats 

repeated. 
Yet  as  the  highest  praise,  so  rarely  ebe  expressed, 
I  tum  my  pious  glance  on  mine  own  grateful  breast. 
A  young  and  lively  Prince  may  give  his  days  to  pleasure ; 
Mim  teach  the  years,  at  last,  the  moment's  use  to  measure. 
Therefore,  without  delay,  1  call  ye,  for  support, 
Beside  me,  worthy  Four,  in  realm  and  house  and  court 

(r<j/A^  First.) 
Thine  vnis,  O  Prince  1  the  host's  arrangement,  wise  in- 
spection, 
Then,  in  the  nick  of  time,  bereue,  bold  direction : 
Act  now  in  peace,  as  Time  thine  offices  may  show  t 
Arch-Marshal  shalt  thou  be:  the  sword  I  here  bestow. 

ARCH-MARSHAL. 

Thy  faithful  host,  till  now  employed  for  civil  order, 
Thee  and  thy  throne  secured,  shall  strengthen  next  thy 

Then  let  us  be  allowed,  when  festal  throngs  are  poured 
Through  thine  ancestral  halls,  to  dress  for  thee  the  board. 
Before  thee  brightly  borne,  and  brightly  held  beside  thee, 
Thy  Majesty's  support,  the  sword  shall  guard  and  guide 
theel 

EUPEROR  (le  the  SECOND). 

He  who  as  gallant  man  can  also  gracious  be, 

Thou,  —  be  Arch-Chamberlain  I  — not  light  the  place, 

for  thee. 
Thou  art  the  höhest  now  of  aH  the  house-retainers 


ih,Googlc 


264  FAUST. 

Whose  strife  makes  service  bad, —  the  threateners  and 

complainers : 
Let  thy  example  be  an  honored  sign  to  these, 
How  they  the  Prince  and  Court,  and  all,  should  seek  to 

please  I 

A  RCH-CH  A  UBERLAIH . 

To  speed  thy  high  design,  thy  grace  is  fair  precuisra' : 
The  Better  to  assist,  and  injure  not  the  Worser, — 
Be  frank,  yet  cunning  not,  and  calm  vithout  decdt  1 
If  thou  but  read  my  heart,  I  'm  honored  as  is  meeL 
But  let  my  fancy  now  to  festal  service  hasten  ! 
Thou  goest  to  the  board,  1  bear  the  golden  basin, 
And  hold  thy  rings  for  thee,  that  on  such  blissful  days 
Thy  hands  may  be  refreshed,  as  1  beneath  thy  gaze. 

EUPEROR. 

Too  serious  am  I  still,  to  plan  such  celebration ; 
Yet  be  it  so  I    We  need  a  glad  inauguration. 

( Tu /-(*  Third.) 
1  choose  thee  Arch-High-Steward !    Therefore  hence- 
forth be 
Chase,  poultry-yard,  and  manor  subject  unto  thee  f 
Give  me  at  all  times  choice  of  dhhes  I  delight  in, 
As  with  the  month  they  come,  and  cooked  with  appe- 


ARCH-HICH-STEWARD. 

A  rigid  ^t  shall  be  the  penalty  I  wish, 

Until  before  thee  stands  a  goodly-savored  dish. 

The  kitchen-folk  shall  join,  and  gladly  heed  my  reason^ 

To  bring  the  distant  near  and  expedite  the  seasons. 

Vet  rare  and  early  things  shall  not  delight  thee  long : 

Thy  taste  desires,  instead,  the  simple  and  the  Etnmf. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV.  365 

t  {leiht  YovKtv.), 
Since  here,  perforce,  we  pUn  but  feasts,  and  each  is  sharer, 
Be  thou  for  me  transformed,  youag  hero,  to  Cup-bearer  ! 
^reh  Cup-Bearer,  lake  heed,  that  all  those  vaults  of  mine 
Richly  replenished  be  with  noblest  taps  of  wine  ! 
Be  temperate  thyself,  howe'er  temptation  presses, 
Nor  let  occasion's  lure  mislead  thee  to  excesses ! 


My  Prince,  the  young  themselves,  if  trust  in  them  be 

shown. 
Are,  ere  one  looks  around,  already  men  full-grown. 
I  at  the  lordly  feast  shall  also  take  my  station. 
And  give  thy  sideboard's  pomp  the  noblest  decoration 
Of  gorgeous  vesseb,  golden,  silver,  grand  to  see ; 
Yet  first  the  fairest  cup  will  I  select  for  thee, — 
A  clear  Venetian  glass,  good  cheer  within  it  waiüng. 
Helping  the  taste  of  wine,  yet  ne'er  intoxicating. 
One  oft  confides  too  much  on  such  a  treasured  store: 
Thy  moderation,  though.  High  Lord,  protects  thee  more. 

EMPEROR. 

What,  in  this  earnest  hour,  for  you  have  I  intended. 
From  valid  mouth  confidingly  you  've  comprehended. 
The  Emperor's  word  is  great,  his  gift  is  therefore  sure. 
But  needs,  for  proper  force,  his  written  signature : 
The  high  sign-manual  fails.     Here,  for  commission 

needful, 
I  see  the  right  man  come,  of  the  right  moment  heedful. 

(7"^  ARCHBISHOF-AUCH-CUANCELLOKMÜrr-A) 


If  in  the  keystone  of  the  arch  the  vault  confide, 
Tis  then  securely  built,  for  endless  time  and  tide. 


ih,Googlc 


366  FAUST. 

Thou  aeest  Four  Princes  here  !    To  them  we  'v6  jost 

expounded 
How  next  our  House  and  Court  shall  be  more  stably 

founded. 
Now,  all  the  realm  contains,  within  its  bounds  enclosed. 
Shall  be,  with  weight  and  power,  upon  Ye  Five  imposed ! 
Your  landed  wealth  shall  be  before  all  others  splendid ; 
Therefore  at  once  have  I  your  properties  extended 
From  their  inheritance,  who  raised  'gainst  us  the  hand. 
You  I  award,  ye  Faithful,  many  a  lovely  land. 
Together  with  the  right,  as  you  may  have  occasion, 
To  spread  them  by  exchange,  or  purchase,  or  invasion : 
Then  be  it  clearly  fixed,  that  you  unhindered  use 
Whate'er  prerogatives  have  been  the  landlord's  dues. 
When  ye,  as  Judges,  have  the  final  sentence  spoken, 
By  no  appeal  from  your  high  Court  shall  it  be  broken; 
Then  levies,  tax  and  rent,  pass-money,  tolls  and  fees 
Are  yours,  — of  mines  and  salt  and  coin  the  royalties. 
That  thus  my  gratitude  may  validly  be  staled, 
You  next  to  Majesty  hereby  I  'vc  elevated. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

In  deepest  thanks  to  thee  we  humbly  all  unite: 

Thou  mak'st  us  strong  and  sure,  and  strengthenest  thy 

BHFEROR. 

Vet  higher  dignities  I  give  for  your  fulfilling. 
Still  for  my  realm  I  live,  and  still  to  live  am  willing; 
Yet  old  ancestral  lines  compel  the  prudent  mind 
To  look  from  present  deeds  to  that  which  looms  behind 
I,  also,  in  my  time,  must  meet  the  sure  Redresser; 
Your  duty  be  it,  then,  to  choose  me  a  successor. 
Crowned,  at  the  altar  raise  bis  consecrated  form, 
That  so  may  end  in  peace  what  here  began  in  storm  I 


ih,Googlc 


ARCH<HANCELLOR. 

Vfitb  pride  profound,  yet  humbly,  as  our  guise  evinces, 
Behold,  before  thee  bowed,  the  first  of  earthly  princes ! 
So  long  the  faithful  blood  our  living  veins  shall  fill, 
We  are  the  body  which  obeys  thy  lightest  will 


Now,  to  conclude,  let  all  that  we  have  here  asserted, 
Be,  for  the  future  time,  to  document  converted  t 
T  is  true  that  ye,  as  lords,  have  your  possession  free, 
With  this  condition,  though,  that  it  uuparcelled  be; 
And  what  ye  have  from  us,  howe'er  ye  swell  the  treas- 
ure, 
Shall  to  the  eldest  son  descend  in  equal  n 


On  parchment  1,  at  once,  shall  gladly  tabulate, 
To  bless  the  realm  and  us,  the  statute  of  such  weight: 
The  copy  and  the  seals  the  Chancery  shall  procure  us, 
Thy  sacred  hand  shall  then  validity  assure  us. 

EMPEROR. 

Dismissal  now  I  grant,  that  you,  assembled,  may 
Deliberate  upon  the  great,  important  day. 
( 73«  Secular  Pritieii  rtUrt.) 

ARCHBISHOP 

{rtmaim  and  ipeaJu  ptUkcHcalfy), 

The  Chancellor  withdrew,  the  Bishop  stands  before 

thee: 
A  warning  spirit  bids  tliat  straightway  he  imjdore  thee' 
His  heart  paternal  quakes  with  anxious  fear  for  thee, 

EMPEROR. 

In  this  glad  hour  what  may  thy  dread  misgiving  be? 


ih,Googlc 


808  FAUST. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Alas,  in  such  an  hour,  how  much  my  pain  mast  greatei^' 
To  find  tliy  hallowed  head  in  covenant  with  Satan  ! 
True,  to  the  throne,  it  seems,  hast  thou  secured  thj 

right; 
But,  woe :  in  God  the  Lord's,  the  Holy  PontiS's  s(Hte. 
Swift  shall  he  punish  when  he  leaxns  the  truth  —  the 

latter: 
Thy  sinful  realm  at  once  with  holy  ban  he  'U  shatter  1 
He  still  remembers  how,  amid  thy  highest  state. 
When  newly  crowned,  thou  didst  the  wiwird  liberate.'*' 
Thy  diadem  but  made  thy  heart  for  Christians  harden. 
For  on  that  head  accurst  fell  its  first  t)eam  of  pardon. 
Now  beat  thy  breast,  and  from  thy  guilty  stores,  this 

Unto  the  Sanctuary  a  moderate  mite  repay  t 

The  spacious  sweep  of  hills,  where  stood  thy  tent 

Where  Evil  Spirits  then,  united,  thee  protected, — 
Where  late  the  Uar-Priace  thy  hearing  (Ud  secure,  — 
Devote  thou,  meekly  taught,  to  pious  use  and  pure. 
With  hill  and  forest  dense,  far  as  they  stretch  extended. 
And  slopes  that  greenly  swell  for  pastures  never  ended, 
Then  crystal  lakes  of  fish,  unnumbered  brooks  that  flow 
In  foamy  windings  down,  and  braid  the  vale  below  [ 
The  broad  vale  then,  itself,  with  mead,  and  lawn,  and 

hollow ! 
Thus  penitence  is  shown,  and  pardon  soon  shall  follow. 

EMPEROR. 

For  this,  my  hea\'y  sin,  my  terror  is  profound  : 

By  thine  own  measure  shalt  thou  draw  the  Imrders 

ARCHBISHOP. 

First  be  the  spot  profane,  where  nn  was  perpetrated. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  IV. 


.09 


To  God's  high  service  soon  and  wholly  dedicated  I 
With  speed  the  walls  arise  to  meet  the  mind's  desire; 
The  rising  morning  sun  already  lights  the  choir; 
The  growing  structure  spreads,  the  traosept  stands  ex- 
alted ; 
Joy  of  Believers,  then,  the  nave  is  lifted,  vaulted ; 
And  while  they  press  with  zeal  within  the  portals  grand, 
The  first  clear  call  of  bells  is  swept  across  the  land, 
Pealed  from  the  lofty  towers  that  heavenwards  have 

The  penitent  draws  near,  new  life  to  him  is  given. 
The  consecration -day  —  O,  may  it  soon  be  sent! — 
Thy  presence  then  shall  be  the  highest  omamenL 

EMPEROR. 

So  great  a  work  shall  be  my  pious  proclamation 
To  praise  the  Lord  our  God,  and  work  mine  expiation. 
Enough  !    1  feel,  e'en  now,  how  high  my  thoughts  as- 
pire. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

As  Chancellor,  next,  the  formal  treaty  I  require. 

ZHPEROR. 

A  formal  document, — the  Church  needs  full  requital'. 
Bring  it  to  me,  and  I  with  joy  will  sign  her  title ! 

ARCHBISHOP 

[has  taktn  Uirve,  but  turns  back  again  at  the  doer'). 

At  once  unto  me  work  devote,  that  it  may  stand. 
Tithes,  levies,  tax,  — the  total  income  of  the  land. 
Forever.  Much  it  needs,  to  be  supported  fairly. 
And  careful  maintenance  will  also  cost  us  rarely : 
And,  that  it  soon  be  built,  on  such  a  lonesome  wold, 
Thou  'It  from  thy  booty  spare  to  ua  some  little  gold. 


ih,Googlc 


270 


FAUST. 


Moreover,  we  shal]  want — here,  most,  we  claim  assist- 
ance— 
Lumber,  and  lime,  and  slate,  and  such  like,  from  a  dis- 

The  people  these  shall  haul,  thus  from  the  pulpit  taught; 
The  Church  shall  bless  the  man,  whose  team  for  her 
has  wrought 

\Bxit. 

EHFBKOR. 

The  sin  is  very  sore,  wherewith  my  soul  is  weighted : 
Much  damage  uuto  me  the  Sorcerers  have  created. 

ARCHBISHOP 
[rihtrmi^  enee  agün,  laUk  frofaandtst  gmußtetiom'). 
Pardon,  O  Prince !  to  him,  that  vite,  notorious  man. 
The  Empire's  coast  was  given ;  but  him  sliall  smile  the 

Unless  thy  penitence  the  Church's  wrath  relaxes 
There,  too,  with  tithes  and  gifts,  and  revenues  and  taxe^ 

EMPEROR  [Ul-humorediy). 
The  land  doth  not  exist :  far  in  the  sea  it  lies. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Who  patient  is,  and  right,  his  day  shall  yet  arise. 
Your  word  for  us  remains,  and  makes  secure  our  trover! 
{Exit. 
EMPEROR  («./«). 
I  might  as  well,  at  last,  make  all  the  Empire  overl 


ih,Googlc 


ACT    V.^ 


OPEN   COUNTRY. 

WANDERER. 

YES  !  't  is  they,  the  dusky  lindens ; 
There  they  stand  in  sturdy  age : 
And  again  shall  I  behold  them, 
After  such  a  pilgrimage  ? 
'Tis  the  ancient  place,  the  drifted 
Downs,  the  hut  that  sheltered  me, 
When  the  billow,  stonn-uplifted. 
Hurled  me  shoreward  from  the  sea  I 
Here  with  blessing  would  I  greet  them. 
They,  my  hosts,  the  helpful  pair,  — 
Old,  indeed,  if  now  1  meet  them. 
Since  they  then  had  hoary  hair. 
Pious  folk,  from  whom  I  parted  ! 
Be  my  greeting  here  renewed, 
If  ye  stiU,  as  open-hearted, 
Taste  the  bliss  of  doing  good ! 

BAUCIS'^  {a  littit woman,  very  tU). 
Gendy,  stranger!  lest  thou  cumber 
Rest,  whereof  my  spouse  hath  need ! 
He  but  guns  from  longest  slumber 
Strength  for  briefest  waking  deed. 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 
WANDERER. 

Tell  me,  mother,  art  thou  even 
She,  to  whom  my  thanks  I  bear,  — 
t,  the  youth,  whose  life  was  given 
By  your  kind,  united  caxe  ? 
Art  thou  Baucis,  who  the  coldly 
Fading  mouth  refreshment  gave  ? 

( The  Hmband  appears. ) 
Thou,  Philemon,  who  so  boldly 
Drew  my  treasure  from  the  wave  ? 
From  your  fire,  so  quickly  burning. 
From  your  silver-sounding  bell. 
Changed  my  doom,  to  fortune  turning 
When  the  dread  adventure  fell. 
Forth  upon  the  sand-hills  stealing, 
Let  me  view  the  boundless  sea  1 
I^et  me  pray,  devoutly  kneeling. 
Till  my  burdened  heart  be  free  ! 
(tit  vmlks  formard  upon  the  doamt. ) 

PHILEMON  (to  Baucis). 
Haste,  and  let  the  meal  be  dighted 
'Neath  the  garden's  blooming  trees  I 
Let  him  go,  and  be  affrighted ! 
He  '11  believe  not  what  he  sees. 
(Fallowt,  and  standi  besidt  Iht  Wandekbr.1 
Where  the  savage  waves  maltreated 
You,  on  shores  of  breaking  foam, 
See,  a  garden  lies  completed, 
Like  an  Eden-dream  of  home  1 
Old  was  1,  no  longer  eager, 
Helpful,  as  the  younger  are : 
And  when  1  had  lost  my  vigor, 
Also  was  the  wave  afar. 


ih,Googlc 


Wise  lords  set  their  serfs  in  niotioii, 
Dikes  upraised  and  ditches  led, 
MinishiDg  the  rights  of  Ocean, 
Lords  to  be  in  Ocean's  stead. 
See  the  green  of  many  a  meadon. 
Field  and  garden,  wood  and  town  I 
Come,  our  table  waits  ia  shadow  I 
For  the  sun  is  going  down. 
Sails  afar  are  gliding  yonder ; 
Nightly  to  the  port  they  fare : 
To  their  nest  the  sea-birds  wander, 
For  a  harbor  waits  them  there. 
Distant  now,  thou  hardly  seest 
Where  the  Sea's  blue  arc  is  spanned,'^— 
Right  and  left,  the  broadest,  freest 
Stretch  of  thickly-peopled  land. 


ih,Googlc 


II. 

IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN. 

The  Three  at  the  Table. 

BAUCIS  (tu  tAt  Stranger). 

ART  thou  dumb  ?    Of  all  we  've  brought  here^ 
In  thy  mouth  stuill  nothing  fall  i 

PHILEMON. 

He  would  know  the  marvel  wron^^t  here : 
Fain  thou  speakest :  tell  him  all ! 

BAUCIS. 

'T  was  a  marvel,  if  there  's  any ! 
And  the  thought  dbturbs  me  still : 
In  a  business  so  uncanny 
Surely  helped  the  Powers  of  IlL 


Can  the  Emperor's  soul  be  perilled, 
Who  on  him  the  strand  bestowed  ? 
Gave  the  mandate  not  the  herald, 
Trumpeting,  as  on  he  rode  ? 
Near  our  downs,  all  unexpected. 
Was  the  work's  beginning  seen. 
Tents  and  huts  !  —  but,  soon  erected. 
Rose  a  palace  o'er  (he  green. 

BAUCIS. 

Knaves  in  vain  by  day  were  storming,"« 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  V. 

Flying  pick  and  spade  alike  ; 
Where  the  fires  at  night  were  swarming, 
Stood,  the  following  day,  a  dike. 
Nightly  rose  the  sounds  of  sorrow, 
Human  victims  there  must  bleed: 
Unes  of  torches,  on  the  morrow, 
Were  canals  that  seaward  lead. 
He  would  seize  our  field  of  labor, 
Hut  and  garden,  godlessly : 
Since  he  k)rds  it  as  our  neighbor, 
We  to  him  must  subject  be. 

PHILEMON. 

Yet  he  bids,  in  compensation, 
F^r  estate  of  newer  land. 


Trust  not  watery  foundation  I 
Keep  upon  the  hiU  thy  stand  t 


Let  us,  to  the  chapel  straying, 
Ere  the  sunset-glow  has  died, 
Chime  the  vespers,  kneel,  and,  prayings 
Still  in  our  old  God  confide  I 


ih,Googlc 


Spacious  Pleasure^ardek  :  broad,  stkaiohtlt- 
CUT  Canal. 

Faust  {in  txtrtme  eld  1^,  vaUing  about,  meditaHvt), 

LYNCEUS,  THE  WARDER 
{Ihraug*  thi  sftaking-lTumfet). 

THE  sun  goes  down,  the  ships  are  veering 
To  reach  the  port,  with  song  and  cheer : 
A  heavy  galley,  now  appearing 
On  the  canal,  will  soon  be  here. 
The  gaudy  pennons  merrily  flutter, 
The  masts  and  riggii^  upward  climb : 
Blessings  on  thee  Üie  seamen  utter, 
And  Fortune  greets  thee  at  thy  prime. 
( The  little  UU  ringt  on  UU  tfoamj.) 

FAUST  [liarting^i. 

Accurst  chime !    As  in  derision 
It  wounds  me,  like  a  sfriteful  shot: 
My  realm  is  boundless  to  my  vision, 
Yet  at  my  back  this  vexing  blot ! 
The  bell  proclaims,  with  envious  bluster, 
My  grand  estate  lacks  full  design  : '" 
The  brown  old  hut,  the  linden-cluster, 
The  crumbling  chapel,  are  not  mine. 
If  there  I  wished  for  recreation, 


ih,Googlc 


Anodier's  shade  vrould  give  no  che« : 
A  thorn  it  is,  a  shaip  vexatioii,  — 
Would  I  were  Ear  away  from  here ! 

WARDER  {from  abatit). 

With  ereuiig  wind  and  ^voiing  tide^ 
See  dK  gay  galley  hhher  glide  1 
How  richly,  on  its  rapid  track, 
Tower  chest  and  casket,  bale  asd  sack ) 

\A  tpUndid  Gallty,  richly  and  brilliantlj  ladtm  witk  Hit  pry 
duttions of  FertigH  Caunlritt.) 

Hephistopheles.    Thb  Three  Migrtv  Men. 

CHORUS. 

Here  we  have  landed : 
Furl  the  sail ! 
Hail  to  the  Master, 
Patron,  hail ! 
{TlUy  Jütmiark :  the  goods  are  btvuglU  aiäwt.) 
HEPHISTOPBELES. 

We  've  proved  our  wortii  in  many  «rays, 

Delighted,  if  the  Patron  praise  t 

We  siüied  away  with  vesseb  twain, 

With  twenty  come  to  port  i^wn.'* 

Of  great  successes  to  relate, 

We  only  need  to  show  our  freight 

Free  is  the  mind  on  Ocean  fre»  - 

Who  there  can  ponder  sluggishly  ? 

You  only  need  a  rapid  grip  ; 

You  catcit  a  fish,  you  seize  a  ship ; 

And  when  you  once  are  lord  of  thre^ 

The  fourth  is  grappled  easily ; 

The  fifth  is  then  in  evil  plight; 

You  have  the  Power,  and  thus  the  Right. 


ih,Googlc 


078  FAUST. 

You  count  the  What,  and  not  the  Hov: 

If  I  have  ever  navigated, 

War,  Trade  and  Piracy,  I  vow. 

Are  three  in  one,  and  can't  be  separated! 

TBE  THREE  MIGHTY  HEN. 

No  thank  and  hail? 
No  hail  and  thank? 
As  if  onr  freight 
To  him  «ere  rankl 
He  makes  a  face 
Of  great  di^ust ; 
The  royal  wealth 
Displease  him  must 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Expect  no  further 
Any  pay; 

Your  own  good  share 
Ye  took  away. 

THE  UIGHTY  MEN. 

We  only  took  it 
For  pastime  £wr ; 
We  aU  demand 
An  equal  share. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

First,  arrange  them 
In  hall  on  hall,  — 
The  [H^cious 
Together  all  I 
If  such  a  sfJendor 
Meets  his  ken, 
Aad  be  rqpuds  it 


ih,Googlc 


More  closely  then, 

A  niggard  he 

Won't  be,  at  least : 

He  '11  give  our  squadron 

Feast  on  feast 

To-morrow  the  gay  birds  hither  vend,*^ 

And  1  can  best  to  them  attend. 
( 7%e  cargf  ii  remirvetf. ) 
MEPHISTO  PHELBS  (/a  Faust), 
With  gloomy  gaze,  with  serious  brow, 
Of  this  great  fortune  hearest  thou. 
Crowned  is  thy  wisest  industry, 
And  reconciled  are  shore  and  sea; 
And  from  the  shore,  to  swifter  wakes. 
The  willing  sea  the  vessels  takes. 
Speak,  then,  that  here,  from  thy  proud  seat. 
Thine  arm  may  clasp  the  world  complete. 
Here,  on  this  spot,  the  work  was  planned ; 
Here  did  the  first  rough  cabin  stand ; 
A  little  ditch  was  traced,  a  groove. 
Where  now  the  feathered  oar-blades  move. 
Thy  high  intent,  thy  servants'  toil. 
From  land  and  sea  have  won  the  spoil 
From  here — 

FAUST. 

Still  that  accursed  //ert  I 
To  me  a  burden  most  severe. 
To  thee,  so  clever,  1  declare  it,  — 
It  gives  my  very  heart  a  sting ; 
It  is  impossible  to  bear  it ! 
Yet  shamed  am  I,  to  say  the  thing. 
The  old  ones,  there,  should  make  concession; 
A  shady  seat  would  I  create  : 
The  lindens,  not  my  own  possession. 


ih,Googlc 


IMsturb  my  joy  in  mine  CBtate. 
There  would  1,  for  a  view  uabaffled. 
From  bough  to  bough  erect  a  aoiffold, 
Till  for  my  gaee  a  look  be  won 
O'er  everything  that  I  have  done,  — 
To  see  befcn%  me,  tmconfined, 
The  masteipiece  of  human  mind, 
Wisely  asserting  to  my  sense 
The  people's  gain  of  residence. 
No  sorer  plague  can  us  attack. 
Than  rich  to  be,  and  somediing  lack  I  "^ 
The  chiming  bell,  the  lindens'  breath, 
Oppress  like  air  in  vaults  of  death : 
My  force  of  will,  my  potence  grand, 
Is  shattered  here  upon  the  sand. 
How  shall  1  ban  it  from  my  feeling  I 
I  rave  whene'er  the  bell  b  pealing. 

HEPHISTOPHBLES. 

'T  is  natural  that  so  great  a  spite 
Thy  life  should  thus  imlntter  qnite. 
Who  doubts  it  7    Every  noble  ear, 
Disgusted,  must  the  jan^e  hear ; 
And  that  accurst  bim-bam4>ooming, 
Throi^h  the  clear  sky  of  evening  glooming 
Is  mixed  with  each  event  that  passes. 
From  baby's  bath  to  burial-masses, 
As  if,  between  its  bam  and  iim. 
Life  were  a  dream,  in  memory  dim. 

FAUST. 

Their  obstinate,  opposing  strain 
Darkens  the  brightest  solid  gain, 
nil  ooe,  in  plague  and  worry  thrust 
Grows  thred,  at  last,  of  being  just 


ih,Googlc 


IfEPHISTOPRELES. 

Why  be  annoyed,  when  thou  canst  well  desfHse  them  ? 
Wouldat  ihou  not  long  since  colonize  them  ? 

FAUST. 

Then  go,  and  clear  them  out  with  speed  t 
Thou  koowest  the  fair  estate,  indeed, 
I  cbose  for  the  old  people's  need. 

11  EPH  I5TOPHEI.ES. 

We  11  set  them  down  on  other  land ; 
Ere  you  can  look,  ag^n  they  '11  stand : 
When  they  've  the  violence  outgrown, 
Their  pleasant  dwelling  shall  atone. 

{Ht  tgAütUi  lAiilfy.) 

The  Three  enter. 

IIEPH ISTOPHELBS. 

Come,  as  the  Master  bids,  and  let 
The  fleet  a  feast  to-morrow  gel ! 

THE  THREE. 

Reception  bad  the  old  Master  gave: 
A  jolly  feast  is  what  we  crave. 

HEPHIST0PHELE3 
{atf  ipeclatorti). 
It  happens  as  it  happed  of  old : 
Still  Naboth's  vineyard  we  behold  1  ■■» 


ih,Googlc 


DEAD  OF  NIGHT. 

LYNCEUS,  THE  WARDER 
{lingiifg' tm  the  vaick-tmatr  of  lAt  Palace), 

FOR  seeing  iDtended, 
Employed  for  my  sight, 
The  tower 's  my  dwelling, 
The  world  my  delist 
I  gaze  on  the  Distant, 
Hook  on  the  Near,— 
The  moon  and  the  planets, 
The  forest  and  deer. 
So  see  I  in  all  things 
The  grace  without  end, 
And  even  as  they  please  me^ 
Myself  I  commend. 
Thou  fortunate  Vbion, 
Of  all  thou  wast  'ware, 
Whatever  it  might  be, 
Yet  still  it  was  fair  I 
Pansr. 
Not  alone  that  I  delight  me. 
Have  1  here  been  stationed  so:  — 
What  a  horror  comes,  to  fright  me. 
From  the  darksome  world  below  ! 
Sparks  of  fire  I  see  outgushing 
Through  the  night  of  linden-trees ; 
Stronger  yet  the  glow  is  flushing, 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  V.  381 

Panned  tofiuy  by  the  breeie. 

Ah  t  the  c^im  bums,  nnheeded, 

Damp  and  mossy  though  it  stand; 

Quick  assistance  here  is  needed, 

And  no  rescue  is  at  hand ! 

Ah,  the  good  old  bther,  mother, 

Else  BO  careful  of  the  fire. 

Doomed  amid  the  stnoke  to  smother! — 

The  catastraji^e  how  dire ! 

Now  the  blackening  pile  stands  lone^ 

In  the  flames  that  redly  swell : 

If  the  good  old  folk  be  only 

Rescued  from  the  burning  hellt 

Dazzling  tongues  the  crater  launches 

Through  the  leaves  and  through  the  biaochcai 

Withered  boughs,  at  last  ignited, 

Break,  in  bumtog,  from  the  tree : 

Why  must  1  be  thus  far-sighted  ? 

Witness  such  calamity  ? 

Now  the  little  chapel  crashes 

'Neath  a  brackJi's  falling  Mow ; 

Soon  die  climbing,  spiiy  flashes 

Set  the  Cree^ps  in  a  glow. 

Down  to  where  the  tninks  are  planted 

Bum  they  like  a  crimson  dawn. 

Lang  fautt.     CkoMt. 
What  erewhile  the  eye  entJtanted 
Wth  the  centuries  b  gone. 

(TAUST 

(oM  tAe  iaUmy,  tavurcU  He  dnm\. 

Above,  what  whining  lamentation? 

The  word,  the  tone,  too  late  I  heed. 

My  warder  wails ;  i  feel  vezatüm 


ih,Googlc 


^  FAUST. 

At  beut,  for  this  impatient  deed 
Yet  be  tbc  liodess  extirpated. 
Tin  batf-chaned  tmoks  Ibe  spot  deface, 
A  look-in-tbe-land  is  soon  created. 
Whence  1  can  view  the  boandless  qnce. 
Tfaence  shall  I  see  the  newer  dwelling 
Which  for  the  ancient  pair  I  raise, 
Who,  my  benign  fcK^xaraocc  feeling, 
Shall  there  enjoy  tbeir  latter  days. 

■EPBISTOPHELES  ATTD  THE  THRBE  (fc/Mi). 

We  hither  come  upon  the  nm ! 

Forgive !  not  happily  't  was  done."* 

We  knocked  and  brat,  but  none  replied, 

And  entrance  ever  was  denied ; 

Of  jtJts  and  blows  we  gave  good  store, 

And  broken  lay  the  rotten  door; 

We  called  aloud,  with  direst  threat. 

But  still  no  hearing  could  we  get 

And,  as  it  baps,  with  such  a  deed, 

They  wotdd  not  hear,  tbey  would  not  heed ; 

Bnt  we  began,  without  delay. 

To  drive  the  stubborn  folks  away. 

The  pair  had  then  an  easy  lot : 

They  fell,  and  died  upon  the  spot. 

A  stranger,  who  was  there  concealed, 

And  foi^t,  was  left  upon  the  field; 

But  in  the  combat,  fierce  and  ^t. 

From  coals,  that  round  about  were  cast, 

The  straw  took  fire.     Now  merrily 

One  fimeral  pile  consumes  the  threes 


ih,Googlc 


■»3 


Exchange  1  meant,  not  robberf. 
The  inconsiderate,  savage  blow 
1  cDTse !    Bear  ye  the  guilt,  and  go  I 

CHORDS. 

The  proverb  old  still  inns  its  course : 
Bend  nillin^y  to  greater  force ! 
If  you  are  bold,  and  face  the  strife. 
Stake  house  and  home,  and  then — your  life! 


[Sxttmi. 


FAUCT  (pn  the  ialamf). 
The  stars  conceal  their  glance  and  gtow, 
The  fire  sinks  down,  and  flickers  lov ; 
A  damp  wind  fans  it  with  its  wings, 
And  smoke  and  vapor  hither  brings. 
Quick  bidden,  and  too  quick  obeyed  I  — 
What  hovera  hither  Uke  a  shade  i 


ih,Googlc 


V. 
MIDNIGHT.»^ 

Fntr  Gray  IVtme»  enti 


■jV/fYnaiMiitis 


Want 


SECOND. 


THDtO. 

And  mine,  it  is  Care. 

FOURTH, 

Necessity,  mine.''" 

THREE  TOGETHER. 

The  porta]  is  bdted,  we  cannot  get  in : 
The  owner  is  rich,  we  've  no  business  wilhiiL 


I  shrink  unto  nan^L 

NECESSITY. 

The  pampered  from  me  turn  the  iace  and  the  ÜKnf^ 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  V,  aS; 

CARE. 

Ye  Sisters,  ye  neither  can  enter,  nor  dare ; 
But  the  iceylwle  is  free  to  the  entrance  of  Care. 
(Cake  diiapptars.) 

WANT. 
Ye,  grisly  old  Sisters,  be  banished  from  here  I 

GUILT. 

Beside  thee,  and  bound  to  thee,  I  shall  v^^eax  I 

KECESSITY. 

lAt  your  heels  goes  Necessity,  blight  in  her  breath. 

THE  THREE. 
The  clouds  are  in  motion,  and  cover  each  star ! 
Behind  there,  behind !  from  a&r,  from  afar, 

He  Cometh,  our  Brother  I  he  comes,  he  is 

Death  I 

FAUST  Mh  lAe  folate). 

Four  saw  I  come,  but  those  that  went  were  three ; 
The  sense  of  what  they  said  was  hid  from  me, 
Bat  something  like  "  Nectssity  "  I  heard  ; 
Thereafter,  "  Death,"  a  gloomy,  threatening  word  t 
It  sounded  hollow,  spectrally  subdued  : 
Not  yet  have  I  my  liberty  made  good : 
If  I  could  banish  Magic's  fell  creations. 
And  totally  unlearn  the  incantations,  — 
Stood  I,  O  Nature !     Man  alone  in  thee, 
Then  were  it  worth  one's  while  a  man  to  be  1  ■*> 
Ere  in  the  Obscure  I  sought  it,  such  was  1,  —■ 
Ere  1  had  cursed  the  world  so  wickedly. 


ih,Googlc 


aSS  FAUST. 

Now  fills  tbe  air  so  many  a  haunting  shape, 

That  no  one  knows  how  best  he  may  escape. 

What  thoi^h  One  Day  with  rational  brightness  beai 

The  Night  entangles  us  in  webs  of  dreams. 

From  our  young  fields  of  life  we  come,  elate : 

There  croaks  a  bird :  what  croaks  he  ?     Evil  fate  I 

By  Superstition  constantly  insnared, 

It  grows  to  us,  and  warns,  and  is  declared. 

Intimidated  thus,  we  sOnd  alone.  — 

The  poital  jars,  yet  entrance  b  there  none. 

\%  any  one  here  P 


Yes !  must  be  my  repfy. 


FAUST. 

And  thou,  who  art  thou,  then  ? 


Wen,  — here  unl. 

FAWST, 

Avauntt 

CARE. 

1  am  where  I  should  be. 

FAUST 
(first  angry,  then  eomfieud,  adJreitir^  kimir^. 
Take  care,  and  speak  no  word  of  sorcery  I 

CARE. 

Though  no  ear  should  choose  to  hear  me, 
Yet  the  shrinking  heart  must  fear  me : 


ih,Googlc 


ACT   V.  j8g 

Though  transfonned  to  mortal  eyes, 
I  Grimmest  power  I  exercise. 

On  the  land,  or  ocean  yonder, 
I,  a  dread  companioo,  wander. 
Always  found,  yet  never  sought. 
Praised  or  cursed,  as  I  have  wrought  I 
Hast  Jiou  not  Care  already  known  ? 

FAUST. 

I  only  through  the  world  have  flown : 

Each  appetite  I  seized  as  by  the  hair; 

What  not  sufficed  me,  forth  I  let  it  fare, 

And  what  escaped  me,  1  let  go. 

I  've  only  craved,  accomplished  my  delight. 

Then  wished  a  second  time,  and  thus  with  might 

Stonned  through  my  life;  at  lirsl 'twas  grand, completely, 

But  now  it  moves  most  wisely  and  discreetly. 

The  sphere  of  Earth  is  known  enough  to  me  ; 

The  view  beyond  is  barred  immutably : 

A  fool,  who  there  his  bunking  eyes  directeth. 

And  o'er  his  clouds  of  peers  a  place  expecteth  ! 

Firm  let  him  stand,  and  look  around  him  well ! 

This  World  means  something  to  the  Capable."* 

Why  needs  he  through  Eternity  to  wend  ? 

He  here  acquires  what  he  can  apprehend. 

Thus  let  him  wander  down  his  earthly  day; 

When  spirits  haunt,  go  quietly  his  way  ; 

In  marching  onwards,  bliss  and  torment  find. 

Though,  every  moment,  with  unsated  mind  t 

CARE. 

Whom  I  once  possess,  shall  never 
Find  the  world  worth  his  endeavor: 
Endless  gloom  around  him  folding. 
Rise  nor  set  of  sun  beholding, 
VOL.  n.  13  s 


ih,Googlc 


O  FAUST. 

Perfect  in  external  senses, 
Inwardly  his  darkness  dense  is  ■, 
And  be  knows  not  liow  tc 
True  possession  of  his  ti 
Luck  and  111  become  caprices; 
Still  he  starves  in  all  increases ; 
Be  it  happiness  or  sorrow, 
He  postpones  it  till  the  morrow. 
To  the  Future  only  cleaveth ; 
Nothing,  therefore,  he  achieveth. 

FAUST. 

Desbt !    So  shalt  thou  not  get  hold  of  me  f 
I  have  no  mind  to  bear  such  driveL 
Depart !    Thy  gloomy  litany 
Might  even  befool  the  wisest  man  to  eviL 

CARE. 

Shall  he  go,  or  come  ? — how  guide  bim? 
Prompt  decision  is  denied  him ; 
Midway  on  the  trodden  highway 
Halting,  he  attempts  a  by-way  ; 
Ever  more  astray,  bemisted. 
Everything  beholding  twisted, 
Burdening  himself  and  others. 
Taking  breath,  he  chokes  and  smothers, 
Though  not  choked,  in  Life  not  sharing 
Not  resigned,  and  not  despairii^ ! 
Such  incessant  rollii^,  spinning, — 
Painful  quitting,  hard  beginning, — 
Now  constraint,  now  liberation,  — 
Semi-sleep,  poor  recreation. 
Firmly  in  his  place  insnare  him 
And,  at  las^  for  Hell  prepare  himl 


ih,Googlc 


Ilknnened  spectres  !     By  your  treatment  strays 
A  thousand  times  the  human  race  to  error : 
Ye  even  transform  the  dull,  indiffereot  days 
To  vile  confusion  of  entangling  terror. 
'T  is  hard,  I  know,  from  Demons  to  escape; 
The  spirif  s  bond  breaks  not,  howe'er  one  tries  it ; 
And  yet,  O  Care,  thy  power,  thy  creepii^  shape. 
Think  not  that  1  shall  recognize  it  I 


So  feel  it  now :  my  curse  thou  It  find. 
When  forth  from  thee  I  "ve  swiftly  passed ! 
Throughout  their  whole  existence  men  are  blind; 
So,  Faust,  be  thou  like  them  at  last ! 
(Sit  trealka  in  Mi/aee.) 

PAUST  {bliruUd). 

The  Night  seems  deeper  now  to  press  around  me. 

But  in  my  inmost  spirit  all  is  light  ;>*< 

I  rest  not  till  the  finished  work  hath  crowned  me : 

The  master's  Word  alone  bestows  the  might 

Up  from  your  couches,  vassals,  man  by  man! 

Make  grandly  visible  my  daring  plan ! 

Seize  now  your  tools,  with  spade  and  shovel  pre»«  1 

The  work  traced  out  must  be  a  swift  success. 

Quick  diligence,  severest  ordering 

The  most  superb  reward  shall  bring ; 

And,  that  the  mighty  work  completed  stands. 

One  mind  suffices  for  a  thousand  hands. 


n,g,t,7rJM,GOOglC 


GREAT  OUTER  COURT  OF  THE  PALACE 

Torchei. 

HEPHISTOPHELES   (»>  oAiarKe,  as  Onerlttr). 

COME  here,  come  here  !    Come  on,  come  on ! 
Yc  Lcmores,  loose-hung  creatures  I 
Of  sinew,  tigarnent,  and  bone 
Yonr  knitted  serai-oatares  I 

LEHURES   (tn  Chena). 

Without  delay  are  we  at  hand. 
And  half  't  is  our  impression 
That  thb  concerns  a  spacious  land, 
Wherectf  we  '11  have  possession. 
The  pointed  stakes,  we  bring  them  all, 
The  measuring-chain,  for  distance  ; 
But  we  've  forgotten  why  the  call 
Was  made  for  our  assistance. 

MEPHISTOP  HELES. 

Here  is  no  need  of  your  artistic  zeal : 

Proceed  as  yo«  may  think  it  best ! 

Your  tallest  lay  full  length,  from  head  to  bttl, 

And  lift  the  turf  around  him,  all  the  rest! 

As  for  our  fathers  made,  prepare 

To  excavate  a  lengthened  square  ! 

From  palace  to  the  narrow  house  transferred, 

Such  is,  at  last,  the  issue  most  absurd. 


ih,Googlc 


(aliffn^wM  meeiing  gtitttni). 
In  youth  when  I  did  love,  did  love, 
Methought  it  was  very  sweet; 
When  't  was  joDy  and  merry  every  way, 
And  I  blithely  moved  my  feet. 

But  now  old  Age,  «ith  his  stealing  steps. 
Hath  clawed  me  with  bis  crutch: 
I  stumbled  over  the  door  of  a  grave ; 
Why  leave  they  opca  such? 

FAUST 
^emti  JertkfroM  At  Paiace,  groping  hü  way  along  Iht  dear- 
fetts). 
How  I  rejoice,  to  hear  the  clattering  spade  I 
It  is  the  crowd,  for  me  in  service  moiling, 
Till  Earth  be  reconciled  to  toiling, 
Till  the  proud  wares  be  stayed, 
And  the  sea  girded  with  a  rigid  zone. 

UBPHISTOPHELES  {aädt). 

And  yet,  thou  'rt  laboring  for  us  alone, 
With  all  thy  dikes  and  bulwarks  daring; 
Since  thou  for  Neptune  art  preparing — 
The  Ocean-Devil  —  carousal  great. 
In  every  way  shall  ye  be  stranded ; 
The  elements  with  us  are  banded. 
And  ruin  is  the  certain  fate. 


M  EPHISTOPHELES. 

Here  I 


ih,Googlc 


394  FAUST. 

FAUST. 

However  possible, 
Collect  a  crowd  of  men  with  vigor, 
Spur  by  indulgeace,  praise,  or  rigor,  — ' 
Reward,  allure,  conscript,  compel  1 
Each  day  report  me,  and  correctly  note 
How  grows  in  length  the  undertaken  moab 

HEFHISTOPHBLBS  {hal/aletd). 

Whea  they  to  me  the  information  gave. 
They  spake  not  of  a  moat,  but  <d — a  gravt.'" 

PAUST. 

Below  the  hills  a  marshy  plain 

Infects  what  I  so  long  liave  been  retrieving; 

This  stagnant  pool  likewise  to  drain 

Were  now  my  latest  and  my  best  achieving. 

To  many  millions  let  me  furnish  soil, 

Though  not  secure,  yet  free  to  active  toil ; 

Green,  fertile  fields,  where  men  and  herds  go  fortb 

At  once,  with  comfort,  on  the  newest  Earth, 

And  swiftly  settled  on  the  hill's  firm  base, 

Created  by  the  bold,  industrious  race. 

A  land  like  Paradise  here,  round  about : 

Up  to  the  brink  the  tide  may  roar  without. 

And  though  it  gnaw,  to  burst  with  force  the  limit, 

By  common  impulse  all  unite  to  hem  it 

Yes )  to  this  thought  1  hold  with  firm  persistence ; 

The  last  result  of  wisdom  stamps  it  true : 

He  only  earns  his  freedom  and  existence, 

Who  daily  conquers  them  anew.'" 

Thus  here,  by  dangers  girt,  shall  glide  away 

Of  childhood,  manhood,  age,  the  vigorous  day : 

And  such  a  throng  I  fain  would  see,  — 

Stand  on  free  soil  among  a  people  free  1 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  V.  395 

Then  dared  I  hail  the  Moment  Aeeii^ : 
"  A  k,  still  delay  —  tkouarlsofair.'" 
The  traces  caimot,  of  mine  earthly  bein^ 
In  icons  perish,  —  they  are  there  I  — 
In  proud  fcH^-feeling  of  such  lofty  bliss, 
I  DOW  enjoy  the  highest  Moment, — this  I 
IFaust  wUr  Av:t .'  l4rLEHURE5  laic  Mim  atiä  lay  JiiM  ufeit 
lAegTaund.) 

MKPHISTOPHELES. 

No  joy  could  sate  him,  and  suffice  no  bliss  t 

To  catch  but  shifting  shapes  was  his  endeavor : 

The  latest,  poorest,  emptiest  Moment — this, — 

He  wished  to  hold  it  fast  forever. 

Me  he  resisted  in  such  vigorous  wise, 

But  Time  is  lord,  on  earth  the  old  man  lies."» 

The  dock  stands  still — 

CHORUS. 

Stands  still  1  silent  as  midnight,  now  I 
The  index  falls. 

KEPKISTOPHBLBS. 

It  falls ;  and  tt  is  finished,  here  I 

CHORUS. 

Tis  past! 

UEPHISTOPHELES. 

—  Past !  a  stupid  word. 
If  past,  then  why  ? 

Past  and  pure  Naught,  complete  monotony  ! 
What  good  for  us,  this  endlessly  creating  ?  — 
What  is  created  then  annihilating  ? 
"And  now  it's  past!"    Why  read  a  page  so  twisted? 
T  is  just  the  same  as  if  it  ne'er  existed, 


ih,Googlc 


ig6 


Yet  goes  In  circles  round  as  if  It  bad,  however; 
I  'd  rather  choose,  ioEtead,  the  Void  forever. 

SEPULTURE. -J" 

LEMUR.      SiJa. 

Who  then  hath  built  the  house  so  ill, 
With  shove]  and  with  spade  f 

LBMURES.      Choral. 

For  thee,  dull  guest,  in  hempen  vest, 
It  all  too  well  was  made. 

LKMUR.     Solo. 
Who  then  so  ill  hath  decked  the  hall  ? 
No  chairs,  nor  table  any ! 

LEHURES.      Charta. 

'T  was  borrowed  to  return  at  call : 
The  creditors  are  so  many. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  Body  lies,  and  if  the  Spirit  flee, 

1  'II  show  it  speedily  my  blood-signed  title.  — 

But,  ah  !  they  've  found  such  methods  of  requital^ 

His  souls  the  Devil  must  oft  abstracted  see  ) 

One  now  offends,  the  ancient  way; 

Upon  the  new  we  're  not  yet  recommended : 

Once,  I  alone  secured  my  prey. 

But  now  by  helpers  need  to  be  befriended. 

In  all  things  we  must  feel  the  spite  1 

Transmitted  custom,  ancient  rii^ht,  — 

Nothing,  indeed,  can  longer  one  confide  in. 

Once  with  the  last  breath  left  the  soul  her  house ; 

I  kept  good  watch,  and  like  the  nimblest  mouse. 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  r. 


"97- 


Whack  I  was  she  cai^t,  and  fs^t  my  cbtws  her  hide  in  I 

Now  she  delays,  and  is  not  fain  to  quit 

The  diemal  place,  the  corpse's  hideous  mansioi; 

The  elements,  in  hostile,  fierce  expansion, 

Drive  her,  at  last,  disgracefully  from  it. 

And  though  I  fret  and  worry  till  1  'm  weary, 

WA«  f  f/owf  and  Where f  remiuna  the  fatal  query: 

Old  Death  is  now  no  longer  swift  and  strong ; 

Even  the  IVhether  has  been  doubtful  long. 

Oft  I  beheld  with  lust  the  rigid  members : 

'T  was  only  sham ;  Life  kindled  from  its  embers. 

(Fantastic,  luhirlinggttitiTn  t^  cimfuratien.) 
Come  on !    Strike  up  the  double  quick,  anew. 
With  straight  or  crooked  horns,  ye  gendemen  infernal  1 
Of  the  old  Devil-grit  and  kernel. 
And  bring  at  once  the  Jaws  of  Hell  with  you  I 
Hell  hath  a  multitude  of  jaws,  in  short,''' 
To  use  as  suiteth  pbce  and  dignity  ; 
But  we,  however,  in  this  final  sport. 
Will  henceforth  less  considerate  be. 

( Tkifeatfai  Jaws  b/ Hill  open,  on  Ike  Uft.) 
The  side-tusks  yawn  :  tiien  from  the  throat  abysmal 
The  raging,  fiery  torrents  flow. 
And  in  the  vapors  of  the  background  dismal 
I  see  the  city  flame  in  endless  glow. 
Up  to  the  teeth  the  breakers  lash  the  red  arena ; 
The  Damned,  in  hope  of  help,  are  swimming  through; 
But,  caught  and  mangled  by  the  fell  hyena, 
Their  path  of  fiery  torment  they  renew. 
In  every  nook  new  horrors  flash  and  brighten. 
In  narrow  Space  so  much  of  dread  supreme ! 
Well  have  you  done,  the  sinners  thus  to  frighten ; 
But  sdll  they  11  think  it  he,  and  cheat,  and  dream  1 
{To  tMe  ittui  Devili,  with  tkert,  itraigil kamt.) 
13* 


ih,Googlc 


39»  FAUST. 

Now,  paunchy  scamps,  with  cheeks  so  redly  bnming  1 

Ye  glow,  so  fat  with  hellish  sulphur  fed ; 

With  necks  thick-set  and  stumpy,  never  taming, — 

Watch  here  below,  if  phosphor-light  be  shed : 

It  is  the  Soul,  the  wii^M  Psyche  is  it; 

Pluck  off  the  wings,  H  is  but  a  hideous  worm .-  't* 

First  with  my  stamp  and  seal  the  thing  1  11  visit, 

Then  fling  it  to  the  whirling,  fiery  storm  1 

The  lower  parts  be  well  inspected, 

Ye  Bloats !  perform  your  duty  well ; 

H  there  the  Soul  her  seat  selected 

We  cannot  yet  exactly  telL 

Oft  in  the  navel  doth  she  stay : 

Look  out  for  that,  she  thence  may  slip  away ! 

(  Tolkt  lion  Dmät,  vntk  long,  erceJud  Juntu.) 
Ye  lean  buffoons,  file-leaders  strange  and  giant, 
Grasp  in  the  air,  yourselves  no  respite  give  ! 
Strong  in  the  arms,  with  talons  sharp  and  pliant. 
That  ye  may  seize  the  fluttering  fugitive  1 
In  her  old  home  discomforted  she  lies, 
4nd  Genius,  surely,  seeks  at  cmce  to  ttsc'^ 

{Gleryfrom  ojnv,  on  tht  ri^.\ 


Envoys,  unhindered, 
Heavenly  kindred. 
Follow  us  here ! 
Sinners  forgiving. 
Dust  to  make  living  t 
Lovingest  features 
Unto  aU  creatures 
Show  in  your  swaying, 
Delaying  career  I 


ih,Googlc 


UEPHI STOPHELES. 

Discords  I  bear,  a  harah,  disgusting  strumming, 
flung  from  above  with  the  unwelcome  Day; 
T  is  that  emasculate  and  bungled  humming 
Which  Pious  Cant  delights  in,  every  way. 
You  know  how  we,  atrociously  contented, 
Destruction  for  the  human  race  have  planned : 
But  the  most  infamous  that  we  've  invented 
Is  just  the  thing  their  prayers  demand."" 
The  fops,  they  come  as  hypocrites,  to  fool  us ! 
Thus  many  have  they  snatched,  before  our  eyes : 
With  OUT  own  weapons  they  would  overrule  us ; 
They  're  also  Devils  —  in  disguise. 
To  h>se  this  case  would  be  your  lasting  shame ; 
Od  to  the  grave,  and  fortify  your  claim ! 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS  (iraatriHg  rata).'» 

Roses,  ye  glowing  ones. 
Balsam-bestowing  ones  I 
Fluttering,  quivering. 
Sweetness  delivering. 
Branching  unblightedly. 
Budding  delightedly. 
Bloom  and  be  seen ! 
Springtime  declare  him, 
In  purple  and  green  I 
Paradise  bear  him. 
The  Sleeper  serene  I 

HEPHISTOPHELES  {it  tit  SatOni). 

Why  do  ye  jerk  and  squat  ?    Is  this  Hell's  rule  ? 
Stand  to  your  ground,  and  let  them  sprinkle  ! 
Back  to  his  place  each  gawky  fool  I 
They  think,  perhaps,  with  such  a  flowery  crinkle^ 


ih,Googlc 


300 


FAUST. 


Aa  if  't  were  snow,  the  Derila'  heat  to  cool : 

Your  breath  shall  make  it  melt,  and  shrink,  and  wrinUc 

Now  blow,  ye  Blowers !  —  'T  is  enough,  enough  I 

Before  your  breath  fades  all  the  floating  stuff. 

Not  so  much  violence,  —  shut  jaws  and  noses  I 

Forsooth,  ye  blow  too  strongly  at  the  rosea. 

The  proper  measure  can  you  never  learn  ? 

They  sting  not  only,  but  they  wither,  bum  I 

They  hover  on  with  flames  of  deadly  lustre : 

Resbt  them  ye,  and  dose  together  cluster  I  — 

Your  force  gives  out ;  all  courage  fails  you  so : 

The  Devils  scent  the  strange,  alluring  glow. 


Blossoms  of  gratitude, 
Flames  of  beatitude. 
Love  they  are  bearing  now. 
Rapture  preparing  now. 
As  the  heart  may  I 
Truth  in  its  nearness, 
Ether  in  clearness. 
Give  the  Eternal  Hosts 
Everywhere  Day ! 

HBPHISTOPHBLße. 

O  curse  and  shame  upon  such  dolts  be  aped  I 
Each  Satan  stands  upon  his  head ! 
In  somersaults  the  stout  ones  whirl  and  swerve, 
And  into  Hell  plunge  bottom-nppemioal. 
Now  may  your  bath  be  hot  as  you  deserve  I 
But  1  remain,  unflinching,  at  my  post 

{Bta:iHg  eff  lAt  kMirriifg  rvui.) 
Off,  will-o'-the-wisps  I     Bright  aa  ye  seem  to  b^ 
When  caught,  the  vilest  clinging  filth  are  ja^ 


ih,Googlc 


Why  flutter  thus?    Off  with  you,  quick  I — 
Like  pitch  and  sulphur  on  my  neck  th^  stick. 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS.'" 

What  not  appeitaineth 
To  you,  cease  to  share  iti 
What  mwardly  paineth, 
Refuse  ye  to  bear  it ! 
If  it  press  in  with  might, 
Use  we  our  stronger  right: 
Love  but  the  Loving 
Leads  to  the  light  I 

HBF  RISTOFHELES. 

Hy  head,  heart,  liver,  by  the  flames  are  rent  I 

An  over-dcniish  element !  — 

Sharper  than  Hell's  red  conflagration ! 

Thence  so  enormous  is  your  lamentation. 

Unfortunate  Enamored  1  who,  so  spumed. 

Your  heads  towards  the  sweethearts'  side  have  turned 

Mine,  tool    What  twists  my  head  in  like  position? 

With  them  am  I  not  sworn  to  competition  ? 

The  sight  of  them  once  made  my  hatred  worse. 

Hath  then  an  alien  force  transpierced  my  nature? 

I  like  to  see  them,  youths  of  loveliest  stature ; 

What  now  restrains  me,  that  I  dare  not  curse?'''  — 

And  if  I  take  their  cozening  bait  so, 

Who  else,  henceforth,  the  veriest  fool  will  be? 

The  stunning  fellows,  whom  I  hate  so, 

How  very  charming  they  appear  to  me  I  — 

Tell  me,  sweet  children,  ere  I  miss  you, 

Are  ye  not  of  the  race  of  Lucifer  ? 

You  are  so  fair,  forsooth,  I  'd  like  to  kiss  yon; 

It  seems  to  me  as  if  ye  welcome  were. 

I  feel  as  comfortable  and  as  trustful. 


ih,Googlc 


joa 


FAUST. 


As  though  athousand  times  ere  tfite  we'd  met t 

So  surreptitiously  catlike-lusthil : 

With  every  glance  ye  're  fairer,  him  yet 

O,  nearer  come, — O,  grant  me  one  sweet  look  I 

ANGELS. 

We  come !     Why  shrink  ?     Canst  not  our  presence 

brook? 
Now  we  approach :  so,  if  thou  canst,  remun ! 

(71u  Angils,  amUig/Brtoard,  occupy  tht  tn**  tfaci.\ 
UEPHISTOPHELBB 
{■mlui  it  crmmUd  inte  t»*  frmeenaoK). 
Us,  Spirits  damned,  you  brand  with  censure. 
Yet  you  are  wizards  by  indenture ; 
For  man  and  woman,  luring,  you  enchain.  — 
What  chance  the  curst  adventure  brings  me  ? 
Is  this  Love's  chosen  element? 
The  fire  o'er  all  my  body  stings  me ; 
My  neck  1  scarcely  feel,  so  hotly  sprent  — 
Ye  hover  back  and  forth ;  sink  down  and  settle  ! 
Move  your  sweet  limbs  with  more  of  worldly  metdel 
The  serious  air  befits  you  well,  awhile, 
But  I  should  like,  just  once,  to  see  you  smile ; 
That  were,  for  me,  an  everlasting  rapture. 
I  mean,  as  lovers  look,  the  heart  to  capture ; 
About  the  mouth  a  simper  there  must  be. 
Thee,  tall  one,  as  enticing  1  '11  admit  thee ; 
The  priestly  mien  does  not  at  all  befit  thee, 
So  look  at  me  the  least  bit  wantonly  1 
You  might  be  nakeder,  and  modest  made  so : 
Your  shirts'  long  drapery  is  over-moral.  — 
They  turn! — and.  from  the  rear  surveyed  so, 
With  their  attraction  there 's  no  need  to  quarrel  1 


ih,Googlc 


CttOKUS  OF  ANGELS.  >K 

Love  Still  revealing. 
Flames,  become  clearer  I 
All,  cursed  with  error. 
Truth  be  their  healing ! 
Glad  self-retrieval 
Free  them  from  EvQ, 
In  the  all-folding  Breast, 
Blessed,  to  rest! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  {eelltcting  Mimulf). 

How  is 't  with  me  ?  —  Like  Job,  the  boils  have  cleft  me 

From  head  to  foot,  so  that  myself  1  shun ; 

Yet  triumph  also,  when  my  self-inspection 's  done, — 

When  self  and  tribe  1  have  confided  in. 

The  noble  Devi^iarts,  at  least,  are  left  me  1 

This  love-attack 's  a  rash  upon  the  skin. 

Burned  out  already  are  the  scurvy  fires. 

And  one  and  all  1  damn  you,  as  the  case  requires  1 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS. 

Hallowed  glories  1 
Round  whom  they  brood, 
Wakes  unto  being 
Of  bliss  with  the  Good. 
Join  ye,  the  Glorified, 
Rise  to  your  goal ! 
Airs  are  all  purified,  — 
Breathe  now  the  Soul ! 

{Ttuy  riu,  bearing  away  Iht  immortal  part  of  WaVST.) 
MEPHISTOPHELES  (Itvking arminJ Urn). 

But  how  ? — at  once  I  find  them  failing ! 
This  race  of  minors  takes  me  by  surprise  t 


ih,Googlc 


J04  FAUST. 

They  with  tfaeir  booty  heavenwards  are  sailing; 
Thence  on  this  giave  they  cast  their  greedy  eyeat 
My  rare,  gnat  treasure  they  have  peculated: 
The  lofty  soul,  to  me  hypoÄecated, 
They  've  rapt  away  from  me  in  cunning  wise. 
But  unto  whom  shall  1  appeal  for  justice  ? 
Who  would  secure  to  me  my  welteamed  right  ? 
Tricked  so  in  one's  old  days,  a  great  disgust  is ; 
And  I  deserve  it,  this  inlemal  spite. 
I  "ve  managed  in  a  most  disgraceful  fashion; 
A  great  investment  has  been  throws  away : 
By  lowest  lust  seduced,  and  senseless  passion. 
The  old,  case-hardened  Devil  went  astray.'* 
And  if,  from  all  this  childiah-silly  stuff 
His  shrewd  experience  could  not  wrest  hin^ 
So  is,  forsooth,  the  folly  quite  enough. 
Which,  in  conclusion,  hath  possessed  him. 


.d'h,Googlc 


MOUNTAIN-GORGES,     FOREST,     ROCK, 
DESERT. 

Holy  Anchorites,"" 

I>mded  iit  atcenJiHgflamt,  foittd  amcng  ÜU  nant«A 


F' 


CHORUS  AND  ECHO. 

CRESTS  are  waving  grand. 


Rocks,  they  are  huge  at  hand, 
Cutching,  the  roots  expand, 
Thickly  the  tree-trunks  stand; 
Foaming  comes  wave  on  wave ; 
Shelter  hath  deepest  cave ; 
Lions  are  prowling  dumb, 
Friendly  where'er  we  come, 
Honoring  the  sacreä  place, 
Refuge  of  Love  and  Grace  I 

FATER  ECSTATICOS"* 
(ktveräig  1^  ami  lüam). 
Endless  ecstatic  fire, 
Glow  of  the  pure  desire, 
Pain  of  the  pining  breast. 
Rapture  of  God  possessed  I 
Arrows,  transpierce  ye  me, 
Lances,  coerce  ye  me, 
Bludgeons,  so  batter  me, 
Lightnings,  so  shatter  toe, 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

That  aU  of  mortality's 
Vain  unrealities 
Die,  and  the  Star  above 
Beam  but  Eternal  Love  t 

FATER  PROFUNDUS,"* 
(Lamer  Region.) 
As  at  my  feet  abysses  cloven 
Rest  on  abysses  deep  below ; 
As  thousand  severed  streams  are  woveo 
To  foamy  floods  that  plunging  go ; 
As,  up  by  setf-impulsion  driven, 
The  tree  its  weight  sustains  in  air. 
To  Love,  almighty  Love,  't  is  given 
All  things  to  form,  and  all  to  bear. 
Around  me  sounds  a  sav^e  I'oaring, 
As  rocks  and  forests  heaved  and  swayed, 
Yet  plunges,  bounteous  in  its  pouring. 
The  wealth  of  waters  down  the  glade. 
Appointed,  then,  the  vales  to  brighten ; 
The  bolt,  that  flaming  struck  and  burst, 
The  atmosphere  to  cleanse  and  lighten, 
Which  pestilence  in  its  bosom  nursed,  — 
Love's  heralds  both,  the  powers  proclaiming 
Which,  aye  creative,  us  infold. 
May  they,  within  my  bosom  flaming. 
Inspire  the  mind,  confused  and  cold. 
Which  frets  itself,  through  blunted  senses, 
As  by  the  sharpest  fetter-smart ! 
O  God,  soothe  Thou  my  thoughts  bewildered, 
Enlighten  Thou  my  needy  heart  I 

PATER  SERAPH  ICUS."** 
[Middle  Rtgim.) 
What  a  cloud  of  morning  hovers 


ih,Googlc 


O'er  the  jane-trees'  tossing  hair ! 
Can  1  guess  what  life  it  covers  ? 
They  are  sfürits,  young  and  iaii. 

CHORUS  OF  BLESSED  BOYS.'^ 

Tell  us,  Father,  where  we  wander ; 
Tell  us.  Kind  One,  who  are  we. 
Happy  are  we ;  for  so  tender 
Unto  all,  it  is,  To  Be. 

PATER  SERAPHICOS. 

Boys,  brought  forth  in  midnights  haunted^ 
Half-unsealed  the  sense  and  brain. 
For  the  parents  lost  when  granted, 
For  the  angels  sweetest  gain  I 
That  a  loving  heart  is  nigh  you 
You  can  feel :  then  come  to  me  I 
But  of  earthly  ways  that  try  you. 
Blest  ones  I  not  a  trace  have  ye. 
Enter  in  mine  eyes :  enjoy  them. 
Organs  for  the  earthly  sphere ! 
As  your  own  ye  may  employ  them  : 
Look  upon  the  landscape  here ! 

{He  laJUi  them  into  kimsilf,)^ 

Those  are  trees,  there  rocks  defend  tis ; 
Here,  a  stream  that  leaps  bebw, 
And  with  plunges,  wild,  tremendous, 
Shorteneth  its  journey  so. 

BLESSED  BOYS  {from  witHtt  kirn).  ' 

To  a  vision  grand  we  waken, 
But  the  scenes  too  gloomy  show ; 
We  with  fear  and  dread  are  shaken : 
Kindest  Father,  let  us  go  I 


ih,Googlc 


|o« 


PATER  SKRAPHlCnS. 

Upward  rise  to  higher  bonten  I 
Ever  grow,  insensibly. 
As,  by  pure,  eternal  orders, 
God's  high  Presence  strengtiiens  yet 
Such  the  Spirits'  susteatation, 
With  the  freest  eHier  bleodiog; 
Love's  eternal  Revelation, 
To  Beatitude  ascending. 

CRORU3  OP  BLESSED  BOYS 
{cinlmg  antmd  lAt  kfgkttl  aammäi. 
Hands  now  enring  ye^ 
Joyously  wheeling  I 
Soar  ye  and  sing  ye, 
With  holiest  feeling! 
The  Teacher  before  y% 
Tjuat,  and  be  bold  I 
Whom  ye  adore,  ye 
Him  shall  betudd. 

ANGELS 

mtkt  kiglirralm«tfiitrt,bearii^Atimm«r1aifort^ 
Faust), 

The  noble  Spirit  now  is  free, 

And  saved  from  evil  scheming : 

Whoe'er  aspires  unweariedly 

Is  not  beyond  redeeming.*' 

And  if  be  feeb  the  grace  of  Love 
.   That  from  On  High  is  given, 

The  Blessed  Hosts,  that  wait  above, 

Shall  welcome  him  to  Heaven  I 

THE  YOUNGER  ANGBL3. 

They,  the  roses,  freely  spended 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  V. 

By  the  penhent,  the  gknioDS, 
Helped  to  malce  the  fight  victoriotn, 
And  the  loftj  trork  is  ended. 
We  this  precicxis  SoqI  have  won  us; 
Evil  ones  we  forced  to  shun  ns ; 
Devik  fled  us,  when  we  hit  them : 
'Stead  cf  pangs  of  Hell,  that  bit  them, 
Love-pai^  felt  tbey,  sharper,  vaster: 
Even  be,  old  Satan- Master, 
Pierced  with  keenest  pain,  retacated. 
Now  rejoice  1    Tlie  wort's  completed  I 


THE  MORE  F 

Earth's  residue  to  bear 
Hath  sorely  pi<essed  us ; 
It  wefe  not  pure  and  fair, 
Though  't  were  asbestus. 
When  every  element 
The  mind's  high  forces 
Have  seized,  subdued,  and  blent, 
No  Angel  divorces 
Twin-natures  single  grown, 
That  inly  mate  them : 
Eternal  Love,  abne, 
Can  sq>arate  them.'" 


THE  VOUNGER  A 

Mist-like  on  heights  above. 

We  now  are  seeing 

Nearer  and  nearer  move 

Spiritual  Being. 

The  clouds  are  growing  clear ; 

And  moving  throngs  appear 

Of  Blessed  Boys, 

Free  from  the  earthly  gloom, 


ih,Googlc 


FAUST. 

In  circling  poise, 

Wbo  Uste  the  cheer 

Of  the  new  spring-time  bloom 

Of  the  upper  sphere. 

Let  them  inaugurate 

Him  to  the  perfect  state. 

Now,  as  their  peer  I 

THE  BLESSED  BOYS. 

Gladly  receive  we  now 
Him,  as  a  chrysalis : 
Therefore  achieve  we  now 
Pledge  of  our  bliss. 
The  earth-flakes  dissipate 
That  cling  around  him  ! 
See,  he  is  fair  and  great ! 
Divine  Ufe  hath  crovmed  turn. 


((■«  thl  highest,  fnritl  cell). 

Free  is  the  view  at  last, 
The  spirit  lifted : 
There  women,  floating  past, 
Are  upward  drifted ; 
The  Glorious  One  therein, 
With  star-crown  tender.  — 
The  pure,  the  Heavenly  Queen, 
[  know  her  splendor. 

(ÄanflureJ.) 

Highest  Mistress  of  the  World  1 
Let  me  in  the  azure 
Tent  of  Heaven,  in  light  unfurled, 
Here  thy  Mystery  measure  ! 
Justify  sweet  thoughts  that  move 
Breast  of  man  to  meet  thee, 


ih,Googlc 


ACT  V. 

And  with  holy  bliss  of  love 
Bear  him  up  to  greet  thee  ! 
With  unconquered  courage  we 
Do  thy  bidding  highest ; 
But  at  once  shall  gentle  be. 
When  thou  pacifiesL 
Virgin,  pure  in  brühtest  sheen, 
Mother  sweet,  supernal,  — 
Unto  us  Elected  Queen, 
Peer  of  Gods  Eternal  I 

Light  clouds  are  circling 

Around  her  splendor,  — 

Penitent  women 

Of  natures  tender, 

Her  knees  embracing. 

Ether  respiring, 

Mercy  requiring  1 
Thou,  in  immaculate  ray, 
Mercy  not  leavest, 
And  the  lightly  led  astray. 
Who  trust  thee,  receivest  I 
In  dieir  weakness  fallen  at  '.i^tigth, 
Hard  it  is  to  save  them  : 
Who  can  crush,  by  native  strength. 
Vices  that  enslave  them? 
Whose  the  foot  that  may  not  slip 
On  the  surface  slanting? 
Whom  befool  not  eye  and  lip. 
Breath  and  voice  enchanting? 
\Thi  Mater  Glokiosa  soars  iiite  Ihi  tface.)  '^ 


OF  WOMEN  PEMItENTS. 

To  heights  thou  'rt  speeding 
Of  endless  Eden : 
Receive  our  ijleadin^ 


ih,Googlc 


Transcendent  Maiden, 
With  Merqr  laden  I 

HAONA  PECCATRtX.'«'      ISt.  Latkt,  vit  jti.) 

By  the  love  before  him  kneeling,  — 
Him,  Thy  Son,  a  godlike  vision ; 
By  the  tears  like  balsam  stealing, 
Sfnte  of  Pharisees'  derision ; 
By  the  box,  whose  ointment  precious 
Shed  its  spice  and  odors  cheery  ; 
By  the  locks,  whose  softest  meshes 
Dried  the  holy  feet  and  weary  I  — 

MULIER  SAMARITANA.      {St.  JM«,  IT.) 

By  that  well,  the  ancient  station 
Whither  Abram's  flocks  were  driven ; 
By  the  jar,  whose  restoration 
To  the  Saviour's  lips  was  given ; 
By  the  fountain,  pure  and  vernal. 
Thence  its  present  bounty  spending,  — 
Overflowing,  bright,  eternal, 
Watering  the  worlds  unending  I  — 

MARIA  £GYPTIACA.      {Acta  Satutonait.'^ 

By  the  place,  where  the  Immortal 
Body  of  the  Lord  hath  hun ; 
By  Äe  arm,  which,  from  the  portal, 
Warning,  thrust  me  back  again  ; 
By  the  forty  years'  repentance 
In  the  lonely  desert-land; 
By  the  blissful  farewell  sentence 
Which  I  wrote  upon  the  sand  t  — 

THE  THREE. 

Thou  Thy  presence  not  deiuest 


ih,Googlc 


Unto  sinful  women  ever, — 

Uftest  them  to  win  the  highest 

Gain  of  penitent  endeavor,  — 

So,  from  this  good  soul  withdraw  not — 

Who  but  once  forgot,  transgressing, 

Who  her  loving  error  saw  not  — 

Pardon  adequate,  and  blessing  t 

VSA   PtKNITENTlUK  "■ 
(/armerfy  natntd  Margaret,  Otaiimg  dottt^. 
Incline,  O  Maiden, 
With  Mercy  laden, 
In  li{^t  unfading. 

Thy  gracious  countenance  upon  my  bliss  I 
My  loved,  my  lover, 
His  trials  over 
In  yonder  worid,  returns  to  me  in  this  ! 

BLESSED  BOYS 
(apprBOthing  in  havering  circlti). 
With  mighty  Umbs  he  towers 
Already  above  us ; 
He,  for  thb  love  of  ours, 
Will  richlier  love  us. 
Early  were  we  removed, 
Ere  Ljfc  could  reach  ua ; 
Yet  he  hath  learned  and  [MXived, 
And  he  wiU  teach  us. 

THE    PENITENT 

{fürtnerly  named  Afargant\. 
The  sjürit-choir  around  him  seeing. 
New  to  himself,  he  scarce  divines 
His  heritage  of  new-bom  Being, 
When  like  the  Holy  Host  be  shines. 
^OL.  u.  14 


ih,Googlc 


Behold,  how  he  each  band  hath  cloven. 
The  earthly  life  had  round  him  thrown, 
And  through  hb  garb,  of  ether  woven, 
The  early  force  of  youth  is  shown  1 
Vouchsafe  to  roe  that  I  instmct  him  I 
Still  dazzles  him  the  Day's  new  glare. 

HATER  GL0RI05A. 

Rise,  thou,  to  higher  spheres !    Conduct  hi 
Wht^  feeling  thee,  shall  follow  thei«  1  ■« 

DOCTOR  H  ARIA  NHS 
{pTOifratt,  adaria^. 

Penitents,  look  up,  elate. 
Where  she  beams  salvation  j 
Gratefully  to  blessed  fate 

Be  our  souls,  as  they  have  been, 
Dedicate  to  Thee ! 
Virgin  Holy,  Mother,  Queen, 
Goddess,  gracious  be  \ 

CHORUS  MYSTICÜS."»* 

All  things  transitory 
But  as  symbols  are  sent : 
Earth's  in  sufficiency 
Here  grows  to  Event: 
The  Indescribable, 
Here  it  is  done : 
The  Woman-Soul  leadeth  ua 
Upward  and  on  t 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


"  Both  Pum  in  tjnBmeuial  id  tbeir  uructnn.  ThaPintnontw 
dtlibente  iwiftoM  Irom  Hano  thnugh  the  World  10  Hall :  tbt  & 
ond  niunii  tbtnftoiD  ihroufh  the  World  lo  HeaTCn.     Bcimcn  Ih*  I 

liu  hii  Leihe,  hii  uumiladon  of  Ihe  PuL 

"  In  Rgird  lo  ubiDncc,  the  FinI  Pin 
netiphiHcil,  and  Mmiiiiuei  elhially.  The  Second  Pan  baciu  athi- 
callr.  becomet  Bitbedc,  and  tenninatea  nligioutly.  In  cm*,  Leva  and 
Knoiiledge  an  omfrooted  with  eich  «her ;  in  the  other,  Pndical  Ac- 
■iTiiy  a>id  An,  the  Ideal  of  ihe  Beiuiihd, 

ooflaEoguB  ind  dUloEue ;  the  Second  Pan  Ttori  monologue  and  dialogue 
ID  Ihe  diihynmbic,  cloeinE  with  the  hymo,  which  here  gbrified  not  alone 
The  Lonl  isd  Hi>  wKOmprahendcd  lofty  workt,  but  the  Human  in  the 
pin  CM  of  ill  union  wiih  Ihe  Difiae,  ihiciiifh  RedeBpiian  and  AiDnement." 
Rosin  KiAMi. 


ih,Googlc 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


This  fvM  scene  htti  the  character  of  s  Prologoe  to  the 
Seoond  Part  of  FautI,  the  action  of  which  commences  with 
tlie  tallowing  itcene.  An  indefinite  period  of  time  separates 
tlie  two  parti  of  the  drama.  Neither  in  his  own  life  nor  in  his 
poetical  creations  did  Goeihe  ever  give  space  to  mnome  for 
an  itrevocable  deed.  When  Faust  disappears  with  Mephis- 
tophdes,  all  his  later  tortuie  of  soul  has  been  already  suggest- 
ed to  the  reader,  and  nothing  of  it  can  properly  be  introdnced 
bere,  where  the  whole  p)ui  and  scope  of  the  work  is  changed. 

Goetbe  firmly  believed  in  healthy  and  final  recovery  A'ora 
moral  aa  frotn  physical  hurt :  his  remedial  agents  were  'nme 
and  Natore.  In  Ricmer's  collectiOD  of  Brtcardk»  I  find  the 
fcdlowing  fragiDent :  — 

Nidit*  U^t  Unggduld, 
Jens  vermetin  ijis  ScbuM, 

'Impatience  is  of  no  service,  still  less  Renoi^e.  That 
increases  the  offence,  this  creates  new  oSenccs.)  He  over- 
came his  own  great  sorrows  by  temporarily  withdrawing  from 
sodelj  and  surrendering  himself  to  the  influences  of  Nature; 
and  we  are  to  suppose  that  Faust  repeats  this  experience. 
The   healing  process  is  symbolized  Id  this  opening  scene, 


ih,Googlc 


3i8  FAUST. 

wherrin  the  elvei  represent  the  delicate,  mytterioui  agendes 
through  which  Nature  operates  on  ihe  human  soul.     Ariel 

—  who  was  Poetiy  in  the  Inttrmato  of  the  Wal  purgis- Night 

—  here  takes  the  place  of  Oberon  aa  leader  of  the  ctves,  pos- 
ubly  because  the  soul  capable  of  a  poetic  apprehension  of 
Nature  is  most  open  to  her  subtle  consolations. 

3-     Four  pauses  makes  the  Night  upon  her  courses. 
Goethe  here  refers  to  the  four  vigäia,  or  night-watches,  of 
the  Romans,  each  of  three  hours ;  so  that  the  whole,  Irom 
six  in  the  evening  until  six  in  the  nomii^,  include  both  sun- 
set and  sunrise.     I  see  no  reason  to  suspect,  in  addition,  a 
reference  to  Jean  Paul's  four  phases  of  slumber,  especially 
as  the  latter  division  is  rather  üntastic  than  real,  the  phMC* 
of  healthy  slumber  being  only  three.     The  line.  — 
"Then  ipnTiklE  him  nilh  Lelbe'i  diDiny  tpny," 
recaHs  a  passage  in  one  of  Goethe's  letters  to  Zelter  :  "  With 
every  breath  we  draw,  an  ethereal  current  of  Lethe  flows 
through  our  whole  being,  so  that  we  remember  our  joys  bnt 
jmpeifectly,  our  cares  and  sorrows  scarcely  at  >U." 

3.    Chorus. 

The  four  verses  of  the  Chorus  correspond  to  the  four  vigi- 
tia.  The  first  describes  the  evening  twilight ;  the  second, 
the  dead  of  night ;  the  third,  the  coming  of  the  dawn  ;  and 
the  fourth,  the  awaking  to  the  day.  The  direction  in  regard 
to  the  chanting  of  the  verses  by  the  alternate  or  caltective 
voices  of  ihe  elves  was  added,  in  view  of  the  possible  repre- 
sentation of  the  drama  upon  the  stage.  Even  where  he  had 
no  such  special  intention,  Goethe  was  fond  of  attaching  a 
thtalriial  realily  to  his  poetic  creations  ;  but  throughout  the 
Second  Part  he  has  purposely  done  this,  in  order  to  counter- 
act the  tendency  of  his  symbolism  to  become  vague  and  form- 
less. ' 

4.      With  a  crash  the  Light  draws  tum: 

We  may  conjecture  that  Goethe  had  in  his  mind  the  Ros- 
pigiiosi  .-Xurora  of  (iuido,  which  suggests  noise  and  the  sound 
of  trumpets ;  but  he  also  referred  both  to  andent  myths  atid 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


319 


the  guetMS  of  the  science  of  hi«  day.  Tacltas  speaks  of  a 
legend  current  among  the  Germans,  that,  beyond  the  land  of 
(he  Suiones,  the  sun  gives  forth  audible  sounds  in  setting. 
The  same  statement  is  found  in  Posidonius  and  Juvenal.  In 
Macpherson's  Orrian,  "  the  rustling  sun  comes  forth  froni- 
his  green-headed  waves."  Also  in  the  German  medieval 
poem  of  "  Titurel,"  the  sun  is  said  (o  utter  sounds  sweeter 
than  lutes  and  the  songs  of  birds,  on  rising.  The  crash  de- 
scribed by  Ariel  is  only  audible  to  the  "  spirit-hearing "  of 
the  elves,  who  al  once  disappear,  and  Faust  awakens,  hia 
being  "cleansed  <rom  the  suffered  woes." 

5.    Leei  1^1 —  The  mtHnimn  tttmmiti,  grand,  mftrnti. 

The  scene  described  is  Swiss,  and  from  the  neighborhood 
of  the  Lake  of  the  Four  Forest  Cantons.  Goethe's  projected 
journey  to  Italy  in  1797  terminated  with  a  lour  in  that  region, 
in  company  with  the  artist  Meyer.  In  the  third  volume  of 
Eckermann's  Conversations,  he  is  reported  as  having  given 
the  following  account  of  hia  studies  for  the  proposed  epic  of 
"  Tell,"  and  the  use  he  afterwards  made  of  the  material ;  — 

"  I  visited  again  the  lake  and  the  little  Cantons,  and  those 
attractive,  beauliüil,  and  sublime  landscapes  made  such  a  re- 
newed impression  upon  me,  that  I  was  tempted  to  embody 
in  a  poem  the  variety  and  richness  of  the  scenery.  In  order, 
therefore,  to  add  the  proper  interest  and  lile  to  my  descrip- 
tion, I  resolved  to  people  the  important  locality  with  equally 
important  personages,  and  the  legend  of  Tell  was  the  very 
thing  I  needed." 

After  sketching  his  conceptions  of  the  different  characters, 
Goethe  conthiued ;  **  I  was  entirely  possessed  with  thesubject, 
and  already  began,  from  time  to  time,  to  hum  my  hexameters. 
I  saw  the  lake  in  quiet  moonshine,  with  illuminaled  mist  in 
the  gorges  of  the  mountains.  I  saw  it  in  Ihe  glow  of  the 
loveliest  morning  sun.  and  the  awakening  life  and  rejoicing 
of  grove  and  meadow.  Then  I  painted  a  storm,  a  thunder- 
gust,  hurled  from  the  gorges  upon  the  lake.  Moreover, 
there  was  no  lack  of  night  and  silence,  and  secret  meetings 
on  bridges  and  Alpine  paths." 


ih,Googlc 


3« 


FAUST. 


"I  communicated  all  thi*  to  Schiller,  in  whose  soul  mj 
landscapcH  and  characters  grew  to  a  drama.  Since  I  had 
other  things  lo  do,  and  postponed  more  and  more  ibe  fulfil- 
ment of  my  plan,  I  finally  made  over  my  material  to  him, 
and  he  thereupon  produced  his  admirable  poem." 

"I  stated,"  said  Eckennann,  "my  impretsion,  that  tbe 
splendid  description  of  sunrise,  written  in  Urta  rima,  in  the 
fij^t  scene  of  the  Second  Pan  of  Faust,  might  have  sprui^ 
from  tbe  memories  of  (hose  landscapes  of  the  I^ake  of  the 
Four  Forest  Canioaa." 

"  I  will  not  deny,"  said  Goethe,  "that  the  features  of  the 
description  are  thence  drawn.  Nay,  I  could  not  even  have 
imagined  the  substance  of  the  ttranen,  without  the  in»h  im- 
pression* of  that  wonderful  scenery.  But  that  is  all  which  I 
coined  for  myself  out  of  the  gold  of  my  TelMocalities :  tbe 
rest  I  relinquished  to  Schiller." 

There  seems  to  be  a  slight  obscurity  in  the  passage  com- 
mencing :  — 

"  'T  ia  thw,  wbtD  unto  fsimlni  hope'*  eaätnor." 

The  substance  of  German  comment  is,  thai  Faust  is  over- 
whelmed, as  when  the  Earth-Spirit  appears  to  him  in  the 
Fir«t  Part,  by  the  apparition  of  perfect  and  universally  illu- 
minating Truth,  which  his  human  eyesight  cannot  endure. 
The  sudden  and  complete  liilfilment  of  a  hope,  he  reflects, 
has  the  same  bewildering  effecl ;  and  he  hides  himself  "in 
youthful  drapery"  {ivii,  in  the  original),  since  youth  is  con- 
tent with  an  amazed  acceptance  of  the  highest  revelations 
of  Life,  without  seeking  (o  penetrate  their  mysteries. 
6.    Lift  iituH  H^,  bia  tki  refraettd  ti^or. 

Here  the  above  thought  is  repeated  in  a  metaphor  drawn 
from  Goethe's  studies  of  Color.  The  walerTall  is  a  symbol 
of  human  endeavor,  —  impetuous,  never-ending,  destructive. 
yet  iiupiring,  and  creating  Ibrce ;  and  the  rainbow  is  the 
divided  ray  of  the  Intolerably  keen  white  light  of  Truth,  as 
it  is  reflected  in  and  overhangs  the  movement  of  life.  Shel- 
ley expresses  exactly  a  similar  thought  in  a  different  itn- 


ih,Googlc 


"Life,  lilu  1  dome  of  muy-colond  glu^ 
Suiu  ihe  wniu  ndunce  of  Elcnilr-" 

In  Goethe's  description  ol  the  Falls  of  the  Rhine,  at 
Schaffhausen,  we  und  the  germ  froni  which  his  thought 
grew  r  "  The  rainbow  appeared  in  its  greatett  beautf  :  it 
stood  with  unmoving  foal  in  the  midst  of  the  tremendous 
foam  and  spiay,  which,  threatening  foicibly  to  destroy  it, 
were  every  moment  forced  to  create  it  anew." 

I  have  not  translated  the  above  line  strictly  in  bannony 
with  Goethe's  Farbtnithre.  "  Am  /arbigen  Abglaru  Aaiai 
mir  dot  Lebai"  is,  literaUy;  "In  the  colored  rcßatum  we 
have  Life."  Goethe's  theory  is  that  Color  is  not  produced 
by  the  rtfraeticn  of  the  ray,  but  is  the  result  of  the  mixture 
of  light  and  darkness,  in  diSeient  degrees.  His  conclusions 
were  drawn  from  only  partial  observation,  and  have  been 
proved  to  be  incorrect.  I  therefore  feel  justified  in  using  a 
term  which  best  interprets  his  thought  as  a  poet,  without 
reference  to  this  glimpse  of  his  theory  as  a  man  of  science. 

The  opening  scene  strikes  the  keynote  which  reverber- 
ates through  [he  Second  Fart  Faust  lets  his  "dead  Past 
bury  its  dead "  :  but  his  intellect  has  been  purified  by  his 
experience  of  human  love,  delight,  and  suffering.  He  re- 
sumes, in  another  and  more  enlightened  sense,  his  aspiration 
(or  the  "highest  being,"  and  we  must  accompany  him, 
henceforward,  with  our  intellectual,  and  Dot,  as  in  the  First 
Part,  with  our  emotional  nature. 

7.    Emperor. 

On  the  1st  of  October.  1817,  Goethe  read  the  manuscript 
cf  this  scene  to  Eckeimann.  "In  the  Emperor,"  said  he, 
•  1  have  endeavored  to  represeot  a  Prince  who  has  all  possi- 
ble qualities  for  losing  his  realm  — in  which,  indeed,  he  after- 
wards succeeds. 

"  The  welbre  of  the  Empire  and  of  his  subjects  gives  him 
no  trouble ;  he  thinks  only  of  himself,  and  how  he  may 
amuie  himself,  from  day  to  day,  with  something  new.  The 
land  is  without  order  and  law,  the  judges  themselves  accom- 
plices with  the  criminals,  and  all  manner  of  crime  is  comp 


ih,Googlc 


3>3 


FAUST. 


milled  unhindered  and  unpunUhed.  The  army  is  unpaid, 
without  disciijline,  and  ranges  around  plundering,  in  otder 
to  help  itself  to  its  pay,  as  best  it  can.  The  treasury  is  with' 
out  money  and  without  the  hope  of  further  conbributinn*. 
In  the  Emperor's  household  things  are  not  much  better: 
there  are  deficiencies  in  kitchen  and  cellar.  The  Lord  High 
Steward,  more  undecided  from  day  to  day  what  course  to 
pursue,  is  already  in  the  hands  of  usurious  Jews,  to  whom 
everything  has  been  mortgaged,  and  even  the  bread  on  the 
Emperor's  table  has  been  eaten  in  advance. 

"  The  Council  means  to  represent  to  His  Majesty  all  these 
evils,  and  to  consult  with  him  how  they  may  be  removed; 
but  the  Most  Gracious  Ruler  has  no  inclination  to  lend  his 
ear  to  such  disagreeable  ihiiigs:  he  would  much  rather  be 
diverted.  Here,  now,  is  the  true  element  for  Mephisto,  who 
has  speedily  made  away  with  the  (brmer  Pool,  and  as  new 
Fool  and  Councillor  stands  at  the  Emperor's  side." 

Goethe  took  from  the  old  legend  the  idea  of  presenting 
Fausi  at  the  Court  of  the  German  Emperor.  The  proper 
manner  of  Faust's  introduction,  however,  seems  to  have 
given  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble :  more  than  one  outlined 
sketch  must  have  been  rejected,  and  this  initial  difficulty 
probably  retarded  for  many  years  the  completion  of  the 
work.  Falk  gives  us  the  following  plan,  as  having  been 
communicated  to  him  by  Goethe  (probably  between  iSo6 
•nd  1813)!  — 

"  Because  Faust  de»res  to  know  the  whole  world,  Mephis- 
topheles  proposes  to  him,  among  other  things,  that  he  shall 
seek  (or  an  audience  with  the  Emperor.  It  in  the  time  of  the 
tatter's  coronation.  Faust  and  Mephislopheles  arrive  safely 
in  Frankfurt,  and  must  now  be  announced.  Faust  refuses 
bcc.iuse  he  knows  not  ufion  what  subject  to  converse  with 
the  Finperor.  But  Mephislopheles  encourages  him  with  the 
promise  that  he  will  accompany  him  at  the  appointed  time, 
support  him  when  the  conversation  flags,  and,  in  case  it 
should  fail  entirely,  will  assume  both  his  speech  and  his  form, 
so  that  the  Emperot  will  really  not  know  with  whom  he  has 
spoken  or  not  spoken.    With  this  understanding  Faust  finall; 


ih,Googlc 


KOTES  3,j 

■CR  pts  the  proposition.  Both  betike  chemselvcB  to  the  hall 
of  audience  and  are  received.  Faust,  in  his  pari,  in  order 
to  show  himself  worthy  of  (he  Imperial  grace,  summons  up 
all  his  wit  and  knowledge,  and  speaks  of  the  loftiest  things. 
Neverthelew,  his  fire  warms  only  himself:  the  Emperor  re- 
mains cold,  yawns  continually,  and  is  on  the  point  of  termi- 
nating the  interview.  Mephistopheles  perceives  this  in  the 
nick  of  time,  and  comes  to  Faust's  assistance,  as  he  had  prom- 
ised. He  assumes  the  same  form,  and  stands  bodily  before 
the  Emperor  as  Faust,  with  the  latiei's  mantle,  doublet,  ruff, 
and  the  sword  at  his  side.  He  now  continues  the  conversa- 
tion, just  where  Fausl  left  oS;  but  with  a  very  different  and 
much  more  brilliant  result.  He  chatters,  swaggers,  and 
prates  so  lo  the  right  and  the  left,  hither  and  thither,  of  all 
things  on  earth  and  outside  of  il,  that  the  Emperor  is  beside 
himself  with  amaiemcnt,  and  assures  the  lords  present  that 
this  is  a  thoroughly  learned  man,  to  whom  he  could  listen 
for  days  and  weeks,  without  becoming  weary.  At  first,  in- 
deed, he  was  not  particularly  edified,  but  after  the  man  had 
warmed  to  his  subjccl,  nothing  finer  could  be  imagined  than 
the  manner  in  which  he  set  forth  all  things  so  briefly,  yet  so 
gracefully  and  inlelUgently.  He,  as  Emperor,  must  confess 
that  he  had  never  before  found  united  in  one  person  such 
treasures  of  thought  and  experience,  with  such  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  —  not  even  in  the  wisest  of  his  Councillors." 
This  plan,  although  humorous,  would  require  too  much 
elaboration  to  serve  as  the  mere  vehicle  of  Faust's  introduc- 
tion at  Court ;  and  the  fact  that  Goethe  related  it  to  Falk  is 
sufficient  proof  that  he  had  already  rejected  it.  We  have 
his  own  word  for  the  fact  that  he  never  dared  to  communicate 
)iis  poetical  ideas  in  advance,  even  to  Schiller ;  and  he  would 
be  much  leas  likely  lo  bestow  so  intimate  a  confidence  upon 
a  man  so  vain  and  garrulous  as  Falk, 

8.     Whai  's  cuTied  and  vnkemity  exftctid  f 

Mephistopheles  commends  himself  to  the  Emperor's  grace 

by  a  riddle  of  which  himself  (the  Fool)  is  the  solution.    Some, 

however,  consider  "Justice  "  lo  be  the  true  inletpreialion. 


ih,Googlc 


9-      MUKUURS  OP  TUB  CKOWD. 

The  pail  given  to  the  crowd  of  spectators  in  this  and  the 
IblloHing  scene  ia  evidently  imitated  from  the  Greeli  Chonu. 
The  "murmurs"  are  confused  and  fragmentary  comment* 
on  the  action,  and  they  also  seem  to  have  been  partly  de- 
signed to  represent  the  masses  who  passively  accept  Life  in 
whatever  Tonn  it  comes  to  iheiu,  or  as  it  may  be  moulded  for 
Ihcm  by  active  and  po^tive  individual  natures.  The  satite 
indicated  in  these  passages  is  for  the  most  part  pointless, 
and  we  cannot  but  feel  that  tbey  add  an  unnecessary  heaviness 
to  what  b,  without  them,  the  least  edifying  part  of  the  drama. 

lo.  Btil  tell  me  viky,  m  dayi  tojmr. 
Goethe's  conception  of  the  character  of  the  Emperor  (given 
in  Note  7)  is  here  illustrated.  The  Fool  and  the  Astrolt^er, 
standing  on  his  right  and  left  hand,  are  the  two  Court  offi- 
cials to  whose  counsel  he  is  most  inclined  to  listen.  The 
former  relieves  the  tedium  of  state  aflbirs,  and  the  latter  has 
cast  an  auspicious  horoscope  of  his  fortunes  1  yet,  even  with 
their  aid,  he  consents  reluctantly  and  with  a  halfprotest  to 
heat  the  reports  of  his  ministers.  The  lilies  of  the  latter 
are  taken  tram  the  mcdiseval  organization  of  the  German 
Imperial  Court,  where  they  were  hereditary  in  certain 
princely  houses.  The  dignity  of  Arch  Chancellor  belonged 
10  the  Elector  of  Mayence ;  of  Arch  Banner-Lord  (for 
which  Goethe  has  substituted  "General-in-Chief")  to  the 
Elector  of  Wurtemberg ;  of  Arch -Treasurer  to  the  Elector 
of  Brunswick ;  and  of  Arch-Marshal  10  the  Elector  of  Sax- 
ony. 1  have  translated  the  word  Marsciali,  on  account  of 
the  character  of  the  office,  into  "  Ixiid  High  Steward."  In 
spile  of  the  conjectures  of  some  of  the  German  comment  alors, 
it  is  not  probable  that  reference  is  made  to  any  particular 
historical  period.  The  decadence  of  <ik  Empire  is  necessary 
for  the  part  assigned  10  Mephistupheles  and  the  laler  impa- 
tience of  Faust  with  bis  experience  of  "  the  greater  woild.'' 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  32s 

II.     Tht  Saints  and Kni^  art  they. 

The  salire  in  this  passage  —  of  which  the  Chancellor  him' 
■elf  is  quite  unconscious  —  needs  do  explanation.  Nature 
and  Mind,  in  all  ages,  are  the  bugbears  of  privileged  classes, 
and  the  speaker,  here,  is  the  representative  of  both  the 
Saints  (the  priesthood)  and  the  Knights. 

In  (he  Paralifomtna  there  is  a  fragment  of  a  scene  which 
must  have  been  intended  as  a  Substitute  liir  the  present  It 
is  sketched  in  prose :  — 


tdih»  utau— «plmdidTica.    It  ii  jii«,IM  thai  re 


iL  hard :  what  uy  V^  BiihopP 


Vilhoat  etadinf  (he  h 


Pardon  1  Fi^an  viFtvca?  I  would 
Fit  may  not  be  othcnvi»,  we  will  p« 
fft  abcolved,  and  again  in  tbv  right. 


13.  Tht  iphtret  ef  Himr  and  ffauti  are  in  iii  /ten. 
The  astrologers  divided  the  celestial  hemisphere  into  twelve 
yorts,  whidi  were  called  Houses.  In  casting  a  horoscope, 
it  was  necessary  lo  have,  first,  the  hour  of  tnrih  and  the  lat- 
itude and  longitude  of  the  birthplace.  The  location  of  the 
sun,  moon,  planets,  and  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  in  tlie  dil- 
(erent  houses,  was  then  ascertained.  As  eacn  house  repre- 
sented a  >]>vcial  human  interest  or  paasion,  and  each  planet 
a  special  controlling  force,  the  various  combinations  which 
thus  arose  furnished  tlie  material  out  of  which  the  horoscope 
was  constructed. 


ih,Googlc 


3a6  FAUST. 

The  speech  of  the  Astrologer,  piompred  by  MephiMopb- 
eleu,  refer«  to  the  seven  meuls,  to  which  the  medizval  al 
chemists  attached  the  name«  of  the  seven  planets  The  sua 
is  gold,  the  moon  silver ;  Mercury  is  quicksilver,  Venus 
copper,  Mars  iron,  Jupiter  lin,  and  Saturn  lead. 

13.     Then  lUi  tlu fiddler,  thm  lAeguUII 

Ctemens  Brentano,  in  his  "  Boy's  Wonder-hom,"  slates 

(hat  it  is  a  common  superstition  in  Geimany,  that,  when  one 

acddeniaily  stumbles,  he  Is  passing  over  the  spot  where  a 

fiddler  is  buried. 

The  expressions  of  Mephistopheles  refer  to  the  power  of 
divination  supposed  to  be  possessed  by  certain  persons. 
They  suggest  a  passage  in  Wilhelm  Miistir,  where  Jarnu  de- 
scribes a  man  who  accompanies  him  On  his  mineralogies] 
joameys  :  "  He  possessed  very  wonderful  faculties,  and  a 
most  peculiar  relation  to  all  which  we  call  atone,  mineral,  or 
even  element  He  fell  not  only  the  strong  effect  of  the  sub- 
terranean streams,  deposils  of  melal,  strata  of  coal,  and  all 
such  substances  as  are  tbund  in  masses,  but  also,  what  was 
more  remarliable,  his  sensations  changed  with  every  change 
of  the  soil."  Goethe,  himself,  seems  to  have  had  a  half- 
belief  in  the  possibility  of  an  »ccull  instinct  of  this  nature. 

14.     Ht  steks  mllptire  where  the  clay^aaUt  stand. 

Old  walls,  especially  in  damp  cellars  and  subterranean 

passages,  become  covered  with  an  incrustation  of  saltpetre, 

the  collection  of  which  «as  formerly  a  government  monopoly. 

IJ.  A  caik  oftarlar  holds  the  wine. 
It  is  a  general  belief  in  Germany  that  when  a  cask  of  wine 
has  lieen  kept  for  centuries,  it  gradually  deposits  a  cru«t  of 
tartar,  which  may  acijuire  such  a  consistency  as  to  bold  the 
liquid  when  ilie  staves  have  rotted  away.  The  wine  thus 
becomes  it^  own  cask,  and  preserves  itself  in  a  (hick,  oily 
slate.     It  is  then  supposed  to  possess  wonderful  mediana] 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  337 

t6.    Carnival  Masqubradb. 

In  Üie  "  Camlval  Masquerade "  we  reach  the  finl  en- 
tangling epitode  of  the  Second  Part  of  Faiut.  That  the 
entire  scene  is  an  allegory,  is  evident ;  and  we  can  scarcely 
be  mistaken  in  acsuming  its  chief  motive  to  be  the  represen- 
tation of  the  human  race  in  its  social  and  political  oigani- 
"■ation.  This  basis  has  been  accepted,  almost  unanimously, 
b;'  the  Gennan  critics  1  but  upon  it  each  has  built  his  own 
individual  theory  of  the  development  of  the  idea  ihtough 
the  characters  introduced.  Whether  intentionally  or  uncon- 
»riously,  Goethe  himself  has  added  not  a  little  to  the  coii- 
fosion  by  introducing,  now  and  then,  a  double  (possibly  even 
a  IripU)  symbolism ;  therefore,  although  we  may  ieel  toler- 
ably secure  in  regard  to  the  elements  which  he  represent», 
»o  many  additional  meanings  are  suggested  that  we  walk  the 
labyrinth  with  a  continual  suspicion  of  our  path. 

I  shall  endeavor  to  hold  fast  to  the  firm  determination 
with  which  1  commenced  the  wnrk,  — (hat  of  not  adding 
another  to  the  many  theories  already  in  existence.  The 
reader,  nevertheless,  requires,  if  not  an  infallible  clew,  at 
least  an  adequate  numtier  of  indications  pointing  in  the  same 
direction,  to  carry  him  forwards.  Unless  he  is  sufficiently 
interested  to  add  his  own  guesses,  on  the  way,  to  those  of 
the  -ritics  and  commentators,  —  to  perceive,  at  least,  the 
concentric  meanings  in  which  the  allegorical  forms  are  en- 
veloped,—  he  will  probably  grow  weary  long  before  this  di- 
gression returns  again  to  the  original  course  of  ttie  drama. 

The  design  nf  the  Carnival  Masquerade  is  similar  to  that 
uf  Scene  II.  ("Before  the  City-Gate")  of  the  First  Part 
The  latter  gives  us  a  picture  of  lite  in  a  small  German  (own, 
—  a  narrow  circle  of  individual  characters,  as  they  would 
appear  to  Faust  in  his  "  little  world."  The  broader  spliere 
into  which  he  has  now  entered  requires  an  equally  broad 
and  comprehensive  picture  of  Human  Life,  as  it  is  moulded 
by  Society  and  Government.  Schiller,  to  whom  Goethe  con- 
fided his  literary  plans  mure  fully  than  to  any  other  friendi 
loresaw  the  difficulty  lo  be  encountered.     He  wrote  (in  June 


ih,Googlc 


J38  FAUST. 

I  -j^-j^ .  u  A  Boarce  of  inzict;  to  me  is,  that  Faust,  according 
to  your  design,  seems  to  require  such  a  great  amount  of 
material,  if  the  idea  is  linaJly  to  appear  complete  ;  and  1  find 
no  pcetical  hoop  which  can  endrcle  such  a  cumulative  mass. 
Well,  you  will  no  doubt  be  able  to  help  yourself.  For  ex- 
ample ;  Faust  must  necessarily,  to  my  thinking,  be  conducted 
into  the  active  lire  of  the  world,  and  whatever  part  of  it  you 
may  choose  out  of  the  great  whole,  the  very  nature  of  it 
seems  to  require  too  much  particularity  and  difliiseness." 

Goethe,  who  wrote  to  Schiller,  "it  gives  one  a  new  spirit 
for  labor,  when  one  sees  one's  own  thoughts  and  purposes 
indicated  externally,  by  another,"  was  unable,  in  the  end,  to 
select  any  detachable  phase  of  Society,  and  therefore  at- 
tempted to  present  the  elements  which  enter  into  all  human 
association,  under  the  form  of  a  mask.  We  are  first  intro- 
duced to  types  of  the  classes  of  ]>ersons  who  arc  Ibund  in 
Society ;  then  to  the  moral  elements,  represented  by  the 
Graces,  the  ParcK,  and  the  Furies  ;  the  symbol  of  a  wisely 
organized  government  follows,  with  an  interlude  in  which 
Poetry  appears  as  the  companion  of  Wealth.  The  debasing 
influences  of  the  lust  of  gain  and  the  madness  of  speculation 
are  set  forth,  the  Fauns,  Satyrs,  and  Gnomes  are  introduced 
as  types  of  the  ruder  forces  of  human  nature,  and  the  Car- 
nival closes  with  a  catastrophe  in  which  most  of  the  critic* 
see  Revolution  symbolized. 

This  is  the  simplest  and  roost  obvious  outline  of  the  scene. 
At  every  step,  however,  there  are  additional  references  and 
suggestions,  ihe  most  important  of  which  are  explained  lu 
the  succeeding  Notes.  The  views  of  German  cominen(a:or. 
are  tolerably  accordant  in  regard  to  Goethe's  general  design; 
but,  when  they  come  to  particulars,  they  strike  so  many  in- 
dividual tangents  from  the  central  thought,  DUntzet  says; 
"The  collective  representations  of  the  Masqueiade  refer  to 
civil  and  political  life.  The  first  group  of  masks  whom  we 
meet  exhibit  (he  external  blessings  of  life,  followed  by  an- 
other group  who  set  forth  those  mora!  features  of  life  which 
are  most  influenced  by  external  possessions.  The  StaK^ 
prudenilv  governed,  and  made  prosperous  by  the  wise  acti» 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


329 


fty  of  hs  Ruler,  is  then  presented  to  as  in  an  allegorical  pic- 
lure,  whereto  the  concluding  symbol  of  a  State  overthrown 
by  [he  scltishDcss  and  weakness  of  a  self-indulgent  Ruler 
forms  an  explanatory  contrast" 

Schnetger  divirles  the  scene  into  five  parts:  I.  *'A  pic- 
ture of  the  cheerful,  rich  garden  of  Lite."  II,  A  «ketch  ol 
the  disorganiüng  influences  in  human  society,  which  require 
to  be  governed ;  of  the  beneficent  powera  which  have  lost 
their  swaf  in  our  modem  world,  and  of  the  duker  elements 
which  have  taken  their  place.  HI.  /  representation  of  a 
well-goven»ed  State.  IV.  The  worship  01  Mammon  in  hu- 
man society,  aiul  the  vulgar  hunger  of  the  maliitude  for  gold. 
V.  The  collision  of  the  cupidity  of  the  People  with  that  of 
the  Prince,  followed  by  a  general  conflagration. 

Härtung  considers  that  the  forms  and  forces  of  social  life 
are  directly  presented,  and  finds  a  class  ol  fermiu,  not  of 
idau,  behind  each  mask.  He  seems  to  include  tlie  elephant 
and  its  attendants  (generally  accepted  as  the  symbol  of  the 
Stale)  among  the  social  allegories,  but  sees,  in  the  conclu- 
lion,  the  overthrow  of  dvil  order. 

Deycks  and  Köstlin  reject  the  idea  of  a  complete  and  con- 
sistent allegory  of  Society  and  Government.  The  latter, 
moreover,  gives  a  diSecent  c:[p1anation  of  the  final  catastro- 
phe, which  is  quoted  in  its  appropriate  place. 

Kreyssig  says  of  the  scene :  "  Here  the  poet  introducei 
that  singular  masquerade  in  which  the  aalon  of  the  next  fol- 
lowing scenes  is  announced  and  allegorically  hinted,  and 
which,  to  the  dispassionate  mind,  if  not  exactly  the  most  dif- 
ficult 10  be  comprehended,  is  yet  one  of  the  meet  entangled 
and  unrefreshing  portions  of  the  whole  poem.  Here  the  dic- 
tion first  displays  all  those  ostentatious  singularities,  which 
have  brought  the  Second  Fart  of  Faust  into  such  bad  repute 
with  a  part  of  the  reading  world.  Here  the  poet  first  mani- 
fests, in  easy  latitude,  his  known  tendency  to  mysterious, 
symbolic  pranks,  and  loads  the  poem  with  a  multitude  of 
adjuncts  which  seem  to  us  unnecessary  for  the  comprehen- 
sion and  proper  efiect  of  the  whole  — but  rich  material  for 
the  ioterpreteis  who  are  skilled  in  assthetic  filigree-work." 


ih,Googlc 


33« 


FAUST. 


The  careAil  ruder  will  find  ibat  there  a  some  tnitb  ta 
cacK  one  of  the  foregoing  explanations,  and  that  the  chief 
confusion  has  arisen  from  the  circumstance  that  Goethe 
could  not  find,  as  Schiller  feared,  a  poetic  hoop  capable  of 
encircling  such  a  cumulative  mass  of  material.  I  will  aa\j 
add,  that,  in  the  Notes  which  follow,  referring  to  the  sepa- 
rate masks,  I  have  given  preference  to  the  simplest  and  most 
direct  interpretation,  which  is  always  the  mote  poetic  and 
the  more  consistent  with  the  laws  of  Goethe'a  mind,  as  man- 
ifested in  his  other  works. 

The  scene  of  the  Masqnerade  is  not  in  Italy,  as  some  sap- 
pose,  but  at  the  German  Court,  after  the  Emperor's  return 
from  his  coronation  by  the  Pope,  at  Rome.  Maximilian  I. 
was  the  first  German  Emperor  who  omitted  this  ci 

17.    Garden-Girls. 
The  Masquerade  is  properly  opened  t^  the  lightest,  gay- 


e  element  of  Society,  —  Itie  young, 
unmarried  women.  Goethe  look  tiie  fieraje  of  Florence 
(not  the  present  race !)  as  types  of  grace,  beauty,  and  that 
ail  which  seems  aitlessness.  These  qualities  are  the  "  Sow- 
ers which  blossom  all  the  year."  Härtung,  in  his  notice  of 
this  passage,  says;  "Every  woman,  who  dresses  herself 
with  taste,  is  an  artist  for  her  own  liody." 

"They"  (the  Garden-Girls)  "represent,  in  contrast  to  the 
foregoing  description  of  the  needs  of  the  Court,  the  simple, 
joyous,  and  enjoying  nature  of  the  race.  The  picturesque 
charac'.er  of  the  poetry  and  the  sententious  grace  of  the  ad- 
dress make  this  one  of  the  most  agreeaUe  groups."  — 
Liutbeihtr. 

18.  Olive-Branch,  with  Fruit. 
If  the  allegory  is  consistently  developed,  we  must  suppose 
that  the  Olive-Branch,  the  Wreath  of  Ears,  and  the  Fancy- 
Wreath  are  types  of  female  character,  or  of  the  different 
forms  of  attraction  whereby  women  draw  towards  them  the 
complementary  male  characters.  Schnecger.  however,  gives 
a  different   interpretation!    "Joy   and   enjoyment  flonrisb 


ih,Googlc 


i^OTES. 


331 


ntder  the  Bhelteriog  branch  of  Oltve,  the  certain  inrraiit  of 
peace.  Under  its  shadow,  ia  the  Garden  of  Life,  Nature 
creates  (he  Golden  Ear  for  the  one  who  desires  the  Beauti- 
ful in  union  with  the  Useful ;  and  Fancy,  or  Art,  creates  a 
thousand  wreaths  for  the  other,  who  only  takes  delight  in 
gay  and  graceiiil  forms." 

Goethe's  maxim,  throughout  the  whole  of  the  Ma-squerade, 
seems  to  have  been  that  of  the  Manager,  in  the  "  Prelude  on 
the  Stage  "  :  — 

"  Who  offen  nuch,  briap  Hnaethiflg  unla  tataj." 
I  do  not  think  it  necessary,  therefore,  to  toad  each  (tetait 
with  all  the  varieties  of  explanation.  The  reader,  in  any 
case,  win  find  himself  infected  by  the  suggestiv  en  ess  of  the 
text,  and  thereby  unconsciously  led  to  interpret  the  fonns 
according  to  his  own  individual  taste. 

19.      WkalOHT  naini  is,  Thiefhraitui. 

The  reference  is  not  10  Theophrastus  Paracelsus,  but  to 
Theophrastus  of  Lesbos,,  bom  B.  C.  390,  the  disciple  of 
Plalo  and  the  successor  of  Aristotle.  Among  his  extant 
works  is  a  "  Natural  History  of  Plants,"  a  translation  of 
which,  by  Sprengel,  was  published  at  Altona,  in  1S22 ;  and 
his  name  was  probably  thereby  suggested  to  Goethe. 

The  "  Fancy  Nosegay  "  seems  to  be  designed  as  a  type  of 
the  wilful,  artful,  bewildering  power  of  woman,  which  doe» 
not  attract  all  of  the  opposite  sex,  but  the  more  surely  fasci- 
nates a  portion  of  it.  This  version  of  the  mask  Is  certainly 
indicated  by  the  "Challenge,"  which  next  appears,  and 
which  is  one  with  the  "  Rosebuds."  We  are  to  suppose 
that  the  emblematic  rosebuds  which  she  carries  are  tempo- 
rarily concealed,  and  then  suddenly  produced  as  a  contrast. 
exhibiting  the  superior  charms  of  sweet,  timid,  modest 
maidenhood  over  the  glamour  of  acquired  feminine  art 

Härtung  »ays :  "  The  Fancy-Wreath  and  the  Fancy  Nose- 
gay mean  to  unite  Art  and  Poetry,  which  create  a  second 
artificial  nature  within  Nature ;  and  especially  the  latter,  the 
poetic  temperameDi,  seeks  a  heart  capable  of  recognjtjon 


ih,Googlc 


332 


FAUST. 


ind  love.  The  Rosebud,  on  the  contrary,  does  not  make 
beraelf  conspicuous  by  show  and  glitter :  she  will  only  open 
her  glowing  bosom  to  the  lucky  finder." 

In  Goethe's  "  Four  Seasons  "  theie  is  the  following  dis- 
tich:— 


lo.  Gardeners. 
Although  some  commentatun  assert  that  the  preceding 
masks  of  flowers  represent  the  atlraclioa  of  afpearanct,  anti 
the  fruits  which  are  now  brought  forward  must  therefore 
represent  positive  poiteiiioit,  I  prefer  to  stand  by  the  more 
obvious  solution,  and  to  see  in  the  gardeners  only  the  male 
element  of  Society.  In  the  latter,  grace  and  beauty  are  sec- 
ondary qualities  ;  the  decision  which  follows  mutual  attrac- 
tion must  not  be  left  to  the  eye  alone  ;  the  internal  flavor  of 
character  must  be  tasted.  The  spectacular  arrangement  of 
the  Ihiits  and  flower?,  under  green,  leaiy  arcades,  suggest* 
Goethe's  description  of  the  Neapolitan  fruit-shops,  in  his 
ItalitHiicke  Reise. 

II.    Mother  and  Daughter. 

Here  the  meaning  is  not  easily  to  be  mistaken,  and  the 
criticB,  although  some  of  them  have  shown  remarkable  skill 
in  their  cflbrts  to  attach  some  additional  significance  to  the 
characters,  have  not  been  able  to  escape  the  direct  allusion 
to  scbetning  mothers  with  marriageable  daughter«.  The 
masks  are  appropriately  introduced  as  a  transition  from  the 
natural,  nnperverted  attraction  of  the  sexes  in  youth,  which 
is  the  primitive  cause  and  charm  of  Society,  to  the  iniroduc- 
tion  of  other  and  disturbing  elements. 

The  game  alluded  to  in  the  third  stanza  (Dritter  Matm), 
I  only  know  by  its  old  English  name  of  "  Hindmost  of 
Three,"  which  rnay  possibly  be  a  local  designation ;  but  it 
will  at  least  indicate  the  game  to  those  who  happen  to  know 
it  under  another  name. 

The  stage  direction*,  in  brackets,  followiDg  tbi*  pasng^ 


ih,Googlc 


I/OTES. 


333 


u  «ell  u  those  on  page  39,  were  added  by  Riemer,  under 
Goethe's  direction.  They  thus  appeared  in  the  twelfth  vol- 
nme  of  Goethe's  Complele  WotIu,  in  iSaS,  and  it  is  under- 
•tood  that  they  were  intended  to  indicate  additional  scenes, 
not  written  at  the  lime.  The  Eulure,  aftecwards,  to  fill  these 
gaps,  was  certainly  not  forgetful  ness,  as  EHintEer  charges, 
but  rather  weariness  and  the  absence  of  fortunate  moods,  on 
the  part  of  the  octogenarian  poet. 

'A  theatrical  atmosphere  undoubtedly  pervades,  not  only 
this,  but  many  other  scenes  of  the  Second  Part  of  Fault,  and 
the  English  reader  who  may  be  not  always  agreeably  con. 
M30US  of  this  drcumatance,  should  bear  in  mind  that 
öoelhe's  long  management  of  the  Weimar  theatre,  and  his 
constant  production  of  plays,  masques,  and  vaudevilles 
tmany  of  them  of  an  "occaüonal"  character),  led  him  to 
consider,  while  writing,  the  possible  representation  of  the 
urama  upon  the  German  stage.  Prince  Radzivill  had 
Mlready  composed  music  for  the  First  Part  (in  1814),  and  at 
the  very  time  when  Goelbe  was  preparing  the  Carnival  Mas- 
querade for  publication,  in  1838,  Karl  von  Holtd  was  en- 
gaged in  bringing  out  the  Plrst  Part  as  a  melodrama,  with 
music  by  Eberwein.  Nor  must  we  forget  that  the  German 
public  had  been  educated  to  an  appreciation  and  enjoyment 
of  even  allegorical  representations.  After  Sophocles  had 
been  produced  on  the  Weimar  stage,  and  Schiller  had  re- 
vivea  the  antique  Chorus  in  his  "  Bride  of  Mestba,"  Goethe 
not  unreasonably  conjectured  that  the  Second  Fart  of  Fami 
might  be  acceptably  represented  The  attempt  has  not  yet 
been  made ;  but  a  day  may  come  when  it  shall  be  possible. 

a^,       Wcnlb-CUTTEKS.      PULCINBLLI.      pARASlTES. 

The  ruder  ana  less  attractive  —  nay,  frequently  repellent 
—  elements  of  äomty  are  represented  in  these  three  classes. 
The  interpretation  uf  each  *ill  depend  upon  the  drcom- 
stance,  whether  we  give  them  a  purely  social,  or  also  a  polit- 
ical character.  In  the  former  case,  öe  Wood-Cutters  are 
tyj^cal  of  those  coarse-nalured,  bruKjoe  ^dividuals,  who 
pride  themselves  on  disregardii^  the  social  graces  uu,     lo- 


ih,Googlc 


334 


FAUST. 


prietiei ;  tbe  Puldnelli  are  the  obaequioDS  Idlers,  trifler^ 
and  {[OMip-iliongers ;  the  Parisites  are  «lescribed  bjr  theit 
name.  If  «e  are  asked  to  give  them  a  broader  significance, 
the  Wood-Cutters  are  the  nide,  unrefined  masses,  apon 
whose  labor  rests  the  finer  fabric  of  Society;  the  Puldnelli 
are  the  loafers  who  manage  to  live  without  anjr  TisiUe  mean« 
of  support,  and  are  never  idler  than  when  tbey  seem  to  be 
most  busy :  and  the  Parasite«  remain  the  same,  only  with  a 
broader  field  of  action. 

Some  linea  in  the  address  of  the  latter  suggest  *  passage  In 
the  Third  Satire  of  Juvenal  :  — 

Grift^  aud  Ihey  grieve  ;  iff«  «sap  bleally, 

Tben  Ren»  m  »lent  echo  in  (heir  eye : 

Tfaey  cnDM  noum  like  rou,  but  lliey  cm  ay. 

Cdl  for  ■  fin,  Iheir  winier  cIbUhi  Vomj  tika : 

Elecin  TDD  bill  ta  ■hlTcr.  lad  ihajr  ihlk*  : 

in  fro«  aod  loow.  if  you  compUin  of  heat, 

Tbey  rub  th'  uotweatiof  brow,  and  iweir  Iher  aweit. 


S3.  Dkunkbm  Han. 
Goethe's  object,  here,  is  to  represent  sensaal  indulgence, 
of  which  intemperance  is  but  one  form.  This  bdng  the  last 
of  the  masks  which  symbolize  sodal  classes,  there  is  all  the 
more  reason  for  restricting  the  explanation  to  Sodety  alone ; 
since,  if  the  author  had  meant  lo  typify  political  dassea,  be 
must  have  necessarily  closed  tbe  group  with  criminals  in- 
stead of  sensualists.  Dünner,  nevertheless,  insists  that  this 
and  the  three  preceding  masks  represent  "  the  slavish  de- 
pendence of  men  uponoxiemal possessions"!  But Lentbccher 
surpasses  all  other  commentators  in  asserting  that  the  Wood- 
Cutlers,  the  Puldnelli  and  Parasites  typify  "  intellectual 
manifestations  and  their  relation  to  each  other,"  while  in  the 
Drunken  Man  he  finds  "  the  itraggle  of  tbe  Real  as  a  coun- 
terpoise to  itie  Ideal  " !  I 

34.     Tlu  fftraU  aMmmiuei  varimt  PaeU. 

Prom  ibis  point  to  the  appearance  of  the  Graces,  w«  have 

the  skeleton  of  an  unwritten  scene,  tbe  characMr  of  which 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


335 


Buy  partly  be  conjectured  (rom  Goethe's  expresnon*  to  Edt- 
ennann.  The  various  clasaes  of  poeti  whom  he  meant  to  rep> 
resent,  and  the  jealousy  of  the  cliques  with  which  they  were 
uiocialed  (unfortunately  a  characteriitic  of  German  literary 
life  at  the  present  day),  may  readily  be  guessed.  Although 
no  OIK  allows  the  others  to  speak,  the  Satirist  succeeds  in 
declaring  that  his  delight  is  in  uttering  what  no  one  like*  to 
hear.  Under  the  title  of  "  Night  and  Churchyard  Poets  " 
the  author  may  have  tiinted  at  Matthisson  and  Salis,  and  the 
earliei  lyrics  of  Lenau,  The  allusion  to  the  vampire  we  are 
able  definitely  lo  trace.  Early  in  1827,  Merim^e  published  his 
La  Giala  :  Points  Illyrigtut,  of  which  Goethe  wrote  :  "  The 
poet,  as  a  genuine  Romanticist,  calls  up  the  ghostliest  forms : 
even  his  localities  create  a  dread.  Churches  fay  night,  gravC' 
yards,  cross-roads,  hennits' huts,  rocks  and  ravines  uncannily 
surround  the  reader,  and  then  appear  the  newly  dead,  threat- 
ening and  terrilying,  alluring  and  beckoning  as  shapes  nr 
flames,  and  the  moat  horrid  vampirism,  with  all  its  concoml- 

The  new  Romantic  school  in  Prance,  and  especially  its 
leader,  Viaot  Hugo,  aroused  Goethe's  keenest  wrath.  He 
called  N6trt  Dame  de  Paris  "  an  abomiriable  book  1  "  and 
thus  enpresscd  himself  10  Eckennann  ;  "  In  place  of  the 
beautiful  substance  of  the  Grecian  mythology  we  have  devils, 
witch-hags,  and  vampires,  and  the  noble  heroes  of  the  early 
time  must  give  way  to  swindlers  and  galley-staves.  Such 
things  are  piquant  r  They  produce  an  effect  I  Bui  after  the 
public  has  once  eaiea  of  this  strongly  peppered  dish,  and  be- 
come accustomed  to  the  taste,  i'  irill  demand  more  and 
itronger  ingredients."  Herein  is  an  explanation  of  (he  refer- 
ence to  the  Grecian  Mythology,  "  which,  even  in  modem 
masks,  loses  neither  its  character  nor  its  power  to  charm." 

25.    The  Gracbs. 

Here  the  masks  represent  social  qualities  and  forces,  not 

varieties  of  individual  character.     In  the  Graces  we  see  giv- 

ini^  lecetving.  and  thanking  or  acknowledging,  not  in  the  nai' 

itjwct  .-«Dse  of  an  ai.-t,  but  as  symbolical  of  the  intercourse  of 


ih,Googlc 


336  FAUST. 

tuen,  —  the  communicattop  of  one  ninm  to  another,  the  ist- 
preuioDB  beiEowed  uid  received,  the  redpTocal  appreciaiioa 
of  cbaracter. 

Aeon-ding  to  Heuod,  the  Grace*  were  Aglaia,  Euphrosyne, 
and  Thalia.  In  place  of  the  latter  Goethe  aubatituted  He- 
gemone (one  of  the  two  Graces  revered  by  the  Atheniana), 
perhapa  for  the  reason  that  the  name  of  Thalia  ii  better 
known  as  that  of  a  Muse. 

36.  Thi  Paec«. 
Ab  in  the  Graces  we  have  the  activity  of  beneficent  aocia] 
qaalitiea,  so  now,  in  the  Parcc,  we  find  those  forces  of  order, 
restraint,  and  control,  without  which  there  could  be  no  per- 
manence in  human  intercourse.  Härtung  consider*  that  they 
represent  the  "  necessities  "  to  which  life  must  submit,  and 
Diintter  ca)U  tbem  the  embodiment  of  "  moral  limltationa " 
—  but  these  are  simply  different  forms  of  the  same  solution- 
Goethe  has  purposely  changed  the  parts  of  Atropos  aod 
Clotho.  The  former  carefully  »pins  a  soft  and  even  thread, 
warning  the  maskers  that  it  must  not  be  stretched  too  bz^ 
even  in  enjoyment.  Clotho,  the  youngest  of  the  Fates,  an- 
nounces that  the  shears  have  been  given  to  her,  because 
Atropoa  prolonged  useless  lives  and  clipped  the  thread*  of 
the  young  and  hopeful,  and  she,  therefore,  thrusts  die  shean 
into  the  sheath,  in  order  to  malce  no  similar  mistakes.  I 
conjess  I  am  unable  to  explain  the  exact  significance  of  thi* 
action.  Some  find  in  it  a  hint  (hat  the  ancient  gloomy,  inex- 
orable idea  of  Fate  is  banished  from  modem  sodety ;  other* 
that  the  needful  moderation  and  self-control  will  make  the 
threatening  shears  unnecessary. 

The  lash  of  Lachesis  is  evidently  to  arrange  and  twist  to- 
gether the  separate  threads  into  an  even,  ordered  chain,  — 
a  symbol  which  requires  no  further  explanation. 

vj.     TS^drvTuBFuatss. 

Here  we  have  the  activity  of  evil  forces  in  sodety.    Goethe 

changes  the  Erinnys  of  the  Greeks,  who  were  represented  aa 

fietce.balefiilfiguies,  with  snakes  and  torches  in  their  baad% 


ih,Googlc 


Into  fiur,  yonng,  wheedling  crcatuTei,  seemingly  hannlesa  a« 
iora.  HU  design  cannot  be  for  a  moment  doabted.  The 
onresting  Alecto  of  modem  society  is  the  insinuation  that 
breeds  mistniat.  the  slander  that  weus  an  innocent  face,  ihe 
power  that  in  a  thousand  ways  thrusts  itBelf  between  ap- 
proaching hearu  and  drives  then  apart  Megxra  typifies 
the  alienation  which  arises  from  selfish  whims,  Irom  indif- 
feience  or  satiety ;  and  Tlsiphone  alone,  the  avenging  Fury, 
remains  true  to  her  ancient  name  and  ofBce. 

38.     AndAere  Aimodi  as  my  fellawer  Uad. 

Aaniodi  (or  Askmedai),  the  Destroyer,  was  *o  evil  derooa 
of  the  Hebrews.  He  is  mentioned  in  the  Talmud,  and  Jew- 
ish  tradition  reports  that  he  once  drove  Solomon  from  his 
kingdom.  Since,  in  the  Book  of  Tobias,  he  kills  in  succes- 
sion the  seven  husbands  of  Sara,  he  has  been  credited  with  a 
special  enmity  to  married  happiness.  In  this  quality  he  ap- 
pears as  the  follower  of  MegRra.  As  "  Asmodeus  "  we  find 
him  in  Wieland's  Obcron,  and  the  Diaile  Bailaix  of  Lesage, 
through  which  he  is  almost  as  widely  known  as  Mephistoph- 
eles. 

39.     Yea  lie  a  mountain  prasing  tkratigh  Ike  throng. 

The  Herald's  expression :  "  For  thai  which  comes  is  not 
to  you  allied,"  seems  to  indicate  a  change  in  the  character 
of  the  allegory  ;  and  I  am  disposed  to  agree  with  those  who 
attach  a  political  meaning  to  the  coining  masks,  rather  than 
with  those  who  would  include  the  latter  in  the  representa- 
tion of  society.  The  Ibrmer  interpretation  is  certainly  the 
more  simple  and  complete.  The  elephant  is  Civil  Govern- 
ment, or  The  State,  as  another  form  of  organised  human 
life.  He  is  guided  by  Prudence,  while  on  either  band  walk 
Fear  and  Hope,  in  fetters.  Fear,  who  shrinks  from  every 
'iiidertaking,  and  Hope,  who  would  undertake  all  things 
without  considering  results,  are,  as  Prudence  declares,  "  two 
of  the  greatest  of  human  foes."  They  thus  represent  the 
political  elements  of  blind  conservatism  and  reckless  passion 
fcr  change.  In  an  ordered  and  intelligent  State  both  these 
forces  are  chained.  Prudence  guides  the  colossal  organism, 

VOL,  11.  IS  V 


ih,Googlc 


338  FAUST. 

and  tbe  Goddeu  of  all  victorious  sctive  forces  üti  aloA  an 
her  throne.  Each  change  in  Ihe  courte  of  the  allegory,  tha 
reader  will  observe,  commences  with  the  bright  and  altiac- 
tive  aspects  of  life  and  Chen  advances  to  tbe  opposite. 

Eckermann  reports  a  conversation  which  he  had  with 
Goethe  in  December,  1S39,  concerning  this  scene  :  "  We 
spoke  of  the  Carnival  Masquerade,  and  how  tar  it  would  be 
possible  to  represent  it  on  tbe  stage.  '  It  would  still  be 
something  more,'  said  I,  '  than  the  market  in  Naples.' 

" '  It  would  require  an  immense  theatre,'  remarked  Goethe, 
'  and  is  hvdly  conceivable.' 

"  *  1  hope  to  live  to  see  it,'  was  my  answer.  '  I  shall  take 
especial  delight  in  tbe  elephant,  guided  by  Prudence,  with 
Victory  abuve,  and  Fear  and  Hope  in  chains  at  the  wdes. 
Really,  there  can  scarcely  be  a  better  allegory.' 

"'It  would  not  be  the  first  elephant  on  the  stage,'  said 
Goethe.  '  One  in  Paris  plays  a  complete  part.  He  belongs 
to  a  politica]  party,  and  takes  the  crown  from  the  King  to 
•et  it  on  his  rival's  head So  you  see  that  in  our  Car- 
nival, we  could  depend  on  the  elephant.  But  the  whole  is 
tnuch  too  great,  and  would  require  a  manager,  such  as  is  not 
easily  found.' " 

Tlie  addresses  put  into  the  mouths  of  Peai,  Hope,  and 
Prudence  have  less  point  and  importance  than  any  others  in 
the  Masquerade. 

30.  Zoilo-Thkrsitks. 
Goethe  takes  Thersites  from  the  Itiad,  and  unites  him  to 
Tbe  Thracian  banator,  Zo'ilus,  who,  In  tbe  third  century  be- 
fore Christ,  became  so  renowned  by  his  venomous  abuse  of 
Plato.  Isocrates,  and  especially  Homer,  that  his  name  was 
applied  by  the  Greeks  to  all  vulgai,  malicious  scolds.  The 
two  characters,  combined,  represent  the  class  o(  political 
slanderers,  defamers  of  all  goad  works,  pessimists  in  the 
most  ofTenüve  sctue.  The  characteristics  of  this  class  are 
exhibited  in  still  stronger  and  more  repulsive  forms,  when 
Zoito-Thersites  is  changed  into  the  Adder  atKl  Bat  by  the 
magic  wand  of  the  Herald, 


ih,Googlc 


The  "  Munnan  of  the  Crofwd  "  are  here  introduced,  as  In 
Scene  II.,  to  sapply  the  place  of  a  Chorus,  and  assist  in  de- 
scribing the  action. 

31.    Blatk  lightning  of  the  eyis,  the  dari  locks  glfftoing. 

The  costume  of  the  Boy  Charioteer,  a*  described  by  the 

Herald,  is  that  of  the  Apollo  Musagcies.     It  is  the  same 

wUch  Schlegel  gives  to  AHoh,  in  his  well-known  ballad :  — 

"  He  hid»  bia  lirnt»  of  lanlien  noulil 
Id  Kold  SDd  jwrplo  wDodroui  Hh ; 
ETcn  u  hi*  fam  Eill.,  fald  m  IbU, 


D.  F.  MofCariky, 
The  appropriateness  of  this  costume  is  explained  in  the  fol- 
lowing note.  ' 

I  have  used  the  phrase  "a  four -horse  chariot,"  because,  in 
tht  origins]  tent,  it  is  thrice  spoken  of  as  a  Vier^spann, — 
"  a  team  of  four,"  —  and  the  Boy  Charioteer  uses  the  word 
■■  «leeds  "  {Rasse\.  Düntzer  and  some  other  German  writers 
consider  that  the  chariot  is  drawn  by  dragons,  although  the 
latter  are  specially  mentioned  as  guardians  of  the  treasure- 
chests.  This  is  not  a  matter  of  much  importance :  I  give  the 
original  words,  in  order  that  the  reader  may  take  his  choice. 

33.     t  lan  Profasiim.  I  am  Poesyl 

Eckermann,  in  1S39,  reports :  "  Wc  then  talked  of  the 
Boy  Charioteer. 

"  'That  Faust  is  concealed  under  the  nask  of  Plutus,  and 
Mephistophelea  under  that  of  Avarice,'  Goethe  remarked, 
•you  will  have  already  perceived ;  but  who  is  the  Boy  Char- 
ioteer ? ' 

"I  hesitated,  and  could  not  immediately  answer. 

"'It  is  Euphorion,'  said  Goethe. 

" '  Bui  how  can  he  appear  in  the  Carnival  here,'  I  asked, 
when  be  i*  not  bom  until  the  third  act^ 


ih,Googlc 


340 


FAUST. 


"'Euphorion,'  replied  Goethe,  'is  not  a  hunun  but  u 
allegorical  being,  to  hint  is  peraonified  Poetry,  wbjdi  is 
bound  neither  to  time,  place,  nor  person.  The  same  spirit, 
who  afterwards  chooses  to  be  Euphorion,  appears  here  at 
the  Boy  Charioteer,  ^nd  is  so  Eu  like  a  spectre  that  he  can 
be  present  everywhere  and  at  all  times.' " 

The  episode  of  Plutus  and  the  Boy  Charioteer  is  a  doable 
allegory.  The  first  and  most  direct  interpretation  is  that 
which  belongs  to  the  characters  as  a  portion  of  the  masquer- 
ade. The  Boy  is  not  only  Poetry,  but  the  poetic  element 
as  it  it  manifested  in  all  Art ;  and  we  may  therefore  say  that 
he  represents  the  highest  intellectual  possessions,  as  Plutus 
represents  material  possessions.  Further  on,  we  shall  see 
the  manner  in  which  the  gifts  of  both  are  received  by  the 
multitnde. 

33.    And  eniy  gives  wAat gaidiit  g/eami. 

Although  Poetry  and  Profusion  are  one,  and  the  Poet 
(Artist)  is  rich  in  proportion  as  he  spends  his  own  best 
goods  —  although  Art  and  Taste  esteem  themselves  wealth- 
ier than  Wealth  itself  since  they  bestow  all  which  the  latter 
can  never  of  itself  possess  —  nothing  is  lest  appreciated  by 
the  mast  of  mankind  than  the  gifts  which  they  freely  scatter. 
Pearls  become  beetle«,  and  jewels  butterflies,  and  even  the 
vision  of  the  courtly  Herald  (possibly  a  type  of  the  wholly 
artilicial  society  of  Courts)  sees  nothing  beyond  the  e»temal 
appearance. 

The  "  flamelets  "  which  the  Boy  also  scatters,  and  which 
he  afterwards  describes  at  leaping  back  and  forth  among  the 
crowd  of  masks,  lingering  awhile  on  one  head,  dying  out  in- 
stantly on  others,  and  very  seldom  rekindled  into  a  tempo- 
rary brilliancy,  need  not,  itow,  be  liirtber  interpreted  to  the 

,14.     Tky  brow  when  laitnli  dtttratt. 

Haue  I  tut  them  with  hand  and  Janty  hratjtdi 

The  appeal  of  the  Boy  Charioteer  to  Plutus  brings  tia  to 

the  second  and  more  carefully  concealed  allegory,  whicli  Iki 


ih,Googlc 


JifOTES. 


34  t 


beneath  Ibe  first,  and  does  not  Eeem  to  have  been  gueaa«d 
by  the  German  commentators.  The  onlj'  ipedal  reason 
why  Faust  appears  in  the  mask  ot  Plutus  is  the  part  which 
Hephieiopbeles  arranges  for  him  to  play  at  the  Emperoi'a 
Court  —  to  assist  in  restoring  the  shattered  finances  of  the 
realm  by  a  scheme  of  paper-money  based  on  boried  treasure. 
At  thi.s  point,  and  hence  to  (be  close  of  the  Carnival  Mas- 
querade, a  thread  taken  from  the  regular  course  of  the 
drama  is  also  introduced,  and  lightly  woven  into  the  alle- 
gory. There  is  no  difficulty  in  fidlowing  both,  and  we 
might,  if  it  were  really  necessary,  be  satisfied  without  look- 
ing further ;  but  Ibe  conversation  between  Plutua  and  the 
Boy  Charioteer,  on  pages  41  and  44,  provokingly  hints  of  an 
additional  meaning.  When  Plutus  says  "soul  of  my  soul 
art  tboul"  it  is  certaiiJy  not  Wealth  speaking  10  Art: 
when  tbe  Boy  Charioteer  says  "as  my  next  of  kindred,  do  I 
love  theet"  it  is  certainly  not  Art  speaking  to  Wealth. 

The  Chancellor  votj  Müller,  in  his  work:  "Gocihe  as  a 
Man  of  Action,"  was  the  first  and  only  one  to  discover  the 
key  to  these  expressions.  The  noble  and  intimate  relation 
which  for  fifty  years  existed  bclween  ihe  Grand  Duke  Karl 
August  and  Goethe  —  the  Ruler  and  the  Poet  —  is  here  most 
delicately  and  feelingly  drawn.  The  manner  in  which  the 
Grand  Duke  assisted  Goethe  in  his  flight  into  Italy ;  the  care 
with  which  he  watched  lest  Ihe  duties  of  his  office  should 
interfere  with  bis  poetic  and  scientific  activity ;  the  beautiful 
renown  given  by  the  latter  in  return  for  this  freedom,  —  are 
all  indicated  in  a  few  lines.  When  the  Her^d  first  describes 
Plutus,  it  is  neither  FausI  nor  Wealth  whom  we  see,  but 
Karl  August  as  Goethe  saw  him ;  — 


The  correspondence  between  Goethe  and  the  Grand  Doke 
M  thoioughly  justifies  this  interpretation,  that  t  do  not  see 
bow  it  can  be  avoided.    The  strong  impression  which  I  have 


ih,Googlc 


343 


FAUST. 


received  from  a  carefiil  Etudy  of  Ihe  HiUna  (Act  III.),  thai 
Euphoiiun  is  not  really  Byion.  but  GORTKB  kimstlf  in  Mit 
foetu  acHt'ily,  is  justified  by  Goethe's  declaration  that  ibe 
Boy  Charioteer  and  Euphorion  are  one,  and  also  —  as  1  shall 
endeavor  to  show  in  subsequent  notes  —  the  Nomunnilus  of 
the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night  Although  this  theory  has 
not  been  adopted  by  any  of  the  German  critics,  it  seems  to 
me  to  furnish  Ihe  simplest  and  most  satisbctoiy  solution  of 
the  most  perplexing  puzzle  which  the  Second  Part  contains 
—  simplest,  because  all  the  illustrations  which  support  it  are 
drawn  (rom  Goethe's  life  and  poetical  developioent,  and 
most  satisfactory,  because  I  can  find  no  Other  which  harmo- 
nizes and  consistently  eiplaitis  the  three  characters. 

It  is  proper  to  make  the  statement  now,  tihere  the  fiist 
evidence  is  furnished.  The  additional  reasons  which  I  shall 
oßer  to  the  consideration  of  the  reader  will  be  given  when 
Homunculus  and  Euphorion  make  their  appearance. 

3S.  Then  Avantia  tKu  tny  name. 
Mephistopheles,  true  to  his  character  of  Negation,  wears 
the  mask  of  Avarice,  which  is  the  opposite  of  active  and 
ostentatiously  exhibited  wealth.  His  address  to  the  women 
is  suggested  by  the  difference  of  gender  between  the  ancient 
Latin  word,  atraritia,  which  is  feminine,  and  the  German,  Jrr 
Cat.  which  is  masculine.  'I'hc  Women  are  perhaps  intro- 
duced here,  iiislcad  of  the  former  mixed  crowd,  becanse  ava- 
rice is  more  repulsive  to  their  nature  and  habiu  than  to 
those  of  the  iiKn 

36.  Drttv  lion  this  peifU  from  thtßeld! 
With  the  departure  of  Euphorion,  the  additiona]  character 
given  to  Plulus  cease%  and  he  is  simply  the  type  of  Wealth. 
When  he  opens  the  treasure-chest,  the  action  of  the  multi- 
tude, contrasted  with  their  reception  of  the  Boy  Ctiarioleer's 
gifts,  explains  itself.  The  intellectual  wealth  turned  into 
beetles  in  their  hands  ;  the  tongues  of  flame,  cast  upon  Iheif 
heads,  flickered  and  went  out ;  but  now  the  show  of  Tiche^ 
which  the  Herald  declares  to  be  a  cbealv  a  joke  of  Cuniral 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


343 


cxates  them  to  *  maddening  exhitrition  of  greed  The  w- 
tion  of  Plutus,  in  driving  back  the  crowd  with  bis  burning 
wand,  appears  to  sjmbuliM  the  usual  terminatiim  of  thoM 
popular  excitements  which  have  wealth  for  their  object, — 
such  golden  bubbles,  for  instance,  as  the  Mississippi  scheme 
of  Law,  the  railway  mania  in  England,  pttroleumln  America, 
etc.  The  fiir;  for  sudden  enrichment  is  followed  by  a  gen- 
eral scorching. 

37.  WiaiviiU  the  lean  fool  do? 
The  predomiDance  of  a  coarse,  material  greed  of  gain  in 
the  people  brings  after  it  a  general  demoraliulion,  the  em- 
bodiment of  which  in  a  palpable  form  is  appropriately  given 
to  Mephistopheles.  He  takes  the  gold  and  kneads  it  into 
shapes,  the  character  of  which  is  so  evident  that  they  need 
not  be  described,  and  which  express  Ihe  natural  consequences 
of  wealih  without  culture  and  refinement.  It  seems  proba- 
ble, as  many  commentators  have  surmised,  that  Goethe  had 
in  view  the  condition  of  France  under  Louis  XV.  and  XVI. 
Diintzer  says  1  "  He  shows  us  how,  in  a  period  of  material 
prosperity,  the  passion  for  wealth  and  indulgence  increases, 
until  it  leads  the  people  to  the  highest  pitch  of  shameless 
immorality." 

38.  TTuy  knmo  not  wkilhtraiard  they  'n  meiuiing, 
Baatitt  they  have  net  looked  ahead. 
We  now  reach  the  last  group  of  the  Carnival  masks,  and 
the  closing  scene  of  the  allegory.  The  commentators  (with 
the  exception  of  Köstlin  and  Kreyssig)  are  agreed  that  it 
represents  the  revolutionary  overthrow  of  a  Stale,  and  they 
differ  only  in  regard  to  (he  interpretation  of  the  details.  The 
"savage  hosts"  are  the  masses  of  iiinorant  people,  whose 
ruder  qualities  are  presently  lypified  under  the  forms  of 
Faurij,  Satyrs,  and  Gnomes.  Since  they  lack  that  foresight 
which  comes  of  intelligence  and  wider  experience,  they  drift 
into  Revolution  without  knowing  whitherward  they  are  wend- 
hig.  Schnelger  thinks  the  Emperor  takes  the  mask  of  Pan 
Itbe  All),  in  the  sense  in   which  Luiiis  XIV.   declared: 


ih,Googlc 


344 


FAUST. 


"  L'Etat,  c*«!  moi  1 "  Härtung  insists  thst  tbe  lioe  "  Full 
well  I  know  what  every  one  does  not"  refers  to  Free-Ha- 
aoniy  and  its  supposed  connection  with  the  French  Revolu- 
tion 1  DUnUer  considers  that  the  Ruler  and  his  Court  are 
responsible  for  the  catastrophe  [a  view  which  seems  lo  be 
justitied  by  Goethe's  eipressions,  quoted  in  Note  7),  while 
others  assert  that  it  is  brought  on  by  ihe  thirst  of  the  people 
for  gold  and  their  subsequent  demoralizatian. 

There  is  one  objection  lo  this  interpretation,  which  I  give 
for  what  it  maybe  worth.  The  Fauns,  Satyrs,  Nymphs,  and 
Gnomes  are  Ihe  attendants  of  Pan  {the  Emperor),  and  their 
parts  are  played  —  as  the  catastrophe  shows  us  —  by  the 
personages  of  the  Court.  Kreyssig  says :  "  They  storm  on- 
wards like  a  savage  host,  the  Emperor  as  Pan,  his  assodaie* 
as  Gnomes  and  Fauns,  collectively  the  representatives  of 
rude  natural  farces  and  desires,  in  contrast  to  the  spiritual- 
ized, Olympian  forms  of  light,  and  when  they  rashly  approach 
the  Are  and  spirit  fountain  of  Plutus,  after  their  first,  amaied 
admiration,  they  are  properly  tormented  by  the  magic  glow, 
although  meanwhile  only  in  sport.  The  part  they  play  is 
more  distinguished  and  exlemally  stalely,  but  not  much 
more  dignified  than  that  of  Ihe  holiday  carousers  whom 
Mephistopheies  so  tricked  in  Auerbach's  Cellar." 

39.    Gnomes. 

Diinuer  asserts  (hat  tbe  Fauns  represent  unrestricted  io- 

dalgence  in  alt  forms  of  sensual  appetite:  the  Satyns  the 

arrogant  will  of  a  Ruler  who  looks  down  upun  and  despises 
the  people  \  Ihe  Gnomes  ihe  unbounded  greed  of  power  and 
wealth;  and  the  Giants  the  stupid  and  stubborn  nature  of 
those  counsellors  who  surround  the  throne  and  endeavor  lo 
crush  every  movement  arising  from  Ihe  development  of  the 
people.  Neither  this  nor  any  other  of  the  mote  particular 
elucidations  of  the  scene  seems  to  me  infallible.  According 
to  Härtung,  ihe  Fauns  are  peasants  iSauern],  and  the  Sa- 
tyrs demagogues.  The  field  of  conjecture,  here,  is  still  open 
to  whoever  wishes  to  enter  it ;  and  I  shall  not  undertake  tu 
decide  whether  -the  masks  represent  classes  or  qualities- 


ih,Googlc 


//OTBS. 


34S 


The  Gnomei  are  the  ootj  ones  who  have  something  mora 
than  «n  allegorical  part  to  play.  They  are  evidently  intro- 
duced as  the  guardians  of  buried  treasure,  in  connecdon  with 
the  tinandal  scheme  of  Mephistopheles.  This  is  clearly  ex- 
pressed, when  their  Deputation  approaches  Pan  and  an- 
nounces the  new  and  wonderful  fountain  of  wealth,  the  spell 
of  which  must  be  broken  by  him.  The  Chancellor  refers  to 
this  episode  in  the  fallowing  scene  (page  jS),  when  he  as- 
sures the  Emperor  that  the  latter  actually  signed  the  man- 
date authoriung  the  issue  of  paper-money. 

The  greeting  "Glück  auf!"  (which  I  have  translated 
"  Good  cheer  I "  though  it  may  also  be  rendered  "  Lock  to 
you  I")  is  in  use  among  the  miners,  everywhere  throughout 
Germany.  It  appears  to  be  exclusively  an  underground  bail, 
and  therefore  appropriate  to  the  Onomefl. 

The  Giant»,  as  they  are  here  described,  nalted,  with  an . 
uprooted  fir-tree  in  the  hand,  may  still  be  seen  <hi  the  coat- 
of-arma  of  more  than  one  princely  house  in  North  Germany. 
They  are  called  fVaJdmänner  (Men  of  the  Woods)  by  the 
people,  and  are  supposed,  by  some  archxologists,  to  be  lin- 
eal deacendants  of  the  Gredan  Fauns. 

40.     At  midday  sleeping,  if  er  Aii  brme. 

"  The  foliage  of  these  oaks  and  beeches  is  impenetrable 
to  the  strongest  sunshine :  I  like  to  sit  tiere  after  dinner  on 
warm  summer  days,  when  on  yonder  meadows  and  on  the 
park  all  around  there  reigns  such  a  silence,  that  the  ancients 
would  have  said  of  it :  '  Pan  sleeps,'  "  —  GoetAe  la  Ecker- 
»w«.,I&4- 

"  The  hour  of  Pan  now  fell  upon  me,  as  always  upon  my 
journeys.  I  should  like  to  know  whence  it  derives  such  :. 
power.  According  to  my  view,  it  lasts  from  eleven  or  twelve 
until  one  o'clock ;  therefore  the  Greeks  believe  in  Pan's 
hour,  the  people  and  also  the  Russians  in  an  hour  of  day, 
when  the  spirits  are  active-  The  birds  are  silent  at  this 
time  1  men  sleep  beside  their  Implements.  In  all  nature 
there  is  something  secret,  even  uncanny,  as  if  the  Dreams 
vere  oeeping  around  the  luwiulay  sleepers.    Near  at  band 


ih,Googlc 


346  FAUST. 

■U  i*  ailent ;  in  the  distance,  on  the  borden  of  the  sky,  thera 
«re  hovering  sounds.  Not  only  do  we  recall  the  pist,  but 
the  Fast  overtakes  us  and  penetrates  us  with  hungry  yeam- 
vig;  the  nty  of  Life  is  broken  into  singularly  distinct  colors. 
Towards  the  vesper,  existence  gradually  gtows  fresher  and 
stronger, "  —  RUhtir,  FUgilj,thre. 

Perhaps  as  a  contrast  to  this  silence  of  the  sleeping  Pan, 
the  Nymphs  recall  the  old  Greek  tradition  of  his  icrrible 
voice,  wherewith  he  even  alarmed  Che  Titans  fighting  against 
Jove.  In  battle,  also,  his  cry  was  sometimes  heard,  and  we 
itill  retain  the  expression  of  the  sudden,  collective  terror  it 
was  supposed  to  inspire,  in  our  word  piaüc. 

41.     TTu  Emptror  bums  and  aU  hit  tkrtng. 

Although  this  scene  is  generally  accepted  as  symbolizing 
Revolution,  Its  character  is  not  so  clear  and  consistent  as  Co 
forbid  other  interpretations.  The  Emperor's  account  of  his 
vision  during  Che  magic  conflagration,  given  in  Che  next  stkne, 
scarcely  harmonizes  with  an  allegorical  representation  of  his 
own  overthrow )  and  there  are  various  details  —  such  as  the 
Dwarfs  (Gnomes)  being  the  conductors  of  the  Emperor  to 
the  fount  of  fire,  the  Herald  holding  the  wand  which  Plutus 
afterwards  uses  to  quench  the  flame  —  to  which  we  cannot 
easily  give  >  political  symbolism. 

I  have  quoted  Kreyssig's  view  (Note  38),  and  here  add 
that  of  Köstlin :  "  When  Pan,  or  the  Emperor,  arrives  wiA 
his  suite,  a  deputation  of  the  Gnomes,  the  spirits  of  the  met- 
als, advances  and  conducts  him  to  the  flowing  gold  in  the 
chest  of  Plutus,  which  they  have  just  discovered.  The  chief 
object  of  the  Carnival  Masquerade  is  therewith  fulfilled ;  the 
Emperor  is  solemnly  declared  to  be  lord  of  the  inexhaustible 
store  of  metals  hidden  in  the  earth.  Then  the  whole,  since 
it  b  only  illusion  and  pleasantry,  apparently  terminates  terri- 
bly  not  the  Revolution,  as  Düntser's  gloomy  interpre- 
tation asserts,  but,  as  it  is  immediately  afterwards  styled,  a 
cheerful  "jugglery  of  flame,"  which  terrifies  only  to  banter, 
and  also  serves,  through  the  seeming  terror  and  the  speedy 
quelling  of  the  conflagration,  to  show  the  magic  irt  of  Faoat 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  347 

in  its  entire  glory.  At  tbe  most,  there  ia  herein  a  hint  tliat 
wealth  may  result  in  damage,  and  that  all  material  splendor 
ii  threatened  with  the  danger  of  annihilation." 

It  it  poMible  that  the  scene  may  be  a  phantasmagoric  pic- 
tare  of  the  consequences  of  the  new  financial  scheme,  wiiich 
the  Emperor  has  just  (unconsciously)  authorized.  MoBl  of 
the  Gennau  commentators,  however,  accept  the  theory  of 
"  Revolution."  There  is  nothing,  indeed,  to  prevent  us  from 
applyii^  both  solutions  at  the  same  time. 

Some  have  supposed  that  the  burning  of  the  Emperor  and 
the  surrounding  oiaaks  was  suggested  by  Ihe  terrible  confla- 
gration which  occurred  at  the  ball  given  by  Prince  Schwar- 
zenbe^  to  Napoleon,  at  Paris,  in  1810.  But  It  is  much  more 
likely  that  Goethe  remembered  the  following  pass^e  from 
Gottfried's  Ckremt,  which  he  must  have  read  as  a  boy : 
"  About  two  years  afterwards  (1394),  when  things  were  a  lit- 
tle better  for  the  King  (Charles  VI.  of  France),  divers  lords 
sought  to  do  him  a  pleasure,  to  which  end,  on  Carol)  day  In 
January,  they  arranged  a  masque  and  disguised  six  of  them- 
selves in  Ihe  likeness  of  Satyrs  or  wild  men.  The  garment 
which  Üiey  had  on  was  tight,  lying  close  upon  Ihe  body, 
thereto  smeared  with  pitch  or  tar,  whereon  tow  hung  like 
as  hair,  that  so  they  appeared  rough  and  savage.  This 
[rieased  the  King  so  well  that  he  was  foin  to  be  the  seventh, 
and  in  like  form.  Now  it  was  at  night,  and  they  must  use 
torches,  because  this  dance  was  begun  in  the  presence  of  the 
ladies.  The  King  came  thus  disguised  lo  Ihe  Duchesse  de 
Beny,  and,  to  her  thinking,  made  himself  all  too  silly  and  rude, 
wherefore  she  held  him  fast  and  let  him  not  go  till  she  should 
find  who  be  was.  But  as  he  did  not  dii^close  himself,  ihe 
Due  d'Urleans,  who  was  beholding  the  dance,  took  a  torch 
from  the  hand  of  a  servant,  and  lighted  under  the  King's 
fitce,  whence  caught  the  pitch  on  the  rool's-gatmeni,  and  the 
King  began  to  bum.  Now  when  Ihe  Olhet»  saw  such,  forgot 
they  their  garments,  ran  thither,  and  would  quench  the  King's 
blaze ;  bat  they  were  in  like  guise  caught  by  the  flame,  aitd 
because  every  one  hurried  to  the  King,  bur  of  those  French 
gentlemen  were  btiraed  «o  miserably  that  they  tbereupoD 


ih,Googlc 


died.  Tnilj  the  King  wa>  preaeTved.  and  no  paitieiiar  in- 
jury  to  bis  body,  but  because  of  the  frigbt  utd  the  peat  oW- 
ctj  he  fell  again  into  hk  fonner  madness-" 

43.    &>  tear  and  at  thi  foriunt-fiäghltd  latf. 

Carnival  and  Allegory  close  together,  and  wiib  this  Bceae 
we  return  to  Faust,  and  his  experiences  at  the  Couit  al  the 
EtnpcTOT.  As  I  have  already  tetnarked,  the  Emperai's  de- 
scription of  what  he  saw  in  the  realm  of  fire  does  ncit  at  all 
haimoniie  «nth  the  Kevoluiiooary  solutionii  whence  Düntcer, 
who  hold»  ^t  to  the  latter,  is  obliged  to  suimiBe  that  Goethe 
mmt  have  lotgotten  the  doee  of  the  (uregoing  scene  wbCB 
he  wtole  the  cnmnencement  of  thisi  I  should  much  prda 
to  believe  that  Goethe  aUowed  one  part  of  hi«  di^licalc  alle- 
gory to  drop  (its  purpose  havii^  been  fulfilled),  and  here 
tnttoduccs  the  Emperor'»  vision  as  a  further  eiplanatioD  o( 
Ibe  other  part,  —  a  deoeptive  picture  of  the  additional  spleo- 
doc  aoA  hoau^e  which  »ball  ibllow  the  new  financia]  scbcia& 
Mephistopheles  blls  irooicaUy  into  the  same  itrün,  and 
KoA  while  be  seems  adroitly  to  flatter. 

Tbe  paper-oKincy  device  was  probably  suggested  by  the 
history  of  John  Law's  operalions  in  Paris,  under  the  Orleans 
Regency,  — &om  171610  1720.  It  is  also  likely  that  Goethe 
remembered  a  passage  in  P<qje's  epistle  to  Lord  Balhnnt 
("On  the  Use  rf  Riches"):  — 


That  Imb  connplkii  ligbUr  winci  to  tj  \ 

Gold  iiDp'd  bj  thEC.  eu  irocnpaia  tnidol  fm^f, 

Cu  pock«  iBIo,  on  fcich  V  carry  kinp ; 

A  m^  lafihill  wift  ui  Mmj  o'er, 

Or  ifaip  cf  Kiutei  ta  Bomc  dinvit  «hoTB ; 

A  lot  liki  Sib^l'i,  KMUr  la  md  fro 

O«  fau*  ud  rorliiDci  u  llv  wia^  akiU  blov  i 

PrvgUDI  TJIh  ihifTnHTi  flili  Ihr  imp  imwifi. 

And  aiknl  seTk  a  king  or  buji  a  queen." 

Edteimann  writes,  December  >7,  1S39:   "After  d 
to-day,  Goethe  read  to  me  the  paper-money  a 


ih,Googlc 


mo  TBS. 


349 


Hephiatophelea  promises  to  bimkh  it.  This  subject  nuia 
through  [he  Ma^quende,  «herein  Mephistopheles  so  man- 
ager that  the  Emperor,  in  the  mask  of  the  great  Pan,  sign* 
a  paper,  wbich.  receiving  the  value  of  money  &oin  hia  sig- 
natuie,  is  then  a  thousand-fold  copied  and  circulated.  Now 
in  this  new  scene  the  circumstance  is  discussed  before  the 
Emperor,  who  does  not  yet  know  what  he  has  done.  Tbe 
Treasurer  hands  over  the  bank-notes,  and  expl^ns  tbe 
transaction.  Tbe  Emperor,  at  £rst  angry,  but  aAer  a  closer 
compreheubiou  of  his  gain  deUgbied,  bestows  the  new  paper- 
money  lavishly  upon  tbe  circle  around  him,  and  ftnalty,  in 
leaving,  drops  several  thousand  crowns,  which  tbe  &t  Fool 
gathers  together  arKl  then  hastens  at  once  to  change  ftotn 
paper  bto  real  estate.' 

"  Scarcely  had  the  scene  been  read  and  «Kme  remarks  con- 
coning  it  been  exchanged,  when  Goethe's  son  came  down 
and  took  his  seat  at  the  table.  He  spoke  of  Cooper's  laU 
romance,  which  he  had  )ust  read,  and  which  be  very  inlelli- 
gently  discuiüied  We  made  no  reference  (o  the  scene  which 
had  been  read,  but  be  began,  of  his  own  accord,  to  talk  of 
the  Prussian  (reasury-notes,  and  that  (bey  were  taken  at 
more  than  their  actual  value.  White  the  young  Goethe  thus 
spoke,  I  looked  at  the  father  with  a  smile  which  he  answered, 
and  we  thereby  showed  that  we  both  felt  the  seasonable 
character  of  tbe  scene." 

Soret  reports,  in  1830 ;  "Goethe  mentioried  his  want  of 
bilh  in  paper-money,  and  gave  reasons  based  on  his  own 
experience.  As  another  evidence  he  related  lo  us  an  anec- 
dote of  Grimm,  in  the  time  of  tbe  French  Revolution,  when 
the  latter,  who  was  no  longer  safe  in  Paris,  returned  to  Ger- 
many and  was  livii^  in  Gotha."  Goethe  then  described  how 
Grimm,  one  day  at  dinner,  had  exhibited  his  lace  sleeve- 
ruffles,  declaring  that  no  king  in  Europe  possessed  so  costly 
a  pair.  Tbe  others  estimated  their  value  at  from  one  to 
two  hundred  louis  d'or  1  whereupon  he  laughed  and  said: 
"  I  actually  paid  250,000  francs  for  them,  and  was  lucky  to 
get  that  much  for  my  atsigitait,  which,  tbe  next  day,  were 
not  worth  a  frnhinf. " 


ih,Googlc 


3SO 


FAUST. 


The  pnrpoM  of  the  «cene,  as  a  part  of  the  plot,  b  to  pn> 
cure  Faust  a  position  at  the  Imperial  Court.  The  character 
of  its  satire  is  drawn  from  subjective  sources,  and  hence  — 
since  ail  successful  satire  must  have  a  basis  of  generally  evi- 
dent truth  —  is  only  partially  effective. 

43<     T%ty  Anuse  wMin  tAeir  iffdal  Hadts. 

Goethe  now  returns  to  the  original  Faust-legend  (vidi  Ap- 
pendii  I^  First  Fart)  in  giving  Faust  the  task  of  invoking 
the  shades  of  Paris  and  Helena.  In  the  legend,  however, 
Mephistopbeles  voluntarily  produces  Helena  as  a  mccuba, 
to  be  the  spiouse  of  Faust :  here  he  remains  true  to  his 
Gothic  character  and  his  negation  of  Beauty.  The  heathen 
race,  be  confesses,  has  its  own  special  Hades,  with  which  be 
has  no  concern.  His  disinclination  to  assist  Faust  is  so  very 
evident  that  we  may  almost  ascribe  to  him  an  instinct  of  the 
elevating  and  pniiiying  influence  which  Helena,  as  the  sym- 
bol of  the  Beautifiil,  will  aftemards  exercise.  Being,  never- 
theless, bound  by  the  terms  of  the  compact,  he  consents  to 
piunt  out  the  method  of  invocatioo,  leaving  the  performance 
to  Faust 

44.    TSo"""' The  Mothers  ! 

Here  is  the  second  enigma,  a  complete  and  aatitfactOTy 
solution  of  which  is  not  to  be  expected.  I  will  first  quote  all 
that  Goethe  himself  has  said  in  relation  to  this  passage.  On 
the  loth  of  January,  1830,  Eckermann  writes:  "To-day.  as  a 
Fupptement  to  the  dinner,  Goethe  gave  me  a  great  enjoyment, 
by  reading  to  me  the  scene  where  Faust  goes  to  the  Mothers. 
The  new,  unsuspected  character  of  the  subject,  ti^icther  with 
ihe  tone  and  manner  in  which  Goethe  recited  the  scene,  took 
bold  of  me  with  wonderful  power,  so  that  I  found  myself  at 
once  in  the  condition  of  Faust,  who  feels  a  shudder  ciecp 
over  him  when  Mepbistophelcs  make»  the  communicatiou. 

"I  had  heard  and  clearly  comprehended  the  description, 
but  so  much  of  it  remained  enigmatical  to  roe  that  I  feh 
tnvwlf  forced  to  beg  Goethe  to  enlighten  me  a  little.  He, 
however,  according  to  his  usual  hatät,  ai 


ih,Googlc 


Tb«  Molhoi  I  Modien  1    It  louDda  h  lingular  t 

" '  I  can  only  betray  »o  mudi,'  he  then  said,  '  that  in  read- 
ing Plutarch,  I  found  that  in  Grecian  antiquity  the  Mothers 
are  spoken  oT  as  Goddesses.  This  b  all  which  I  have  bor- 
rowed, however ;  the  remainder  is  my  own  invention.  Von 
may  lalce  the  manuscript  home  with  you,  stady  it  careAilly, 
and  se«  what  success  you  wUt  have  with  it' " 

Riemer,  in  his  MUthtihatgtn  uttr  Gettht,  relates  that  during 
a  season  at  Carlsbad,  the  latter  tead  the  whole  of  Plutarch's 
Morals,  in  Kaltwasser's  .translation.  "This,"  says  Riemet, 
"gave  us  n?>terial  for  conversation  at  the  table,  or  in  out 
walks,  and  the  cnigroalical  '  Mothers '  in  Fiaal  may  have  re- 
mained in  Goethe's  memory  from  some  one  of  these  occasions. 
For  when  he  questioned  me  on  this  point  twenty  years  artcr- 
waids  —  perhaps  about  the  time  when  he  wished  to  use  the 
material  in  working  on  Fatal —  I  could  not  immediately  say 
where  the  Mothers  were  to  be  found ;  but  he  then  remem- 
bered that  he  had  read  of  them  in  Plutarch.  At  first  I  could 
not  und  the  passages,  and  n^lected  or  forgot  to  make  further 
March  %  but,  aftjr  his  death,  when  1  arranged  the  manuscript 
of  Fault,  memory  and  research  awoke  again.  I  found  both 
passages,  but  did  not  quote  them  because  they  give  no  ex- 
planation of  the  use  which  Goethe  ha«  made  of  those  mystic 
daemons." 

Plutarch's  mention  of  the  Mothers,  however,  is  not  to  be 
found  in  his  Maraiia,  but  in  the  Life  of  Marcellus:  "  In 
Sicily  there  is  a  town  called  Engyium,  not  indeed  great,  but 
very  andent  and  ennobled  by  the  presence  of  the  Goddesses, 
called  tbe  Mothers.  The  temple,  thef  say,  was  built  by  the 
Cretans  ;  and  tbey  show  some  spears  and  brazen  helmets, 
inscribed  with  the  names  of  Meriones,  and  {with  the  same 
spelling  as  in  Latin)  of  Ulysses,  who  consecrated  them  to 
the  Goddesses  " 

Härtung  has  discovered  another  pass^e  in  Plutarch  {Dt 
Dtfici.  Orac.  21),  wherein  the  Mathers  are  not  mentioned. 


ih,Googlc 


J5» 


FAUST. 


It  it  true,  but  which  Goethe  evidently  bore  in  hii  miitd  km) 

applied  in  ih[s  scene :  "  There  ire  a  hundred  and  eighty-three 
worlds,  which  are  arranged  in  the  form  ofa  triangle.  Each 
side  has  sixty  worlds  in  a  line,  the  other  three  occupying  the 
corners.  In  this  order  they  touch  each  other  softly,  and  ever 
revolve,  as  in  a  dance  The  apace  within  the  triangle  is  to 
be  conudeied  as  a  common  fold  for  all,  and  is  called  the 
Field  of  Truth.  Within  it  lie.  moveless,  the  causes,  shapes, 
•nd  primitive  images  of  all  things  which  have  ever  existed 
and  which  ever  shall  exist  They  are  surrounded  by  Eternity, 
itom  which  Time  flows  forth  as  an  effluence  u|>on  the  world». " 

The  reader  must  bear  in  mind  that  Paris  and  Helena  are 
together  typical  of  the  highest  and  purest  physical  embodi- 
ment of  the  idea  of  Beauty  —  the  Hutnan  Form  (nde  Note 
87  to  the  First  Part),  and  that  Helena,  alone,  afterwards  be- 
comes the  symbol,  both  of  Beauty  and  ofthe  Classic  element  in 
Art  and  Literature.  The  Mothers,  therefore,  (admitting  the 
significance  of  themn^',  which  suggested  their  use  to  Goethe) 
must  of  necessity  symbolize  the  original  action  of  those  ele- 
mental fuiccs  in  Man,  out  of  which  grew  the  aesthetic  devel- 
opment of  the  race,  in  whatever  form.  We  may  find  the 
primitive  source  of  all  science  in  material  necessity  ;  our 
other  knowledge  is  based  upon  the  operation«f  natural  laws : 
but  the  Idea  of  the  Beautiful  has  a  more  mysterious  origin, 
springs  from  a  diviner  necessity,  and  finds  only  bints,  not 
perfect  results,  in  the  operations  of  Nature. 

Gocibe  made  it  a  rule  to  discover  some  positive,  however 
dimly  outlined.  Form,  in  which  to  clothe  abstract  ideas. 
This  is  always  a  difficult  and  sometimes  a  hazardous  eiperi- 
ment.  Here  the  forma,  instead  of  more  clearly  representing, 
seem  to  have  further  confused  the  thought,  if  we  may  judge 
from  the  variety  of  interpretations  which  have  bren  offered. 
Dr.  Anster  has  managed  to  present  the  latter  with  bo  much 
brevity,  and  at  the  same  time  so  correctly,  in  his  note  on  this 
passage,  that  I  fallow  the  order  of  his  summary,  only  en- 
larging it  hy  the  introduction  of  additional  views  and  giving 
a  translation  of  the  phrases  he  quotes. 

Eckermaan.  after  tailing  home  Goetbe's  mamuctipt  aafl 


ih,Googlc 


353 


NOTES. 

daljr  pondering  over  it,  evoWed  out  of  bii  inniaet  c 
tiess  ihc  discovery  that  the  Mothers  are  the  "  creating  and 
Mutaining  principle,  from  which  everything  proceeds  that 
has  life  and  form  on  the  surface  of  the  Earth."  Kösllin  de- 
nies that  they  are  creative,  but  says  (bey  are  the  sustaining 
and  conservative  principle,  adding :  "  They  are  Goddesses, 
wbo  preside  over  the  eternal  metamorphoses  of  things,  of 
all  that  already  exists."  Dtintzet  calls  the  Mothers  the 
"primitive  forms  (or  ideas)  of  things,"  — Urbildtr  der  Dii^. 
But,  according  to  Rosenkranz,  they  are  "(he  Platonic  Ideas," 
while  Härtung,  agreeing  with  Dunlzer  that  they  are  "  the 
primitive  forms  of  things,"  adds  thai  "  they  dwell  in  the 
desert  of  speculative  thought"  Weisse  slates  that  they  are 
"the  formless  realm  of  the  inner  world  of  spirit  —  (he  invisi- 
ble depih  of  the  mind,  straggling  to  bring  forth  its  own  con- 
ceptions." From  this  view  it  is  but  a  step  to  the  matri<a 
of  Paracelsus,  which,  in  fact,  we  find  partly  accepted  by 
Deycka.  who  sees  in  the  Mothers,  as  in  the  matrictJ,  "the 
elemental  or  original  material  of  alt  forms."  Riemer'sview 
is  substantially  the  same,  —  "they  are  the  elements  from 
which  spring  all  (hat  is  corporeal  as  well  as  all  that  is  intel- 
lectual " 

The  theories  which  most  of  the  above  critics  spin  from 
these  interpretations  arc  too  finely  and  consistently  meta- 
physical to  have  been  intended  by  a  poet  liice  Goe(he,  whose 
nature  recoiled  from  metaphysical  sysiema.  Nevertheless, 
they  are  all  guesses  in  the  same  direction,  and  perhaps  if  wc 
do  not  attach  too  Hieral  a  significance  to  Goethe's  mysterious 
Deep,  wherein  is  no  Space,  Place,  or  Time,  and  are  content 
to  stop  short  of  the  very  "utterly  deepest  bottom"  of  conjec- 
ture, we  may  get  a  little  nearer  to  his  actual  conception.  It 
is  not  easy  to  conceive  how  Formlessness  can  be  represented 
by  Form,  though  we  may  very  well  accept  it  as  a  vast,  mys- 
terious background  ;  and  this  is  all,  1  feel  sure,  that  Goethe 
Intended. 

Schnetger  has  picked  up  the  most  satisfactory  clew, 
Kreyssig  has  followed  it,  and  Goethe  himself  has  given  ua 
in  tmconsdous  hint  of  i(s  correctness.    The  commentary  of 


ih,Googlc 


354 


FAUST. 


the  first  Is  much  too  long  to  be  quoted,  but  it  is  subntin- 
tially  this :  The  primitiv«  idea  of  forms  does  not  exist  in 
Nature,  which  works  according  to  the  pattern  set  by  a  First 
Designer.  The  realm  of  the  original  conceptions  of  things 
it  therefore  outside  of  Space  and  Time,  and  the  Mothers  are 
imaginary  existences,  who  typify  the  unknown  and  unfathom- 
able origin  of  all  forms,  and  chiefly,  here,  of  those  eternal 
Ideals  of  Beauty  which  bei;ome  more  real  (o  the  Poet  and 
Artist  than  the  never  utterly  perfect  work  of  Nature. 

Kreyssig  says :  "  The  poet  evidently  prepares  to  lead  ibe 
character  of  his  hero  towards  that  refining  and  purifying  ex- 
perience, to  which  he  himself  consciously  owed  bis  grealeat 
gain  and  bis  highest  joy,  —  tbe  refinement  following  an  ear- 
nest, creative  worship  of  those  ideals  of  Beauty  which  have 
descended  to  earth  in  the  masterpieces  of  classic  art.  With 
what  fervor  Goethe  and  his  equal  friend  (Schiller)  rever- 
enced these,  with  what  sacred  feeling,  what  severe,  devoted 
•olemnily  they  served  at  (he  same  shrine,  their  common 
activity  is  a  wngle,  continuous  evidence.  Goethe,  especially, 
dated  a  new  life,  a  complete  spiritual  regeneration,  ftoro 
his  penetration  into  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  masters.  A 
profound  withdrawal  into  himself,  an  almost  abrupt  relin- 
quishment of  the  society  around  him,  characterized  the  first 

earnest  beginning  of  his  studies Only  a  firm,  manly 

resolution  leads  Faust  to  the  sacred  tripod,  the  primitive 
symbol  of  Wisdom,  through  the  contact  of  which  he  wins 
power  over  the  primitive  forms  of  things,  over  the  radical 
conditions  of  that  beautiful  state  of  being,  accordant  with 
Nature,  which  the  Artist  must  know  before  he  can  "call  the 
Hero  and  Heroine  from  the  Shades,"  and  create  imperish- 
able forms  as  (he  fair  material  revdatioos  of  his  dreams. 
What  Goethe  here  celebrates  under  the  form  of  the  Mothers 
enthroned  in  Solitude,  is  sung  by  Schiller,  if  our  instinct 
does  not  deceive  us,  in  that  thoughtful  poetn,  "of  (he  re- 
gions where  the  pure  forms  dwell,"» 

In  Eckermann's  third  volume,  he  describes  a  conversation 
which  he  had  with  Goethe,  during  a  drive  along  the  Erfurt 


ih,Googlc 


ÄTOTES. 


3SS 


road,  in  April.  1827:  "'I  must  laugh  at  the  acMhetidans 
{j£ttketiJier)'  said  Goeth«,  '  who  so  lormeni  themaelve«  to 
epitomize  in  a  few  abstract  nords  all  the  unutterable  ideas 
for  wbicb  we  use  the  expression,  baaoiful.  The  Beauiilul  ia 
a  primeval  pkenvtnttioH,  v)kkk  iiideeä  nrver  btcamei  vitMt 
itaff,  but  the  reflection  of  which  is  seen  in  a  thousand  vari- 
ous expressions  of  the  creative  mind,  as  various  aiid  as  man- 
ifold, even,  as  the  phenomena  of  Nature.' 

" '  I  have  often  heard  it  said,'  Eckermann  remarked, '  that 
Nature  is  always  beautiful,  —  that  she  is  the  despair  of  the 
artist,  because  be  is  seldom  capable  of  fully  eqaalling  her.' 

"'I  well  know,'  Goethe  answered,  'that  Nature  often 
CEhitnts  an  unattainable  charm  ;  but  I  am  bf  no  means  of 
the  opinion  that  she  is  beautiful  in  all  her  manifestations. 
Her  designs  are  always  well  enough,  indeed,  but  not  so  the 
conditions  which  are  necessary  in  order  that  the  desigiu 
shall  be  completely  developed.' " 

The  realm  where  the  Mothers  dwell  is  visible  to  the  secret 
vision  of  the  Poet  and  the  Artist  The  Goddesses  only  see 
"wraiths";  around  them  is  "Formation,  tTansformation "  ; 
there  is  no  way  to  them,  and  no  spot  whereon  to  rest,  —  but 
who  and  where  they  are  is  clearly  revealed  it) 
"  The  Ught  that  nenr  wu  en  sei  or  land. 

They  are  the  unknown,  "unreachable,"  "  unbeseechable " 
sources  of  all  immortal  embodiments  of  Beauty,  —  the  mys- 
terious, primeval  forces  which  manifest  themselves  through 
Genius  in  a  manner  inexplicable  to  all  ordinary  human  con- 
sciousness; which  remove  those  who  know  them  !xc  from 
Space  and  Time,  into  a  spiritual  isolation  which  only  the 
brother-genius  can  comprehend,  but  even  he  cannot  share. 
In  the  Dedication  to  his  Poems,  Goethe  thus  addresses 
the  Muse:  — 


There  might  seem  a  contradiction  to  the  purely  xstbetic 
interpretation  of  this  scene,  in  the  circumstance  that  Faust 


ih,Googlc 


356  FAUST. 

n  directed  to  tbe  Mothers  b;  MifkUi^htlei,  bat  berc,  as 
occasionally  elBcwhere  in  the  Second  Pan,  tbe  nask  (A 
Mephistopheles  drops  and  we  see  the  face  of  Goethe  him- 
•elf.  To  inast  on  the  rdle  of  Negation,  which  explains  the 
Ibrms  assumed  by  HepUstophdes  in  the  Carnival  Masquer- 
ade, the  Classical  Walpuigis- Night,  and  the  Helena,  would 
lead  lo  great  confiision.  There  is,  however,  a  partial  return 
to  diamatic  truth  in  tbe  expression  of  Faust,  thai  be  hopes 
to  find  his  All  in  the  Nothing  of  Mephistopbele*. 

45.     Htrt,  take  this  key  t 

The  symbols  of  Che  Key  and  Che  Tcipod  have  also  given 
rise  10  much  speculalirm.  Thcii  iseaning,  of  course,  iü  en- 
tiiely  dependent  upon  that  which  may  be  attributed  to  the 
Uothers,  since  the  key  is  (o  guide  Faust  to  tbe  latter,  and 
then  enable  him  to  gain  possession  of  the  tripod,  the  incense- 
■Tooke  of  which  will  shape  itself  into  the  ideals  of  Human 
Beauty.  Schnelger  and  Kreyssig  agree  that  the  tripod  is  a 
•ymbol  of  the  piofoundest  wisdom,  and  tbe  Ibnner  attache« 
to  it  the  idea  of  "intuition,"  What  we  call  the  intuilioo 
of  Genius,  however,  is  the  highest  and  purest  form  of  wi«- 
dom,  and  Goethe,  therefore,  may  have  intended  to  typify  (hat 
wondrous,  unerring  instinct,  which  from  the  "airy  rvothing" 
of  the  incense  smoke  can  evoke  the  immortal  Beautiful. 
Schnelger  coniiders  the  key  to  be  a  "  glowing  sense  of  the 
charms  of  the  material  form."  With  others,  it  is  a  symbol 
of  intense,  passionate  Desire.  If  Goethe  had  Specially  in 
view  the  creation  of  ideals  of  Beauty  by  tbe  Grecian  mind, 
still  other  meanings  would  lie  sugj^ested.  We  must  seek  in 
Nature  lor  the  keys  to  the  myths  of  Greece,  which,  them- 
selves, were  designed  lo  be  keys  A>  Nature. 

What  Mr.  Ruskin  says  of  the  works  of  Homer :  "  TTiey 
were  not  conceived  didactically,  but  they  are  didactic  in  their 
essence,  as  all  good  art  is"  —  is  equally  true  of  this  and 
other  episodes  of  the  Second  Part  of  Fau^.  We  find  trace« 
of  that  truth  which  reaches  the  poet  by  a  deeper  intuition, 
having  the  involuntary  nature,  yet  also  the  distinctness,  of  a 
dream  ;  and  which  always  contains  mote  than  its  ntterer  can 


ih,Googlc 


dearly  express.  He  cannot  reject  it,  for  it  comes  to  him 
with  an  irreaisiible  authority :  be  miiit  ihereibre  be  ailint, 
*nd  suffer  it  to  Btond  as  a  mystery  for  bin  coDlemporaiiea. 

46.  A  gmtU  Utk  ftrmit,  tieit,from  myfoett 
The  motive  of  this  scene  seems  to  be,  10  renew  the  contraat 
between  the  »hallow,  artificial  society  of  the  great  world,  artd 
pure  devotion  to  ideal  aims.  At  the  same  time  it  enables 
Mephistoptieles  to  resume  his  old  character,  and  Goethe 
(through  him)  (0  satirize  tlie  homaopalhic  theory  of  medicine, 
in  the  cure  of  the  Brunette. 

Id  the  Pamüpemena  there  arc  two  fragments  whid)  seem 
to  belong  here :  — 

W«  with  (ba  u 
CooHdawn  mt  ] 


47.      HlKALD. 

The  Herald,  whose  office  is  to  proclaim  in  advance  th« 
character  of  the  action,  acknowledges  himself  baffled :  he 
sees  only  "  a  wildcring  distraction  "  in  the  coming  perform- 
aoce,  and  therefore  describes  the  scene  instead  Even  in 
the  few  lines  of  description  there  is  a  covert  satire.  The 
Empetor  is  placed  where  he  may  comfortably  see  the  pictures 
of  battles ;  in  the  background  aie  lovers,  who  recognize  in 
the  occasion  only  an  opportunity  for  coming  together. 

Goethe  intended  at  one  time  to  introduce  a  play,  as  in 
"  Hamlet,"  and  he  appears  to  have  chosen  Foitinbras,  Ham- 
let's successor,  as  the  hero.  The  fragment  of  a  scene  which 
remains  gives  us  no  hint  of  the  character  of  the  play,  nor 
can  WE  be  certain  that  it  would  have  been  introduced  in  con- 
nection with  the  appearance  of  P^ris  and  Helena.  Never- 
theless, the  fragment  may  be  here  given :  — 


ih,Googlc 


358 

Thmtm. 

(r*,«*».  wkttu^ii.Ki^,  o/,«».»««««»»*?) 

s.     Bnn,  old  Fordnbru,  old  c 

hapl    Youuefeeliac 

b«ll,:f™o.n,h 

m  1  'm  »rry  for  r«i.     Uiki 

a»  .Hbrt,-OBl»  a  km 

«ordinan!    Wt 

hill  not  »OD  Iglin  luua  Kin«  Ulli. 

Chahcklwi. 

■»lead  of  Ihat.  «  ihall  ha»  Ihi  fcrmiM,  t»  kcar  iba 

wiK  rcmuki  of  Hu  II*j«ty  >h>  Enp««  to  n«h 

s.    ThaliiunethiDiwydiflc 

«L    YoflfEiDetleDCT 

DHd  not  pmuu. 

Whii «  Mb«  «urda  aar  ia  qa 

Faust.     H<uta  1 

taaah  1  he  Dinea  afaiiL 

Acid«.    Dipin 

tb«iaiici»>lawan.dapaRl    Bh»«]  be  (Iuh  forlhr 

lui  KDb  iDd  all  ih 

e  (ood  »hich  thou  haat  apoken. 

The  evil,whkA  thou 

-BtohliWf-»». 

amdl 

LoiiD  High  SnwAKD.    Do  not  ipnk  k>  loud  1 

The  Emperor  aleepi; 

Hi>  M^tur  do« 

one™  will 

48.    Architect. 

The  seen«  upon  the  stage  is  a  Doric  temple ;  the  musive 
character  of  the  pillars  is  here  hitited,  and  the  triglj^hs  ara 
afterwards  mentioned.  By  introducing  the  Architect,  Gcethe 
means  not  only  to  satirize  the  exclusive  devotion  of  the  Ger- 
man mind  to  Gothic  art.  but  also  to  show  how  the  Classic 
and  Romantic  lepel  each  other  when  first  brought  into  con- 
tact. It  was  simply  necessary  thai  be  should  remember  the 
character  or  bis  own  development.  In  177z  he  published  an 
essay  "  On  German  Architecture  "  (the  word  Ctrvtan  being 
purposely  used  instead  of  Gotkit).,  containing  a  glowing  pan- 
egyric on  Erwin  von  Steinbach,  the  architect  of  Strasburg 
Cathedral.  Yet  in  1810  he  wrote  to  Count  Reinhard  ;  "  For- 
merly I  had  also  a  great  interest  in  these  things,  and  cher- 
ished I  sort  of  idolatry  for  the  Strasburg  Cathedral,  tbe 
facade  of  which  I  siill  consider,  as  then,  greater  than  that  at 
Cologne.  But  the  most  singular  thing  to  me  is  out  German 
patriotism,  which  endeavors  to  represent  the  evident  Sara- 
cenic growth  as  having  originally  sprung  up  on  German  soil." 

The  Doric  temples  at  Girgenti  and  Pgestum  produced  such 


ih,Googlc 


XOTES. 


359 


a  profoand  impres^n  upon  Goethe's  mind,  tbat,  by  a  nat- 
tual  reMtion,  he  was  for  a  time  repelled  by  Gothic  art.  In 
describing  the  architrave  of  the  Temple  of  Antoninua  and 
Faustina,  in  Rome,  he  wrote :  "  This  is  indeed  »omething 
other  than  onr  cringing  saints  of  the  finical  Gothic  spirit, 
piled  one  over  another  on  brackets  and  corbels, — some- 
thing other  than  onr  tobacco-pipe  columns,  pointed  turrets 
and  flowery  pinnacles.  From  these,  thank  God,  I  am  now 
eternally  delivered  I " 

49.     Wiai/er  ence  mar,  Ihtn  turns  and  brigAttnsJru 
lit  tptmdor  — far  V  vteuldfaiH  eternal  be. 

Faust's  invocation,  it  seems  to  me,  cannot  easily  be  inter* 
preted  from  any  other  point  of  view  than  that  which  I  have 
chosen  for  the  Mothers.  The  expression  "Whate'er  once 
was  "  (xrtainly  does  not  apply  to  all  forms  olLife  upon  the 
earth  —  still  less  to  absiract  thoughts,  speculations,  or  philo- 
sophical systems.  What  can  It  be  but  all  creations  of  Beauty, 
whether  lost  to  the  world  or  still  possessed  ?  Tliey  would 
&in  be  eternal,  and  the  Artist  never  admits  to  himself  that 
they  have  actually  perished.  In  that  mysterious  realm  of 
the  imagination  where  their  forms  were  first  designed,  thejt 
still  exist  as  "wraiths,"  in  company  with  all  those  forms 
which  never  advanced  from  design  to  fulfilment,  —  with  the 
unwritten  poems  of  Homer,  and  Dante,  and  Shakespeare, 
thf  unchiselled  gods  of  Phidias,  the  completed  Dawn  of 
Michel  Angelo,  the  unpainted  dreams  of  Tintoretto  and 
Raphael.     I  interpret  the  line:  — 

"  Life  Kius  urn.  aloBK  hii  (radau  cmnc," 
as  referring  less  to  the  life  of  these  conceptions  in  Art,  than 
to  the  occasional  revelations  of  the  Beautifiit  in  Man  and 
Nature.  The  Magician,  who  arrests  other  forms,  and  "  be- 
stows as  his  faith  inspires  "  would  then  be  the  Artist,  whose 
nature  is  for  the  time  (as  we  have  already  seen)  typified  in 
FausL 

ja     Whodeth  mi hiamhe gtntlt  FarisvxIU 

The  description  of  the  Doric  temple  first  prepares  us  for 


ih,Googlc 


jöo  FAUST. 

tbe  apparition  of  (he  Gredan  kkala  of  B«aiRy,  and  dow  the 
mysterious  music,  the  ringing  of  the  shafts  and  triglyphs,  the 
■inging  of  the  «hole  bright  temple,  is  introduced  with  won- 
derfiil  effect.  When  Paris  advances  "  with  rhythmic  Blep," 
we  have  x  suggestion  of  Poetry,  in  addition  to  Music  and 
Architecture,  m  that  all  Art  celebrates  the  coming  of  the 
highest  dream  of  Beauty  in  tbe  Hijmin  Form. 

The  personages  of  the  Imperial  Court  not  only  represefi^ 
through  their  comments  on  Paris  and  Helena,  the  manner  in 
which  the  Artist's  purest  achievements  present  themselves 
to  commonplace  and  conventional  natures,  but,  if  Riemer  be 
correct,  ihey  have  a  persona)  character,  also.  He  says  :  '*  To 
the  Weimar  public,  or  rather  to  the  priviJeged  persons  of  the 
Weimar  Court  circle,  there  was  an  elemenl  of  interest  which 
WB  cannot  feel :  (he  six  or  seven  ladies  and  gcntieinen  who 
take  part  in  tbe  dialogue  represented  well-known  persons." 

This  scene  may  have  been  suggested  by  one  of  Count  Ham- 
ilton's talcs,  "  The  Enchanter  Faustus,"  wherein  the  latter 
calls  up  Helen  of  Troy,  and  other  women  noted  for  their 
beauty,  before  Queen  Elizabeth  and  her  Court.  The  impres- 
sion which  Helen  makes  upon  the  Queen  and  courtiers  is  so 
similar  tu  Goethe's  description,  that  I   qtioie  a  portion  of 

"This  figure  walked  a  certain  time  before  the  company, 
and  then  turning  fiux  to  face  with  Ihe  queen,  (hat  she  might 
have  a  better  view  of  her,  (ook  leave  of  her  with  a  kind  of 
half-pleasant,  half-haggard  smile,  and  went  out  by  rite  other 

"  As  soon  as  she  had  disappeared,  (he  queen  exclaimed, 
'  What !  is  that  the  lovely  Helen  f  Well,  I  don't  plume 
myself  on  my  beauty,'  she  continued,  '  but  may  1  die,  if  I 
would  change  faces  with  her,  even  if  it  were  pos.tiUe.' 

" '  I  told  your  Majesty  as  much,'  replied  the  magician, '  and 
jret  you  saw  her  enactly  as  she  appeared  when  in  ihe  very 
zenith  of  her  beauty.' 

" '  Still,'  said  Lord  Essex,  '  I  think  her  eyes  may  be  con- 
sidered tine/ 

"'It  must  be  admitted,'  rejoined  Sydney,  'that  they  an 


ih,Gobglc 


NOTES.  361 

hrge,  nobly  «luped,  black,  and  sparklh^  bat  what  expre»- 
Bion  is  there  in  them  i ' 

" '  Not  I  particle,'  replied  the  favorite.  The  qaeen,  nhoee 
face  that  da;  was  ai  red  as  a  turkey-cock's,  asked  them  «hat 
they  thought  of  Helen's  porcelain  complexion. 

" '  Porcelain ! '  cried  Essex,  '  't  is  but  common  delf  at  the 
best.- 

"  '  Perhaps,'  continued  the  queen, '  such  may  have  been  the 
fashion  in  her  time,  but  you  roust  agree  with  nie  that  there 
never  could  have  been  an  age  when  such  a  pair  of  feet  would 
be  loierated.  I  don't  dislike  her  dress,  however,  and  I  'm 
not  sure  whether  I  shall  not  bring  it  into  fashion  instead  of 
those  horrid  hoops,  so  embarrassing  on  certain  occasions  to 
iu>  women,  and  on  others  to  you  men."' 

51.  Thiferm,  lAal  long  treuhilt  my  fiuuji  tapliirtd. 
This  is  one  of  the  few  references  to  the  First  Part,  which 
we  find  in  the  Second.  Faust  remembers  the  form  which  be 
saw  in  the  magic  minor,  in  the  Witches'  Kitchen  (First 
Part,  Scene  VI.),  and  which,  we  may  now  be  sure,  was  nei- 
ther Margaret  nor  Helena,  but,  as  I  have  already  stated,  the 
beauty  of  the  female  form.  There,  it  was  the  visible  beauty, 
as  it  is  more  or  less  developed  in  every  living  form  :  here,  it 
is  the  perfect  IdeaL  Let  the  reader  compare  the  ex|>ression 
of  Faust's  passion  for  Margaret  (First  Part,  Scene  XII.)  ■— 

To  yield  ou  wholly,  ud  la  feci  ■  tapniR, 
In  vieldjDg,  that  iniut  be  fllenial  \ 
Elenul  I  —  tbr  the  end  muld  be  deipur. 
Ko,  no,  ^  na  «iidinc  I  no  ending  I 
wiA   the  ecstasy  following  the   revelation  of  an  esthetic 
Ideal  :  — 

'T  u  tboo.  to  *bon  the  idr  of  ill  uy  tm*«, 

The  Mience  of  my  paetion't  foroe«,  — 

Lote,  &ncy,  wonhip,  madneie,  —  here  T  ituder  1 

and  the  meaning  of  the  passage  cannot  be  doubtful  to  anjr 
one  who  appreciates  the  firte  spiritual  passion  which  poa- 
•esses  the  Poet  and  the  Artist 

Kieyssig  alone,  of  all  the  German  cominenialors,  seems  to 

VOL.  II.  16 


ih,Googlc 


363  PAUST. 

hiTe  comprehended  tbe  spirit  of  this  scene.  HeHT«:  "The 
Artist  has  seen  his  Ideal.  His  joy,  his  yearning,  rises  to  a 
burning  desire,  to  a  resolution  so  powerful  that  nothing  can 
intimidate  it.  Again  the  old,  passionate  blood  seethes,  al- 
though now  wanned  by  a  nobler  fire.  The  impetuous,  ruh 
attempt  to  win  at  one  blow  as  a  permanent  poiwession  that 
which  has  only  been  revealed  in  a.  fleeting  glimpse,  tails, 
like  his  former  attempt,  through  that  radical  law,  which  only 
gives  the  most  pfedoua  gifts  in  return  for  labor  and  patience. 
The  apparition  vanishes,  and  in  the  abrupt  reaction  we  see 
him,  who  would  Gun  be  superhuman,  lying  senseless  on  the 
earth.  The  first  assault  of  his  ambitious  claim  has  been  re- 
sisted, but  bis  resolution  remains  irrevocable.  He  cannot, 
now,  remain  longer  at  the  Emperor's  Court  The  man  of 
ideal  vision  and  creation  must  equally  bit  to  find  his  place 
there,  as  formerly  among  the  dissolute  groups  of  (he  Blodis- 
berg.  The  period  of  his  intellectually-artistic  development 
and  maturity  commences,  and  the  poet  inaugurates  it  by  a 
series  of  sometimes  varied  and  fantastic  allegories,  in  order 
(o  complete  it  afterwards  in  the  Third  Act,  the  scenes  of 
which  are  excellent  and  truly  dramatic,  in  spite  of  all  tbdr 
symbolism  and  allegory." 

It  is  a  great  consolation  to  find  a  view  which  one  can  so 
heartily  and  totally  accepL 

51.    laiU  thtpiiii:  The  Rape  of  Helena. 

The  Astrologer,  apparently,  only  uses  this  expres^on  in 

order  to  exdle  Faust  by  the  apprehension  of  loss,  and  thus 

bring  about  the  catastrophe  with  which  the  act  doses.    In 

Hen  IwtlKild  H I  Reaiili«  h«  centre  I 
we  have  a  striking  contrast  to  Faust's  impatience  and  dis- 
gust with  the  results  of  all  Icnowledge,  in  the  opening  mono- 
l(^ue  of  the  First  Part.  It  is  almost  a  prophecy  of  that 
supreme  content  which  would  delay  the  flying  Moment ;  and 
Mephistopheles  might  hope  soon  to  claim  his  wager,  iMit  for 
the  circumstance  that  his  negative  nature  is  utterly  incapable 
of  comprehending  Faust's  passion  for  the  BeantifiiL 


ih,Googlc 


//OTES.  363 

Schne^er  sa;a :  "  The  title  (The  Rape  of  Helena)  sbnplp 
means  to  eiprets  more  clearly  that  the  fomi  was  only  a 
prophetic  vision,  and  now  vanishes ;  that  Faust  is  not  yet 
aufficiently  advanced  to  retain  the  Beautiful ;  that  Helena, 
the  highest  ideal  of  An,  resembles  that  form  of  the  Shades, 
which  seems  so  near  that  Faust  cries ;  '  How  can  she  nearer 
be '. '  and  yet  is  ever  stolen  Irom  him  who  would  too  impetu- 
ously grasp  her." 

Mr.  Lowell,  in  his  poem  of  "  Hebe,"  expresses  the  same 
idea:  — 

"Oapnidthrin  Hula  I  amil  the  Godii 


There  is  one  slight  concluding  pnizle  in  this  scene.  If 
the  key  which  Faust  holds  represents  Desire,  why  should  it 
be  aimed  (in  the  manner  of  a  pistol)  against  Fans?  The 
latter  is  bere  a  part  of  the  Ideal  Beauty.  If  the  act  indicates 
more  than  Faust's  unthinking  rashness,  I  cannot  explain  it. 

53,     MSPHISTOPHELES  {coming forth  frma  bthinda  curtain). 

In  December,  1829,  Goethe  read  the  opening  scene  of  the 
Second  Act  to  Eckermann.  At  iu  close,  he  »aid:  "The 
conception  is  so  old,  and  I  have  so  carried  and  considered 
it  in  my  niind  ibr  fifty  years,  that  the  material  has  greatly 
increased,  and  my  most  difficult  work,  at  present,  consists  in 
•election  and  rejection.  The  invention  of  the  entire  Second 
Part  of  Fautt  is  really  as  old  as  I  say.«  Hence  it  may  be  an 
advantage  to  the  work,  that  I  now  write  it,  after  all  the  affairs 
of  life  have  become  so  much  dearer  to  roe-  My  experience 
büke  that  of  one  who  possesses  in  youth  a  great  many  small 
wlver  and  copper  coins,  which  he  gradually  exchanges  In 
the  course  of  his  life,  until  he  finally  sees  all  his  early  wealth 
^ng  belbre  him  as  pieces  of  pure  gold." 

I^  as  teems  probable  from  the  evidence,  the  dialogue  be- 

*  GdmIm  nuM  DMin.  here.  Ifac  original  conecplian  or  gnnnd.pliin  of 


ih,Googlc 


304  FAUST. 

tween  Mephistophdei  and  the  Baccalanreua  was  written  •OOM 
thiily  or  forty  years  before,  the  opening  page»  of  the  scene 
may  undoubtedly  be  refened  to  (he  year  1819.  What  Goethe 
•ays  of  its  conception  must  not  be  taken  100  literally.  We 
may  guess  Chat  bis  lirst  intention  was  to  give  FausE  a  part  to 
play  in  bis  old  Gothic  chamber  :  the  reappeannce  of  Che 
Student  of  the  First  Part  as  Baccalaureus  »eems  to  be  hardly 
a  sufficient  motive  for  the  return  to  Place  and  the  porposed 
contrast  of  Time.  Hephistopheles,  whose  part,  througbout 
the  period  of  Faust's  aesthetic  development  (Acts  II.  and 
III.),  ii  supposed  to  be  Ignorance  as  «ell  as  N^atioD,  for- 
gets himself  in  almost  the  first  words  he  spealis:  — 
"  Whom  Htlvia  «hull  ponlf]» 

The  idea  of  the  Beautiful  is  this  "  insane  root,"  which.  Id 
the  eyes  of  conventional  humanity.  Cakes  the  Artist's  reason 
prisoner.  Faust  lies  senseless  until  he  reaches  the  Pharsa- 
lian  Fields,  in  the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night,  and  Goethe, 
meanwhile,  becomes  prompter  to  Mephtstopheles,  as  the 
latter  was  to  the  Astrologer.  The  reader  must  be  wanted 
not  to  expect  any  dramatic  consistency  in  this  and  the  follow- 
ing scen&  While  writing  them,  the  First  Part,  it  is  very 
evident,  was  constantly  before  Goethe's  mind,  not  as  a  still 
secret  and  vital  inspiration,  but  as  something  gone  from  bim 
forever,  something  considered,  judged  and  set  in  its  place  by 
the  world,  shorn  of  the  joy  of  private  possession  and  poirer- 
less  to  reproduce  its  own  original  power.  He  translates  his 
thoughts  (roni  the  natural  language  of  Age  into  that  of 
Youlh,  and,  as  in  all  translation,  he  is  not  quite  equal  to  the 
original. 

54.     CreHheU  farevtr  muil  bi  haUlud. 

There  is  a  pun  in  the  German  which  cannot  be  given. 
GtUUh  means  both  criclati  and  croUhcti  or  splenetic  humors, 
the  first  reference  being  to  the  insects  which  Mephistopheles 
has  shaken  oat  of  the  old  fur.  In  describing  this  act  Goethe 
makes  use  of  the  word  far/areUin  to  designate  one  variety 
•f  insects,  —  probably  a  mistake,  intended  for  the  Italian 


ih,Googlc 


KOTES. 


365 


word  firfaldtt,   wbkh  has  the  samB  donUe  meuiiig  aa 
Gritlen. 

Taking  these  two  wiMdt  in  connectkm  with  tlie  foregoing 
■atire  of  Mepbistopiicles,  we  may  conjecture  that  the  "Cho- 
rn*  of  Iniects"  is  inleoded  to  represent  all  the  whims, 
crotchets,  and  theories  of  mechanical  acholanliip,  —  the  ver- 
miniferous  life  which  is  bred  in  tlie  mould  of  pcdantty.  At 
the  cloM  of  Scene  IIL,  First  Part,  Mephistophelcs  declare« 
himself  to  be 

"The  tori  of  nB  and  ckg  of  mm. 
Of  Binuil  bedbagi.  frnciand  ÜMt" 
for  which  reason,  apparently,  the  insects  hail  him  as  patron 
and  äther.  Diintzer  says :  "  The  Devil  ridicules  the  dead 
scholarship,  the  waste  and  mould  of  the  chamber,  wherein 
CriOen  most  ever  be  produced :  we  might  even  suppose  that 
the  insects,  especially  the  farfaUtti  (moths)  and  cicadas,  are 
an  indication  of  the  crotchets  and  distorted  views  of  life  to 
which  taixaa  are  so  eauly  disposed." 

55.     BACCAUtVktUS. 

The  new  Famolus,  who  it  a  spiritual  descendant  of  the 
Wagner  of  the  First  Part,  is  introduced  to  give  Mephis- 
tophelcs the  opportunity  of  continuing  liis  irony.  Some 
imagine  that  in  the  latter's  description  of  the  immense  repu- 
tation and  authority  whidi  Wagner  has  acquired  Goethe 
intended  a  reference  to  the  extravagant  popularity  which 
Kchte  enjoyed  at  the  University  of  Jena.  Inasmuch  as  the 
irony  of  (he  passage  is  sufficiently  dear  without  this  personal 
application.  I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  give  the  grounds 
on  which  the  conjecture  is  based. 

Ii  seems  to  me  evident  that  the  conversation  between 
Mephistophelcs  and  the  Baccalaureus  (commencing  on  page 
90)  b  oue  of  the  earlier  fragments.  Frau  von  Kalb  de- 
clared that  Goethe  read  to  her  the  whole  or  a  portion  of  it, 
at  least  twelve  years  before  the  publication  of  mc  First  Part, 
consequently  in  1796,  about  which  time  there  are  passagea 
in  the  correspondence  with  Schiller  which  furnish  an  indirect 


ih,Googlc 


366  FAUST. 

explanation  of  tome  of  the  exprestfons.  The  Baccalanrens, 
moreovei.  is  so  admirable  and  consialent  a  continuation  of 
(he  Student,  and  Mephislopheles  (»cepl  at  the  very  close 
of  the  interview)  ii  so  like  his  old  self^  that  the  reader  of  the 
original  cannot  help  remarking  Che  difierence  in  execution. 
I  trust  there  maj  be  Bome  evidence  of  it  in  the  transliHon. 
The  earlier  pasaage  commences  at  the  line:  "li,  ancient 
Sir,"  etc. 

Eckennann  asked  Goethe  whether  a  certain  class  of  ideal 
philosophers  was  not  typified  in  the  Baccalaurens. 

"No,"  said  Goethe;  "he  is  the  personification  of  that 
presumption  which  spedally  belongs  to  youth,  and  of  which 
we  had  so  many  striking  examples  in  the  years  immediately 
after  our  War  of  liberation.  Every  one,  however,  believes, 
in  his  young  days,  (hat  the  world  really  began  with  him,  and 
that  everything  exists  for  his  individual  sake.  Thus  there 
was  once  a  man  in  the  Orient,  who  as.«emb1ed  bis  people 
about  him  every  morning  and  suffered  them  not  to  be^ 
their  labors  nnCil  he  had  commanded  the  sun  to  rise.  Of 
course  he  was  shrewd  enough  not  to  utter  the  command 
until  the  sun  was  on  the  point  of  rising  without  it" 

In  an  earlier  conversation  (upon  a  work  of  Schubart), 
Goethe  said  :  "  1  have  always  kept  myself  entirely  free  Irom 
Philosophy  :  my  standpoint  was  that  of  sound  human  under- 
standing." 

5a.  But  den'l  ga,  oAielutr,  hamt  from  here. 
There  is  a  philosophical  antithesis  implied  in  the  words 
"resolute"  and  "absolute,"  in  this  couplet  Mephistoph- 
elei  uses  the  former  word  in  its  double  sense  of  "  deter- 
mined" and  "dissolved,"  while  the  latter,  according  to 
Kreyssig,  is  a  sarcastic  allusion  to  the  Hegelian  philosophy. 
It  would  seem  from  what  follows,  however,  that  Goethe  had 
Fichte  in  his  mind,  rather  than  HcgcL 

57.     Witt  Mte  hoj  paistd  kit  thirtieth  year, 
OfU  then  iajait  the  same  at  dead. 

The  reference  to  Fichte  is  here  not  (o  be  mistafcen.    Tha 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  367 

fcllowing  pMSi^  occurs  in  his  works ;  "  When  tbey  hare 
passed  their  thirtieth  year,  one  well  might  wish,  fur  their 
own  reputation  and  the  advantage  of  the  world,  that  they 
would  die ;  since,  from  that  age  on,  their  lives  will  only 
be  an  Increasing  damage  to  themselves  and  their  assoda- 

When  Flehte  first  appeared  as  PTofessor  at  Jena  in  1794, 
Goethe  was  very  ävorabiy  inclined  towards  him  and  his 
theory,  but  the  prepossession  gradually  wore  away,  partly  in 
consequence  of  FIchle's  boundless  assumption  of  infallibility, 
and  partly,  no  doubt,  from  the  indiscreet  conflict  of  his  disd- 
pte»  with  the  much  smaller  circle  aronnd  Goethe  and  Schil* 
ler.  The  latter  writes,  on  one  occasion :  "  According  to 
Fichte's  own  expressions,  the  Me  is  also  creative  through  its 
reptescntalions,  and  all  reality  eiists  only  in  the  Me,  The 
world,  to  him,  is  nothing  but  a  ball  which  the  Me  tosses  up, 
and  which,  in  its  contemplation,  it  catches  again  I  He  thus 
actually  seems  to  have  dedaied  Ua  own  Godhood,  as  we 
recently  antidpated." 

The  expression  of  the  Baccalaureus : 

"  Saw  through  irjr  will,  no  DenI  cut  there  be," 
and  the  magnificent  glorificatioa  of  the  Idea,  with  which  he 
departs  from  the  chamber,  certainly  do  not  simply  express 
the  ordinary  presumption  of  youth.  If  the  reader  will  recall 
the  stanza  headed  "  Idealist,"  in  the  Intermette  of  the  First 
Part,  which  was  also  written  in  1796  (a  drcumsiance  corrob- 
orative of  Frau  von  Kalb's  testimony),  and  which  is  univer- 
sally accepted  as  a  representation  of  Fichte,  he  will  recog- 
oJM  precisely  the  same  features  here. 

58.  Who  can  think  viia  or  itufnd  thingi  at  all, 
Tkal  wert  not  thought  alrtady  in  Ihi  Pastf 
Goethe  was  acquainted  with  a  little-known  volume  of 
'^me.  some  of  the  maxims  of  which,  translated  by  himsetl^ 
were  found  among  his  papers  and  ignorantly  published  as 
original  fragments  by  Eckennann  and  Riemer.  The  work, 
which  i«  entitled:    "The  Koran,  or  Essay*,  Sentiments, 


ih,Googlc 


368  FAUST. 

Character«,uidCaUniuc)iie*iifTriaJaiKtihUno.M.  N.  A. 
or  Master  of  No  Arts,"  wa*  poblished  to  Vieniu  in  179& 
Tbere  appears  to  have  been  an  earlier  edibon ;  but  I  ana 
nnablie  to  sa;,  in  view  of  certain  resemblances  betweea 
Sterne  and  licbtenbeij^  which  borrowed  from  the  other. 
The  following  passage  is  undoubtedly  Steme's :  — 

"  But  that  nothing  is  new  under  the  sun  «as  declared  bf 
S^omon  some  years  ago :  and  it  ii  impoiaible  lo  provide 
again«  evils  that  have  already  come  to  pass.  So  that  I  am 
sure  I  have  reason  to  cry  ou^  with  Donatus,  apud  Jerom  — 
Ptreant  qta  aHü  noi  nostra  Jixtrtaitl  For  I  have  ever  wrott 
without  study,  books,  or  example,  utd  yet  have  been  charged 
with  having  borrowed  this  hint  from  Rabelais,  that  fron 
Montaigne,  another  from  Martitius  Scnbleru*.  etc.,  withoot 
having  ever  read  the  first  or  remembered  a  word  of  the  latter. 

"  So  that,  all  we  can  possibly  say  of  the  most  original  as* 
tbors,  nowadays,  ii  not  that  they  say  anything  new,  but 
only  that  they  are  capable  of  saying  such  and  such  things 
themselves,  '  if  they  had  never  been  said  before  them.'  Bat 
as  monaichs  have  a  right  to  call  in  the  specie  of  a  state,  and 
raise  its  value,  by  their  own  impression ;  so  there  are  Certain 
prerogative  geniuses,  who  are  above  plagiaries,  — who  can- 
Dot  be  said  to  steal,  but,  from  their  improvement  of  a  thought, 
rather  to  borrow  it,  and  repay  the  commonwealth  of  letters 
with  interest  again ;  and  may  more  properly  be  said  to  adopt, 
than  to  kidnap,  a  sentiment,  by  leaving  it  heir  to  their  own 

Goethe,  In  his  conversations,  very  emphadcally  repeated 
this  view.  In  1815,  he  said :  "  People  talk  forever  of  Origi- 
nality, but  what  docs  it  all  mean !  As  soon  as  we  are  bom 
the  world  begins  to  operate  upon  us,  and  continues  to  do  so 
to  the  end.  And  everywhere,  what  can  we  call  spedally  our 
own,  except  energy,  strength,  and  will  ?  If  I  shoold  declare 
for  how  much  I  am  indebted  to  great  predecesaora  and  con- 
temporaiiea,  there  would  not  be  a  great  deal  left" 

Three  years  later,  he  thus  expressed  himself  to  Eckennann : 
"  It  is  true  that  we  bring  capacities  into  life  with  us.  but  wa 
owe  our  development  lo  the  ttiousand  inHuenosa  of  a  gresC 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  369 

world,  from  which  we  aufmilMe  M  we  am.  I  owe  mncb  to 
the  Greeks  and  to  the  Freoch ;  raj  debt  to  Shaketpcare, 
Steme,  and  Goldsmith  is  immeasurably  great.  NevertbelcM, 
the  sources  of  my  culture  are  not  therewith  indicated :  to  name 
them  all  would  be  an  endless  tasic,  and  to  no  purpose.  The 
main  thing  is,  that  a  man  has  a  soul  loving  the  Truth,  and 
accepting  it  wherever  be  finds  it.  But  the  world  is  now  so 
old,  and  for  thouaands  of  years  past  so  many  impoTtanC  men 
have  lived  and  thought,  that  few  poeitively  new  things  can  be 
discovered  and  said." 

The  expression  of  Mephistopbeles,  however,  seems  to  have 
been  more  directly  suggested  by  a  line  in  Terence :  NuUtim 
tHjam  dictioH,  qtied  mm  diettim  litfiritu. 

The  sudden  introduction  of  a  theatrical  detail  at  the  doM 
of  ibis  scene  is  a  piece  of  satirical  wilfulness  on  Goetbe't 
pan.  The  younger  auditors  in  the  parquet  do  not  applaud, 
because  they  are  all  in  sympathy  with  the  Baccalaureus,  even 
as  the  students  of  Jena,  severally  and  collectively,  were  en- 
thusiaslic  disciples  of  Ficbte.  The  movement  among  tbe 
German  youth,  which  culminated  in  the  famous  Wartburg 
convention  of  1817,  was  extremely  distaslefiil  to  Goethe,  and 
led  to  a  coolness  on  the  part  of  the  students  which  did  not 
paM  away  until  the  next  generation.  From  various  utter- 
ances of  Goethe  on  this  alienation  of  youth  from  him,  I 
quote  the  following  verse  :  — 

Ai  Ibe  old  ODU  nine  "bbb. 

So  twiuercd  ümb  the  youDR  01» ; 

The  young  bow  give  Ihe  vhythm, 

Aod  old  muH  nog  il  with  'em. 

When  tuch  tbe  (niw  and  «rill  ii» 

The  be«  thing,  to  keep  itill  it. 

59.      HUMITHCIJLUS. 

This  whimsical,  artitidat  manniiiin  is,  in  reality,  the  chief 
personage  in  Act  II.  Since  be  is  no  less  an  enigma  to  the 
Clitics  than  the  mysterious  "  Mothers,"  and  suggests  even  a 
greater  varicly  of  meanings  In  tbe  course  of  his  adventures, 
it  will  not  be  so  easy  to  give,  in  advance,  a  full  and  satisfac- 
tory esplanaticMi  of  his  character.  I  prder.  therefore,  to  oSer 
i6*  X 


ih,Googlc 


tbe  reader  choice  of  Kveral  tncks,  leaviiiK  th«  «bich  I  bb- 
lieve  to  be  the  true  one  to  be  further  followed  in  succeeding 

The  nunc  and  mode  of  origin  of  Homunculus  arc  taken 
from  PiraceUus,  and  some  hint  of  the  character,  possibly, 
from  Sterne.  The  former,  in  the  first  book  of  hii  /fe  Geiie- 
ratient  Rmtm,  says  :  "  But  now  the  grneratio  AemuncuUrnm 
is  by  no  means  to  be  forgotten.  For  there  is  something  in 
it ;  although  such  his  hitherto  been  held  in  the  greatest  se- 
crecy, and  there  has  been  no  small  doubt  and  question  among 
divers  of  the  old  philosophers,  whether  it  may  even  be  posu- 
bje,  that  a  man  may  be  bom  without  the  natural  mother. 
Thereto  I  answer,  that  it  irnot  at  all  contrary  to  the  art 
Spagyriea  and  to  Nature,  but  is  quite  possible.  And  although 
such  has  hitherto  been  concealed  itaia  the  natural  man,  yet 
«as  it  not  concealed  from  the  sytvatm,  and  nymphs,  and 
giants,  but  long  ago  revealed,  whence  also  they  originate. 
For  from  sncb  hemtmailit  they  grow  to  Ailt  age,  monstrous 
dwatb  and  other  like  wonderful  creatures,  which  are  em- 
ployed as  powerful  agendes,  are  victorious  over  (heir  ene- 
mies and  know  secret  things,  which  men  otherwise  could  not 
know.  And  by  art  they  receive  their  life,  by  art  they  receive 
body,  flesh,  bones,  and  blood ;  by  art  are  they  born :  there- 
fore Art  is  in  them  incarnate  and  self-existing,  so  that  they 
need  not  learn  it  from  any  man,  but  are  so  by  Nature,  even 
as  roses  and  other  flowers." 

Paracelsus  thereupon  gives  minute  and  exact  direction* 
how  the  Homunculus  may  be  created  \  and  the  attempt  has 
no  doubt  been  actually  made  thousands  of  times.  Sterne,  in 
(he  second  chapter  of  THstram  Shandy,  treats  the  subject 
with  more  than  his  usual  wit  and  grace,  averring  that  the 
Homunculus  is  as  much  a  man  and  a  brother  as  the  Lord 
Chancellor  of  England.  The  attraction  which  such  a  con- 
ception (intellectually  speaking)  presented  to  Goethe's  mind 
may  be  readily  guessed,  and  a  curious  coincidence  probably 
led  to  its  embodiment  in  this  scene.  The  philosopher,  Jo- 
bann Jacob  Wagner,*  seems  to  have  possessed  tome  of  the 
■  Ha  na  bom  it  Ulm  in  1775,  uid  died  Ihn*  in  1141.    He  Modied  at 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


371 


characteristic!  of  his  namesake  of  (he  First  Pail  After  th« 
^pearance  of  the  latter,  in  iSoS,  Prof.  Köhler,  of  Wiirzbnrg, 
gave  a  lecture  upon  it,  in  which,  either  as  jest  or  malice,  be 
declared  thai  bis  fellow-professor  was  the  original  of  Faost'i 
Famuliu.  About  the  same  time,  Wagner  propounded  the 
most  astonishing  views  in  his  lectures,  some  of  which  —  as, 
for  instance,  "  all  organisms  are  nothing  but  developed  met- 
als," and  the  assertion  that  "  Chemistry  would  finally  suc- 
ceed in  producing  organic  bodies,  even  in  creaiing  humatv 
beings  bp  crystallization  "  —  were  repeated  all  over  Germany, 
and  must  have  reached  Goethe's  ears.  The  scene,  as  it 
stands,  WM  thus  suggested  10  him ;  for  the  attempt  to  create 
life  artificially  harmonizes  completely  with  the  lifeless  pedan- 
try of  which  Wagner  is  the  representative. 

Professor  Wagner  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  origi- 
nal "  Fragment "  of  Fatat.  He  lectured  upon  it,  and  even 
published  an  analysis  of  the  work,  in  1S39 ;  but  he  rejected 
both  the  Second  Part  and  the  additions  to  the  First  Part 
which  appeared  in  1 S08  1 

Nothing  which  Goethe  has  himself  said  concerning  Ho- 
mancnlus  will  much  enlighten  us.  Indeed,  his  expressions 
seem  to  have  been  purposely  uncertain  and  mystical:  both 
here,  and  in  his  remarks  upon  Euphorion,  the  care  with  which 
be  guarded  the  Key-secret  is  ver}'  apparent.  After  reading 
the  scene  to  Eckermann  (December  16,  iSzg),  hesaid  :  "  Vou 
will  have  noticed,  in  general,  that  MephisCopheleH  appears  lo 
a  disadvantage  in  contrast  with  Humunculus,  who  is  his 
equal  in  intellectual  clearness,  and  much  his  superior  through 
his  inclination  for  the  Beautiful  and  Ibr  a  promotive  activity 
Besides,  he  calls  him  Sir  Cousin  ;  for  spiritual  beings,  like 
Homunculus,  who  were  not  obscured  and  limited  by  a  com- 

Jcu  ind  GtttiKE«.  and  wu  Ibr  miny  fan  Pmfnicir  id  Wfinbuic 
Amoflg  hit  «orlu  arc  "  A  Thmr  of  Wuinih  and  Li(h1,"  "  A  Syiuni  ol 
Idtal  Phikw^T."  "Phllmophy  oT  Education,"  "Palilial  Ecodobit." 
-  Phik>«iphy  ind  Mcdkint."  «sd  "  The  Principle  of  Life  "    He  mw 

ihc  i,)»m>  of  Kai».  Fichie.  Sdiellii«  ud  UbmIC  H«  had,  at  0« 
tiiM«  a  andt  of  devout  boHavor» 


ih,Googlc 


plete  buman  incoqKiration,  were  djased  aaumg  the  Daenton^ 
and  tbeTefi>reaiortDfrdationshipina.]rbepTe*unicd  between 
the  two." 

"  MepbiBtupheles,"  said  Eckemunn,  "  certain!]'  appear* 
here  in  a  subordinate  position  ;  but  I  cannot  eiicape  the  idea 
that  he  is  secretly  implicated  in  the  creation  of  Homuncuin«, 
according  to  our  fanner  knowledge  of  him,  and  also  from 
his  appearance  in  the  HeUna  as  a  secretl]>-wor1dng  agency. 
Thus  he  is  again  elevated,  u  a  whole,  and,  with  his  superior 
impassiveness,  he  may  overlook  some  of  the  details." 

"  You  have  a  very  just  instinct  of  the  relation  ."said  Goethe; 
"  it  is  really  ho  ;  and  I  have  already  reflected  wbecher,  when 
Hepbistophelcs  goes  to  Wagner,  and  Uomunculus  is  ctHning 
into  being,  I  should  not  put  scKoe  lines  in  his  mouth,  which 
might  make  his  co-operation  clear  to  (he  reader." 

'*  There  would  be  no  harm  in  thai,"  Edtennann  answered. 
"  Yet  it  ie  already  hinted,  when  Mephistophelc*  doae*  the 
iceiw  with  the  words :  — 

'  Upon  ihe  cnitui«!  wt  Iutb  nad* 
We  ue.  ound«,  u  lui,  depmluL' " 

The  following  additional  note  was  found  among  Riemet^ 
poalhumous  papers  :  "  In  answer  to  my  question,  what 
Goethe  meant  to  represent  in  Homunculus,  Eckermann  sjüd  : 
Goethe  thereby  meant  to  present  the  pure  EnUtchit  C&n- 
Mx"",  An  Aristotelian  word  signifying  tht  mhtal  ietHg  of  a 
IhingI,  the  Reason,  the  Spirit,  as  it  enters  life  before  experi- 
ence ;  for  the  Soul  of  Man  is  highly  endowed  on  its  arrival, 
and  we  by  no  means  team  evetylhing,  we  bring  much  with 
ns.*  To  Goethe  himself  the  world  was  very  early  opened, 
in  advance  of  experience  ;  he  penetrated  it,  before  he  knew 
it  through  his  life.  He  also  pointed  out  to  Eckermann  Ihe 
shrewdness  and  attentive  perception  of  his  little  granddaugh- 
ter Alma.  Yes,  Goethe  himself  ha*  a  eon  of  respect  for 
Homunculus." 

*  "  Nol  ID  enlLrv  fn^iftihieii, 
And  not  in  niter  nakedD«», 
Bui  IniCinsclogdt  of  alory,  dowvoiaift." 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


37a 


There  ia  probably  a  good  deal  of  purposed  mystification  in 
all  this.  Nothing  tliat  is  here  reporled  explains  Ihe  office  of 
Homunculus  as  guide  to  tlie  Classical  Walpurgis-Night  and 
the  prominent  part  which  he  there  plays,  to  Ihe  exclusion  of 
Faust.  Let  us  now  consider,  as  briefly  a»  jiossible.  some  of 
the  most  important  interpretations  of  the  critic*  Weisse 
says :  "  Hotnunculus  is  the  objective  expression,  the  hypo- 
static form  of  Faust's  present  spiritual  condition,  struggling 
for  a  new  birth  into  another  and  unknown  condition  of  exist- 
ence." I^utbecher's  explanation  is  :  "  He  appears  as  -he 
petsonification  of  that  spiritual  condition  in  Faust,  which, 
sprung  to  life  in  the  realm  of  external,  mechanical  scholar- 
ship, and  awakened  by  the  keen  irony  of  sensuous  being,  is 
liiTthered  by  the  repose  of  the  genuine  and  truly  poetical 
spirit,  —  a  condition  in  which  he  first  overlooks  the  whole 
mythical  world  of  antiquity,  and  through  which  it  is  possible 
for  him  to  comprehend  tlie  being  of  the  True,  the  Ethical, 
and  the  Beautiful,  which  that  world  holds  concealed." 

Another  series  of  opinions,  having  some  metaphysical  oi 
psychological  relationship  to  the  above,  may  next  be  quoted. 
Düntrer  says :  "  Homunculus  is  the  thoughtful,  striving 
force,  urged  in  vital,  self-conscious  power  towards  the  Ideal 
Beauty,  which  it  hopes  to  attain,  not,  like  Faust,  by  a  wild 
assault,  but  by  a  gradual  and  certain  march."  According  to 
Horn,  he  is  "  the  yearning  for  the  creation  of  the  Beautiful," 
while  Rölscber  considers  that  he  is  an  embodiment  of  Faust's 
imperious  yearning  for  the  original  home-land  uf  Art 
Schnctger  lakes  a  similar  idea,  and  compresses  it  into  a 
more  definite  form.  "Homunculus,"  Mys  he,  "is  the  hu- 
man  embryo,  the  germ  of  the  perfectly  beautiful  human 
frame  ;  he  is  the  highest  Beauty,  developed  through  a  scale 
of  thousands  of  forms,  —  in  a  word,  he  is  the  embryo  of  He- 
lena !  ....  Homunculus  is  Human  Beauty  in  process  of 
creation,  Helena  antl  Galatea  are  Created  Beauty." 

I  add,  in  conclusion,  those  interpretations  which  varj 
more  or  less  widely  from  the  foregoing.  Härtung  declares 
that  "what  Helena  is  to  Faust,  that  is  Homunculus  to 
Uephistopheles,  a  creation  of  his  fancy,  and,  ueverthetess,  bia 


ih,Googlc 


374  «'«'^ 

ruling  spirit."  H«  ignores  anjr  oonnection  between  Homim- 
cuius  and  Faust  RoseDknnz  nrnpl;  elates  that  Homunca- 
lus  is  a  "  comical "  figure,  who,  at  tlie  dose  of  the  Classical 
Wal purgis- Night,  "manifests  himself  as  Eroa."  Köstlin 
■ays,  with  unconcealed  irritatioD :  "  Grant  that  the  new 
spirit  is  drama (icalljr  necessary,  grant  that  he  is  cleverly 
invented,  the  figure  is  and  remains  an  uncdifying  trick,  a 
ridiculous  image,  with  which  the  poet  himself  plays  a  game 
which  totally  annihilates  it  It  is  difficult  to  say,  indeed, 
what  should  have  appeared  in  place  of  this  Homunculus, 
but  that  is  no  excuse  lor  the  poet  ....  The  figure  suffers 
from  the  contradiction,  that  it  is  cmnical  and  not  comical,  at 
the  same  time."  Deycks  thinks  he  is  an  elemental  spirit, 
perhaps  of  fire,  and  adds :  "  He  appears  as  bom  Knowl- 
edge, yet  yearning  for  the  real,  corporeal.  He  endeavors  to 
find  them  in  the  natural  knoirlcdge  of  the  aodents,  and 
returns  to  the  elements,  as  fire,  like  phosphorus  in  union 
with  water."  Friedrich  von  Sallet  considered  him  to  be 
German  Poetry  before  Schiller  and  Goethe,  and  Julian 
Schmidt  Greek- Romantic  Poetry. 

KreysMg,  who  insists  that  the  reader  mtist  approach  this 
part  of  the  drama  with  "a  vital,  receptive  spirit,  free  ftom 
prejudice  or  prcpossessioii,"  if  he  wishes  to  enjoy  and  under- 
stand it,  endeavors  to  solve  the  problem  in  a  different  man- 
ner. He  attaches  a  spedal  meaning  to  the  relation  between 
Wagner  and  Homunculus.  accepting  the  former  as  a  type  of 
solid  research  and  knowledge,  while  he  sees  in  Fanst  a  per- 
sonification of  Genius.  "  What  the  explorer  has  laboriously 
produced,"  he  says,  "  becomes  a  living  light  to  Genius,  guid- 
ing him  into  regions  which  Fate  has  dosed  against  the 
former."  Kreyssig  does  not  seem  to  perceive  that  this 
living  light  (Homunculus)  is  a  quality  inherent  in  Genius 
itself,  and  not  In  the  productions  of  sdenlific  research.  Vet 
he  approaches,  unconsdoualy,  a  little  nearer  the  secret,  in 
the  passage  ;  "We  know  in  what  full  measure  the  funda- 
mental law  ofa  healthy  artistic  development  was  ejiem)^ified 
in  Goethe's  life ;  how  he.  in  the  maturity  of  his  power,  br 
from  the  daring  wantonness  of  the  '  Storm  and  Stress '  yeai\ 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  375 

found  no  forni  of  knowledge  Atj  and  nniinpoTtant  which  had 

any  bearing  on  Nature  and  Art ;  how  he  studied  at  the  same 
time  Geology,  Botany,  Anatomy,  Optics,  and  Metrics,  the 
histoiy  of  Literature  and  Art" 

I  am  satisfied  that  much  more  of  Goelhe's  own  struggle 
towards  a  higher  intellectual  and  aesthetic  development  is 
reflected  in  the  Second  Part  of  Fausi,  than  the  critics  seem 
willing  (o  admit.  The  first  three  Acta  are  saturated,  through 
and  through,  with  his  intellectual  subjectiveness.  It  was  not 
his  habit  of  mind  to  build  theories,  nor  could  he  have  taken 
the  least  interest  in  the  representation  of  abstract  ideas. 
He  was  never  satisfied  until  the  vaguest  gossamer-wraith  of 
the  imagination  had  found  some  corresponding  reality  of 
form.  A  careful  study  of  his  correspondence  with  Schiller 
and  Zelter  will  illuminate  all  this  portion  of  the  drama  with 
a  multitude  of  broken  and  transient  lights,  which  may  some- 
limes  confuse,  but,  in  the  end,  will  discover  much  that 
seemed  hidden  at  fiist. 

My  impression  that  the  Boy  Charioteer,  Homunculus  and 
Euphorion,  are  one  and  the  same  elfish,  elusive  Spirit,  which 
is  the  Poetic  Genius  of  Goethe  himself  (as  its  enteiakeia, 
other  allegorical  garments  being  thrown  over  it  at  will), 
grew  into  very  distinct  form  as  a  feeling,  or  instinct,  before  I 
made  any  endeavor  to  apply  it.  Such  an  interpretation  does 
not  reject  those  of  Weisse,  Lcutbechcr,  Düntier,  Horn, 
Rötscher,  or  Schnetger  :  it  only  completes  and  harmonizes 
all  of  them.  Leutbechcr,  indeed,  stops  a  little  short  of  the 
same  view,  when  he  says  ;  "  As  in  the  First  Part,  Wagner 
and  Mephistopheles  are  person  ifications  of  certain  tenden- 
cies in  Faust,  so  also  here  the  same  thing  must  be  assumed, 
and  Homunculus  is  added  as  the  personification  of  a  new 
tendency."  Now,  in  i8z7,  in  speaking  of  Ampire's  review 
of  Fausi,  Goethe  said :  "  He  has  expressed  himself  no  less 
intelligently,  in  asserting  that  not  only  the  gloomy,  unsatis- 
fied striving  of  the  chief  personage,  but  also  the  scoffing  and 
sharp  irony  of  Mephistopheles,  are  parts  of  my  own  being." 

Add  to  this  confession  the  play  of  that  pranksome  {mutk. 
"if^ig)  spirit  in  Goethe,  which  even  age  could  not   tame. 


ih,Googlc 


J  76  FAUST. 

«od  hia  delight  in  mysti&cation,  which  bad  constant  food  ia 
(he  respectful  credulity  of  lesser  intellects,  and  I  find  it  easy 
to  understand  how  he  has  conliised,  in  endeavoring  to  con- 
ceal, his  design.  There  will  be  sufficient  opportunity  to  add 
whatever  illustrations  are  possible,  before  we  reach  the  end 
of  the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night ;  and  I  will,  now,  only  b^ 
th*  reader  to  notice  that  the  Ideal  which  led  Goetbe  onward 
and  upward  during  the  best  years  of  hia  life,  is  very  nearly 
described  in  the  words  of  Paracelsus,  —  "  Art  is  in  them  in- 
carnate and  self  existing,  so  that  they  need  not  leant  it  from 
any  man,  but  are  so  by  Nature,  even  as  roM*  and  other 

60.     Far  tetTKry  I 

In  this  passage  Homunculus  describes  the  dream  of  the 
sleeping  Faust,  which  is  visible  to  bim  alone  Faust  has 
already  gone  liirtber  back  towards  the  origin  of  Beauty,  in 
this  picture  of  Helena's  parents,  Leda  and  the  Swan-Jupiter. 
The  separation  of  the  Classic  and  Romantic  elements,  which 
commenced  in  the  First  Act,  now  becomes  complete,  and 
the  occupation  of  Mephistopbeles  —  at  least  in  bis  original 
character  —  is  gone  for  a  time.  Eckermann  said  to  Goethe, 
alter  the  latter  had  read  the  manuscript  of  the  passage : 
"Through  this  dream  of  Leda  in  the  Second  Act,  the  Hflena 
afterwards  witks  its  proper  Foundation.  There  much  is  said 
of  swans  and  the  swan- begotten ;  but  here  the  event  is  pic- 
tured, and  when  one,  with  the  impression  on  his  :<enses, 
comes  afterwards  to  Helena,  how  mucb  more  distinct  and 
complete  everything  will  appear  !  " 

Goethe  assented  to  this,  and  said:  "Vou  will  also  lind 
that  already,  throughout  these  first  acts,  the  Classic  and  the 
Romantic  vibrate,  and  come  to  expression,  so  that,  as  by  a 
gradually  ascending  slope,  we  are  carried  upwards  to  the 
Helena,  where  both  forms  of  Poetry  come  prominently  to  the 
light  and  find  a  species  of  adjustment." 

The  ignorance  of  Mephistophetes  concerning  the  Classicai 
Walpuigis-Night  is  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  he  is  a 
Gothic,  medieval  Devil,  from  the  North,  and  "brought  forth 


ih,Googlc 


/fOTES.  377 

h  the  age  of  mist."  The  classic  world  had  ceased  before  be 
hegan  to  exist.  He  hai  brought  Faust  lo  the  old  «tudj  to 
recovei)  but  Homunculus  sees  tliat  (like  Goeihe  in  Weimar 
before  his  Italian  journey)  Faust  will  die  unless  he  is  io- 
fttantly  traniported  to  the  land  where  his  dream  can  be  made 

6i.    But,  cUarlirr  uen,  'tit  ilait  that  fightt  with  tlavt. 

Goethe,  here,  entirely  forgets  Mephislopheles  and  speaks 
with  his  own  voice.  There  are  man;  slips  of  the  bind,  as 
the  reader  will  have  already  noticed,  but  none  quite  so  un- 
dramatic  as  this. 

The  scene,  allhongh  not  strictly  geographically  correct,  !■ 
admirably  chosen,  since  the  classic  age  may  be  said  to  ter* 
ininate  with  the  Battle  of  Pharsalia  (B.  C.  48).  The  Peneu* 
and  Tempe,  Greece  beyond  Findus,  on  the  right,  Olympus 
and  Ossa  overlooking  the  plain,  the  sea  in  front,  with  Samo- 
tbrace,  Lesbos,  Tenedos,  and  the  Troad  beyond,  —  these  are 
the  features,  not  all  visible,  hut  all  suggested  by  the  locality. 

63.  /  may  deUct  the  det  upon  Iki  "  /." 
This  expression  (which  Goethe  sometimes  oses  in  his  cor- 
respondence to  denote  finish,  completion)  is  explained  by 
the  endeavor  of  Homunculus,  afterwards,  to  break  the  glass 
in  which  his  artificial  being  is  confined,  and  commence  a  A%e 
and  natural  existence.  A  sdentific  as  well  as  a  literatr 
meaning  is  thereby  suggested,  and  the  clews  to  both  will  be 
found  in  the  true  history  of  Goethe's  own  development 

63.  Upim  the  ertaturit  vx  haoc  utadt 
We  an,  eurrelvti,  at  last,  dtpeitdaii. 
These  are  the  lines  quoted  by  Eckermann  to  Goethe,  as 
an  evidence  that  Homunculus  is  really  the  creation  of  Mephis- 
topbeles.  and  not  of  Wagner,  Goethe's  answer  was :  "  You 
are  quite  right.  To  an  attentive  reader,  the  lines  might 
be  almost  enough ;  but  I  will  reflect,  nevertheless,  whether 
there  should  not  be  other  hint*." 


ih,Googlc 


378  PAUST. 

"But  that  condmioo,"  Eckennann  then  taid,  "  cootafaw  ■ 
greal  meaning,  which  ia  not  to  be  exhausted  so  eaiil^r." 

"I  ahould  think,"  Goethe  answered,  "there  was  proven- 
der enough  in  it,  to  last  for  a  dnie.  A  &tber,  who  has  six 
■ons,  is  lost,  no  matter  wliat  disposition  he  maf  make  of 
himseir.  Also  kings  and  ministers,  who  have  placed  many 
persons  in  high  offices,  majr  apply  thb  profitably  to  their 
own  eiperience." 

The  other  lines,  wherein  the  coniperation  of  Mephisioph- 
eles  in  producing  Homunculus  is  indicated,  —  which  were 
either  not  noticed  by  Ecketmann  or  afterwards  added  by 
Goethe, — are  the  following. 

On  page  88:  — 

Ad  emnnofl  vhy  ibould  he  ikn^  mo  \ 
1 11  upediu  hii  luck,  ir  ha  'II  bm  »t  om  I 
Oo  pages  96  and  97  :  — 

Tboo  TOKne,  Sir  Csuun  I  >wrc  I  find  ttlH,  vxt 
And  Ht  the  proper  lim«  [  My  Ihjuiki  «re  das : 
A  lucky  tbrlung  led  ihac  hen  to  ne. 

Thou  Ml  »droit  in  «hoTteniDg  my  wiy, 

&+.    Classical  WALPUHOis-NrcHT. 

This  allegory  occupies  the  same  place  in  the  Second  Act, 
as  the  Carnival  Masquerade  in  the  First,  and,  like  it,  is  a 
digression  from  the  direct  course  of  the  drama.  Unlike  it, 
however,  its  substance  is  poetic  rather  than  didactic.  Nei- 
ther the  many  puzzles  which  it  contains,  nor  the  wilful  spirit 
in  which  Goethe  has  loaded  his  original,  purely  xsthettc 
design  with  a  weight  of  extraneous  seien  lific  ideas,  can 
restrain  the  breeze  of  Poetry  which  blows  through  it,  fresh 
from  the  mountains  and  seas  and  isles  of  Greece. 

When  we  have  once  accepted  his  double  intention  of  con- 
ducting Faust  to  a  higher  plane  of  life  through  the  awaken- 
ing and  development  of  his  sense  of  Beauty,  and,  at  the  same 
lime,  of  bringing  together  the  Classic  and  Romantic  ele- 
ments in  Literature  and  Art,  in  order  to  reconcile  them  in  a 
legion  lofty  enough  to  abolish  all  fubions  of  Rue  and  Tiok 


ih,Googlc 


JVOTES. 


379 


we  have  no  diflkaItT  in  ünq/ii^  how  the  plan  of  a  Classical 
Wal pargii- Night  niDst  have  presented  il«lf  to  Goethe's 
mind,  as  a  pendant  to  the  Wal  pargis- Night  of  the  Fint 
Part,  which  is  Golhiq  Hedizval,  Romantic  We  may  also 
conjecture  that  it  was  no  easy  tasli  to  arrai^  the  scenes  and 
figures  of  such  an  episode,  as  a  natural  framewurk,  capable 
of  enclosing  both  the  allegory  and  the  narrative, — the 
former  so  wry,  subtile,  and  »hifiing.  that,  while  It  could  only 
be  expressed  through  Pom,  it  perpetually  eluded  the  con- 
finement of  Ibrms  of  thought,  and  the  course  of  the  latter  so 
determined  in  advance  by  the  completed  Httena,  that  it 
could  not  fiirther  accommodate  itself  to  the  allegory. 

There  is  direct  evidence  that  this  difficulty  of  execution 
was  fell  by  Goethe,  no  doubt  with  his  first  conception  of  the 
episode.  The  first  sketch,  or  outline,  was  probably  made  in 
1800,  while  he  was  writing  the  Walpurgis- Night,  and  when 
the  first  pages  of  the  Hehna  were  produced.  We  have  Eck- 
ennann's  testimony  that  it  was  only  a  sketch  in  1827,  when 
Goethe  said  to  him :  "  The  plan  exists,  indeed,  but  the  great 
difficulty  is  yet  to  be  overcome ;  and  the  execution  really  de- 
pends altogether  too  much  on  sheer  good-tuck.  The  Classi- 
cal Walpurgis -Night  must  be  written  in  rhyiaes,  and  yet 
everything  must  wear  an  antique  character.  It  is  not  easy 
to  invent  the  proper  form  of  verse :  and  then,  the  dialogue  I " 
Eckcrmann  asked  if  that  was  not  already  planned  tn  the 
sketch.  "  The  What,  I  may  say,"  Goethe  answered,  **  but 
not  the  Hum.  And  then,  just  consider  how  much  must  be 
said  in  that  wild  night  1  Faust's  address  to  Proserpine, 
moving  her  to  restore  Helena.  —  what  speech  must  (hat 
be.  which  shall  move  Proserpine  herself  to  tears  !  Nothing 
of  all  this  is  easy  to  do:  a  great  deal  depends  on  luck, 
yes,  almost  entirely  upon  the  feeling  and  power  of  the 
moment." 

The  poetic  elaboration  of  this  early  sketch,  which  must 
have  been  in  prose,  was  not  commenced  until  January,  183O; 
and  was  finished,  as  we  leam  fivim  Eckermann's  tetter  from 
Geneva,  in  Augnst  of  that  year,  the  eighty-ßrit  of  Goethe's 

life  I     He  knew  how  to  detect  and  secure  hit  fortunate 


ih,Googlc 


380  FAUST. 

Biooda ;  the  plan  ms  traced  ont.  like  the  pattern  of  a  piece 
of  embroidered  tapestry,  and  he  worked  here  and  there,  ac- 
cording to  the  color  and  form  which  were  best  adapted  to 
hi»  intervals  of  creative  desire.  The  very  manuscript,  some 
pages  of  whkh  I  have  seen,  suggests  the  care  and  fidelil<r 
with  which  he  labored.  The  hand  is  firm  and  cleai,  the  in- 
terlineations few  but  always  excellent,  and  there  are  somc- 
timei  broad  spaces  between  the  stanzas,  which  suggest  long 
and  ülent  pacings  back  and  forth  on  the  study-floor  or  the 
garden  walk. 

Goethe  tells  us  that  the  Classical  Walpm^s-Nigbt  is  aa 
ascending  slope,  npoD  which  we  gradually  rise  to  the  Jfelema. 
Its  leading  motive,  tberefbie,  must  be  the  development  of 
the  Idea  of  the  Beautiüil ;  and  to  this  chief  clew  we  must 
bold  iast.  Bat  Mcphistopheles,  the  Spirit  of  N^ation,  i* 
also  bitroduced,  and  a  reason  must  be  found  for  his  presence 
in  a  scene  where  be  has,  apparently,  no  business.  If  there 
it  such  a  thing  as  xsthelic  irony,  Goethe  has  attempted  it 
bere^  In  the  forms  introduced,  with  which  Faust  arvd  Ho- 
manculus  conic  in  contact  (the  latter  taking  the  tbrmer'a 
part  in  the  ead),  there  is  a  gradual  upward  rooveioent  od 
the  line  of  Beauty,  from  tbe  Sphinxes  and  Griffins  10  the 
a^qiarit  on  of  Galatea  on  her  chariot  lA  shell  In  fbllowir^ 
Uephistophtles,  however,  ftom  tbe  same  starting-point,  we 
.move  downward  on  tbe  line  of  Ugliness  to  its  iniensest  titu- 
rical  embodiment  m  the  Phoikyads.  Woven  between  these 
two  threads,  and  sometimes  cunningly  blended  with  them, 
are  personiücatiortt  of  the  Neplunic  and  Plutonic  theories  in 
geology,  with  satirical  UlustrationB  of  tbe  latter  and  a  reso- 
nant glorification  of  the  formet.  Flashing  over  all,  like  a 
Will-o'- the- Wisp,  is  Homuncalns,  with  his  yeamii^  to  com- 
mence a  natural  existence. 

Here  are  the  four  leading  elements  of  the  episode,  onljr 
the  latter  of  which  can  really  be  called  problematic.  What- 
ever variety  oS  interpretation  may  be  gjven  to  the  separate 
fbrms,  or  to  detached  passages,  we  can  hardly  be  mistaken 
in  r^ard  lo  the  first  three  motives ;  and  I  find  that  the  Ger- 
mao  aitka  a^ta  bcrc  lesb  acüve  in  consLructini;  iDdependen: 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  381 

Aiearies  than  in  bending  thes«  evident  elements  to  tbeir  ser- 
vice, in  explaining  the  details.  Rosenkranz,  for  instance, 
(ays  that  "  F'aust  is  led  thtmigh  Nature  to  Art,"  but  inas- 
much  as  he  afterwards  admits  that  the  highest  result  of  Art 
is  the  perfect  human  forni,  he  thus  comes  back  to  the  origi- 
nal clew.  Weisse  remarks,  I'ery  correctly,  that  the  scene« 
"  are  filled  with  an  anticipation  of  coming  Beauty."  Köst- 
lin,  Schnetger,  DiinCzcr,  and  others  do  not  difler  id  sub- 
stance, and  their  views  rteed  not  be  quoted. 

Leatbecber  says ;  "  As  is  well  known,  Goethe  himself 
lived  and  strove  in  that  process  of  cumine  into  being,  of  the 
new  creation  of  the  antique  spirit  in  his  time,  aitd  to  his 
share  therein  is  due  the  eiecution  of  this  important  part  of 
the  poem."  Add  to  this  Schnetger's  declaration  that  "  th« 
key  to  the  Classical  Waipur^is- Night  is  Homunculus ;  hts 
importance  determines  the  knpoitance  of  the  entire  scene, 
for  his  development  into  being  is  its  chief  motive,"  —  and  we 
shall  see  thai  by  accepting  Homunculus  as  the  embodiment 
of  Goethe's  own  yearning  for  a  h-ee  and  beautiful  poetic  be- 
ing, we  have  the  simplest  key,  not  only  to  the  Classical  Wal- 
purgis-Night,  but  (o  many  of  the  views  which  it  has  su^ested 
Only  thus,  indeed,  can  we  understand 
ling  promineiice  of  Homunculus,  and  tbe  early 
K  of  Faust 

Deycks,  also,  has  this  passage :  "  This  much  seems  to  be 
clear  :  the  scene  has  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the  history 
of  Faust.  At  best,  it  prepares  his  way  lo  the  attaiimtent  of 
Helena  \  but  he,  hiinsel£|  plays  a  secondary  part.  Neither 
is  Mephistopheles  much  more  prominent  i  he  meets  with 
(something  quite  new  to  him}  one  embarrassment  after  an- 
other. There  are  all  the  betMr  grounds  for  assumiitg  that 
Goethe,  here,  had  other  purposes,  birther  evidence  of  which 
is  shown  in  the  visible  love  and  elaboration  wherewith  tbe 
abundant  forms  are  presented,  the  beauty  and  importance  of 
so  many  visions,  and  the  cheerful  humor  which  throws  a  sin- 
gular, shifting  charm  over  the  whole.  It  is  full  nf  alluring 
and  mysterious  suggestion,  like  the  endless  laughter  of  the 
tea-waves,  Jn  the  ancient  poet." 


ih,Googlc 


382  FAUST. 

.  Anolber  remark  o(  Goethe  (made  in  1831)  may  be  üiter- 
esiing  to  the  reader :  "The  old  Walpiu^s- Night  is  monar- 
chical, since  the  Devil  is  there  everywhere  respected  as  the 
positive  ruler.  But  the  Classical  is  thorinighly  republican, 
because  all  are  broadly  placed  side  by  side,  one  being  as 
valid  as  the  other,  none  subordinate  or  concerned  for  tbe 
.Äthers.  But  for,>  life-long  interest  in  the  plattic  arts,  the 
execution  of  (he  scene  would  not  have  been  possible.  Ner- 
erlhelcss.  it  was  very  difficult  to  be  moderate  with  such  abun- 
dant material,  and  to  reject  all  figures  which  did  not  com- 
pletely accord  with  my  design.  For  c^iample,  I  made  BO 
use  of  tbe  Minotaur,  the  Hartes,  and  various  other  mcm- 

Mephistopheles  is  seduced  to  overcome  his  dislike  fix 
"antique  cronies"  by  tbe  mention  of  Thessalian  witches, 
and  the  scene  is  accwdingly  opened  by  the  witch  Erichlho, 
described  by  Lucan  as  dwelling  in  the  wild*  of  Haemo», 
where  she  was  consulted  by  Pompey,  before  tbe  battle  of 
Pharsalia.  Her  allusion  to  the  "  evil  poets  "  is  imdaub<ed1y 
meant  Ibr  Ijican  and  Ovid.  She  speaks  in  the  measure 
called  iambic  trimeter  (douUe) ;  it  is  really  an  iaminc  hez- 
imeter,  scarcely  known  to  the  English  language,  but  the  lat- 
ter, nevertheless,  adapts  itself  as  readily  to  the  additional 
foot  as  the  German. 

65.  Hat,  9it  Gredan  land. 
Faust  recovers  fro«  hb  trance  as  soon  as  he  toudies  the 
classic  soil :  bis  artistic  instinct  tells  him  at  once  that  he  b 
on  the  track  at  Helena.  How  much  of  Goethe's  own  feeling 
is  expressed  in  these  lines  may  be  seen  from  the  (bllowing 
passage  in  his  works :  "  Clearness  of  vision,  cbeerfalness  of 
acceptance,  and  easy  grace  of  expression,  are  the  qualitiea 
which  delight  us  :  and  now.  when  we  affirm  that  we  find  aU 
these  in  the  genuine  Grecian  works,  achieved  in  the  nobleet 
material,  the  most  proportioned  form,  with  certainty  and 
completeness  of  execution,  we  shall  be  understood,  if  we 
always  refer  to  them  as  a  basis  and  a  standard.  Let  each 
DDC  be  a  Gredan,  in  his  own  way :  but  let  him  Ac  one  I " 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  383 

66.    I  find  ■wiftrlfm  itnmgt,  it  diicmieerteä. 

Mephistopheles,  on  the  oiher  hand,  is  entirely  out  of  his 
proper  element  His  disgust  with  the  nudity  of  the  antique 
forms  is  an  admirable  bit  of  humor,  through  which  we  can 
detect  Goethe's  own  well-known  defence  of  the  chastity  of 
ancient  art.  The  delicate  satire  of  the  line,  Dock  das  Aniikt 
finif  ich  tu  Itbendig,  is  lost  in  translation.  We  may  almost 
surmise  that  when  Mephistopheles  speaks  of  overplastering 
the  figures  according  to  the  fashion,  Goeihe  referred  to  the 
indecent  rehabilitation  of  the  staluea  in  the  Vatican. 

Mephistopheles  finally  addresses  himself  to  the  Griffins 
and  Spninxcs,  as  the  most  grotesque  and  unbeiutiful  of  the 
brms  around  him. 

67.  Tilt  source,  ■aihcrefivm  its  derivation  springs. 
Diintzef  explains  that  this  passage  is  in  ridicule  of  certain 
philologisis,  who,  in  Goethe's  day,  grouped  words  together 
at  random  according  to  their  initial  letters,  and  then  at- 
tempted to  trace  ihem  to  a  common  root.  The  answer  of 
Mephistopheles  is  a  play  upon  the  words  Greif  (Griffin)  and 
greifin  (to  grip)  —  sufficiently  like  the  English  words  to  be 
intelligible  in  translation.  The  Griffin  accepts  this  explana- 
tion, and  conlinns  it  by  slightly  changing  the  Latin  proverb 
Fertes  Fm-tunajuvat,  which  he  applies  to  bis  own  advantage 

68.    Thk  Ariuasprans. 

According  to  Herodotus,  the  Arimaspeans  were  a  one-eyed 
race  who  inhabited  a  distant  part  of  the  Scythian  steppes, 
and  were  engaged  in  continual  conflict  with  the  gold-guard- 
ing Griffins.  The  colossal  Ants,  which  were  somewhat 
la^er  than  foxes  and  dwelt  in  Central  Asia,  threw  out  gold- 
dust  in  making  their  subterranean  burrows. 

I  confess  I  can  offer  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  these  creatures,  beyond  that  of  their  repulsive 
forms.  Schnetger  finds  a  scale  of  development  in  them,  in 
the  following  order;  Griffins,  Ants,  Arimaspeans,  Sphinxes, 
and  afterwards  Sirens,  each  grade  approaching  aearer  die 


ih,Googlc 


j84  FAUST. 

haman  fonn.  Härtung,  on  the  other  hand,  Gnda  that  the 
Griftina  aie  philologists  ;  the  gold,  scientific  treasures ;  the 
Adu,  diligent  collector?  of  knowledge  -,  the  Arimaspeans, 
clever  «riters,  who  live  by  stolen  thoughts,  and  the  Sphinxes, 
Hiütoiy.  Goethe  would  hardly  have  buried  an  allegory  so 
deep  as  this.  Schnetger's  explanation  would  answer  vety 
well,  were  it  not  for  th«  Ants  and  Arimaspeans,  who  have  no 
place  in  a  progressive  development  based  on  Art.  All  we 
can  be  sure  of  is,  that  they  are  primitive  forms  of  the  Ugly, 
without  (he  suggestion  of  possible  beauty  which  we  find  in 
the  Griffins  and  Sphinxes. 

69.  Exfrtti  tkysilf,  and 't  tmU  a  ridiBt  it. 
It  is  evident  that  the  Sphinxes  immediately  recognized 
Mephistophelea.  and  their  questioos  are  only  "  chaffing." 
When  they  say  that  their  spiril-tones  become  material,  to 
him,  they  bint  that  he  sees  nothing  more  than  their  semi- 
bestial  form.  In  the  answer  of  Mephistopheles  to  the  demand 
for  his  name,  Goethe  naes  the  English  words  "Old  Iniqui- 
ty." This  term  was  given,  in  the  Moralities,  10  a  personifi- 
cation of  Vice,  or  Sin,  who  accompanied  the  Devil  when  he 
appeared,  teased  bim  and  beat  him  with  a  whip.  The  Clown, 
in  Shakespeare's  ■*  Tivelftb  Night,"  refers  to  this  character 
b  hisBong:  — 


I  T  be  with  yoa  tt^ 
Lika  lo  the  Old  Tmt, 


Wbo  wiib  dVRcr  oTIUh, 
Crin,  ah,  h>  I  to  the  DnU : 


Although  Mephistopheles  is  an  entire  stranger  amoi^ 
these  antique  ibnns,  we  must  not  suppose  that  he  has  never 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  385 

heard  of  them,  and  that  his  demand  for  an  enEgma  from  the 
Sphinx  is  uut  or  keeping  wilh  the  part  he  plays.  But  his 
RoTnanlic  sneer  is  at  once  Crushed  under  the  BiEocian  irony. 
The  retort  of  the  Sphinx  shows  that  she  fully  comprehends 
the  medixval  Devil.  Its  keenness  will  be  properly  appre- 
ciaied  when  I  sine  that  the  word  Plaslrm  (which  I  have 
translated  "  breast-plate  ")  is  a  piece  of  inipenelrible  armor, 
worn  by  fencing-masters,  in  order  to  let  their  pupils  lunge  at 
them  nitfa  impunity,  even  as  the  Devout,  in  Faust's  day, 
flattered  their  ascetic  idea  of  holiness  by  keeping  up  an 
imaginary  conflict  with  the  Devil.  We  cannot  much  wonder 
that  Mephistopheles  should  lose  his  temper,  on  receiving 
*uch  a  thrust 

70.     SiKBNS. 

The  Sirens  are  first  mentioned  ^r  Homer  as  two  in  num- 
ber, but  two  more  were  afterwards  added  by  the  Atheniant- 
They  were  located  in  various  places,  —  Crete,  Sicily,  or 
Capri,  —  and  there  were  contradictory  accounts  of  their 
origin  and  character.  It  was  generally  believed,  however, 
that  they  were  fated  only  to  live  until  some  one  should  pass 
their  island  without  being  captivated  by  their  song,  whence 
tbc  corresponding  myths  of  the  Argonauts  and  Ulysses. 

After  the  confused  and  uncertain  forms  with  which  the 
Classical  Walpurgis- Night  opens,  Goethe  seems  to  have 
selected  the  Sirens  as  a  point  of  departure  for  the  opposite 
paths  of  Faust  and  Mephistopheles.  They  were  generally 
represented  as  beautiful  maidens  to  the  waist,  the  lower  half 
having  a  bird-form,  wilh  hideous  falcon  claws.  The  gro- 
tesque atid  beautiful  are  more  intimately  blended  in  the 
woman  and  lion  of  the  Sphinx  :  in  the  Sirens  Beauty  and 
Uglitie»!  are  simply  and  sharply  joined  to  each  other.  After 
leaving  them.  Fausl  begins  to  rise  towartls  his  Ideal,  while 
Mephistopheles  descends  lowatds  his 

In  the  description  which  the  laltei  gives  of  the  Siren*' 
tang,  commencing  "These  are  of  novelties  the  neatest," 
Härtung  see$  "  Goethe's  opinion  of  certain  modem  poets." 
Some  such  meaning  is  certaiidj  suggested  by  the  Uites ;  but 

VOL.  n.  17  » 


ih,Googlc 


386  FAUST. 

«e  aie  already  ßuniliu  «ritb  Goelhe's  babit  of  double  and 
triple  allegory,  and  shall  not  be  bewildered  by  thete  minor 
BlotK.. 

71.    In  the  Ripultroe,  grand  anj  telidfcalurit. 

Thia  line  throws  a  clear  light  all  along  the  path  we  have 
chosen.  FiusI  recognises  the  rai-ofT  predictions  of  the 
Beautirul  in  the  Torms  ai  Indian  and  Egyptian  art,  the  tbre- 
runneis  of  that  of  Greece.  He  is  eVcn  reconciled  to  what  ia 
repulsive  in  ihem,  by  their  assodalion  with  the  early  memo* 
ries  of  Grecian  History  and  Literature.  He  i»  filled  with 
fresh  spirit,  for  he  now  feels  that  he  has  a  clew  which  shall 
guide  him  to  Helena.  To  Mephistopheles,  who  rememben 
Faust's  disgust  for  the  grotesque  phantom«  of  the  Blocks- 
berg,  his  satisfaction  is  of  course  incomprehensible. 

Tlie  Sphinxes  direct  Faust  to  Chiron,  the  CenUur,  who  is 
not  only  purely  Greek,  but  also  the  last  struggle  of  the  ar- 
tistic Ideal  of  Beauty  with  animal  forms  ;  while,  after  recall- 
ing the  Stymphalicbirds  and  the  heads  of  tbeLenuean  Hydra 
for  the  benefit  of  Mephistopheles,  they  shrewdly  send  him 
after  Ihe  Lamiae,  who  have  aroused  his  desire  at  the  first 

73.     Pen  BUS. 

The  Fharsalian  Fields  lie  upon  the  Enipeus,  a  branch  of 
the  Peneus,  and  many  of  the  commentators  charge  Goethe 
with  having  made  a  mistake ;  but  it  is  very  evident  that  he 
meant  to  include  in  the  scene  the  whole  ref[ion  froni  Pbarüa- 
lus  10  the  base  of  Olympus  and  the  shores  of  the  £gean  Sea. 

In  the  river-god,  Peneus,  with  his  attendant  Nymphs  and 
Triiiulaiy  Streams,  we  reach  a  higher  plane  of  development. 
Here  the  forms,  though  representing  Nature,  are  entirely 
human,  and  an  atmosphere  of  Poetry,  as  well  as  of  Art,  en- 
circles ihem.  The  vcme  changes,  also,  suggesting  a  clearer 
moonlight  and  fresher  air. 

Faust's  dream  of  I^da  and  the  Swan,  which  was  described 
by  Homunculus  in  Wagner's  laboratory,  is  here  purposely 
repeated,  as  tbe  reality  of  what  was  there  only  presentiment. 
Now,  however,  Leda  heiself  ia  not  seen  :  the  thick  (Wage 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.        .  387 

conceal*  her  fonn.     Faust  ü  not  jet  prepatcd  to  behold  tbe 
conception  of  the  BMntiluL 

73.    Chiron. 

The  Ccntutr  Chiron  w»  tbe  son  of  Satum  and  Philyia, 
tbe  daoghlet  <Ä  Oceanus.  Homer  calls  him  the  wisat  and 
most  juBt  of  the  Centaurs.  He  was  said  to  have  taught  the 
human  race  oaths,  joyous  sacrificial  tetvices,  and  music  In 
his  grotto  on  FcHon  he  educated  the  grandest  Grecian  heroes, 
among  tbem  Peteus,  Ajax,  Achilles,  .£sculapiuB,  Theseus, 
and  Jason. 

Schnetger  has  a  very  ingenious  explanation  of  the  »ytnboli- 
cat  significance  of  Chiron  in  this  scene.  He  interprets  the 
szpression  of  the  Sphinx  to  Faust : 

Ovi  -nri  lul  «»  •lain  br  Herciilei, 
as  indicating  the  overthrow  of  the  monstrous  fbnns  of  earljr 
Art ;  and  Hercules  therefore  marks  the  commencement  of 
the  Human  period.  He  then  says;  "  If  the  old  forms  are 
entirely  overcome  by  the  new,  in  Hercules,  then  must  Chiron, 
his  inatructot,  be  considered  as  standing  equally  in  both 
periods  of  development.  This  position,  half  here,  half  there, 
is  clearly  illustrated  in  his  figure,  which  is  a  horse  behind 
and  in  Iront  a  nobly  formed  man.  Chiron  represents  to  us 
the  bridge,  tbe  transition  from  the  foimer  coarseness  and 
distortion  to  the  later  and  loftier  forms,  and  upon  him  Faust 
must  pass  to  approach  that  which  he  seeks." 

One  of  the  finest  of  the  Pompeian  frescos,  now  in  the 
Uuuo  NiaiimaU  at  Naples,  represents  Chiron  teaching  the 
young  Achilles  to  play  upon  the  lyre.  Goethe  never  saw  it, 
but  he  has  unconsciously  given  to  the  Centaur  the  same 
dignity,  nobility,  and  yearning  sadness  of  expression,  which 
are  there  so  wonderfully  painted. 

74-     No  sfcond  sUik  tutih  Gaa  gratited. 

There  is  a  seeming  contradiction  in  this  passage.     When 

Faust  suggests  the  name  of  Hercules,  which  Chiron  has 

omitted  Stota  the  list  of  his  Argonautic  pupils  and  friends. 


ih,Googlc 


388  FAUST, 

(he  Centaar'B  buret  of  enthmiaam  for  the  hero  whose  poi- 
soned airow  accidentally  caused  hi*  own  death  is,  to  «ay  the 
least,  uneipecled  ;  while  Faust's  following  speech: 

"  The  ^rest  Man  taul  thsu  dcpidnl, 

couples  Hercules  with  Helena  as  the  Ideals  of  male  and  fe- 
male beauty.  Hut  il  was  Paris  and  Helena  whom  he  called 
from  the  Shades.  We  must  assume  that  when  he  speaks  of 
the  latter  pair  lo  Mephislopheles,  in  Scene  V.  Act  I,,  as  ■■  the 
model  forms  of  Man  and  Woman."  he  is  merely  repeating  the 
conveniional  ideas  of  the  Emperor  and  the  Court  dtde.  In 
any  case  it  is  Goeihe  himself  who  speaks  here.  Il  was  prob- 
ably the  lamons  torso  in  the  Vatican  which  first  gave  him  the 
impreüsion  that  Hercules  is.  as  he  more  than  once  declares  in 
his  papers  on  Art,  "the  highest  glorification  of  masculine, 
beneficent  activity  and  harmonious  combination  of  power," 
tbeietbrc  in  his  form  the  highest  embodiment  of  masculine 
beauty.  I  n  his  Vier  yahrimileii.  he  says :  "  Grace  is  only 
revealed  from  the  fulness  nf  Strength."  In  1S31,  only  a 
month  before  his  death,  Goethe  said  to  Soret :  "  The  Her- 
cules of  antiquity  is  a  collectiie  licing,  the  great  bearer  of  hi> 
own  deeds  and  the  deeds  of  others." 

75.      'T  is  curious  Toith  yrmr  mytholope  Jamt. 
A  trifling  personal  experience  is  here  interpolated,  or,  at 
least,  suggested.      When  Faust  says  t   "  But  seven   years 
old  I "  and  Chiron  answers  : 

we  are  directly  reminded  of  a  passage  in  Eckermano. 
Goethe  was  speaking  of  a  line  in  one  of  his  own  poems, 
where  Professor  Göttling  had  persuaded  him  to  change 
"  Horace  "  into  "  Propertius,"  to  the  damage  of  spirit  and 
sound.  "  In  the  same  manner,"  said  Eckermann,  "the 
manuscript  of  your  Helena  showed  that  Theseus  carried  her 
off  as  a  '  ten-year-old  and  slender  roe.'  But  Gotlling's  rep- 
is  led  you  to  print,  instead,  'a  seven-year-old  and 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  389 

■lender  roe,'  which  w  much  too  young,  both  for  the  beautifiil 
maiden,  and  for  h«r  twin-brotheis,  Castor  and  Pollux,  who 
rescued  her." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Goethe ;  "  1  am  also  of  the  opinion 
that  she  should  be  ten  years  old  when  Theseus  carries  her 
0%  and  for  that  reason  I  afterwards  wrote :  — 

'  Sba  ha*  been  woRhlut  from  ber  UDlh  yui  dd.'    <Pigt  ti.) 
In  the  next  edilion,  therefore,  you  may  still  make  a  teu- 
yeais'  roe  out  of  the  »cTco-years'  one." 

Faust  answers  Chiron,  as  a  Poet;  "Then  let  no  bond» 
of  Time  be  thrown  arouod  her  !  "  He  refers  to  an  obscure 
legend  (mentioned  by  Müller,  in  his  work  on  "The  Do- 
rians "),  that  Achilles  ascended  from  the  Shades  to  wed 
Helena  on  ihe  isle  of  Leuke,  —  not  Phrra,  which  seems  lo  be 
a  mistake  of  Goethe,  —  where  they  had  a  eoo,  Euphonon. 

76.     Manto. 

Goethe  baa  wilfully  taken  Manto  fi-om  blind  Tiresias, 
"  prophet  old,"  whose  daughter  she  was,  and  given  her  ^s- 
culapius  as  a  &ther,  perhaps  to  account  for  her  tamiliarity 
with  Chiron,  and  enable  the  latter,  through  her,  to  send 
Faust  further  on  his  ardent  pilgrimage.  She  was,  in  reality, 
devoted  to  the  service  of  Apollo.  After  her  father's  death 
she  wandered  10  Italy,  where  her  son,  Oknus,  founded  and 
named  for  her  the  city  of  Mantua.  (Virgil  refers  10  this  in 
the  Tenth  Book  of  the  j£neid,  and  Dante  in  the  twentieth 
Canto  of  the  Infirm,.) 

The  temple  shining  in  the  moonlight,  the  dreamily  Man- 
to,  and  the  few  Orphic  sentences  which  she  utters,  prepare 
OS  for  Faust's  mysterious  descent  to  Persephone.  Goethe's 
ovm  words  (quoted  in  Note  64)  show  that  he  had  projected 
the  scene;  but  here,  in  the  vestibule,  the  doors  suddenly 
dose,  and  no  voice  from  the  adytum  of  Hades  reaches  our 
ears.  Faust  disappears,  and  we  see  him  no  mure  until  the 
middle  ol  the  next  Act,  where  the  character  of  the  allegory 
is  entirely  changed.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Goethe 
found  his  powers  inadeqnate  to  the  execution  of  hii  deugi^ 


ih,Googlc 


390  FAUST. 

■nd,  aa  at  the  clow  of  the  Finl  Put.  he  left  the  reader^ 
im*ginaiion  to  ipan  the  chasm  for  which  he  coold  build  do 
poetic  bridge. 

The  Classical  Walpurgis- Night  falls,  Datundlf.  into  three 
diTisiofis  of  neailjr  equal  length.  The  fint  division  closes 
here :  the  representation  of  ihe  derelopment  of  the  Beautiful 
through  the  Grecian  mind  is  temporuiljr  suspended,  and  a 
vciy  diflerent  element  is  introduced. 

77.  Health  it  lume  vihere  matrrfeiU  ! 
V/e  return  from  Manto's  Temple,  at  the  fool  of  Olympus, 
Ki  the  Upper  Penens,  where  ihe  preceding  scene  itpens. 
The  premonitions  which  Ihe  River-god  then  uttered,  are 
about  to  be  verified.  The  Sirens  reappear,  but  (we  must 
assume)  stripped  of  their  former  symbolism  :  Ihey  are  now 
evidently  representatives  of  the  Neptunic  theoiy  in  geology, 
and  the  "  ill-starred  folk  "  of  whom  they  sing  must  be  the 
Pluionists.  The  above  line  —  in  German,  Oiiu  Waiser  iit 
iein  Htill  —  declares  the  former  theory  at  once,  though  it 
also  suggests  the  well-known  phrase  of  Pindar,  orirtDn  mat 
hudor.  The  word  Hiil  means  either  health  or  satiation  ; 
■nd  Ihe  latter  rendering  would  perhaps  be  more  correct 
here.  Goethe  undoubtedly  selected  the  Sirens  (o  describe 
the  earthquake,  because  they  are  the  only  characters  al- 
ready introduced  who  are  directly  associated  with  the  Sea. 

78.    Seismos. 

Goethe  makes  a  personification  of  the  Earthquake  (£t«r- 
flit),  in  order  the  better  to  satirixe  the  Pluionists. 

It  is  now  time  that  1  should  endeavor  to  represent,  as 
clearly  as  may  be  possible,  what  Goethe  has  introduced  in 
this  division  of  the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night,  and  why  he 
has  introduced  it.  A  thorough  and  satisläctory  commen- 
tary would  involve  the  statement  of  scientific  questions 
which  require  much  special  knowledge  ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  inexpedient  to  wander  too  far  from  the  tracks  we 
have  been  following.  Goethe  did  not  intend  this  episnde  to 
be  a  digression.    The  pains  he  has  taken  to  weave  together 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


391 


Jm  two  dumds,  of  tuch  inecondtabl«  textore^are  verjr  «vi- 
dent,  yet  he  baa  none  the  less  biled  in  his  attempt  I  only 
feci  bound,  therefore,  to  preseot  «baiever  may  be  strictly 
necessary  (o  the  undeistanding  of  this  foreign  element,  and 
its  elimination  bam  the  genuine  substance  of  ihe  dtatna. 

Düntier  has  carefully  collected  the  principal  focts.  and  so 
skilfully  arranged  them  that  I  only  need  to  abbreviate  his 
material,  and  add  to  it  a  few  illustrations  from  Goethe's 
writings.-  The  Neptunic  theory  in  geolo^,  to  which  Goethe 
early  became  a  convert,  originated  with  Werner,  and  is 
based  on  his  obeervadons  of  mouniain-Btrau.  Taking  gran- 
ite as  the  original  base,  he  taught  that  the  later  formations 
were  succe-tsive  deposits  from  a  primeval  ocean  or  from 
denser  atmospheres  ;  that,  as  Goethe  expresKd  it.  the  Earth, 
slowly  and  by  a  progressive,  harmonious  development,  build- 
ed  Itself;  and  that  earthquakes  and  volcanic  fiies,  although 
permanent  phenomena,  «ere  not  universal  creative  agencies. 
When  Werner,  in  1788,  declared  that  bssalt  was  farmed 
through  Ihe  action  of  water,  the  struggle  of  theories  com- 
menced, and  the  terms  "Nepluniso"  and  "Plutonisis" 
began  to  be  heard.  In  the  Ximen,  written  in  1796,  Goethe 
speaks  of  the  short-lived  triumph  of  the  latter,  in  regard  (o 
basalt 

Nevertheless.  Plutonism  was  not  dead.  The  theoty  of 
the  upheaval  of  mountain -chains  through  the  action  kS  in- 
ternal forces  rapidly  gained  ground  in  the  scientific  world. 
Its  champions  were  two  distii^ulshed  geologists.  Leopold 
von  Buch  in  Germany  and  Elie  de  Beaumont  in  France,  to 
whom,  about  iSao,  was  added  Alexander  von  Humboldt 
Goethe,  aroused  from  his  security  in  regard  to  Ihe  Neptunic 
theory,  now  began  to  express  his  views,  less  in  the  way  of 
impartial  scientific  discussion  than  as  a  matter  of  feeling, — 
we  may  even  say.  prejudice.  He  wrote,  at  this  time : 
"  When  the  Earth  began  tu  inleresi  me  in  a  scientific  sense, 
and  I  endeavored  lo  become  acquainted  with  its  mountain 
masses,  internally  and  externally,  in  generals  as  in  particu- 
lars,—  in  those  days,  we  had  a  foothold  where  10  stand,  and 
we  could  not  have  wished  a  better  oae.    We  wen  directed 


ih,Googlc 


39» 


FAUST. 


to  Granite  m  the  highest  and  the  deepest,  we  respected  it  in 
this  sense,  and  labored  to  investigate  it  more  closely." 

It  is  evident  that  the  rapid  and  general  acceptance  of  the 
theory  of  upheaval  was  a  great  annoyance  to  him.  Like  an 
earthquake,  it  seemed  to  threaten  his  äith  in  the  stability  of 
the  Earth  ItselC  To  his  mind,  it  substituted  violence,  con- 
vulsion, and  a  series  of  chaotic  accidents,  for  the  quiet,  un- 
disturbed, sublime  process  of  creation.  In  a  paper  entitled 
'*  Geological  Problenu  and  an  Attempt  at  iheir  Solution," 
he  wrote  :  "  The  case  may  be  as  it  pleases,  but  it  must  be 
written  that  I  curse  this  execrable  racket  and  lumber  room 
of  the  new  order  of  creation  I  And  certainly  some  young 
man  of  genius  will  arise,  who  shall  have  the  courage  to 
oppose  this  craiy  unanimity."  In  a  letter  written  to  Zelier 
in  1837,  he  says,  referring  to  Leopold  von  Buch,  "  I  know 
very  well  what  we  owe  to  him  and  others  of  his  class  ;  but 
it  is  not  well  that  the  gentlemen  immediately  set  up  a  priest- 
hood, and  try  to  force  upon  us,  together  with  that  for  which 
we  are  grateful,  that  which  they  do  nut  know,  possibly  do 
not  believe.  Now  that  the  hutnin  race  moves  especially  in 
herds,  they  will  soon  lead  the  majority  after  them,  and  a 
purely  progressive,  problem -reverencing  mind  will  stand 
alone.  Since  I  will  quarrel  no  more,  —  wtiich  I  never  did 
willingly,  —  I  now  allma  myulfia  ridiailt.  and  to  attack  their 
weak  Hide,  of  which  they  are  no  doubt  aware." 

I  must  add  one  mire  passage,  from  a  letter  written  to 
Zelicr  in  November,  18*9,  while  Goethe  was  preparing  the 
material  of  the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night :  "Unfonunaiety, 
my  cotemporaries  are  quite  too  eccenliic  Recently  the 
Milanese  announced  to  me  with  amazement,  that  Herr  von 
B.  |Buch|  would  demonstrate  to  their  eyes  that  the  Euga- 
nxan  Hills,  which  they  have  hitherto  looked  upon  as  a  nat- 
ural outpost  of  the  Alps,  rose  up  suddenly  Irom  the  earlh  at 
some  time  or  other.  They  are  about  as  well  pleased  at  that, 
as  savages  at  the  preaching  of  a  missionary.  Now,  last  of  all, 
h  is  announced  (Humboldt's  Siberian  Journey  r|  that  the 
Altai  was  once  conveniently  squeezed  up  from  the  depths. 
And  you  may  thank  God  that  the  belly  of  the  earth  does  not 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  353 

diooM  to  bi\  in  somewhere  between  Berlin  ind  Potsdam,  io 
order  to  get  rid  of  the  termentalion  in  the  same  way.  The 
Academy  at  Paris  bas  aanctioned  the  declaration  that  Mont 
Blanc  arose  from  the  abyss  last  of  all,  after  the  crust  of  the 
earth  was  complelely  formed.  Thus  the  nonsense  accumu- 
lates, and  will  become  a  universal  failh  or  the  people  and 
savans,  like  the  failh  ia  witches,  devils,  and  their  works,  in 
the  darkest  ages." 

If  Ihes«  passages  show  the  bitterness  of  Goethe'*  preja- 
dices,  the  unreasoning  hostility  he  manifested  to  views  based 
on  honest  and  careful  research,  they  show  at  the  same  liine 
the  secret  sonrce  of  his  irritation.  He  must  have  considered 
the  new  theory  as  one  of  the  phenomena  of  an  approaching 
"  Storm  and  Stress  "  period  in  Science,  and  have  turned  from 
it  with  the  same  revulsion  of  feeling  as  from  that  period  in 
Literature,  fifty  years  before.  He  suffered  his  xsthetic  in- 
^incts  to  mould  his  scientific  opinions,  for  the  two  had  long 
been  harmonized  in  his  own  mind.  We  must,  therefore, 
now  turn  to  that  fancied  harmony  for  an  explanation  of  the 
intrusion  of  his  scientific  opinions  into  the  lofiy  aesthetic  plan 
of  this  episode.  The  iwo  errors  account  for  each  other. 
The  desperation  with  which  be  clung  to  the  ground,  which 
we  can  see  he  felt  to  be  slipping  from  beneath  his  feet,  showa 
how  his  intellect  had  succeeded  in  uniting  Man  and  Nature, 
the  individual,  the  race,  and  the  planet,  in  one  consistent 
and  harmonious  scheme,  wherein  the  poem  and  the  moun- 
tain, the  flower  and  the  statue,  obeyed  the  same  law«  of 
growth.  It  was  thus  much  mote  than  the  Neptunic  theory 
of  which  the  PluConists  deprived  him. 

Viewing  the  scene  from  this  standpoint,  we  may  gucM 
that  Goethe  justified  it  to  his  own  mind,  and  perhaps  consid- 
ered that  his  Ideal  of  the  development  of  Nature  should  of 
right  be  interwoven  with  his  artistic  Ideal.  The  pari  given 
to  Homunculus  in  the  iliustration  of  the  Neptunic  scheme 
■trengthens  this  conjecture  The  details  of  Ihe  double  plan 
trill  be  further  explained  in  the  following  Notes. 

It  is  also  probable  that  penions.  circumstances,  and  events 
ue  occasionally  indicated.  The  prominence  of  the  geolo^ 
17« 


ih,Googlc 


394 


FAUST. 


coJ  discuwion  has  long  since  pissed  awaj; ;  bat  the  WItcbev 
Kitchen  and  Walpurgis-Night  of  the  First  Pan  betray  a  wil- 
ful habit  of  reference  to  passing  events  or  temporary  inter- 
ests, which  we  ma;  well  suppose  is  retained  in  this  scene. 
Goethe,  speaking  of  the  Classical'  Walpurgis- Night  as  a 
whole,  said  to  Eckennann :  "  I  have  so  separated  from  the 
particular  subjects  and  generalized  whatever  of  pique  1  have 
introduced,  that  the  reader  may  indeed  detect  references, 
hut  win  not  recognize  any  one  to  whom  they  would  properly 
apply.  I  have  endeavored,  however,  to  represent  everything 
in  the  antique  manner,  in  distinct  outlines,  and  to  avoid  any 
vagueness  and  uncertainty,  sudi  as  is  allowed  by  the  Ro- 
mantic method." 

79.    Fer  tkt  Sfhitati  km  art  flouted. 

The  arbitrary  manner  in  which  Goethe  employs  the  form* 
of  his  duplicate  allegory,  using  one  or  the  other  separate 
meaning,  or  blending  both,  at  will,  must  not  lor  a  moment 
be  lost  sight  of;  in  threading  the  maxes  of  the  Classical  Wal- 
purgis-NighL  If  the  Sphinxes,  in  the  preceding  scenes,  rep- 
resent the  struggle  of  Art  to  rise  from  the  animal  to  the  hu- 
man Ibrm,  it  is  very  evident  that  such  a  symbolism  is  entirely 
out  of  place  here,  where  the  new  element  is  introduced. 
They  were  the  prophecy  of  coming  Beauty,  to  Faust,  the 
"  grand  and  solid  features,"  manifested  in  spite  of  the  repul- 
siveness  belonging  to  all  undeveloped  forms.  Here,  they 
seem  to  represent  calm,  stability,  unchange,  in  imposition  to 
the  violence  and  convulsion  of  Seismos.  We  may  even  con- 
jecture that  the  lines : 

"  Bui  na  fiinhcr  ihall  I»  graattd, 
Cor  Ihe  Spliiniia  hen  m  plinted," 
indicate  that,  while  Goethe  admits  the  local   operation   of 
volcanic  forces,  he  insists  that  their  agency  is  limited  and 
restricted  by  the  eternal  cosmic  law  of  gradual  and  harmo- 
nious creation. 

The  reference  to  the  island  of  Delos  is  a  variation  of  a 
legend  mentioned  by  Pindar,  wherein  the  island,  which  had 
previously  floated  on  the  vraves,  was  made  »tationary  bj 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


395 


Apollo.  Ibr   [he  sake   of  his  mother  Latona.      Pliny  tüM 
Bpeaka  of  Ibe  volcanic  origin  of  Delos  and  other  isles  of  the 

Wlien  Seismos  answers,  the  poetic  aspect  of  force,  which 
Buggettted  the  Titans,  seems,  in  äpite  of  his  theory,  lo  have 
Lindled  Goethe's  imagination.  Forgetting  his  scientific  prej- 
udice, he  gives  full  play  to  the  new  and  picturesque  fanqr; 
the  passage  is  perhaps  the  änest  in  the  scene.  Some  of  the 
<:oiniiientators  imagine  thai  the  line ; 

"  How  Rood  iitoft  your  mountaiiu  ever," 
contains  a  reference  to  Elie  de  Btatantoü;  but  the  pun  would 
be  incomplete,  and  its  application  not  very  clear. 

Sa    GsippiNS. 

The  sndden  appearance  of  the  Griffins,  Emmets,  Pygmies, 
and  Dactyls,  as  inhabitants  of  the  newly-created  mountain, 
and  their  activity,  both  in  collecting  gold  and  aiming  lo  at- 
tack the  Herons  (Neplnnists),  is  a  new  bewilderment,  and 
many  of  the  German  critics  leave  it  without  attempting  an 
explanation.  While  we  cannot  hope  for  a  clear  and  complete 
interpretation  of  every  detail,  the  design  of  the  whole  scene 
at  least  points  out  the  direction  which  our  guesses  should 
take.  The  drcnmstance  that  Goethe  represents  the  Pluto- 
nists  by  those  purely  grotesque  forms,  from  which  Mephis- 
topbeles  takes  his  departure  towards  the  Ideal  UglitHSS, 
shows  his  attempt  to  blend  ibe  accidental  scientific  element 
with  his  original  esthetic  plan  This  can  hardly  be  a  mere 
coincidence.  Thus  tar,  if  we  acceot  it,  the  choice  of  char- 
acters is  explained. 

For  their  further  ugniGcance.  we  must  remember  the  ex- 
tent lo  which  Goethe  was  irritated  bv  the  general  acceptance 
of  the  Plutonic  theory.  The  Griffins  and  Ants,  we  may 
guess,  represent  those  who  at  once  give  in  their  adherence  lo 
every  new  scientific  r^me,  and  fancv  thai  its  principles  are 
so  many  great  intellectual  treasures,  wtiich  they  liasten  to 
collect  and  possess.  The  Pygmies  and  Dactyls  (Thamblinga 
and  Fingerlings)  are  the  crowds  of  students  and  sroattereTS 


ih,Googlc 


396  FAUST. 

nho  are  unable  to  free  thenuelvet  from  the  chaim  of  tbe 
new  theorist ;  who  find  theiUBelves.  without  knowing  how  it 
happened,  under  his  authority,  intellectual  serls,  forced  to 
service  and  obedience,  «riihout  any  reference  to  their  own 
wills.  The  Pygmy-Elders  and  the  General istimo  arc,  of 
course,  the  rulers  :  it  would  hardly  be  too  much  to  say  that 
the  former  represent  the  members  of  the  French  Academy, 
and  that  the  latter  is  Elie  de  Beaumont  or  Leopold  voo 
Buch.  Homer's  account  of  the  battle  between  the  Pygmiet 
and  the  Cranes  suggested  tbe  introduction  of  the  Heron* 
as  Neptunists.  The  Generalissimo  orders  tbe  slaughter  of 
these  water-haunting  birds,  that  the  Pygmies  may  fealber 
their  helmet«  with  the  crested  plumes. 

8i.    Thb  Cranes  of  Ibvcds. 

The  "  &t-paunched.  bow-legged  knaves  "  of  Platonists  a» 
triumphant,  and  wear  the  plumes  they  have  plundered  from 
the  slaughtered  Neptunists.  But  the  Cranes,  in  their  airj 
voyage,  have  seen  the  murder,  and  like  tbe  "  Cranes  of  lb)^ 
CU.1,"  in  Schiller's  ballad,  ihey  are  the  agents  appointed  by 
Fate  to  revenge  the  deed. 

Ibycus,  the  poet,  on  his  way  from  Rhegium  to  attend  tbe 
Isthmian  games,  was  attacked  by  robbers  in  the  pine-grove 
dedicated  to  Neptune,  near  Corinth.  Far  from  all  help,  cut 
down,  and  dying,  with  his  last  breath  he  called  to  a  flock  of 
cranes,  flying  in  a  long  tile  over  the  grove,  and  invoked  them 
to  bear  abroad  the  new«  of  tbe  murder.  His  body  was  found, 
carried  to  Corinth,  and  recognized;  and  tbe  grief  of  the  popa- 
lace,  assembled  at  the  games,  was  loud  for  the  loss  of  their 
favorite  singer,  tbycos.  Suddenly,  during  a  pause  in  the  per- 
formanc«,  while  the  great  amphitheatre  was  silent,  a  file  of 
cranes  passed  overhead,  and  a  mocking  voice  was  heard,  say- 
ing :  "  There  are  the  Cranes  of  Ibycus  ! "  The  suspicions  of 
the  people  were  instantly  aroused,  the  speaker  and  his  ac- 
complice were  picked  out  from  the  audience,  and  the  amphi- 
theatre became  a  tribunal  of  judgmenL  The  murderer* 
tMifessed  the  deed,  and  tlie  Cranes  revenged  Ibgrctn.    Sucfe 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  397 

ta  the  story  which  Schiller  hu  embodied  in  one  of  hü  most 
admirable  ballads. 

When  Goethe  wrote,  in  lS37,  "  Certainly  some  young  man 
of  genius  will  arise,  who  shall  have  the  courage  to  oppose 
this  crazy  unanimity,"  lie  inlidpated  the  overthrow  of  the 
Plutonic  theory.  In  his  selection  of  SchiUer*!  "  Cranes  of 
Ibycus,"  to  sununon  his  Neptunic  kindred  to  the  revenge 
which  is  only  announced,  not  immediately  performed,  there 
it  a  touching  suggestion  of  his  own  loneliness.  The  "  end- 
less bate  "  which  is  sworn  is  not  the  true  substance  of  bate 
(which  Goethe  declared  to  be  a  passion  only  possible  to 
youth  } :  it  is  merely  an  impatient  exclamation,  veiling  a 
pang  of  longing  for  the  great  friend  who  had  passed  away, 
uid  of  disappointment  that  no  one  came  to  his  side  to  help 
him  turn  his  intrenched  defence  into  an  open  assault. 

82.    Dawn  Iltt  waUhaJbr  tafreat  htr  lUiu. 

Schnetger  says :  "There  is  also  a  little  venom  in  the  at- 
cumstance,  that  the  reappearing  Mephisiopheles  finds  whM 
Le  seeks  in  this  world  of  the  Vulcanists.  'In  your  fire- 
world,'  Goethe  virtually  exclaims,  'the  Devil  can  attain  his 
object  ;  there  ia  enough  of  the  Ugly,  the  Vulgar,  the  Abum- 
fnable  there,  but  nothing  whatever  of  the  Noble  and  the 
Beautiful.'  But  even  the  Devil  grumbles  over  these  new 
sarface-ioDations,  and  praises  his  secure  Brocken  of  a  thou- 
sand years,  with  its  primitive  and  eternal  forms  of  the  Ilsen- 
stein,  Heinrichshöhe  the  Snorers,  and  Elend :  he  greatly 
prefers  such  a  soil  to  this  uncertain  quake-world." 

Mephistopheles  nkcntions  not  only  "  the  region  of  Schierko 
and  Elend  "  of  the  first  Walpnrgis-Nigbt,  but  also  the  llsen- 
stein,  which  is  one  of  the  features  of  the  approach  to  the 
Brocken  on  the  northern  side,  by  way  of  the  Ilsethal.  Heine, 
m  his  Kristbildrr,  describes  the  stream  of  the  Use,  as  il 
plunges  down  the  glen,  ftom  the  Heinrichshöhe,  in  a  spir- 
ited  passage,  which  1   quote  from   Mr.   Leiand's   transla- 

"  No  pen  can  describe  the  merriment,  simplicity,  and  gen- 
ItenesB  with  which  the  Ilae  leaps  or  gTMes  amid  the  wildly> 


ih,Googlc 


398  FAUST. 

^led  rodn  whtch  rise  in  ber  path,  so  (hat  the  w 
whiczes  or  roania  In  one  place  among  rifted  rocks,  and  in  an- 
other wells  through  a  thousand  crannies,  as  if  from  a  giant 
watering-pot,  and  then,  in  collected  «iream,  trips  away  over 
the  pebbles  like  a  merry  maiden.  Ves  —  the  old  l^end  is 
true,  the  Use  b  a  princess,  who.  laughing  in  beauty,  nina 
•down  the  mountain.  How  her  white  foain-garment  gjeMna 
fn  the  santhine  I  How  her  silvered  scarf  flutleis  in  the 
breeae  t  How  her  diamonds  flash!  ....  The  flowers  oo 
Ae  bank  whisper.  Oh  lake  ns  with  tbee ;  take  us  widi  thee. 


Tbou  •bill  ba  blut  uid  m 


83.    Lamia 

The  original  Lamia,  the  daughter  of  Belns  and  Libya,  was 
beloved  hj  Jupiter,  and  then  transformed,  through  Juno's 
jealousy,  into  a  hideous,  child -devonring  monster  Lilith, 
ibe  nocturnal,  female  vampire  of  (he  Hebrews,  mentioned  in 
Isaiah,  is  rettdered  Lamia  in  the  Vulgate.  In  the  plnral, 
they  appear  to  have  corresponded,  very  nearly,  lo  the  witches 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  wtto,  indeed,  »ere  then  irequendy  called 
Lamia.  Keats's  poem  of  "  Lamia."  in  which  the  bride,  rec- 
ognized by  Ihe  keen-eyed  sage,  returns  to  her  original  ser- 
pent-tbrm,  represents  another  of  ihe  superstitlans  attached 
to  the  race. 

Mephiitophele*  (probably  remembering  the  Thessalian 
witches  promised  by  Homunculiu)  is  attracted  by  forms 
having  so  much  Tamily  likeness  to  those  with  which  he  is 
fiimiliar ;  and  when  we  recall  Goethe's  opinion  of  M^m^ 
and  Victor  Hugo  {vidt  Note  34),  we  may  suppose  an  indi- 
ita  reference,  in  this  epiaode,  to  the  approach  of  the  Classic 


ih,Googlc 


and  Ronumtic  ichools  in  the  elements  farthest  removed  from 
Beaut;.  The  scientific  satire,  at  least,  is  here  temporarilj 
•upended,  but  to  be  soon  again  resumed.   ' 

84.    Emfiiua,  with  the  asisfoot. 

Empusa  (the  "one-footed,"  as  the  name  denotes)  had  one 
fauoaji  foot  and  one  ass's  hoot  and  is  therefore  fairly  en- 
titled to  call  Mephisto pheles  "cousin."  Goethe  probably 
toolc  her,  as  well  as  some  other  characters  of  the  Classical 
Walpurgts- Night,  from  Böttiger,  with  whose  works  he  was 
well  acquainted.  Empusa  is  mentioned  in  "  The  Frogs  "  of 
Aristophanes,  and  also  in  the  life  of  Apollonius  Tyana,  by 
Philostratus.  She  had  not  the  same  habit  of  transfofmation 
■B  the  other  Lamice,  but  surpassed  them  all  in  her  hideous 
appearance  and  her  cannibalic  hatnts. 

Mephistopheles,  however,  is  too  ugly  and  repulsive  for 
even  these.  They  simply  amuse  themselves  with  him,  and 
then  send  him  further.  The  transformations  which  they  un- 
dergo when  he  attempts  to  grasp  them  are  characteristic  of 
the  Lamix,  but,  at  the  same  time,  they  suggest  some  addi- 
tional meaning.  What  it  Is  I  cannot  guess,  and  I  find  noth- 
ing in  any  of  the  commentaries  which  throws  the  least  light 
cm  the  passage.  Diintzer's  explanation  is  entirely  inade- 
quate. 

Sj.    Oread  {from  tJit  lutiirai  raci). 

Here  the  Oread  b  the  spirit  of  a  primeval  mountain, 
created  according  to  the  Neptunic  theory.  But  she  is  not 
introduced  s<ilely  tor  (he  purpose  of  ridiculing  the  neighboi- 
ing  Plutonic  mountain  which  Seismos  has  created  by  up- 
heaval, and  which,  she  declare»,  "  will  vanish  at  the  crow  of 
cock."     When  Mephistopheles  exclaims: 

"  Honor  to  Ihee.  Ihou  RveRitd  Had  1 " 
it  is  again  Goethe  who  speaks  ;  and  the  circumstance  that 
Homimculus,  who  has  been  invisible  during  the  whole  Plu- 
tonic episode,  now  suddenly  shows  his  light  among  the 
thickets  covering  fie  natura/  rock,  hints  that  the  Oread  is 
immediately  responsible  for  his  reappearance.     If  we  attach 


ih,GoogIc 


400  FAUST. 

to  Homuncola*  the  pan  which  I  haTC  TeDtnred  to  propose 
—  if  ne  a-'sume  that  he  is  the  zithetic  principle  in  Goelhe'i 
own  nature,  seeking  the  connDencemenl  of  a  free,  joyoui  and 
harmoniuus  being,  —  the  passage  receives  a  distinct  and 
easily  intelligible  meaning.  As  I  have  given,  in  Note  59,  the 
other  varieties  of  interpretation,  the  reader  may  apply  them 
for  himielf,  here  as  elsewhere,  if  he  finds  reason  to  reject  my 


S&    Anaxagoraü  (te  Thalbs). 

The  representatives  of  the  two  geological  theories  are  now 
Introduced.  Goethe'n  choice  of  Anaxagoraa  and  Tbales  ia 
too  evidently  dictated  by  what  is  known  of  the  syslem«  dl 
those  philosophers,  to  need  any  further  explanation.  Tbe 
fomier  wrote  of  eclipses,  eanhquakes,  and  meteoric  stonei  ( 
the  tatter  derived  all  life  and  physical  phenomena  from  war 
ter;  yet  both  based  their  theories  on  "Nature,"  and  equally 
•ought  to  solve  her  mysteries.  Homunculus,  impatient  to 
begin  existence,  seems  to  heed  the  counsel  of  Mephistuphele« 
(Goethe)  to  dare  (0  etr,  as  the  only  means  of  arriving  at  un- 
derstanding.* Consequently,  no  tooner  does  the  dispute 
between  the  two  philosophers  recommence,  than  be  steps 
between  them,  seeking  guidance. 

The  words  of  Thales ;  — 


tindonbtedly  indicate  what  Goethe  considered  to  be  the  easy 
acquiescence  of  other  geologists  in  the  Plutonic  theory,  and 
his  own  stubborn  position ;  yet  it  is  a  little  singular  that  he 
should  have  chosen  the  Neptunic  "billows"  as  ayinbola  of 
bis  antagonists  I 

*  Thit  i*  A  jiuxim  which  Gceth«  hu  Bkprfttud  ld  minlfold  fomqa. 
The  line  ID  tlic  Prologue  in  Kuvtn:  "fj  irrl  dtr  Mtmch,  u  la^  tr 
UriU,"  li  in  imporuni  pan  of  ihe  argunenl  ol  Faiat.  Id  WHMm 
Mtitttr  he  >»ens  ihu  euh  nun  niuM  be  developed  in  hii  nra  mir  kl 
order  la  ittiin  ■  genuine  indepeDdence ;  and  tberafore,  Ihit  he  had  beKM 
BTT  when  ermr  will  pidmlly  lead  him  into  bii  own  Inw  padi,  than  mto 
■Hchunoilly  uigfai  on  tb«  path  pcncnlied  for  hi»  br  angth«. 


ih,Googlc 


87-    And  '111  not  Forc4,  aim  en  a  m^Afy  ttaU. 

The  foui  lines  very  teiaely  express  Goethe's  scientific 
creed.  In  1831  he  wrote;  "The  older  I  grow,  the  more  sur«' 
ly  I  lely  upon  thai  law  by  which  the  rose  and  the  lily  blos- 
som." He  rect^nized  no  beauty  except  in  proportion,  no 
harmony  except  in  gradual,  ordered  development.  When 
we  remember  his  constant  aspiration,  as  an  author,  lo  attain 
unto  a  pure  objective  vision,  we  may  well  wonder  that  in 
this  instance  he  was  not  only  unable,  but  fiercely  unwilling, 
to  liberate  himself  from  prejudice.  But,  after  caiefully  study- 
ing his  life,  we  find  that  we  have  to  deal  with  more  than 
an  intellectual  peculiirily ;  it  rests  on  the  deeper  basis  of 
his  moral,  and  even  physical,  nature,  and  was  directly  inher- 
ited ürom  his  mother.  The  Fran  Aja,  as  she  was  affection- 
ately called  by  the  'Weimar  courl-drde,  was  a  woman  of 
clear,  lively  intellect,  of  admirable  frankness  and  honesty, 
and  of  warm  and  strong  feelings.  Yet,  with  all  her  force  of 
character,  she  was  unable  to  endure  anxiety,  suspense,  the 
ordinary  shocks  and  plagues  of  life.  She  always  begged  her 
family  aivd  friends  to  hide  frum  her  every  coming  appearance 
of  misfortune,  and  only  to  mention  that  which  was  past,  and 
lo  be  inevitably  supported.  The  circle  around  Goethe  were 
so  familiar  with  [he  same  peculiarity  in  his  nature,  thai  they 
■voided  speaking  to  him  of  losses  which  they  knew  he  felt 
keenly.  Even  the  love  of  woman  seems  lo  have  been,  la 
him,  more  an  unrest  ihan  a  bliss,  as  is  clearly  shown  in  his 
relations  to  Frederike  and  Lili. 

Il  would  be  easy  to  give  many  direct  illuslTalions  of 
Goethe's  hostility  to  every  influence  which  interfered  with 
his  quiet,  harmonious  development,  and  to  show  how  such  a 
strong  quality  of  his  nature  must  have  moulded  (perhaps  un- 
consciously to  himselO  his  scientific  views.  The  belter  our 
knowledge  of  the  poet,  the  less  we  shall  be  surprised  to  find 
him  introducing,  here,  an  element  foreign  to  the  original  plan 
of  the  drama.  The  aiiisiic  mistake  which  we  perceive  was 
not  one  to  him. 

The  two  philosophers  take  ito  notice  of  Homtmculus,  >mli] 


ih,Googlc 


403 


FAUST. 


AnaxaROtu,  after  sediig  that  the  new  mcnuitiin  \t  ilreid; 
peopled,  offers  to  nuke  the  former  king  over  the  Pygmies 
and  Dactyls.  Düntzer  says  of  this  passage  :  "  Anaiagora* 
does  not  recognize  the  genuine  nature  of  Homunculus ;  he 
sees  only  the  external  appearance,  the  little  form,  the  impria- 
onmenl  in  the  phial.  On  account  of  his  lUllrmii,  and  not, 
as  others  assert,  because  be  is  a  spirit  of  fire,  does  Anaxago- 
raa  esteem  him  to  be  competent  to  rule  over  the  little  people. 
He  seeks  to  exist,  to  enter  the  reality  of  life,  which  can  only 
be  attained  through  gradual  development ;  but  Anaxagoras 
desires  to  make  him  king  at  one  blow,  quite  in  thi.  ipiril  of 
the  theory  of  upheaval,  which  would  create  all  thicgs  sud- 
denly and  violently." 

Thalea  answers  as  a  Nepttmbt,  ana  describe*  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Pygmies  by  tbe  Cranes  of  Ibycus.  The  latter 
event  was  possibly  intended  as  a  prophecy  )  or,  at  least,  ai 
1  satirical  declaration  that  the  Plutonists,  if  forced  to  give  op 
the  theory  of  upheaval,  would  next  Insist  that  mountain- 
peaks  were  created  by  meteoric  stones  projected  Irom  the 
volcanoes  uf  the  moon.  This  view  is  entirely  consistent  ivilh 
all  that  we  know  of  Goethe's  temper,  before  and  during  the 
!ime  wlien  the  scene  was  written. 

&8.     Thtn  -wtrt  it  /rut,  Tktstaiian  Fytkontati. 

This  is  a  reference  to  an  old  Grecian  myth,  mentioned  in 

the  Ctfr^'or  of  Plato  and  tbe  C/nujIr  of  Aristophanes.    Horace, 

alsii,  (CanH.  V.,)  has  the  lines  ■  — 


We  are  to  suppose  that  only  a  meteoric  sicne  has  &)1«n, 
but  that  Anaxagoras,  in  his  excited  fancy,  imagines  that  the 
orb  of  the  moon  is  rushing  down  upon  the  earth.  Thales 
perceives  nothing  but  that  "  the  Hours  are  crazy "  ;  tbe 
moon  is  shining  quietly  in  her  place.  But  a  meteoric  mass 
has  really  (alien,  giving  a  pointed  head  to  the  round  Hill  of 
Seismos.  and  crushing  Pygmies  and  Cranes  in  one  common 
ilcsiruciion.  Perhaps  Goethe  meant  to  hint,  satirically,  thai 
the  theory  of  creation  '  from  above  "  (as  Homunculus  says) 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  403 

to  qoile  u  ntional  u  Ihat  of  creation  b)r  apbcavtl.  ir  ac, 
ne  hu  cnrioiuljr  antidpitecl  one  of  the  moat  resent  «dentific 
ideas,  —  that  of  the  growth  and  physical  cbai^  of  planets, 
by  accretioa  from  the  meteoric  belts. 

Tbales  «ay«,  positively,  tu  Homunculns :  "  'T  wm  but 
imagined  Bo."  and  then  seta  out,  with  him,  for  his  favorite 
element,  leaving  Anaxagoras  prostrate  on  hie  üxx.  Here 
the  dirtet  sdentiGc  allegory  tenninates,  and  we  pick  op  the 
Esthetic  thread  again. 

89.  Tht  Phortyads! 
The  Phorkyads,  or,  more  correctly,  PherläiU,  were  tbe 
three  daughtera  of  Phorkys  (DarkneM)  and  Keto  (Tbe 
Abyss).  Their  names  were  Deino,  Pephredo,  and  Enyo : 
Hesiod,  in  his  Thet^ony,  gives  only  the  two  last.  They 
were  alto  called  (he  Grata.  They  were  said  to  have,  in 
common,  but  one  eye  and  one  tooth,  which  they  used  alter- 
nately, and  to  dwell  at  the  uttermost  end  of  the  earth,  where 
neither  sun  nor  moon  beheld  them.  They  represent  the 
climax  of  all  which  the  Greek  imagination  has  created  of 
horrible  and  repulsive.  Mcphistophelcs,  consequently,  is 
ravished  with  delight :  he  has  found  the  Ideal  Ugliness. 
His  flattery  serves  also  to  hint  that  while  Northern  or  Ro- 
mantic Art  (in  the  Middle  Ages)  was  accustomed  to  rep- 
resent the  Devil  and  all  manner  of  hideous  and  grotesque 
Fiends,  Clasuc  Art  only  occupied  itself  with  shapes  of 
beauty.  The  Phorkyads  dwelt  in  gloom,  unknown,  and 
only  not  unnamed.  The  Lamiz  rejected  the  Northern 
Devil,  for  he  was  still  uglier  than  they,  but  the  Phorky- 
ads admit  him  into  their  triad.  He  suflcrs  a  cl^issical 
change  into  something  hideous  and  strange,  and  disappeat» 
from  the  Walpurgis-Night,  to  reappear,  in  his  new  form, 
in  the  Htlata. 

90.    Rocky  Covms  op  tkk  Xx,%»m  Sba. 

With  this  scene  commences  the  third  and  last  of  the  three 

parts  into  which  the  Classical  Walpurgis-Night  naturally 

divide«  itselC    The  first  port,  as  we  have  seen,  gradually 


ih,Googlc 


404 


FAUST. 


eliminaus  tlie  Beautiful  from  the  Grotesque,  aeparates  the 
op|>aaile  paths  of  Fauat  and  Mephiitopheles,  and  closes 
with  (he  disappearance  of  Faiut,  on  his  war  to  implore 
Helena  hom  (he  shades.  The  second  put  introduces  the 
Plutonic  theory  in  geology  as  a  disturbing  element,  satirizes 
it,  sjmboliies  its  overthrow,  decides  the  course  of  Homun- 
culus  by  attaching  him  to  (he  Neptunic  Thales,  and  dose* 
with  the  anion  of  Mephistophele«  and  his  ugly  Ideal. 

Thedeveloptncnt  of  the  Ideaoflhe  Beautiful  is  now  taken 
up  at  Ihe  point  where  it  was  suspended,  and  carried  onward ; 
but  Homunculus  is  henceforth  the  central  figure  of  the 
changing  groups.  The  reader  will  remark,  however,  that 
this  and  the  following  scene  are  strictly  Neptunic :  the  char- 
acters all  belong  to  the  Ocean,  and  the  occasion  which  call* 
them  together  is  a  festival  of  Nereus.  Although  Goethe's 
scientific  creed  ia  constantly  suggested,  it  is  subordinate  to 
his  aesthetic  plan,  and  hardly  interfcies  with  it  His  few 
brief  references  are  like  so  many  low  rocks,  which  cannot 
interrupt  the  multitudinous  dance  of  the  waves. 

Oken,  for  »ham  Goethe  felt  a  hearty  and  admiring  re- 
spect, has  the  following  passage  :  "  Light  shines  on  the  salt 
Rood,  and  it  becomes  alive.  All  life  is  from  the  sea,  iMthing 
from  the  firm  land  :  the  entire  ocean  is  living.  It  is  a  bil- 
lowy, ever-np heaving  and  again  subsiding  organism 

Love  is  a  birth  of  the  sea-foam The  first  organic 

forms  issued  from  the  shallow  places  of  the  great  ocean,  here 
plants,  there  animals.  Man,  also,  is  a  child  of  the  warm 
shallows  of  the  sea,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  land."  This 
passage,  which  Goethe  certainly  knew,  and  probably  accepted 
in  a  poetical  sense,  will  throw  some  light  on  what  folkiwi. 

91.  Sletring  irway  to  SamaAraei. 
We  must  suppose  that  the  scene  opens  on  the  Theasalian 
coast,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Pencus,  and  theiefore  almost  in 
ught  of  the  mountain-isle  of  Samothrace.  The  purpose  of 
the  Nereids  and  Tritons.  In  ibeir  journey  thither,  will  be 
presently  revealed.  Meanwhile  Thales  conducts  Homuncu- 
his  to  Mereus,  the  Graybeaid  of  the  Sea,  whtmi   Heaiod 


ih,Googlc 


XOTES. 


405 


describes  as  just  and  friendly,  iUkI  well-dispoied  towards  tho 
human  race. 

Nereus,  however,  in  words  which  ate  almost  an  echo  of 
üuetlic's  own  expressions,  refuses  to  give  cuunseL  "The 
giving  of  advice  is  a  peculiar  thing,"  said  Goethe  to  Eclter- 
niann,  "and  when  one  has  bad  some  chance  of  seeing  how, 
in  ihe  world,  (he  most  intelligent  plans  fail  and  Ihe  absurd- 
est  often  turn  out  snCEessfully,  one  is  inclined  to  give  up 
the  idea  of  furnishing  advice  to  anybody.  At  the  bottom, 
indeed,  the  asking  of  adviM  denotes  a  restricled  nature,  and 
the  giving  of  it  an  assuming  one."  The  reference  to  Paris 
is  suggested  by  a  passage  in  Horace  (Ode  I.},  where  Nereus 
is  represented  as  having  appeared  in  a  calm  to  Paris,  on  his 
way  to  the  Troad  with  Helena,  and  predicted  to  him  Ihe 
coming  war  and  ruin. 

93.      77it  Cratej  of  the  Sta,  Iht  Daridet. 

The  Dorides  were  the  daughters  of  Nereus  and  the  »ca- 
rymph  Doris,  but  are  called  Nereids  in  the  Grecian  mythol' 
ogy.  Goethe's  object  in  calling  them  Deridta,  and  present' 
ing  them  as  Ihe  daughters  of  Nereus,  while  the  Nereids  are 
inlioduced  without  any  hint  of  their  relationship,  has  puzzled 
the  commentaiors ;  and  since  any  attempt  at  explanation 
must  be  merely  conjecture,  without  evidence,  I  leave  the 
question  as  it  stands.  There  seems,  also,  to  be  no  ground 
whatever  for  the  declaration  of  Nereus  that  Galatea  was 
worshipped  at  Faphos  in  the  place  of  Cypris  (Aphrodite). 
Thus  far,  none  of  the  Olympian  Goda  or  Goddes-ses  have 
been  introduced;  and  the  fresco  of  Galatea  by  Ka|ihael. 
which  Goethe  knew,  together  with  the  description  of  a  very 
similar  picture,  mentioned  by  Philostratus,  undoubtedly  sug- 
gested lo  him  the  propriety  of  giving  het  the  place  which 
really  belongs  to  Aphrodite,  as  the  representative  of  Helena 
■Beauty). 

It  is  possible  that  the  reason  why  Nereus  refuses  lo  help 
Horounculus  to  being,  and  refins  bim  lo  Proteus,  is,  lliat 
Goeihe  intends  the  former  lo  be  an  embodiment  of  accom- 
plished, completed   existence,  while   the  latter  represents 


ih,.  Google 


Transfonnation,  and  therefore  —  since  Momunqilus  most 
begin  mch  the  lowest  fonti  of  organic  life  —  he  must  be  tint 
consulted, 

93.     Three  have  we  brought  hither. 

The  introduction  of  the  CaUri,  ancient  Egyptian  AnA 
Phixnidan  deities,  in  this  place,  is  more  difficult  to  explain 
than  thai  of  the  geological  element  in  (he  preceding  scene. 
1  can  discover  no  diamatlc,  lesihetic,  or  even  metaphysical 
reason  for  turning  back  from  the  human  forms  which  we 
have  reached,  with  their  increasing  poetry  and  beauty,  to 
the  uncouth  gods  of  Samothrace,  —  especially  since  nothing 
comes  of  the  circumatance.  The  whole  episode  seems  to 
have  been  wilfully  inserted,  as  the  consequence  of  a  whim  or 
a  temporary  interest  [n  the  subject. 

Schelling's  work  "The  Deities  of  Satnothrace,"  published 
in  1815,  first  directed  Goethe's  attention  to  these  primitive 
creature».  Creuzer,  in  hi*  "Symbolism  and  Mythology" 
and  Lobeck  in  his  "  Aglaophamus  "  continued  the  archzo- 
logical  discussion,  which,  considering  the  remote  and  uncer- 
tain nature  of  the  subject,  was  carried  on  for  a  time  with  a 
good  deal  of  sarcasm  and  triltemess.  The  dispute  had  not 
subsided  when  Goethe  wrote  this  scene  in  iSjo ;  and  it  was 
perhaps  natural   that  he  should  have  overrated  its  impoi- 

The  Cabiri  were  originally  three.  In  Memphis  they  had 
a  temple  and  were  worshipped  as  the  sons  of  Phihas  (He- 
phxstos).  They  appear  to  have  been  colonized  on  Samo- 
Ihrace  by  the  PhtEnidanx,  and  [heir  mysteries  were  celebrated 
there  with  orgies  borrowed  from  the  phallic  worship  of  the 
Egyptians.  Three  female  deities  wer«  subsequently  added 
to  their  number  ;  but  Creuzer  insists  that  there  were  seveiL 
cnitesponding  to  the  seven  planets,  uritb  a  possible  eighth, 
representing  the  sun.  The  names  of  the  first  three  were 
Axierus,  Axiokersus,  and  Axiokersa,  and  the  fourth,  Kad- 
milus,  being  added  as  a  uniting  principle,  they  became  to- 
gether, according  to  Creuzer,  a  symbol  of  the  sphend  har- 
mony.   This  may  explain  Goethe's  allusion  to  the  fourth. 


ih,Googlc 


/\JOTES. 


4^7 


The  Hebrew  word,  Kdiiirim,  is  translaled  by  Geaenius, 
"  The  Mfßhty."  Fiiret  says  that  Kabhirim  was  the  name 
of  the  »even  sons  of  Tzadik,  in  Phccnician  mythology.  The 
Arabic  word  kebttr  (great),  still  in  use,  is  evidently  the  same, 

94-     Thea  intotnparabU,  uiuhaiHaMe. 

This  quatrain  aeems  to  be  aimed  at  the  archxologista. 
Schelling  had  asserted  that  the  Cabiri  represented  a  chain 
of  symbols,  the  first  being  Huttger,  the  second  Nature,  grad- 
ually rising  to  the  latest  and  highest,  who  corresponded  to 
the  Zeus  of  the  Greeks.  Goethe  transfers  the  desiie  of  these 
lower  deities  to  reach  ihe  places  of  the  higher  to  the  de»re 
of  Ihe  archxologists  for  unattainable  Itnowledge. 

The  answer  of  the  Sirens  is  a  play  upon  Creuzer's  ad- 
herence to  the  Oriental  symbolism  of  the  sun,  moon,  and 
Klars.  Their  reference  to  the  Fleece  of  Gold,  (hat  is.  The 
Cabiri,  is  also  meant  for  satire,  although  it  is  so  weak  as  to 
be  scarcely  apparent 

95.    Had  eartlun  potafar  models. 

Creuzer,  again.  He  asserted  that  the  Cabiri  were  origi- 
nally worshipped  under  the  form  of  thick'bellied  earthen  jars, 
or  pots.  Schelling's  in  lerprelalion  of  the  names  had  been 
opposed,  not  only  by  Creuzer,  but  by  Paulus,  De  Sacy, 
Welcher,  and  others,  —  whence  the  mention  of  "stubborn 

Heie  the  episode,  which  we  cannot  but  feel  is  altogether 
unnecessary  and  unedi^ng,  comes  to  an  end. 

96.      He  has  no  lack  a/ qualities  ideal. 

But  Jar  toe  much  of  palpable  and  real. 
The  description  which  Thales  gives  of  Homunculus  di- 
rectly suggests  many  hints  which  Goethe  let  fall  in  regard  to 
his  own  nature.  Ideas  were  never  lacking  to  him  ;  on  the 
contrary,  their  very  profusion  was  a  source  of  unrest  and  per- 
plexity, since  it  was  associated  with  a  difficulty  in  discover- 
ing the  appropriate  reality  of  form  which  Poelry  requires. 
The  perfect  fusion  of  the  two  elements  was  what  he  moM 


ih,Googlc 


4o8  FAUST. 

aitmired  and  ciK'Kd  in  Shakeipeare ;  and  the  struggle  »T  his 
life,  (o  unite  (he  Classic  and  the  Komantic,  was  noLning  more 
than  to  give  the  rare  and  subtile  and  delicate  spirit  or  the 
latter  the  positive,  palpable,  symmetrical  form  vrhich  be  rec- 
ognized in  the  former.  If  Homunculus  verily  be  Goethe's 
own  Poetic  Genius,  it  ia  all  the  more  easy  to  perceive  ho« 
he  was  here  able  to  symbolize  a  powerful  aspiration  of  his 
nature,  for  which  no  other  form  of  expression  could  be  tbund. 
The  theme  suggest«  a  multitude  of  illustralions,  and  I  resist 
with  difficulty  the  temptation  to  develop  it  further. 

97.     One  ttarit  tktrt  first  •wilkin  a  nammipaU. 
Homer   describes  the   Iransfnrmalions  of  Proteus  in  tb« 
Fourth  Book  of  the  Odyssey,  where  Menelaus  forces  him  to 
appear  in  his  proper  form.    Thates  makes  use  of  the  curios- 
ity of  Proteus  to  accomplish  the  same  resulL 

Goethe,  here,  and  from  this  point  to  the  end,  attaches  id 
additional  meaning  to  Homunculus,  partly,  no  doubt,  in  or- 
der to  disguise  the  secret,  personal  symbolism  of  the  latter, 
and  partly,  also,  because  it  enabled  him  to  give  a  hint  of  his 
own  palingenetic  ideas.  He  suggcsu  the  gradual  develop- 
ment of  life,  constantly  evolving  higher  forms  from  lower  as 
a  part  of  his  theory  of  creation,  in  accordance  with  the 
Wemerian  system.  But  when  Thales  says,  in  the  following 
scene  (pages  156, 157) :  — 


fcrudyfor 

Ih.  nvid  plan  1 

The 

re.  by  emujj  cinoiu  »e 

ding. 

Thr, 

ughll-o 

»»].  mjrriid  f 

Tho 

Mu 

he  expresses  the  psychological  view  of  the  ancients  rather 
than  the  scientific  system  of  the  moderns,  of  which  Darwin 
is  the  latest  and  most  succesarul  illustrator.  Goethe  perhaps 
considered  that  as  all  the  series  of  organic  life  are  traversed 
in  the  development  of  the  human  embryo,  so.  reversely,  the 
lowest  series  already  contains  the  preparation  fur,  and  the 
prophecy  of,  the  highest  Schnetger's  interpretation,  that 
Proteus   represents  Nature  and  bears  Homunculus  on  his 


ih,Googlc 


back  as  Che  embiyo  of  the  bDiMn  race,  wbich  is  to  ascend 
"  througli  thousand,  myriad  forms  "  to  Man,  is  entirely  con- 
Mstetit  wilh  this  view. 

98.    Telchines  of  Rhodes. 

The  Telchines  of  Rhodes,  who  were  called  Sons  of  the 
Sea,  were  the  first  workers  in  metals.  They  made  the  knife 
of  Krono»  and  the  trident  of  PoseidiM,  and  cast  (he  first 
images  of  Che  Gods  in  bronie.  Their  appearance,  here,  indi- 
cates the  dawn  of  the  age  of  higher  Grecian  art.  Pliny  and 
Theophrastus  are  Goeche'a  authorities  for  the  sunny  weather 
and  pure  atmosphere  of  Rhodes.  The  very  movement  of 
the  verse  suggests  brightness  ;  we  feel  that  the  »un  and  air 
are  not  (hose  of  Rhode*  alone,  bat  of  all  Classical  art  and 
literature. 

The  Telchines  exalt  Luna  as  the  sister  of  Phcebus.  who 
was  (he  tutelar  deicy  of  Rhodes  :  the  conclusion  of  cheir 
cboruit  seems  to  indicate  the  union  of  Religion  and  Art,  and 
suggests  Coleridge's  "fair  humanicies  of  old  religion."  Pro- 
teus exalts  organic  being,  lite  in  the  waters,  over  Che  dead 
works  of  the  Telchines,  and  hints  at  the  overthrow  of  the 
Rhodian  Colossus  by  an  earthquake. 

Hartung's  words  upon  this  passage  may  also  be  of  servier 
to  the  reader  :  "  From  the  rude  fetich  to  an  Olympian  Zeus 
by  the  hand  of  a  Phidias,  there  is  as  great  a  gap  as  from  the 
mollusk  to  the  human  form  ;  and  Art  must  run  through  the 
whole  career.  In  this  festival  of  Che  Sea,  the  poet  has  placed 
the  development  of  organic  forms  in  Nature,  rising  in  con- 
tinual progression  to  Man,  side  by  side  with  (he  develop- 
ment of  Art,  in  Religion,  from  the  fetich  [Cabiri  ?]  to  (be 
height  of  a  Phidias." 

99.     That  I  alio  think  ii  btit. 

The  words  of  Thales  are  not  meant  as  a  reply  to  Nereus. 

They  are  simply  a  continuation  of  what  he  has  before  said :  — 


ih,Googlc 


4IO  FAUST. 

loa      PSYLLI   AND  HARSI. 

Goethe  took  from  Plin;  the  Psylll  and  Maral,  who  wem 
«nake- channers  in  Southern  Italy  and  on  the  Libyan  shore. 
He  arbiliarily  makes  them  guardians  of  the  chariot  of  Cypris, 
in  which  they  still  conduct  Galatea  by  night,  "unseen  to  the 
new  generations,"  fearing  neither  the  Roman  eagle,  the 
winged  lion  of  Venice,  the  crescent  of  the  Saracen,  nor  the 
cross  of  the  Crusader.  Why  tbey  are  here  introduced,  is 
not  so  easy  to  explain.  Diintzer  insists  that,  being  magi- 
cians, they  represent  the  magic  power  of  Beauty  1  Schnetger 
says  they  aie  nearer  to  GaJaiea  than  the  Telchines  of 
Rhodes,  because  they  destroy  snakes,  which  are  ugly,  and 
which,  according  to  the  Bible,  are  hostile,  to  womani 

It  is  not  necessary  to  quote  the  variety  of  meanings  given 
by  the  commentators  to  the  interlude  of  the  Dorides  and  the 
young  sailors  whom  they  have  rescued  from  shipwreck. 
They,  as  well  as  (he  Telchines,  the  Psylli  and  Marsi,  belong 
to  the  triumphal  convoy  of  Galatea.  Hence  they  are  all 
prognostications  of  the  coming  Beauty,  perhaps  her  symbol- 
ized attributes  ;  and  no  single  explanation  could  be  satisläc- 
tory  to  every  reader.  Hartung's  guess  seems  to  me  very 
plausible,  at  least  :  "The  poet  has  had  in  his  mind  the  bble 
of  Aurora  and  Tithonus,  for  that  goddess  could  not  prevent 
her  lover,  for  whom  she  had  obtained  immortal  life,  from 
withering  up  into  a  grasshopper,  from  ape.  And  thus  we 
further  petceive  from  the  passage  that  Nature  may  indeed 
create  the  highest  beauty,  but  can  only  retain  it  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  for  Beauty  increases  until  human  maturity,  then  im- 
mediately begins  to  fade." 

lOI.  Galatea  appToachis  on  hir  chariot  a/ih^ll. 
Galatea,  the  lovely  Nereid,  here  takes  the  place  of  Helena, 
■s  Homuncuhis  takes  the  place  of  Faust.  She  Is  the  Ideal 
Beauty,  the  sea-born  successor  of  Aphrodite.  Goethe  not 
only  selected  her  as  a  Neptunist,  but  he  was  alio  directed  to 
her,  as  [  have  already  remarked,  by  Raphael  and  Philostratua, 
The  latter  thus  describes  a  picture  of  her  :  "The  broad 
watery  floor  heaves  gently  under  the  chariot  of  the  Beau^ ; 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


411 


lour  dolphins,  harnessed  tt^etber,  seem  urged  loTward  by 
one  impulse  ;  young  Tritons  bridle  them  in  order  to  curb 
their  wanton  plunges.  But  she  stands  on  her  shell-chariot ; 
the  purple  mantle,  a  sport  of  the  wind,  swells  above  her 
head  like  a  sail  and  shades  her."  Goethe  say« :  "  It  is 
important  lor  our  object,  to  place  beside  this  description 
what  Raphael,  the  Caracd  and  others  have  done  with  the 
same  subject"  Raphael's  fresco,  in  the  Farnesina  Palace 
in  Rome,  represents  Galatea  standing  in  a  chariot  drawn  by 
dolphins,  who  are  driven  by  a  Cupid.  Around  her  are 
Tritons,  blowing  their  conch-shells,  and  embracing  the  at- 
tendant Nereids. 

It  is  only  a  passing  glimpse  which  the  poet  allows.  Thales 
has  hardly  ßnished  his  pxan  to  Water,  as  the  creating  and 
sustaining  principle  of  life,  when  the  triumphal  procession  is 
already  afar.  The  long  line  of  symbols  has  now  reached  its 
trown,  and  the  allegory  must  close. 

lOX.  Whatßtty  marvel  the  billows  eitlighUni  t 
HomunculuB  sees  at  once  the  beginning  and  the  perfect 
result  of  existence.  Beauty  is  all  around  him  :  his  imprison- 
ing glass  glows  and  vibrates  urith  his  passionate  yearning, 
and  shivers  itself  at  the  feet  of  Galalca.  The  waves  around 
the  shell-chariot  are  covered  as  with  tire  1  he  begins  life  in 
the  phosphorescent  animalculx  of  the  Ocean. 

Some,  here,  imagine  thai  Homunculus  represents  Ero«; 
others  that  he  is  Galatea  (I);  others  that  he  is  Faust's  es- 
thetic passion.  I  will  only  say  that  to  one  who  has  closely 
studied  Goethe's  life  ;  who  has  detected  how  the  cramped 
and  restricted  existence  in  Weimar  became  almost  unendura- 
ble to  him,  how  a  new  freedom  came  through  his  acquaint- 
ance with  Classic  Art  in  Italy,  with  what  passionate  devotion 
he  strove  to  comprehend  the  Ideal  of  beauty  in  the  humatt 
(brra,  shivering  all  former  moulds  in  which  his  intellectual 
being  was  confined,  and  pouring  his  naiure  forth  in  an  effu- 
sion of  free  and  joyous  desire  to  create  a  new  being  for  him- 
self, —  to  such  a  one,  both  symbols,  which  are  here  united 
in  Homunculus,  become  clearly  intelligible.    If,  in  the  Boy 


ih,Googlc 


413 


FAUST. 


Charioteer  and  Ptatus  we  reci^ite  Goetbe'i  relation  to  Kail 
August,  crowned  by-the  leiiure  for  poetic  activity  which  the 
princely  friend  secured  to  the  poet,  may  we  not  find  aynbol- 
ized  in  Homunculus  the  straggle  which  resulted  in  that 
(esthetic  growth,  (hat  intellectual  freedom,  into  which  Goethe 
rose  during  and  after  his  Italian  journey,  and  finally,  in 
Euphorion,  the  harmonious  union  oTthe  Classic  and  Roman- 
tic elements  in  hii  own  poetry,  commencing  with  Ipkigt»i» 
in  TauTÜ  and  Taaa  t 

The  concluding  chorus  glorifies  Eros,  whom  Hesiod  men- 
tions as  one  of  the  original  creative  Powers.  The  four  Ele- 
ments—  Water,  Fire,  Air,  and  Earth  —  are  celebrated,  and 
Love  is  the  generative  principle  through  which  all  life,  irom 
its  first  nidimcniaiy  forms  to  the  Supreme  Beauty,  is  begot- 
ten from  them.     We  are  reminded  of  one  of  Goethe's  epl- 

Thou.  in  usuenient,  ibMi'iI  niE  Ihc  Sea ;  il  uiini  lo  be  bnrnint : 
With  HTB  bfokcn  in  flaiDe.  meeliDg  theaigUl-gunf  tliipl 

I  vn  no loagv unuad :  from  IbA  Sea  waiboni  Aphrodite; 
Wm  nM  tlMD  bom  Inn  her  li»  the  Fiure,  u  ber  a«  r 

103.  HlUXHA. 
The  Third  Act  is  known  in  Germany  as  Tkt  Hilcna,  not 
only  because  it  was  separately  published  in  1827  uuder  tb* 
title  of  "  Helena  :  a  Classico- Romantic  Phantasmagoria," 
but  also  because  it  is  a  complete  allegorical  poem  in  itself 
inserted  in  the  Second  Fart  of  Fiout  by  very  loose  threads 
of  attachment.  It  represents,  indeed,  in  one  sense,  the  ges- 
thelic  development  of  Faust's  nature,  as  an  important  part 
of  his  experience  of  "  the  greater  world,"  and  a  step  by  which 
he  attains  to  the  higher  being  to  which  he  aspires  ;  but  this 
has  already  been  announced,  and,  in  itself,  demands  no  such 
elaboration.  The  chief  motive  which  governed  Goethe  wax 
the  reconciliation  of  the  Classic  and  the  Romantic  ;  this  dic- 
tated the  form  of  the  episode,  which  is  quite  as  remarkable 
as  its  substance.  Gnethe,  himself,  recogniied  the  preponder- 
ance of  the  latter  allegory,  and  at  one  time  debated  whether 
he  should  not  complete  the  Helaia  as  a  separate  work.    It 


ih,Googlc 


ATOTES.  413 

WIS  perh^w  Schiller's  death  which  prev«nt«<l  the  fulfUment 
of  this  plan. 

I  have  related  (in  Appendix  IL,  First  Part)  bow  Ecker- 
mann's  suggestion  led  him,  in  iSzj,  to  take  up  th«  neglected 
fragment,  which  was  written  in  1800.  We  can  scarcely  be 
wrong  in  assumii^  that  the  earlier  scenes,  read  at  the  Conrt 
or  Weimar  in  17S0.  were  of  an  entirely  different  character, 
and  that  nothing  of  ihero  waa  retaiiKd.  At  Itiat  time  the 
terms  "Classic"  and  "  Romantic"  were  not  heard:  Schil- 
ler's essay  "On  Naive  and  Sentimental  Poetry"  led  to  that 
liieiary  discussion  which  divided  the  German  authors  into 
distinct  parties,  thus  designated.  A  quarter  of  a  century 
later  the  conflict  was  transferred  lo  France,  where  it  has 
scaicely  yet  subsided.  The  eigniücance  of  the  terms  is, 
therefore,  now  so  generally  understood  that  no  special  ex- 
planation is  Tiecessary.  We  need  only  remember  that  the 
culture  of  (he  German  people  was  then  so  high,  and  (heir 
intellectual  interests  so  keen,  that  the  subject  ponsessed  an 
importance  which  we  are  likely  now  (o  undervalue. 

When  the  Hdtna  was  published,  in  1827,  Goethe  himself 
announced  it  in  bis  journal,  Kunst  und  Alltrtkum,  in  an  arti- 
cle which  must  needs  be  quoted  entire  ;  *  — 

"HELENA.     INTERLUDE   IN   FAUST. 

"  Faust's  character,  in  (he  elevation  to  which  latter  re- 
finement, working  on  the  old  rude  iradition,  has  raised  it, 
represents  a  man  who,  feeling  impatient  and  imprisoned 
within  the  limits  of  mere  earthly  existence,  regards  the  pos- 
session of  the  highest  knowledge,  the  enjoyment  of  (he  fair- 
est blessings,  as  insufficient  even  in  the  slighte<it  degree  (o 
satisiy  his  longing  :  a  spirit,  accordingly,  which,  struggling 
out  on  all  sides,  ever  returns  the  more  unhappy. 

"  This  form  of  mind  is  so  accordant  with  our  modem  dis- 
position, that  various  persons  of  ability  have  been  induced  to 
undertake  the  treatment  of  such  a  subject.    My  manner  of 

*   1  buTTDw  Cut; la's  tantlitiOD  6on  hx  utkia  "  Coaiha'i  Helen.' 


ih,Googlc 


4'4 


FAUST. 


ailempting  it  obliined  approval :  distinguished  men  consid. 
ercd  the  matter,  and  commented  on  my  performance ;  all 
which  I  thankfully  observed.  At  the  aanie  lime  I  could  not 
but  wonder  that  none  of  those  who  undertook  a  continuation 
and  completion  of  my  Fragment,  had  lighted  on  the  ihoußht, 
which  seemed  so  obvious,  that  the  composition  of  a  Second 
Part  must  necessarily  elevate  itself  altogether  aivay  from 
the  hampered  sphere  of  the  First,  and  conduct  a  man  of 
■uch  a  iiature  into  higher  legions,  under  worthier  drcum- 

"  How  I,  for  my  part,  had  determined  to  essay  this,  lay 
(dlently  before  my  own  mind,  from  time  to  lime  exciting  me 
to  some  progress  ;  while,  from  all  and  each,  I  carefully 
guarded  my  secret,  still  in  hope  of  bringing  the  work  to  the 
wished-for  issue.  Now,  however,  I  must  no  longer  keep 
back  j  or,  in  publishing  ray  collective  Endeavor^  conceal 
any  further  secret  from  the  world  ;  to  which,  on  the  con- 
trary, [  feel  bound  to  submit  my  whole  labors,  even  though 
in  a  fragmentary  state 

"  Accordingly  I  have  resolved  that  the  above-named  Piece, 
a  smaller  drama,  complete  within  itself,  but  pertaining  to  the 
Second  Part  of  Fausl,  shall  be  forthwith  presented  in  the 
first  portion  of  my  Works. 

"  The  wide  chasm  between  that  well-known  dolorous  con- 
clusion of  the  First  Part,  and  the  entrance  of  an  antique 
Grecian  heroine,  is  not  yet  overarched  \  meanwhile,  as  a 
preamble,  my  readers  wilt  accept  what  follows : 

"The  old  Legend  tells  us.  and  the  puppet-play  falls  not  to 
introduce  the  scene,  that  Faust,  in  his  imperious  pride  of 
heart,  required  from  Mephistopheles  the  love  of  the  lair 
Helena  of  Greece ;  in  which  demand  the  other,  after  some 
reluctance,  gratified  him-  Not  to  overlook  so  important  a 
concern  in  our  work  was  a  duty  for  us  :  and  how  we  have 
endeavored  to  discharge  it  will  be  seen  in  this  Interlude. 
But  what  may  have  furnished  the  proximate  occasion  of  such 
an  occurrence,  and  how,  after  manifold  hindrances,  our  old 
magical  Craftsman  can  have  found  means  to  bring  back  the 
individual  Helena,  in  person,  out  of  Orcus  into  Life,  axusA, 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  ^(5 

fn  this  stage  of  the  business,  remain  undiscovered.  For  the 
present,  il  is  enough  if  our  reader  will  admit  that  the  real 
Helena  may  step  forth,  on  antique  tragedy-colhumus,  before 
her  primitive  abode  in  Sparta.  Wc  then  request  him  (a>ob- 
serve  in  what  way  and  manner  Faust  will  presume  to  court 
bvor  from  this  royal  all-famous  Beauty  of  the  world." 

104.    Chorus. 

The  opening  of  the  act  appears  to  be  imitated  from  "  The 
Eumenides  "  of  j^scliylus.  Until  the  appearance  of  Faust, 
the  form  of  the  veise  is  purely  classic,  the  iambic  hexameter, 
and  aflenrards  (he  trochaic  octameter,  alternating  with  (he 
Irregular  yet  wonderfully  metrical  strophes  of  the  Choiui. 
Some  features  in  the  description  of  (he  burning  of  Troy,  in 
this  Chorus,  are  taken  from  the  j^neid.  but  (he  form  and 
character  are  Goethe's  own.  The  first  four  strophes,  in  the 
ori^nal,  are  very  grand.  From  the  opening  of  the  Act  until 
the  introduction  of  rhyme,  afier  Faust's  appearance,  I  hare 
been  able  to  retain  the  exact  metres,  while  giving  (be  lines 
very  nearly  as  literally  as  in  a  prose  translation, 

Carlyle,  whose  version  of  this  passage  and  of  Helena's  de- 
scription of  the  encounter  with  Phorkyas  is  so  excellent,  (ha(, 
had  he  given  us  the  whole  Act,  no  other  translation  would 
have  been  necessary,  says  of  the  metres  ;  "  Happy,  could  we, 
in  any  measure,  have  transfused  the  broad,  yet  rich  and 
chaste  simplicity  of  these  long  iambics :  or  imitated  the  tone, 
as  we  have  done  the  metre,  of  that  choral  song ;  its  rude 
earnestness,  and  tortuous,  awkward -looking,  artless  strength. 

as  we  have  done  its  dactyls  and  anapxsts To  our  own 

minds,  at  least,  there  is  everywhere  a  strange,  piquant,  quite 
peculiar  charm  in  these  imitations  of  the  old  Grecian  style ; 
a  dash  of  (he  ridiculous,  if  we  might  say  so,  is  blended  with 
(he  sublime,  ye(  blended  with  it  softly  and  only  to  temper  its 
austerity  ;  fur  often,  so  graphic  is  the  delineation,  we  could 
almost  feel  as  if  a  vista  were  opened  through  the  long  gloomy 
distance  of  ages,  and  we,  with  our  modern  eyes  and  modern 
levity,  beheld  afar  oif,  in  clear  light,  the  very  figures  of  that 
old  grave  time  ;  saw  (hem  again  living  in  their  old  anliqua- 


ih,Googlc 


rian  costume  Mid  envitonmeiit,  and  heard  them  audibly  dia- 
courw  in  a  dialect  which  had  long  been  dead.  Of  all  this, 
no  man  is  moie  maiter  tlian  Goethe." 

lOS-  Phobkvas. 
The  leader  will  not  have  forgolten  the  translbrniation  of 
Mephistopheles  into  a  Phork^ad  (page  144),  in  the  Classical 
Walpurgis-Night,  and  vill  thus  understand  how  he,  as  the 
Spirit  of  Negation,  here  appears  in  a  female  maslc,  as  Ugli- 
ness, to  torment  and  threaten  Beauty.  Carlyle  says :  "  There 
is  a  sarcastic  malice  in  the  '  wise  old  Stewardess '  which 
cannot  be  mistaken." 

106.  Chorktid  I. 
The  quarrel  between  Phorkyas  and  the  Chorus  has  been 
variously  interpreted  ;  but  it  is  evidently  an  imitation  of  the 
Greek  tragedy.  Very  similar  scenes  occur  in  the  Ajax  and 
EUetra  of  Sophocles.  The  sole  purpose,  here,  seems  to  be 
to  bring  out  in  sharper  distinctness  the  malice  of  Phork)ras, 
and  to  identiiy  her  more  completely  with  Mephistopheles. 
In  the  "  Eumenides "  of  iEschylu»,  the  members  of  the 
Chorus  speak  singly,  in  one  scene,  fifteen  times  in  succession. 
Goethe's  Chorus  evidently  consists  of  twelve,  of  whom  six 
(one  Semichorus)  now  speak. 

107.  To  him,  Iht  Vuien,  I,  a  Viäsn,  vnd  myielf. 
The  German  word  is  Idol  [atlalan) :  I  follow  Carlyle  in 
translating  it  "  Vision,"  although  the  word  "  wraith  "  ex- 
presses the  meaning  more  closely.  Stesichorus  is  Goelhe's 
authority  for  this  myth  concerning  Helena  :  he  even  declares 
that  it  was  only  her  eidolon,  not  herself,  which  was  present 
in  Troy.  Professor  Lehrs  {Pepiäärt  Aufsäiu  aus  dim  Alttr- 
Mum]  says:  "He  (Stesichorus)  was  probably  the  inventor 
of  the  fable  of  the  airy  image,  which  he  connected  with  the 
legend  of  Helena's  residence  in  Egypt,  and  which  he  appears 
to  have  formed  from  the  analogy  of  the  tididim  of  i^neat, 
about  which  the  armies  fight  in  the  Iliad,  and  of  that  which 
Here  substituted  for  herself,  for  the  embraces  of  Izion." 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  417 

Her  captivitf  in  Egypt  and  her  rescu«  from  King  Proteus, 
there,  is  the  subject  of  the  Helena  of  Euripides. 

The  union  of  Achilles,  called  from  the  shades,  to  Helena, 
on  the  island  of  Leulte,  in  Pontus  (not  Phers,  as  Goethe 
gays),  \s  mentioned  by  Arctinua  and  I'ausamas  The  name 
of  her  son  by  him  was  Eufhurion.  Lehis  says  :  "That  she 
was  wedded  lo  Achilles  on  the  island  of  Leuke,  which  ap- 
pears to  have  been  an  Urieiital  Kiysium,  is  based  on  the 
idea  of  uniting  the  highest  beauty  of  Man  and  Woman." 

The  meaning  of  Helena's  swoon  is  passed  over  by  most 
commentators.  It  seems  to  me  thai  it  must  be  accepted  in  a 
dramatic,  not  an  allegorical  sense  ;  or,  if  the  latter  be  de- 
manded, that  it  may  have  some  reference  to  the  apparent 
death  of  the  Classic  spirit,  before  its  rtnaisiaHce  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  What  Goethe  said  to  Riemer,  after  completing  the 
Hilcna  (and  he  expresses  himself  similarly  in  a  letter  to 
Wilhelm  von  Humboldtl,  may  here  be  quoted. 

"  It  is  time  that  the  passionate  conflict  between  the  Classic 
and  Romantic  schools  chould  be  at  last  reconciled.  The 
main  requisite  is  that  we  are  developed  ;  vjhemc  our  devel- 
opment comes  would  be  ii^ifferent,  were  it  not  that  we  must 
fear  to  shape  ourselves  wrongly  by  false  models.  In  the 
hope  of  sympathetic  inaight.  1  have  Ireely  followed  my  own 
mood  In  elaborating  the  HHina,  without  thinking  of  any 
public  or  of  any  single  reader,  convinced  that  he  who  easily 
grasps  and  comprehends  the  whole  will  also  be  able,  through 
loving  patience,  gradually  to  accept  and  assimilate  the  de- 
tails." 

108.  Quit«,  tkt  offering  art  fiou. 
Goethe  here  follows  one  of  the  many  Greek  legends  in 
relation  to  Helena.  Although  Homer  relates  that  Menelaus 
threw  away  his  sword,  overcome  by  her  beauty,  when  he 
again  met  her,  yet  there  are  frequent  references  in  the  poets 
IKuriptdes,  among  others)  10  a  story  of  her  having  been  sac- 
rificed, Goethe  makes  a  skilful  use  of  it,  to  account  for 
Helena's  migration  from  Classic  lo  Romantic  soil.  Phorkyas 
tnalidously  imuses  herself  with  the  terror  of  the  Chorus  ; 

l8«  AA 


ih,Googlc 


4i8  FAUST. 

the  aummoning  o(  ihe  dwarls  to  prepare  for  the  sacrifice  is 
but  a  grim  joke  :  she  is  bound,  a»  Mephistopheles,  to  obey 
Faust's  command.  Her  threat  or  death  to  the  Chorus  is 
suggested  by  Ihe  punishment  which  Teleniachus,  in  thb 
Odyssey  {Book  XXII.),  inflicts  on  the  faithless  tnaids. 

109.     Not  radbtrs  art  ihty:  yttof  many  one  ii  Ciif/. 

We  now  begin  10  feel,  as  by  a  Hubtile  premonition,  the 
approach  of  the  Romantic  element.  Although  the  line  "  So 
many  years  deserted  stood  the  valley -hills,"  may  be  taken  m 
a  reference  to  the  blank  ages  which  followed  the  passing 
away  of  the  classic  world,  yet  the  form  in  which  the  allegory 
is  clothed  has  a  singular  distinctness  and  reality.  Kreyssig 
speaks  of  the  "sun-biight  atmosphere  "  of  the  Hilnm,  and 
Carlyle  uses  nearly  the  same  eipression  ;  "  It  has  every- 
where a  full  and  sunny  tone  of  coloring ;  resembles  not  a 
tragedy,  but  a  gay,  gorgeous  mask."  Nothing,  indeed,  is 
more  wonderful  than  the  delicate  transition  by  which  the 
antique  form,  spirit,  and  speech  resolve  themselves  into  the 
life,  movement,  and  dithyrambic  freedom  of  Modem  Song. 
The  two  elements  are  equally  represented  in  the  external 
art,  and  in  the  characters,  of  the  Inuilude. 

This  must  be  borne  in  mind,  when  we  attempt  to  find  a 
special  symbolism  in  every  detail.  Some  things  are  un- 
doubtedly introduced  for  the  sake  of  artistic  tont;  others, 
g^in,  for  their  intrinsic  picturesque iiess  ;  others,  perhaps, 
are  the  result  of  fleeting  hints  and  suggestions  which  dropped 
into  Goethe's  mind  as  he  wrote,  surrendering  himself  freely 
to  the  mingled  visions  of  the  highest  culture  of  the  ancient 
and  modem  world.  A  full  and  consistent  allegory  is  here 
impossible  :  but,  through  the  dissolving  forms  and  colors  of 
the  "  Phantasmagoria,"  we  catch  continual  glimpses  of  the 
leading  idea. 

The  race,  jiressing  forth  from  the  Cimmerian  Night,  is  of 
course  the  German,  as  we  learn  from  the  gold-haired  boy». 
Diintzersays  that  the  "/'■«-^>?,("' of  which  Phorkyas  speaks 
refer  to  the  medixval  custom  of  purchasing  security  of  the 
feudal  barons;  but  the  circumstance  that  Goethe  has  itali- 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


419 


dzed  the  word  hints  of  some  particular  sEgnifican«,  which  I 
cannot  discover.  The  description  of  Gothic  architecture  and 
the  coata-of-anns  is  not  ironical,  as  some  assert,  for  under 
the  tnask  of  Phorkyas  there  is  a  mediaeval  Devil. 

1 10.    B  natty  is  inäivisiMt. 

Fhorkyas,  here,  and  not  when  Helena  chides  her,  forgets 
her  part  The  allegory  becomes  clear  again,  and  its  histori- 
cal element  is  more  pronounced.  Kreyssig  has  a  passage 
which  explains  this  crisis  in  Helena's  fate  1  "The  allegory 
shows  us,  in  narrow  space,  a  few  boldly  conceived  dramatic 
scenes  of  that  enormous  revulsion,  filling  nearly  a  thousand 
years,  which  laid  the  antique  culture  in  the  grave  of  barba- 
rism, in  order  to  summon  it  forth  therefrom,  in  the  fulneis  of 
time,  rejuvenated  and  reinspired,  as  the  beaming  dawn  of  a 
Dew  day  of  the  world.  The  dem  oral  iiaiion  uf  the  i^lcllenic 
favorites  of  the  Gods  themselves  tore  the  crown  from  the 
head  of  that  Culture,  even  as  Menelaus,  possessing  through 
the  favor  ofthe  Gods  the  highest  Beauty,  drives,  in  his  ignoble, 
vulgar  pas.iion,  the  innocent  victim  from  the  house  of  her 
fathers,  and  compels  her  to  seek  protection  among  the  liar- 
liarians  of  the  Cimmerian  North." 

Catlyle  says  o(  the  remarkable  Chorus,  wherein  the  char- 
acters are  carried  in  mist  and  vapor  from  the  high  House  of 
Tyndarus  lo  a  feudal  Castle  of  the  Middle  Ages;  "Our 
whole  Interlude  changes  in  character  at  this  point ;  the 
Greek  style  passes  abruptly  into  the  Spanish  :  at  one  bound 
we  have  left  the  Stven  be/ore  TTubti  (-f^schylus)  and  got  into 
the  Vida  11  Surno  (Calderon).  The  action,  too,  becomes 
more  and  more  typical ;  or,  rather,  we  should  »ay,  half-typi- 
cal i  for  it  will  neither  hold  rightly  together  as  allegory  nor 
as  matter  of  fact," 

lit.     Tintr CBurl-yard Bf  a  CaslU. 

The  reader  will  notice  that  although  the  classical  form  of 

verse  is  still  retained,  the  Gothic   character  of  the  subject 

makes  itself  more  and  more  prominent     When  the  Chorus 

describes  the  procession  of  blond-haired  pages,  the  intro- 


ih,Googlc 


430  PAUST. 

daction  of  m  alternate  anapaeslic  foot,  followed  bjr  the 
Bhurt  choriambic  lines,  prepares  us  for  a  coming  metrical 
change.  The  traniformaiion  of  lime,  place,  and  spirit  is 
so  artfully  managed,  that  it  is  accomplished  before  we  are 
aware,  and  aa  in  dissolving  views,  the  fading  outline  we  have 
been  watching  proves  to  be  the  growing  outline  of  a  new 

The  description  of  the  youths  suggests  both  Tadtus  ai>d 
theiVim  Angli  ltd  cmgrli  rA  Vo^  Gregory.  It  is  the  appear- 
ance or  a  new  type  of  human  beauty.  The  doubt  and  uncer- 
tainly of  Helena  and  the  Chorus,  on  finding  Ihemselvei 
suddenly  In  the  Gothic  court-yard,  are  thus  eicplained  by 
Schnelger :  "  When  Classic  culture,  with  iu  ideal  of  Beauty, 
began  to  migrate  northwards,  it  found  the  old  Romantic 
world  imprisoned  In  the  darkness  of  priesthood,  and  sunken 
in  monastic  barbarism  ;  the  spirit  of  the  North  «as  as 
gloomy  and  unlovely  as  were  its  castles,  cloisters,  and 
churches.  Fear. inspiring,  as  a  deep,  dark  pitlall,  the  me- 
dixval  walls  meet  the  gaze  of  the  daughter  of  Greece,  ac- 
customed to  freedom  and  to  nature;  she  stands  alone,  un- 
welcomed  on  alien  soil,  for  the  Romantic  world  had  in  the 
beginning  no  recognition  for  the  lovely  guest  from  afar." 

I  iz.     Wheit  duty  sligkud  ehiattd  nil  of  mint. 

Faust  drops  one  foot  from  the  double  trimeter,  and  speak* 
in  modem  heroic  measure.  The  Leader  of  the  Chorus,  in 
her  description,  agrees  with  Phurkyas,  preferring  him  \9 
many  of  the  antique  models  uf  manly  beauty.  He  is  herf 
not  yet  Auui/,—  not  even  the  Faust  of  the  Classical  Wal- 
purgis-Night,  —  but  the  new,  virile  element  in  Literatnrfi 
and  Art,  the  growth  of  the  Middle  Ages,  now  so  far  devel- 
oped that  it  recognizes  its  ideal  of  Beauty  in  the  supreme 
aesthetic  culture  of  Greece.  Only  towards  the  close  of  the 
act  does  he  again  become  the  hero  of  the  drama. 

The  Warder,  Lynceua  (pilot  of  the  Argonauts),  whom  he 
leads  in  chains  to  Helena's  feet,  is  variously  interpreted. 
According  to  some,  he  represents  both  the  Provencal  trou- 
badours and  the  German  Minnesingers,  —  the  poets  of  lov« 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


431 


who,  with  all  their  iharp-slghledness,  siw  not  the  tne  art 
Carlyle's  guess  seems  to  me  more  successful  i  "  We  cannot 
but  suspect  bim  of  being  a  School  Philosopher,  or  School 
Philosophy  itself,  in  disguise."  He  may  be  the  embodiment 
of  Lore,  in  Ihc  schol»stic  sense,  which,  during  the  Middle 
Ages,  plumed  itself  on  the  treasures  which  it  had  secured 
from  antiquity,  blind  to  the  &r  greater  treasure  which  was 
afterwards  recalled  to  life,  in  the  finer  development  of  the 

113.  In  tht  SaulH  areu  the  lun, 
"  As  it  has  frequently  happened  to  the  Germans,"  says 
Kreyssig.  We  surely  have  a  reference  here  to  the  revival  of 
the  antique  Beauty  in  Italian  Art  and  Literature.  It  would 
be  easy  to  illustrate  this,  as  well  as  other  passages,  at  length  ; 
IhiI  I  must  endeavor  to  confine  myself  stricily  to  what  is  ne- 
cessary, in  these  Notes.  The  text  suggests  a  wealth  of  allu- 
sions, for  it  is  the  attempt  lu  epitomize  the  eighty  years' 
knowledge  and  ihoughi  of  one  of  the  clearest  and  must 
active  of  all  human  brains.  But  the  thoughtful  reader  will 
be  satisfied  with  a  guiding  hint,  and  the  one  who  takes  up 
the  Second  Part  of  Fauil  for  a  simple  recreation  will  never 
return  to  it  again. 

With  Lynceus,  rhyme,  and  the  Romantic  metre  first  ap. 
pear,  although,  for  a  short  distance  further,  the  Classic  char- 
acters retain  their  native  fonn  of  speech. 

114.  Forth  from  thi  Eait  vx  kUher  preiied. 
The  second  address  of  Lynceus  describes  the  migration  of 
the  races  from  the  East,  under  which  the  whole  Cla-ssical 
world  was  buried,  until  it  slowly  arose  from  the  inundation 
to  assist  in  shaping  a  new  phase  of  hutnan  culture.  The 
chief  import  of  the  verses  seems  to  be.  that  all  which  War 
and  Colonization  achieved  —  territory,  power,  wealth,  per- 
manence—  becomes  null  and  vain  beside  this  new  vision. 
It  can  only  be  restored,  and  to  a  better  value,  through  the 
abiding  presence  of  the  Beautiful,  the  worship  of  which  is  the 
crowning  element  of  Civilization. 


ih,Googlc 


4J3  FAUST. 

115.     Each  lound  a^carid  as  yielding  te  the  ncxL 
Goethe  has  taken  a  Persian  legend  (related  in  his  own 

Wtst  -  (Eslliiktr  Divan)  of  two  lovers,  Behram-gour  and 
Dilaram,  who  invented  rh^tne  in  Ibeir  amorous  dialogues, 
and  has  applied  it  here  with  consummate  skill,  aa  a  means 
of  bringing  Faust  and  Helena  nearer.  The  gifts  are  not  all 
on  one  side  :  the  Romantic  welcomes  and  worships  ihe 
Classic,  but  in  return  it  adds  the  music  of  rhyme  to  the 
prujiorlion  of  metre.  Thus  the  new  element  continues  to 
absorb  the  old,  through  the  loving  mutual  approach  uf  the 
two.  The  allegory  becomes  so  incarnate  in  the  chief  charac- 
ters Ih^t  it  impresses  us  like  an  actual  htiman  passion,  and 
la  so  described  by  the  Chorus.  The  very  soul  and  l>eiiig  of 
the  antique  world  —  the  proportion,  the  reality  of  form,  and 
the  sublime  repose  of  Classic  Art  —  are  wedded,  in  a  union 
perfect  as  that  of  love,  to  the  sentiment,  the  passion,  and 
the  rreeriom  of  Romantic  Art :  and  the  latter,  equally  yield- 
ing, forgets  Time,  Place,  and  Race,  and  feels  only  that  it 
now  possesses  the  supreme  Ideal  of  Iteauty. 

This  is  loo  much  for  Phorkyas- Mephistopheles :  she 
breaks  in  upon  the  lovers,  addressing  ihem  in  rhymes  which 
seem  intended  to  satirize  Rhyme  itself,  —  so  violent  is  their 
contrast  10  the  melting  speech  of  (lelena  and  Faust.  The 
iuterpenetration  of  the  ancient  and  modem  metres  in  thii 
portion  of  the  act  is  a  wonderful  piece  of  poetic  art,  and  t 
must  call  the  reader's  special  attention  to  iL  Faust  answers 
in  the  Greek  iambic  trimeter  (tor  the  first  time),  then  returns 
to  rhyme,  while  the  Chorus  and  Phorkyas  continue  the  clas- 
sic forms  until  the  appearance  of  Euphorion,  when  the  trai)- 
»ition  is  complete. 

116.  Sigiialt,  expleiiem  frem  the  Imorra. 
Diinlzer  conjectures  thai  these  "explosions"  give  us  a 
hint  of  the  invention  of  gunpowder  and  the  use  of  artillery, 
tcwards  the  close  of  (he  Middle  Ages.  The  commentalnm 
are  generally  agreed  that  Faust  is  here  a  type  of  the  roman- 
tic, chivalrous  spirit,  which  was  expressed  in  the  Minnesing- 
ers and  Troubadours,  as  the  forerunner«  of  Modem  Liter 


ih,Googlc 


/i/arES. 


423 


alurc.      The   apportionment  of  the  Peloponnesus  (except 

Spina  and  Arcadia)  among  the  Dukes  is  certainly  a  literary 
rather  than  an  historical  symbol.  The  literatures  of  (he 
German,  the  Goth  (Spain),  the  Prank  and  ihe  Norman 
(England)  share  equally  in  the  classic  inheritance.  May  we 
not  guess,  then,  that,  as  Helena  is  Queen  over  al],  hei  spe- 
cial Spartan  and  Arcadian  realm,  wherein  ihe  Romantic  or 
Modem  spirit  is  her  spouse,  is  that  region  of  (he  loftiest 
achievement,  where  Ar(  and  Li(eralure  cease  10  be  nanowly 
national,  but  are  for  the  world  and  for  all  time  t 

117.     This  land,  ie/ort  all  lands  in  if  lender. 

Yes :  the  question,  asked  at  (he  close  of  (he  foregoing 
note,  is  answered.  The  Arcadia  of  Paust  and  Helena  is  the 
home-land  of  (he  highest  Art  and  Song :  Ei  <fo  in  Arcadia 
is  the  password  which  has  been  transmitted  from  generation 
to  generation,  and  from  race  to  race,  through  (he  long  course 
of  the  ages.  The  name  i(3eir  has  a  golden  clang,  and  never 
was  its  mystic,  illuminating  power  more  thoroughly  mani- 
fested than  in  (hese  stanzas  of  the  aged  Guethe.  We  are 
reminded,  it  is  true,  of  Ovid, ,  Horace,  and  olher  ancient 
poels,  and  of  Tasso's  "  O,  Mia  elA  dtW  era'.  "  —but  here  the 
ideal  character  of  the  realm  is  so  blended  with  an  exquisite 
picture  of  the  actual  Grecian  province,  that  its  hills,  gorges, 
and  happy  meads  rise  palpably  on  our  sight,  as  we  read. 

In  (he  spring  of  1S5S,  after  spending  days  beside  the  Eu- 
rotas  and  among  the  fastnesses  of  the  Taygetus,  I  climbed 
from  Messene  into  Arcadia,  and  everywhere,  —  whether 
plucking  violets  on  the  "  Mount  Lycsean  "  of  Pan,  or  gazing 
on  the  lonely  beauty  of  the  temple  of  Apollo  Epicuteus, 
crushing  the  wild  hyacinths  along  the  mountain  paths,  or 
resting  beside  the  herded  goats  and  kine  in  the  green  vale 
of  the  Alpheus,  —  I  felt  both  the  magic  of  the  name  and  its 
immemorial  cause  The  mountains,  thai  swell  and  fall  in 
rhythmic  undulations;  (he  wealtli  of  crystal  streams;  (he 
prand  forests  of  oak  and  pine ;  the  pure,  delicious  air,  and 
Ihe  sweet,  happy  sense  of  seclusion  which  seems  to  brood 
Ukc  a  blessing  over  every  landscape,  must  have  been  an  in- 


ih,Googlc 


o  the  earliest  poet  who  sang  to  its  people.    Let  h 
e  a  name  for  the  dream  of  the  pure  and 
perfect  life  which  Poetry  picdictE,  and  will  predict  fbiever! 

1 18.    All  vrorldi  in  inUr-iutiim  mttf. 
The  original :  — 

Denn  n  Nilur  in  rElnn  Kniw  mliet, 

Ergrrilen  nil«  Welles  ^h,  — 
Is  one  of  ihose  pregnant  expressions  which  make  the  trans- 
lator despair,  —  for,  the  more  thoroughly  he  is  penetrated 
with  the  meaning,  the  less  does  it  seero  possible  to  express 
that  meaning  in  any  words.  The  literal  translation  is,  "  For 
where  Nature  sways  in  a  pure  circle  (or  orbit),  all  worlds 
(human  and  divine)  redprocalty  take  hold  on  one  another." 
The  series  is  nowhere  violently  interrupted :  the  Gods  reveal 
themselves  through  men,  even  as  men  rise  to  resemble  Gods : 
the  orbits  of  all  spheres  of  existence  are  harmoniously  inter- 
linked. But  we  here  approach  the  highest  regions  of  Che 
Ideal ;  and  he  who  has  not  some  little  intuition  to  guide  him 
will  hardly  follow  the  thought  further. 

1 19.     Yt,  alio,  Btardtd  Ones,  who  lit  ielew  and  moil. 

"  It  appears  too,  that  there  are  certain  '  Bearded  Ones,' 
(we  suspect.  Devils,)  waiting  with  anxiety,  'sitting  watchful 
there  below,'  to  see  the  issue  of  this  estraordinary  transac- 
tion ;  but  of  these  Fhorkyas  gives  her  silly  women  no  hint 
whatever."  —  CarfyU. 

"  If  the  French  otily  recognize  the  Helena,  they  will  per- 
ceive what  may  be  made  of  it  for  their  stage.  The  piece,  as 
it  is,  they  will  ruin ;  but  they  wltl  employ  it  shrewdly  (or 
their  own  purposes,  and  that  is  all  one  can  wish,  or  expect. 
They  will  certainly  supply  Phorkyas  with  a  Chorus  of  mon- 
sters, which,  indeed,  is  already  indicated  in  one  passage."  — 
Coiihe  to  Eckermann,  1S31. 

Düntzer,  who  so  rarely  lets  anything  escape  him,  does  not 
seem  to  have  noticed  Goethe's  remarL  He  insists  (hat  the 
**  Bearded  Ones  "  are  the  spectators,  whom  Mephisto (iheles 
addresses  iiv  Act  II.,  Scene  I.,  and  in  Act  IV.    For  my  part 


ih,Googlc 


I  find  Goethe's  meaiüng  »o  veiy  oDcertaln,  tlut  I  prefer  w 
haiud  no  conjecture. 

laa     Cail'it  thou  a  ntarvtl  thü, 
Crda's  btgetttM  t 

The  son  of  Faust  and  Helena,  as  be  ii  first  described  b; 
Phcfkyas,  is  Poetry,  not  ta  individual  In  his  naked  beauty, 
his  pianks  and  his  sportive,  wilful  ways,  he  suggests  not  only 
tbe  greater  freedom  of  the  Romantic  element,  but  also  the 
classic  myths  of  Cupid  and  the  child  Hermes  (Mercury). 
Phorkyas,  in  proclaiming  him  the  "Ititure  Master  of  all 
Beauty,"  quite  forgets  that  she  Is  Mephistopheles. 

The  Chorus  describes  the  birth  and  childish  tricks  of 
Hermes,  as  they  are  related  in  Homer's  hymn  and  Lucian's 
dialogues  of  the  Gods.  There  is,  perhaps,  a  "  poetic-didac- 
tical word  "  for  the  reader,  in  their  relation,  as  well  as  for 
Phorkyas.  Hermes  may  possibly  typify  the  Poetic  Genius, 
which  boldly  steals  the  attritHites  of  all  the  God^  and  even 
long*  to  grasp  tbe  thunderbolts  of  Zeus,  the  Father. 

121.     EUPHORtON. 

In  tbe  origiiutl  legend,  FausI  has  by  Helena  a  son,  to  whom 
he  gives  tbe  name  of  Justus  Faustus,  and  who  disappears 
with  ber  when  his  compact  with  Mephistopheles  comes  to  an  ' 
end.  In  one  of  the  ancient  Grecian  myths,  Helena  bears  > 
son  to  Achillea  (recalled  from  Hades)  on  the  island  of  Leuke. 
This  »on,  bom  with  wings,  was  called  Euphorion  (the  awifi 
or  lightly  waAed),  and  was  slain  by  the  lightning  of  Jupiter. 
Goethe  unites  the  two  stories,  and  adds  his  own  symbolism 
to  the  airy,  wiiful  spirit,  resulting  from  IbeuL 

We  have,  at  the  outset,  three  positive  circumstances  to 
guide  us.  Euphorion  is  here,  as  when  he  fotnierly  appeared 
In  the  Boy  Charioteer,  Poetry  ;  he  is  born  of  the  union  of 
the  Classic  and  Romantic  ;  and,  shortly  before  he  vanishes 
from  our  eyes,  he  becomes  the  representative  of  Byron.  The 
last  of  these  characters,  however,  was  not  included  in  Goethe's 
original  plan.  Indeed,  it  could  not  have  been,  since  that  plan 
was  sketched  while  Byron  was  a  boy  at  Harrow.     We  are 


ih,Googlc 


436  FAUST. 

able  to  üx  both  the  lime  and  the  special  influences  whlcli  led 
to  ihe  introduction  of  Byron  ;  and.  moreover,  the  point  in 
the  allegory  where  the  change  commences  may  be  easily  de- 
tected. 

Neither  as  we  know  bim,  nor  as  Goethe  knew  him,  could 
Byron  be  the  child  of  Faust  and  Helena  ;  the  only  modem 
English  poet  to  whom  the  lymboliam  would  in  any  wise 
apply,  is  Keats.  Among  the  Germans  we  might,  if  there 
were  any  indication  pointing  towards  him,  accept  Schiller ; 
but  we  at  once  feel,  I  think,  that  no  poet  of  this  age  has  so 
subtly  and  harmoniously  blended  the  two  elements  in  bis 
highest  achievement,  as  Goethe  htmselC  His  IphJgmia  in 
Tanris,  Taiso,  Hermann  and  Dorothea,  and  Dit  NoHirtickt 
Tochlcr  (a  singularly  neglected  masterpiece)  will  suggest 
themselves  as  illustrations,  to  all  who  are  acquainted  with 
his  works.  Besides,  the  order  in  which  the  three  boyish 
sprites  are  introduced  reflects  the  order  of  his  own  develop- 
ment. In  the  Boy  Charioteer  we  have  his  relation  to  Karl 
August,  and  his  liberation  from  Court  and  otticial  life ;  In 
Homunculus,  his  lirsi  acquaintance,  through  Art  in  Italy, 
with  the  spirit  of  the  Classic  world,  and  his  strudle  to  lift 
himselfinlo  another  and  purer  poetical  existence  ;  and  Anally, 
in  Euphorion,  the  regeneration  and  birth  of  his  nature  in  his 
greatest  works.  The  allegory  is  carefully  veiled,  for  long 
isolation,  misrepresentation,  and  abuse  had  taught  him  to 
be  cautious  ;  but  he  would  not,  in  any  case,  have  made  it 
obvious  to  the  running  reader.  The  secret  was  too  intimate 
and  predous  to  be  easily  betrayed,  yet  it  has  not  been  hidden 
beyond  the  reach  of  that  "love  and  patience"  on  which  he 
relied  for  a  full  and  final  rccc^niiion.  He  who  discovers  the 
symbolisni  must  first  pass  through  one  chamber  after  another 
of  the  poet's  nature,  and,  when  he  has  reached  the  Inner 
sanctuary,  he  has  breathed  the  same  atmosphere  (oo  long  to 
tee  either  vanity  or  arrogance,  or  aught  but  a  justified  self- 
consciousness,  in  these  lair  and  mysterious  forms. 

During  Ihe  appearance  of  Euphorion  upon  the  stage,  the 
Classic  form  is  «holly  lost,  absorbed  in  the  Romantic.  The 
measure  becomes  a  wild,  ever^changing,  rhymed  (UthyiambiQ 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


427 


ohich,  in  the  original,  produces  an  indescribable  sense  of 
movement  and  muaic  I  can  only  hope  that  something  of 
the  infectious  excitement  and  delight  which  I  have  fell  while 
endeavoring  to  reproduce  it  may  have  passed  into  the  Eng- 
lish lines,  and  will  help  to  bear  the  reader  smoothly  over 
the  almost  endless  technical  difficultjes  of  translation.  The 
spirit  of  the  scene  is  quite  inseparable  li-om  itii  rhythmical 
character. 

There  are  references,  in  the  first  atlerances  of  Phorkyaa 
and  the  Chorus,  to  the  new  elements  of  Sentiment  and 
Passion  in  Modem  Poetry,  as  contrasted  with  the  Classic; 
but  ihey  need  no  further  explanation.  Some  have  supposed 
that  Helena's  ßrst  staniji :  "Love,  in  human  wise  lo  bless 
us,' etc,  gives  the  additional  meaning  of  the  Familjr  to  her 
relation  with  Faust.  The  stania,  certainly,  has  this  charac- 
ter, but  only  incidentally :  the  reference  is  too  slight  to  be 
applied  to  the  entire  allegory. 


We  may  accept  the  lawlessness  of  Eupborion  as,  to  a 
certain  extent,  reflecting  Byron's  wild,  unregulated  youth. 
Some  of  the  German  commentators,  however,  force  the 
parallel  quite  too  far,  endeavoring  to  discover  definite  inci- 
dents of  the  poet's  history  in  his  dances  with  the  Chorus, 
and  his  pursuit  of  the  maiden  who  turns  into  flame.  The 
individual  character  of  Euphotion  is  very  gradually  intro- 
duced, and  is  first  declared  in  the  above  lines. 

Byron  became  acquainted  with  the  First  Fart  of  Fauil 
through  Shelley,  in  igi6.  There  was  at  thai  time  no  Eng- 
lish translation  of  the  work,  and  he  offered  lo  give  a  hundred 
pounds  if  he  could  have  it  in  English,  for  his  private  |>erusat. 
His  Mitnfrid,  which  was  written  immediately  afterwards,  be- 
trays the  strong  impression  which  Famt  left  on  his  mind,  — 
Ml  impression  which  Goethe  mstantly  detected,  on  first  read- 
it^  Manfnd,  the  following  year.  The  two  poets  appear  lo 
have  occasionally  exchanged  greetings,  through  common 
acquaintances,  and  it  was  the  wish  of  both  that  they  might 


ih,Googlc 


4i8  FAUST. 

meet.  Byron  dedicated  his  tragedy  of  Siirdanafclai  to  Goetkci 
in  words,  ihe  like  of  which  a  poet  lias  rarely  addressed  ta 
one  of  his  contemporaries  :  "  To  the  itlustriaus  Goethe  a 
»(Tanger  presumes  lo  offer  the  homage  of  a  literary  vassal 
to  his  liege-lord,  (he  first  of  existing  writers,  who  has  created 
(he  literature  of  his  own  country,  and*  illustrated  that  of 
Europe."  In  February,  1823,  Go«(be  sent  the  following 
lines  to  Byron :  — 

"Htvho,  •riih  hiioini  ioanHlTiiinr, 
Gnm*  Uront,  IhmiiEh  wont,  10  b«ar  It»  dfleptM  paiOt 
Ba  ii  hU  w[ih  him,  whan  he  himielf  ih^  know  I 
Dire  he,  Up  nunc  himaelf  u  highly  blcucd» 
When  ihc  iironi  Muk  ihall  <>veicon.e  hit  fanp. 
And  may  lie  know  himeelC  u  I  ha>e  knowD  hini  I" 

This,  (bilowed  by  Byron's  letters  from  Genoa  and  Le{^ 
born,  Wöis  their  only  approach  towards  a  nearer  intercourse. 
Goethe  was  engaged  in  completing  the  Helena,  in  lS36. 
when  Mr.  Murray,  (he  publisher,  sent  him  (he  au(ograph  of 
(he  Dedication  to  Saräanapaltu ;  and,  from  some  bints  which 
he  let  fall  to  Eckermann,  his  daughter-in-law,  Üttilie  von 
Goethe,  who  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Byron,  was  an- 
other of  the  additional  influences  which,  in  combination,  led 
him  lo  change  the  chancier  of  Euphorion. 

Goethe  said  to  Eckermann  (in  1827):  "I  could  use  no 
one  but  him,  as  the  representative  of  our  recent  poetic  time  i 
he  is,  without  question,  the  greatest  talent  of  the  century. 
And  then,  Byron  is  not  antique,  and  is  not  romantic,  but  he 
embodies  the  Present  Day.  Such  a  one  I  needed.  He  was 
also  appropriate  through  his  unsatisfied  nature,  and  his  mili- 
tary ambition,  which   ruined   him   in  Missolonghi I 

had  intended,  formerly,  an  entirely  different  conclusion  10 
the  Htltna  1  I  had  elaborated  it,  for  myself,  in  various  ways, 
one  of  which  was  quite  successful ;  but  I  will  not  betray  it 
to  you.  Then  time  brought  me  Byron  anil  Missolonghi,  and 
I  let  all  else  go.  Vou  have  remarked,  however,  that  the 
Chorus  quite  loses  its  part  in  the  Dirge  ;  formerly  it  was 
antique  throughout,  or  at  least  never  contradicted  its  maiden- 
nature,  but  now  it  suddenly  becomes  grave  and  loftily  te> 


ih,Googlc 


KOTES.  439 

flective,  and  gives  utterance  to  things  «hidi  it  never  before 
thought  or  could  have  been  able  to  think." 

Goethe's  estimate  of  Byron  is  not  genenlV}  understood : 
it  has,  at  least,  been  frequently  misrepresented.  I  have, 
therefore,  carefully  gone  through  the  correspondence  with 
Zelter  and  Eckermann's  three  volumes,  for  the  purpose  of 
selecting  such  passages  as  may  give,  in  the  briefest  space,  a 
fair  representation  of  his  views.  There  is  much  more  ma- 
terial, of  the  highest  interest  to  the  liierary  critic,  but  the 
following  extracts  may  perhaps  suffice  to  explain  the  fleeting 
adumbration  of  Byron  which  we  find  in  Euphorion  :  — 

"That  which  I  call  inventioH  I  find  more  pronounced  in 
him  than  in  any  other  man  in  the  world.  The  manner  in 
which  he  disentangles  a  dramatic  knot  is  always  beyond 
one's  eipeaation,  arid  always  better  than  one's  own  precon- 
ceived solution  " 

"  Had  he  only  known  how  to  impose  upon  himself  moral 
restrictions  I  It  was  his  ruin  that  he  waa  unable  to  do  this, 
and  we  are  justified  in  saying  that  his  lawlessness  «as  the 
rock  on  which  he  split." 

"This  reckless,  inconsiderate  activity  drove  him  out  of 
England,  and  in  the  course  of  time  would  have  driven  him 
out  of  Europe.  Circumstances  were  everywhere  loo  narrow 
for  him,  and  with  all  his  boundless  personal  freedom  he  felt 
himself  oppressed :  the  world  was  for  him  a  prison.  His 
going  to  Greece  was  not  a  spontaneous  resolution;  he  was 
driven  to  it  through  his  false  relation  to  the  world." 

"  We  are  forced  to  admit  thai  this  Poet  says  more  than  we 
wish  j  he  speaks  the  truth,  but  it  gives  us  a  sense  of  discom- 
fort, and  we  should  prefer  that  he  remained  silent.  There 
are  things  in  the  world  which  the  Poet  should  veil  rather  than 
reveal ;  yet  this  is  precisely  Byron's  character,  and  «e  should 
destroy  hi»  individuality  in  attempting  to  change  him  " 

*'  Byrnn's  l>oldnc38,  wilfulness,  and  grandiose  manner,  is  it 
not  an  element  of  development?  We  must  avoid  seeking 
that  element  exclusively  in  what  is  decisively  pure  and  ethi- 
cal. All  thai  is  greii/,  as  soon  as  we  appreciate  it,  furthers 
Mtr  development." 


ih,Googlc 


43« 


FAUST. 


"  Brron'«  (ataJ  fiuüt  wu  his  polemkal  tendencr." 
"  Nevertbeleu,  altbongh  Bjrron  died  so  «aily,  it  wat  iwl 
a  material  Iom  to  LJIerature,  through  tbc  probable  fiuther 
eipaiuion  of  bb  powert.  He  had  reached  the  climax  of  his 
creative  force,  and,  whatever  he  might  have  afterwards  ac- 
complished, lie  could  scarcel;  have  enlarged  the  bordei» 
within  which  his  talents  were  already  confined." 

From  these,  and  other  utterances  of  Goethe,  it  is  very 
evident  that  what  he  most  admired  in  Byron  was  not  the 
harmonious  onion  of  the  Classic  and  Romantic  elements; 
not  the  artistic  perfection  of  form  (  not  the  breadth  and  vi- 
tality of  that  Genius  which  lid«  itself  slowly,  but  on  strong 
wings,  through  the  still  higher  and  clearer  ether  of  thought : 
but  that  restless,  mysterious,  ever-creative  qnality  which 
Goethe  called  Daimanie,  the  native,  effortless  splendor  of 
rhythm  and  rhetoric,  the  sentiment  of  Nature  pervaded  and 
exalted  by  Imagination,  and  that  virile  power  of  transmitting 
himself  to  other  minds,  which  we  never  can  clearly  analyze. 
Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  has  declared  Byron  to  be  "  the  greatest 
demtnial  pnwtr  in  English  Literature,  since  Shakespeare," 
and  this  phrase  briefly  expresses  Goethe's  judgment.  The 
latter  was  probably  the  first  who  ever  looked  beyond  the 
prejudices  of  Byron's  day,  unmoved  by  the  opposing  gusts 
of  worship  and  hate,  and  separated  the  poet's  supreme  and 
immortal  qualities  from  the  confusion  of  his  life  and  the 
dross  of  his  simulated  misanthropy. 

HJ.  T^  polk  In  Clary  Bpms  nme. 
The  Chorus  entreats  Euphorion  to  bide  in  the  peaceful 
Arcadian  land  of  Poetry;  and  his  answer  is  entirely  in  ac- 
cord with  the  spirit  of  the  Philhellenes,  during  the  Greek 
Revolution.  The  heroic  struggle  of  the  Suliotes,  in  which 
even  women  and  children  shared,  is  indicated  In  the  pre- 
ceding verses,  and  then  follows  the  closing  chant,  in  which 
the  wail  of  the  coming  dirge  is  fore-felt  through  the  peal  of 
trumpets  and  the  clash  of  cymbals.  I  am  not  able  to  state 
whether  Goethe  had  read  Byron's  last  poem,  written  at 
Missolonghi,  on  his  thirty-sixth  birthday,  when  he  wrote  the 


ih,Googlc 


concluding  portion  of  the  Helena.     It  is  strangely  snggetted 
here,  in  spit«  of  the  allegory,  and  the  diflercoce  of  metre. 

124.    Chorus.    \I}irgt.\ 

Here  all  allegory  is  thrown  aside ;  the  four  stanias  are  a 
lament,  not  Tor  Euphorion,  but  for  Byron.  They  express 
Goethe's  feeling  Tor  the  poet,  while  the  profound  impression 
created  throughout  Europe  by  the  news  of  his  death  was  still 
A-csh. 

125.     Hilena' t  garmaits  diiMlvt  inte  elmds. 

When  Phorkyas  bids  Faust  hold  bst  to  Helena's  garment, 
saying  r  — 

"  I1  U  no  more  Lhe  Goddeu  thou  hui  loai, 
Bui  godlike  H  it,"  — 
we  are  forced  to  forget  the  part  she  plays.  She,  —  Mephis- 
topheles  in  the  mask  of  the  Ideal  Ugliness,  —  to  call  the 
garment  of  the  Beautiful  a  "  grand  and  priceless  gift,"  which 
will  bear  Faust  "  from  all  things  mean  and  low  "  I  This  is 
a  singular  oversight  of  Goethe,  and  we  can  only  guess  that 
it  was  not  noticed  during  his  life,  for  the  reason  that  the  re- 
mainder of  the  Second  Fart  was  still  in  manuscript,  and  the 
character  of  Phorkyas  thus  not  entirely  clear  to  the  critics. 

Since  Faust  is  only  temporarily  typical  of  the  Artist,  the 
symbolism  embodied  in  the  disappearance  of  Helena,  and 
his  elevation  upon  the  clouds  into  which  her  garments  are 
transformed,  is  not  difficult  to  guess.  The  Ideal  Beauty  is 
revealed  to  few ;  but  even  its  robe  and  veil  form  a  higher 
ether  over  all  the  life  of  Man.  In  (he  direct  course  of  the 
drama,  zsthetic  culture  is  the  means  by  which  Faust  rises 
from  all  forms  of  vulgar  ambition  to  that  nobler  activity 
which  crowns  his  life. 

126.  Servici  and  faith  seeurt  tie  iadwidual  lift. 
Panthalis,  the  Chorage,  is  the  only  member  of  the  Chorus 
who  has  manifested  an  individual  character  throughout  the 
Interlude;  consequently  she  retains  it  here,  where  the  other 
members  are  about  to  be  lost  in  the  elements.  We  are 
reminded,  by  what  she  says,  of  Goethe's  vague  s 


ih,Googlc 


43» 


FAUST. 


in  reganl  to  the  Aitnre  life.  He  liints  on  more  thtn  one  oc- 
casion that  a  strong,  independent  indiTidaalitj  may  preser*« 
iU  enltltckie  (actual,  distinctive  being),  while  the  mass  of 
persons  in  whom  Ihc  human  elements  are  comparatively 
formless  will  continue  to  exist  onl^  in  those  elements.  In 
1829,  he  said  to  Eckermann:  "I  do  not  doubt  our  perma- 
nent existence,  for  Nature  cannot  do  without  the  eiiielahU. 
But  we  are  not  all  immortal  in  the  same  lishion,  and  in  order 
to  manifest  one's  self  in  the  future  life  as  a  great  mitltckie, 
one  must  also  become  one."  The  »ubjea  seems  to  have 
been  discussed  with  others;  for  wc  find  Wilhelm  mn  Hum- 
boldt, in  1S30,  writing  to  Frau  von  Wolzogen:  "There  is  a 
spiritual  individuality,  but  not  every  one  attains  to  it.  As  a 
peculiar,  distinctive  form  of  mind,  it  is  eternal  and  immuta- 
bl«.  Whatever  cannot  thus  individually  shape  ittel^  may 
return  into  Ibe  universal  life  of  Nature." 

137.    Naturt,  tkt  Evtr-UiHitg, 

The  twelve  maidens  of  the  Chorus  divide  thenuelvea  into 
four  groups,  relinquish  their  human  forms,  and  enter  into 
the  being  of  tree*,  echoes,  brooks,  and  vineyards.  Goetb« 
was  so  »ell  satisfied  with  this  disposition  of  an  antique  lea- 
lure  for  which  there  seems  to  be  no  place  in  the  romantic 
world,  that  we  can  hardly  be  mistaken  aa  to  his  design. 
The  transfiiaion  of  Nature  with  a  human  sentiment  belongs 
exclusively  to  Modem  Literature  ;  it  is  not  the  Dryad,  but 
the  tree  itself,  not  the  Oread,  but  the  Spirit  of  the  Mountain, 
which  speaks  to  us  now.  We  have  lost  the  "  fascinating 
existences"  of  andcnt  fable,  in  their  fiur  human  forms;  but 
Nature,  then  their  lifeless  dwellii^,  now  breathes  and  Ihrold 
with  more  than  iheir  life,  for  «e  have  clothed  her  with  the 
garment  of  our  own  emotion  and  aspiration. 

Unless  this  transformation,  or  a  very  simitar  one,  were 
intended,  the  Chorus  mtist  of  necessity  have  relumed  to 
Hades. 

The  description  of  the  vinti^  with  which  the  Act  closes 
resembles,  in  the  original,  a  fragment  of  tbe  frieze  of  a  tem> 
pie  of  Bacchus. 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


433 


128.      Tke  curtain  fait. 

DuaUer  interprets  the  Bacchanalian  description  as  a  pic- 
ture of  the  decadence  of  the  antique  world.  When  the 
curtain  falls,  Pborkyas  remains  in  the  proscenium,  rises  to  a 
giant  height,  takes  off  her  mask,  and  reveals  herself  as  Meph- 
istopheles.  Perhaps  this  may  indicate  that  the  element 
of  Ugliness  and  Evil  was  not  lost  to  the  human  race  when 
the  historical  curtain  fell  on  the  beautiful  culture  of  the 
Greeks,  but  remained  as  the  sole  Unk  of  union  between  ih« 
ancient  and  modem  worlds! 

The  epilogue,  which  Goethe  apparently  planned,  was 
never  written.  Indeed,  after  the  publication  of  the  Nilttia, 
in  1817,  he  scarcely  again  looked  at  its  pages. 

129,      Ytt  teems  to  ikape  aßgurc. 

The  classic  trimeter  is  purposely  retaincfl  in  the  opening 
of  this  Act,  as  a  last,  dying  reverberation  of  the  Heltnm. 
fausl's  soliloquy  has  also  the  character  of  an  echo  and  a 
memory.  The  clouds  upon  which  he  has  floated  take  the 
form  of  Helena,  as  they  recede  from  him ;  the  Ideal  which 
he  has  been  pursuing  rests  along  the  distant  horizon,  and 
the  stony  summits  of  actual  life  arc  again  under  his  feet. 

Goethe  began  to  write  Act  IV.  about  the  middle  of  Feb- 
niary,  1831.  The  apparent  calm  with  which  he  received  the 
news  of  his  son's  death  was  followed  by  an  alarming  hemor- 
rhage, and  dunng  the  month  of  November,  1830,  his  lile  was 
in  danger.  His  great  age  and  increasing  physical  weakness 
warned  him  to  make  use  of  his  remaining  time,  and  fill  the 
single  remaining  gap  in  the  Second  Fart  ai  Fauil ;  but  that 
marvellous  second  spring-limc  of  Poetry  which  we  feel  in 
the  f/eUna  and  the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night,  was  over. 
Throughout  this  Act  we  notice,  if  not  precisely  (he  weariness 
of  age,  yet  a  sense  of  effort,  of  surviving  technical  skill  not 
wholly  tilled  and  made  plastic  by  the  life  of  the  author's  con- 
ception. His  original  design  (or  the  Act  had  been  given  up,  and 
the  present  substance  was  evidently  adopted,  perhaps  at  (he 
last  moment,  because  it  offered  fewer  difficulties  of  ei 

VOL.  II.  19  BB 


ih,Googlc 


434 


FAUST. 


In  the  Paralifomena  we  And  «oine  Ti^smcnts  of  the  original 
plan,  which  lead  us  to  suppose  that  this  Act  should  have 
had  a  political  character.  Since  every  other  dew  thereto 
has  been  lost,  I  sumply  give  the  fragments  in  the  order  in 
which  Ihey  were  printed  by  Eckermann  and  Riemer :  — 

tfwlKkim  could  cut  with  routfa. 


T  ii  FanM  IhM  charliUn>  alone  befricHli. 
Empkpy  ihy  tiiU  Ibr  betitr  coda 
Th>n  ninljr  ibiu  Id  uck  the  world's  Kdaio. 
AAcT  bnef  noise  goet  Fame  to  her  lepoee  \ 
The  hero  and  the  fagabond  are  both  forgottsa ; 
The  greatcBi  monarchs  muat  theu  ejrelldt  ck»^ 
And  evcnr  dog  inwjlu  the  ptice  they  rot  iiL 
ScmiTamiB  i  did  »he  not  hold  the  bia 
Of  half  the  «oild  'twiit  war  and  peace  HiqKDde 
And  in  her  dying  hour  wai  the  not  full  at  gnat 
Aawben  her  hand  the  ictplie  Am  emended? 
Vei  Kaitely  halh  the  ielt  the  blow 
Which  Death  deab  uiunrei  upon  her. 
When  from  all  «idea  a  Ihauaand  libek  Bow, 

Who  undenundi  »hai  >>  pouible  and  Gl 

But.  when  a  hundred  yean  have  heard  of  it. 
No  man  »ill  further  heed  thy  re 


d  when  you  icold,  when  yon  coinpbin 
at  my  behavior  all  too  rude  appear*. 

10  telli  you  iniih  al  praenl,  plump  and  plain. 


Go,  kl  thy  tuck  then  le«ed  bi 
Prove  thy  hypacriny  on  ill  «ii 
Then,  lame  and  tired,  reluin  I 
Han  only  that  accepo.  which 


ih,Googlc 


Spok  wjifa  Ibt  Hov*  of  thsir  TfrtDe*)  |«r. 
^Hk  wiih  loon  of  Ihe  doud't  embnco. 
Wiih  kiogi,  of  nnk  «hI  rifhirul  mj. 
Of  Fncdom  >nd  Eqiulitr,  iritb  ibi  lac«  ] 


Nor  Ihii  lime  un  1  onrawcd 

By  Iby  deep  wnth,  which  pliiu  dcMnxlion  er 

The  tiger-gLince.  wherewith  Ihou  look'u  abroj 

So  bear  it  now,  if  Ihm  but  burd  il  never : 

Mankind  ha  NiU  a  deliote  ear. 

Aiid  pure  wnrdi  alül  inspire  to  nob^e  deeds ; 

Uan  fceli  the  eiigendei  of  hit  iphetc. 

And  willinglr  an  earne«  coontel  hcedi. 

Wiih  ibi>  intenlion  I  depul  from  Uiet, 

But  here,  mumj^ul,  eoon  isiiii  shill  be- 


Then  go,  with  all  Ihy  iplendid  fplti,  and  tiy  il 
I  like  to  lee  a  loci  toi  other  Iboli  nncenied : 
Each  Ands  him  coutiael  good  enough,  norieeks 
Bnl  taanpf,  when  be  laeka  it,  won't  be  apuinec 


Why  neu  then>t1io  in  wony,  fret  and  bay, 

If  b  a  lUle,  iniipid  way : 

The  biead.  we  beg  wiih  daily  breath. 

There  'i  il»  naught  ao  ataie  aa  Deilb, 
And  ihil  iiJDiI  the  comnonol. 

130.    A  Scven-ltagut  Boot  Irift ßrward. 

Goethe  means  to  indicate  by  this  image,  and  the  first 
words  of  Mephistopheles,  that  Faust  has  been  botne  far 
away  Ironi  his  previous  life,  so  that  the  former  is  obliged  to 
make  use  of  the  seven-league  boots  of  the  fairy  tale,  in  order 
to  overtake  him. 

Mephistopheles.  finding  him  among  jagged  peaks  of 
Btone,  (a  volcanic  formation  ?)  immediately  claims  an  infer- 
nal origin  for  Ihem.  Goethe's  hostility  to  Ihe  Plutonic  the- 
ory is  again  exhibited  here,  and  with  more  of  his  irritation 
than  in  the  Classical  Walpurgis- Night.    The  episode  is  so 


ih,Googlc 


436  FAUST. 

unnecesaary  (as  the  Germans  would  say,  iatmiitiviT(\  that  wc 
tan  only  explain  it  by  the  conjeclure  thai  something  must 
have  occurred  in  the  scieniitic  world,  about  the  beginning 
of  the  year  1831,  to  renew  Goethe's  partisan  feeling.  I  have 
not  thought  it  necessary  to  ascertain  this  with  certainly,  Tor 
the  point  is  hardly  imjiortant  enough  10  repay  the  uncertain 
labor,  and  tbe  alteinpled  satire  is  sufficiently  plairL 

131.    A  myiltry  mamfal  and  tedl  tanteaied. 

Here,  in  the  uriginal,  Rienier  has  added  the  reference ; 
'■  Efhesiant  vi.  12,"  which  1  have  omitted.  The  text  is :  "  For 
we  wrestle  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but  against  principali- 
ties, against  powers,  against  tbe  rulers  of  the  darkness  of 
this  world,  against  spiritual  wickedness  in  high  places." 
Luther  translates  the  last  phrase  :  "against  evil  spirits 
under  heaven."  The  preceding  line  also  suggests  ii.  3,  of 
the  sane  Epistle.  Mephistopheles  perhaps  means  to  in- 
(inuate  that  through  the  Plutonic  doctrine  he  and  bis  fellow- 
devils  have  escaped  from  Itieir  old  subterraaean  Hell,  and 
he  has  again  become  "  the  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air." 

Faust's  reply  expresses  Goethe's  idea  of  Creadon,  and  in 
almost  the  same  words  which  he  mure  than  once  employed 
in  describing  it. 

132,     O'er  ail  Ikt  land  the  foreign  blocks  you  sfy  there. 

In  February,  1819,  Goethe  said  to  Eckerminn:  "Herr 
von  Buch  has  published  a  new  work,  which  contains  an  hy- 
pothesis in  its  very  title.  He  means  to  treat  of  the  granite 
blocks  which  lie  about,  here  and  there,  one  knovrs  not  how 
nor  whence.  But  since  Herr  von  Buch  secretly  cherishes 
the  hypothesis  that  such  granite  blocks  were  cast  out  from 
within  and  shivered  by  some  tremendous  force,  he  indicate* 
this  at  once  in  the  title,  where  he  speaks  of  icaOered  granite 
blocks.  The  step  from  this  to  the  Force  which  scatters  is 
very  short,  and  the  noose  of  Error  is  thrown  over  the  head 
of  ihe  unsuspecting  reader,  before  he  is  aware  of  iL" 

Erratkfht  Bliiie  is  the  common  German  term  for  "boul< 
ders."    The  reader,  ^miliar  with  tb«  science  of  our  daj; 


ih,Googlc 


J^OTES. 


437 


most  renwrabet  that  tbe  gt>d>l  theoiy  was  then  unknown. 
Mephiilopbeles  continues  Goethe's  satire  by  attributing  the 
scattered  bouldera  to  the  effect«  at  Moloch's  hammer,  and 
mentions,  in  verification,  the  coireapondence  of  populai  su- 
perstition, which  sees  the  Devil's  hand  in  every  unusual 
rock-fbrtnatJDQ. 

133.  Tiegiffry  of  tkt  JCingdomi  e/lhe  World. 
Here,  again,  Riemer  has  printed,  opposite  the  text : 
"Afaltktw  iv."  It  is,  of  course,  the  eighth  verse  to  which 
he  refer« ;  "  Again,  the  devil  talteth  him  up  into  an  exceed- 
ingly high  toountain,  and  showeth  him  all  the  kingdoms  of 
the  world  and  the  glory  of  them."  The  temptation  of  Christ 
was  evidently  Goethe's  model  for  this  portion  of  the  scene. 
Mephlslopheles  offers  the  lures  of  authoiiiy  and  luxury,  but 
Faust's  nature  tkas  been  enlightened  and  purified,  and  he 
adheres  10  his  own  grand  design  of  a  sphere  ot  worthy 
aclivity- 

134.  The  mm  a/ rebels  thus  augmented. 
There  Is  a  marked  contradiction,  in  this  passage,  to  Faust's 
liberal  and  confiding  view  of  the  people,  given  in  the  Para- 
lifemena  quoted  in  Note  139.  Goethe,  moreover,  frequently 
declared  that  revolutions  were  always  occasioned  by  the 
faults  of  tbe  rulers,  not  by  a  native  rebellious  element  in 
the  people.  In  the  description  of  a  capital,  which  Mephls- 
lopheles gives,  it  is  probable  that  Paris  was  intended  ;  for 
the  succeeding  picture  of  "a  pleasute-castle  in  a  pleasant 
place"  is  undoubtedly  Versailles,  Since  the  scene  was 
written  early  in  1S31,  the  preceding  July  Revolution  was 
probably  fresh  in  Goethe's  memory,  and  we  may  thus  ex- 
plain Faust's  apparent  cynicism. 

135.     Mine  eyt  was  drawn  to  viem  the  open  Ocean. 

In  this  description,  from  first  to  last,  we  recognize  Goethe. 

He  frequently  asserted  thai  what  we  call  the  elcmenis,  the 

active  forces  of  Nature,  are  full  of  wild,  unfettered  impulses, 

constantly  warring  against  each  other  and  against  Man.    The 


ih,Googlc 


4jS  FAUST. 

grand  Chant  of  the  Archangels  (Prologue  in  Heaven)  repre- 
sents Iheir  endless  operation,  and  is  thus  prophetic  of  Faust's 
sphere  of  activity.  Society  and  Covemment  have  not  satis- 
fied the  cravings  of  his  nature  ;  the  Ideal,  though  its  conse- 
(ration  is  permanent,  cannot  be  a  possession  ;  and  he  now 
determines  to  enter  into  conflict  with  a  colossal  natural  force, 
and  compel  its  submission  to  the  Imperial  authority  of  the 
human  mbd. 

Xjfi.  T^tjf,  mere  Ikan  all,  Ihträn  mert  implica^. 
We  must  suppose  that  Mephistopbeles,  bound  to  obedi- 
ence, unwillingly  serves  in  the  fulfilment  of  plajis  which  be 
cannot  comprehend.  Although  he  implicaies  Faust  in  the 
coming  military  movements,  ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of 
acquiring  possession  of  the  ocean-strand  through  the  help 
which  (he  latter  shall  furnish  to  the  Emperor,  he  is  ever 
watchful  to  bring  the  affair  to  another  issue-  In  the  passage 
commencing;  "A  mighty  error!"  Faust  gives  us  Goethe's 
impression  of  Napoleon.  Mephistopheles  naturally  casts 
upon  the  priesthood  the  heaviest  responsibility  for  the  anar- 
chy of  the  realm,  and  here,  again,  we  have  another  view 
which  Goethe  frequently  expressed. 

137.  No  I  But  I  've  brought,  like  Peler  Spance. 
Shakespeare's  Peter  Quince  becomes,  in  some  English 
farce  into  which  the  comic  parts  of  the  "Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  "  were  worked,  pedant  and  schoolmaster  ;  and  in 
Gryphius's  translation  of  this  £trce  was  introduced  to  Ger- 
many as  "  Kerr  Peter  Squerue."  —  Düntttr. 

138.  The  Three  MiglUy  Men  afptar. 
Riemer  here  inserts  the  reference  "a  Samuel  xxiii.  8." 
But  only  the  phrase  seems  to  have  been  borrowed  from  the 
description  of  the  three  mighty  men  of  David.  The  charac- 
ter given  to  the  "  allegoric  blackguards  "  of  Mephistopheles 
is  not  suggested  liy  anything  in  Samuel,  or  the  corresponding 
account  in  i  ChronUlei  xi. 


ih,Googlc 


KOTES. 


439 


139.  On  the  Headlakd. 
Th«  disposition  of  the  Imperial  anny  is  described  with  so 
much  exactness  of  detail  that  the  plan  of  battle,  and  the  ap- 
plicalinn  of  the  magic  arts  which  Mephisiopheles  employs, 
may  be  followed  as  readily  as  if  we  were  furnished  with  a 
topographical  chart  We  find  the  Emperor,  also,  precisely 
as  we  left  him  in  Act  I,,  a  weak,  amiable  ruler,  with  fitful 
impulses  which  he  mistakes  for  qualities  of  character,  always 
planning  great  personal  achievements  which  he  forgets  the 
ncKt  moment.  In  spite  of  the  prosaic  substance  of  this 
scene,  it  is  overhung  by  a  weird,  strange  atmosphere ;  the 
real  and  the  technical  are  singularly  interfuied  with  the  su- 
pernatural, and  we  seem  10  be  constantly  on  the  point  of 
feeling  that  vital  poetic  glow,  which,  in  Goethe's  eighty- 
second  year,  was  but  faintly  smouldering  under  its  own 

140.  Fer  they,  in  eryitali  and  their  älemt,  fttrled. 
Precisely  what  Goethe  intends  to  hint  in  this  line  is  un- 
certain.  Il  can  scarcely  lie  crystallomancy,  as  one  of  the 
forms  of  divination  ;  nor.  as  Diinlzer  says,  "wonderful  pha- 
ses of  crystallization,  considered  as  an  external  symbol  of 
jnielleetual  research."  Goethe  attributed  to  Crystal  I  iiati  on 
many  mountain-phenomena  which  the  Plutonists  explained 
by  upheaval,  and  this  may  be,  possibly,  a  last,  subsiding  echo 
of  his  scientiüc  prejudices. 

141.     lie  Sabine  M,  the  ffarcian  racrvmancer. 

Fau<it  introduces  an  episode  of  the  Emperor's  coronation 
in  Rome,  in  explanation  of  his  assistance,  and  the  Arch- 
bishop-Chancellor afterwards  mentions  the  same  incident,  in 
the  very  opposite  sense.  In  one  of  the  notes  which  Goethe 
attached  to  his  translation  of  the  Autobiography  of  Benve- 
nuto  Cellini,  we  delect  the  original  material  from  which  he 
constructed  this  passage :  — 

"  From  whatever  cause  the  mountains  of  Norda,  between 
the  Sabine  land  and  the  Duchy  of  Spoleto,  acquired  the 
name  in  old  times,  they  are  called  to  this  day  the  Mountains 


ih,Googlc 


440 


FAUST. 


of  the  SibjrU.  Old  «riten  of  Racnnce  made  use  of  thi* 
locality  in  order  to  conduct  their  heroes  through  the  moti 
wonderful  adventures,  and  thus  increaied  the  belief  in  IhoM 
magical  ügures,  the  first  outlines  of  vhich  were  drawn  by 
the  Legend.  An  Italian  stocy,  Guerino  Meschino,  and  an 
old  French  work,  relate  strange  occurrences,  by  which  cu- 
rious travellers  have  been  surprised  in  that  region ;  and 
Messer  Cecco  di  Ascoli,  who  wa«  burned  in  Florence  in  the 
year  1327,  on  account  of  his  necromantic  writings,  is  still 
remembered,  through  the  interest  felt  in  his  history  by  the 
chronicler»,  painters,  and  poets." 

14X  Silfii  lie  Man  1 
Again  Goethe  speaks ;  but  his  eloquent  advocacy  of  a 
free,  independent  development  of  the  individual  becomes  a 
hollow  pretence  in  the  Emperor's  mouth.  Faust's  reply  i« 
a  piece  of  flattery,  which  would  have  been  more  appropriate 
to  Mephistopheles. 

143.     BOLLy  {eoming/arviard). 

The  original  of  this  name  ii  Raufibcld,  and  those  of  the 
other  Mighty  Men  Hatebald  (accompanied  by  the  wandiirt, 
EilebtiUt)  and  Haitifeit.  The  first  verse  of  Isaiah  viii. : 
"  Moreover,  the  Lord  said  to  me.  Take  thee  a  great  roll,  and 
write  in  it  with  a  man's  pen  concerning  Maber-shalal-hash- 
bat" — reads,  in  Luther's  translation  :  "  Und  der  Herr  sprach 
zu  mir;  Nimm  vor  dich  einen  grossen  Brief;  und  schreib 
darauf  mit  Menschen -Griflel  RatiMaid,  Eiltbtule." 

1  applied  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Conant  for  the  exact  interpreta- 
tion of  the  Hebrew  words,  and  take  the  liberty  of  quoting 
bis  reply ;  — 

"  Habebald  and  EiUbtvU  were  suggested  to  Goethe  by  the 
symbolic  name,  Maktr-shalai-kaik-iat,  the  meaning  of  this 
name  (hasltn  the  spoil,  spad  thi  prey]  portending  that  the 
spoiler  and  plunderer  was  at  hand.  In  this,  as  its  general 
import,  critics  are  agreed,  although  there  is  a  difference  of 
opinion  as  to  the  grammatical  conttniction.  Gesenios,  b 
hii  tnnslatkm  of  Itaiah,  exprestes  it  well  by  Sauiiiaii 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  441 

Bütbtiät.  Goethe  was  familiar  with  tTie  same  fonns,  trani- 
posed,  in  Lulher'a  version,  I  talce  it  tbal  Goethe  regarded 
the  spirit  of  plunder  as  the  (bremost  element  in  war ;  and 
hence  he  has  placed  its  representative,  under  the  symbolic 
name  of  JIabtiald,  at  the  head  of  the  central  phalanx. 

"  Half  the  Hebrew  name  he  has  given  to  the  vivanJiirt, 
introduced  (as  I  suppose)  both  to  enliven  the  representation 
and  to  characteriie  another  revolting  accompaniment  of  war, 
'dU/'yiatijt grimmig  wenn  sügrafl,'  etc.  Hence  the  other 
half  of  the  name,  Jiatiitiaid,  he  is  obliged  to  Iransforni  to 
ffaittaid,  both  as  better  suited  to  the  office  of  a  miliiary 
leader,  and  to  avoid  too  dose  a  resemblance  to  the  name  of 
another  of  bis  characters,  whose  participation  in  the  fruits 
of  victory  it  truly  represents." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  these  characters  sjrmbolize  the 
human  elements  manifested  in  war.  Bully  represents  the 
üerce.  brutal,  unrestrained  spirit  of  Gghl;  Havequick  is 
the  thirst  for  booty,  for  the  spoils  of  victory  in  every  Ibrm ; 
and  Holdfast  seems  to  be  the  stubborn  quality  of  resistance, 
the  chief  strength  of  armies. 

144.    A  ruddy  and prtsaging glim. 
The  reader,  familiar  with  Goethe's  works,  is  referred  10 

the  latter's  description  of  his  attack  of  "cannon  fever"  in 
the  "Campaign  in  France"  (179a).  The  passage  is  loo  long 
to  be  quoted ;  but  the  circumstance  that  the  entire  Held  of 
battle  appeared  lo  be  tinged  vrith  a  red  color  is  here  intro- 
duced. A  careful  examination  of  the  "  Campaign  "  would 
probably  discover  much  of  the  material  which  is  employed 
in  this  scene;  and  1  venture  to  say  that  the  chief  reason  why 
Goethe  relinquished  his  first  political  plan,  and  accepted  a 
representation  of  War  in  its  stead,  was,  that  it  was  very 
much  easier  for  him  to  draw  upon  his  memory  than  to  task 
bis  failing  powers  of  invention. 

145.    Attend!  the  lign  it  now  excelled. 

After  introducing  the   Fata  Morgana  of  Sicily  and  the 

fires  of  St.  Elmo,  Faust  reassures  the  Emperor,  who  has 


ih,Googlc 


442 


PAUST. 


become  bewildered  and  somewhat  alanned.  by  a  sign  in  die 
air,  such  as  is  described  bjr  Homer  {Iliad,  X/f.)  ind  Plii- 
taich  (77mi>/ivn).  Goeihe  certainly  designed,  by  these  fea- 
tures, to  give  a  ghostly  atmosphere  to  the  scene ;  but  he 
may  have  also  meant  to  unite  the  superstition  of  the  people 
with  the  brutality  of  war. 

146.  nttUtigijiaml  — 
The  apparent  advantage  of  the  enemy,  in  carrying  the 
poution  occupied  by  the  left  wing  of  the  Emperor's  army, 
makes  Faust's  aid  (through  Mephistophetes)  indispensable 
to  victory.  The  latter,  therefore,  employs  all  his  magic  de- 
vices, in  turn.  Goethe  seems  to  have  ransacked  the  super- 
stitions of  History,  and  combined  their  most  picturesque 
features.  We  are  reminded  of  the  storm  and  flood  described 
by  Plutarch,  of  St.  Jago  fighüng  for  Spain,  of  the  apparitions 
and  noises  which  are  reported  to  have  accompanied  many 
famous  battles ;  but  the  most  effective  agent,  after  all,  is 
transmitttd  parly  hau. 

147.  ITiou  loamt  treaiurt  an  t/u  land. 
"  Did  the  poet,  perhaps,  mean  to  indicate  that  booty  is 
usually  thoughtlessly  squandered  again,  or  only  to  describe, 
in  general,  the  reckless  haste  of  plunder,  whereby  the  best 
is  lost  10  the  greedy  robber  hands,  which  attempt  to  grasp 
too  much?" — Diinttrr. 

148.     'Til  Contribution,  — m//  it  sol 
Havequick  retorts  that  the  contributions  levied  by  armies 
in  a  hostile  country  are  only  another  form  of  plunder. 

149.    Empbror. 

The  Alexandrine  metre,  with  alternate  masculine  and  fem- 
inine rhymes,  in  which  the  remainder  of  the  scene  is  written, 
is  not  Goethe's  invention,  as  some  have  supposed.  I  find  it 
in  a  Prologue  of  Lessing,  written  in  1 765 ;  but  it  may  also 
be  found,  in  brief  poems,  fißy  years  earlier. 

The  scene,  properly  understood,  is  a  grave,  powerful  tadre 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


443 


on  i'te  Imperial  syslem  of  government  All  the  arlifidal 
Titi'oiistn  of  Courts  is  set  forth  so  naturally  and  consistently, 
tb^i  we  must  recall  the  Empeior's  assumed  manhood  and 
tlie  ^eat  danger  he  has  just  escaped,  in  order  to  feel  the 
hollow  selfishness  which,  disregarding  the  condition  of  the 
realm  and  the  grievances  of  the  people,  only  employs  itself 
with  the  arrangement  of  ceremonials. 

1 50.     fVhen  newly  croTtnud,  Iküu  didsi  Iht  witard  liberait. 

The  reader  will  have  already  remarked  that  the  satire  of 
this  scene  is  not  limited  to  its  medixval  features.  It  not 
only  embraces  that  mechanical  statesmanship  which,  aflei  a 
great  historical  crisis,  sees  no  other  policy  than  the  re- 
establishment  of  previous  conditions,  but  it  shows,  in  a  con- 
trast which  grows  sharper  towards  the  close,  the  grandeur 
of  inlilligf'il  human  ambition,  embodied  in  Faust,  and  the 
narrow  greed  and  selfishness,  first  of  the  Slate,  and  then  of 
the  Church.  The  indifference  of  the  secular  princes  be- 
comes almost  a  virtue,  beside  the  bigotry  of  the  Archbishop. 
The  latter  refers  to  the  humanity  of  the  young  Emperor,  in 
saviii^  the  life  of  the  Norcian  necromancer,  as  an  unatoned 
sin.  The  acceptance  of  the  wizard's  gratitude,  in  the  aid 
rmdered  by  Faust  and  Mephistopheles.  although  it  has 
3>ved  the  dynasty,  (and  the  Archbishop  himself,  with  it,)  is 
S  «till  greater  sin,  deserving  the  ban  of  (he  Holy  Church. 
The  Emperor  is  required  to  make  heavy  sacrifices  of  land, 
money,  and  revenues,  before  he  can  receive  full  absolution 
for  his  guilL  We  are  reminded  of  the  priest's  words  to 
Margaret's  mother  (First  Part,  Scene  IX.)  :  — 
"TheChurdi  ilonc.  iMyaiul  ill  qiinlion, 
Hu  far  itl-Knllen  good«  the  right  digestioD-" 
But  the  climax  of  rapacity,  and  also  of  inconsistency,  is 
reached  when  the  Archtushop  demands  the  tithes  of  the  new 
land  which  Faust  has  not  yet  reclaimed  from  the  sea. 

ISI.     ACT  V. 

On  the  13th  of  Februarr,  1831,  Goethe  said  to  Ecker- 

mann,  after  stating  that  he  had  commenced  the  Fourth  Ad : 


ih,Googlc 


444  FAUST. 

"  I  shall  now  arrange  how  to  fill  the  entire  gap  between  the 
fftlttta  and  the  already  cempleled  Fifth  Act,  writing  down  tnjr 
thoughts  in  detail  as  a  programme  {Seiima),  so  that  I  may 
execute  it  with  thorough  ease  and  certainty,  and  also  that  I 
may  work  on  whatever  pans  attract  me  mosL" 

Yet,  on  the  id  of  May,  Eckermann  writes :  "  Goethe 
delighted  me  with  the  news  that  he  had  succeeded,  within 
the  laat  few  days,  in  supplying  the  commencement  of  the 
Fitih  Act  of  Faust,  vihith  vxu  kUhertc  lacking,  so  that  it  il 
now  as  good  as  finished.  '  The  design  of  these  scenes  also,' 
said  he, '  is  more  than  thirty  years  old  ;  it  was  so  important, 
that  I  did  not  lose  my  interest  in  it,  but  so  difficult  to  elabo- 
rate, that  I  was  afraid  of  the  task.  By  the  employment  of 
many  devices,  I  have  at  last  taken  up  the  thread  again,  and 
ir  Fortune  favors  me,  I  shall  finish  the  Fourth  Act  bcrore  I 

Again,  in  a  letter  to  Zelter,  written  June  i,  iSji,  Goeihe 
says ;  "  It  is  no  trifle  that  one  must  represent  externally  in 
one's  eighty-second  year  what  one  has  conceived  in  one's 
ttamlietA,  and  clothe  such  a  living  inner  skeleton  with  sin- 
ews, flesh,  and  epidermis," 

Here  are  apparent  contradictions,  which,  I  think,  may  be 
thus  explained;  In  his  letter  to  Zelter,  Goethe  simply  re- 
iers  to  the  original  conception  of  Fauit.  The  concluding 
part  of  Act  V.,  commencing  at  Scene  V.  (Midnight:  Four 
Gray  fVumea  enter),  was  written  about  the  beginning  of  the 
century  —  certainly  between  1800  and  1806  —  and  was  per- 
haps intended  to  be  the  entire  Act.  At  least,  it  seems  prob- 
able that  the  sphere  of  activity  which  crown»  Faust's  life 
was  first  separated  from  the  closing  scenes  of  the  drama. 
If  Goethe,  therefore,  simply  transferred  the  first  four  scene* 
from  the  Fourth  Act  to  the  Fifth,  af)cr  remodelling  the 
former,  all  these  discrepancies  of  statement  became  intel- 
ligible. 

Goethe  also  said:  "That  which,  in  my  early  years,  was 
possible  to  me  daily,  and  under  all  circumstances,  can  now 
only  be  accomplished  periodically  and  under  certain  fortu- 
nate conditions.  ....  Now,  I  can  only  work  on  the  Second 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


445 


Part  of  my  Jüaul  during  the  early  hours  of  the  day,  when  I 
am  restored  by  ilcep,  feel  myielf  strengthened,  and  the  dis- 
tractions of  daily  life  have  not  conAued  me.  Yet,  after  all, 
«hat  is  it  thai  I  accomplish  ?  In  the  luckiest  case,  one 
written  page  ;  but  ordinarily  only  a  hand's  breadth  of  manu- 
script, and  often,  in  an  unproductive  mood,  «till  lets." 

It  is  very  evident  that  the  first  four  scenes  of  this  last  Ad, 
having  a  more  lyrical  fom  than  ttie  conclusion  of  the  Fourth 
Act,  which  was  written  a  few  weeks  later,  were  a  sore  task 
to  the  aged  poeL  The  metre  is  stiff  and  almost  painfully 
constrained,  and  the  construction  sometimes  so  crabbed  that 
I  have  twice  or  thrice  been  compelled  to  vary  the  phrase 
slightly  for  the  sake  of  fluency.  But  the  reader,  no  less  Chan 
the  critic,  wilt  be  generous )  and,  keeping  the  grand  design 
in  view,  will  not  too  sharply  scrutintze  the  imperfections  of 
detail. 

153.    Baucis. 

"  Goethe  showed  me  to-day  the  beginning  of  the  FifUi  Act 
of  Fatitl,  which  had  been  lacking.  I  read  to  the  passage 
where  the  hut  of  Philemon  and  Baucis  is  burned,  and  Faust, 
standing  on  the  balcony  of  his  palace  at  night,  smell*  the 
smoke,  borne  to  him  by  the  wind, 

" '  Tiie  names  Philemon  and  Baucis,'  said  I, '  transport  me 
to  the  Phrygian  shore,  reminding  me  of  that  famous  antique 
pair  1  but  this  scene  is  laid  in  modem  time»  and  in  a  Chris- 

"'My  Philemon  and  Baucis,'  »aid  Goethe,  'have  nothing 
to  do  with  that  antique  pair  and  the  legend  concerning  them. 
1  only  gave  them  the  same  names,  Co  dignify  the  characters. 
The  persons  and  circumstances  are  similar,  and  the  names 
thus  will  have  a  good  effect.'  "  —  Eclimnann,  June  6,  1S31. 

153.  fVhtrt  Ihr  Sea't  6lut  art  ü  ipanntd. 
The  Wanderer  is  introduced  in  order  that  the  changes 
which  Faust  has  wrought  in  the  region  may  be  described. 
The  sea,  which  broke  on  the  downs  where  the  former  was 
wrecked,  years  before,  is  now  only  seen  as  a  blue  horizon< 
line  in  the  distance. 


ih,Googlc 


^  FAUST. 

154-  KnaitiitfvcinbydayTB 
The  original  line  is  :  "  Tags  tanaut  die  Kaaklf  iarmttn.' 
Some  trinalalorl  Kav«  rendered  the  word  itmitmi  into  "  un- 
paid," because  it  has  frequenllr  the  meaning  of  "gtatis.' 
The  other  and  equallj  correct  rendering  is  suggested  to  me 
by  the  circamttance  that  the  workmen  were  emploj^ed  bj 
night  aa  well  as  by  day.  The  acctnmt  which  the  old  couple 
give  of  Faust's  cruelty  must  not  be  taken  too  literally :  tber 
are  no  friend*  of  ie 


155.  Mj  grand  ataU  lackt fiM  detigm. 

The  Warder,  Lynceus,  Is  here  introduced  (or  the  pnrpos« 
or  describing  the  action.  Schnetgcr,  it  is  true,  says  he  b 
the  '*  prophetic  vision  of  the  Poet,"  mourning  over  (he  de- 
struction of  the  Beautiful  by  the  modem  Industrial  Spirit ; 
but  I  find  in  him  no  symbolism  whatever,  —  certainly  noth- 
ing which  connects  him  with  his  namesake  of  the  HtUna. 
Goethe's  plan  could  not  be  embodied  in  dramatic  dialogue ; 
it  required  descriptive  passages,  and  the  vehicle  through 
which  to  introduce  them  was  not  always  readily  found. 

"  Faust,  as  he  appears  in  the  Fifth  Act,"  said  Goethe  to 
Eckermai.n,  "  is  juat  one  hundred  years  old,  according  to  my 
intention  ;  and  1  am  not  certain  whether  it  would  not  be  well 
to  express  this  positively,  somewhere." 

1 56.  With  twenty  cmte  lo  fart  again. 
Mephistopheles.  still  forced  to  serve,  turns  his  commercial 

into  a  piratical  voyage,  and  hopes  to  secure  Faust's  com- 
plicity in  Evil  by  tempting  him  to  accept  the  precious  spoiln 
of  all  climes,  and  the  vessels  which  he  has  accumulated. 
His  argument,  that  War,  Trade,  and  Piracy  are  "  three  in 
one,"  makes  no  impression  on  Faust,  who,  as  we  learn  from 
the  Three  Mighty  Men,  turns  away  from  the  bribe  in  i^sgust. 

157.      Ta-mammi  ihi  gay  birds  hither  lornd. 

This  is  an  obscure  line,  which  some  interpret  as  denoting 

those  seaport  sirens  who  consume  so  much  of  the  sailor's 


ih,Googlc 


/VOTES. 


447 


earnings.  The  Three  Mighty  Men  represent  the  sea-faring 
class,  so  far  as  their  characlec  is  drawn  :  Gnethe  did  not  feel 
himself  on  very  secure  ground  here,  and  contented  himself 
with  indicating  the  sailor's  blunt  coarseness  of  speech  and 
Ibndness  for  carousals. 

15S.    M  sortr  plague  tan  us  attack. 

Than  riek  to  bt,  and  tomfthing  laei. 
The  reader  must  remember  Faust's  age,  and  his  long 
course  of  successful  achievement,  in  order  to  understand  his 
present  impatience  and  petulance.  Me  loses  all  joy  in  his 
vast  possessions,  because  ihe  neighboring  sand-hill,  whereon 
he  wishes  10  build  a  lookout  for  a  view  over  all  his  new, 
thickly' peopled  realm,  is  the  property  of  another  who  refuses 
to  sell  or  exchange  it.  Goethe  has  borrowed  (his  incident 
from  the  story  of  Frederick  the  Great  and  the  miller  of 
Potsdam. 

159.    Still  Nabath's  vitityard  vie  Meld. 
Riemer  has  here  inserted  a  side- re  fere  nee  :  "  1  Kings  xii." 
It  will  be  enough  to  quote  the  second  and  third  verses  !  — 

2.  And  Ahab  spake  unto  Nabolh,  saying,  Give  me  thy 
vineyard,  that  I  may  have  it  for  a  garden  of  herbs,  because 
il  is  near  unto  my  house  \  and  I  will  give  thee  for  it  a  belter 
vineyard  than  it ;  or,  if  it  seem  good  to  Ihee,  I  wiU'give  theo 
Ihe  worth  of  il  in  money. 

3.  And  Naboth  said  to  Ahab,  The  Lord  forbid  it  me,  that 
I  should  give  the  inheritance  of  my  fathers  unto  Ihee. 

l6a  Ferghie  I  net  happily  'I  vxu  doni. 
Faust,  impatient  at  being  so  long  thwarted  in  his  plans,  so 
fer  yields  (o  Mephistopheles  that  he  consents  to  employ 
for«.  Here  is  yel  another  — and  the  last  —  chance  lor 
the  .Spirit  of  Evil  lo  win  his  wager.  Like  Jezebel,  he 
compasses  the  death  of  Naboth- Philemon.  The  result  is 
incendiarism  and  murder,  not  forcible  removal ;  aild  Faust, 
instead  of  accepting  the  coveted  properly,  cuises  the  rash. 
Inhuman  deed. 


ih,Googlc 


4^8  FAUST. 

i6i.  Midnight. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  earlier  written  portion  of 
the  Fifth  Act  comitKncea  with  this  acen&  In  the  abMtice 
of  any  special  evidence,  I  cuiDot  bx  the  exact  time ;  bat  I 
think  it  miist  have  been  in  existence  before  Schiller's  death 
(1805).  The  atmosphere  of  the  First  Part  begins  to  breathe 
upon  us  again,  as  if  from  a  distant  Fast ;  gradually  and 
successively  the  old  warmth  and  hannony  and  power  revive ; 
the  chimes  and  chants  of  Easter  morning  are  heard  again  in 
(be  ChoruKes  of  the  Angels,  and  we  are  lifted,  at  the  dose, 
into  a  region  of  Heaven  less  austerely  sublime  than  that  of 
the  Piulogue,  but  burning  into  clearest  whitcneu  tlirough 
the  inelTable  Presence  of  the  Divine  Love. 

l6a.    Nretiiity,  miiu. 

I  have  followed  Dr.  Anster  in  thus  translating  //oli,  which 
may  also  be  rendered  "trouble"  and  "need,"  for  the  reason 
that  Care,  in  [his  scene,  includes  the  former  meaning,  and 
Want  the  latter. 

The  character  of  the  three  gray  sister*.  Waal,  Guilt,  and 
Necessity,  is  explained  when  they  declare  that  they  cannot 
enter  (he  house  of  the  Rich ;  but  Care,  the  aJra  cura  of 
Horace,  bas  free  entrance  everywhere.  Goethe's  conceptiaa 
of  her  being  seems  to  be  the  embodied  Worry,  and  tbe 
other  three  have  no  further  ^parent  significance  than  to 
separate  her  from  the  other  tormenting  powers  of  life,  aitd 
thus  the  more  dearly  define  her  nature. 

163.  Tktn  teere  it  worth  eit^i  while  a  man  to  bei 
Goethe  said  to  Ecketnunn  (iSaS):  "But  we  old  Euro- 
peans are  all  more  or  less  in  evil  plight  ....  Each  is  re- 
lined  and  polite,  but  no  one  has  the  courage  (o  be  cordial 
and  true,  so  that  an  honest  man  with  natural  ideas  and  im' 
pulses  stands  in  an  unfortunate  position.  Often  one  cannot 
help  wishing  that  one  had  been  bom  upon  one  of  the  South- 
Sea  Islands,  a  so-called  savage,  so  as  once  to  have  purely 
felt  human  existence,  without  any  false  flavors." 
Faust's  reference  to  his  magic  and  to  his  curse  (First  Pai% 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


449 


Scene  IV.)  is  another  evidence  of  tfae  dm«  «hen  the  scene 
was  written,  for  It  shows  tbat  the  original  conception  was 
still  fresh  and  warm  in  Goethe's  mind.  In  spite  of  his  great 
age,  we  (eel  that  we  have  again  met  the  Faiist  of  the  Urst 
Part,  instead  of  his  shadowy  representative  of  the  preceding 

164.  Thii  Wffrtd  mtam  tomtlhing  tt  tki  CapaUi! 
The  original  line,  Dtm  TiicMigen  ist  diue  Welt  nkht 
itumm,  is  difficult  to  translate  —  "To  the  capable  (or  jmu- 
f'ne)  man  thii  world  is  not  mute,"  that  is,  it  reveal*  to  hiro 
its  uses  and  possibilities.  This  was  the  first  article  In 
Goeihe'*  creed  of  life,  and  he  has  expressed  it,  in  his  poems, 
in  a  multitude  of  forma. 

165.    Sut  in  nty  ittmett  ipirii  id!  is  light. 

Faust's  selfish  desire  for  a  station  on  the  Knden-trees, 
whence  to  overlook  his  lands,  and  the  crime  to  which  it  led, 
■re  justly  avenged  by  his  blindness.  Bui  with  (he  external 
darkness  comes  a  growing  spiritual  light,  the  "obacure  as> 
piralion"  gives  place  to  knowledge  and  faith.  The  pass:^ 
is  pregnant  with  meaning,  but  nothing  in  it  is  vague  or 
doubtful. 

166.     Lemukes. 

Goethe  has  here  borrowed  (probably  from  Percy's  Ktlijutt, 
which  he  knew)  the  original  song  of  Lord  Vaui,  a  part  of 
which  Shakespeare  puts  into  the  mouth  of  the  grave-digger 
in  "  Hamlet."  But  he  has  taken  only  the  first  half  of  the 
verses,  completing  them  with  other  lines'of  hisown.  There- 
fore I  have  only  translated  these  latter,  and  added  them  to 
the  original  English  lines.    In  "Hamlet,"  the  verses  ara:  — 

MclhouEhl  it  iru  my  »eel. 
Bui  Agi,  with  hii  ««ling  >lepi. 


ih,Googlc 


450  FAUST. 

Goethe  shows  his  knowledge  of  English  literature,  io  Te> 
■taring  the  line  if  Lord  Vaux :  — 

Huh  cUvcd  m«  mtk  kii  enlck. 

Moreover,  bis  vaHaiion  of  this  latter  verse,  M  least,  »  en- 
tirely in  the  spirit  of  the  original. 

167.     They  spoil  nvl  of  a  moat,  hit  of —  a  grave. 
The  original  line  contains  a  pun  which  cannot  be  given 
in  translation  :  — 

Man  tprkht.  wie  man  mir  Nachricht  gab, 
Von  keipem  Grain,  doch  rem  —  Grai. 

168.     Ht  OHly  tarta  kis  frttdom  and  ixisUnet, 
WAa  daily  conguirt  tktm  aneai. 
In  these  lines  Goethe  has  unconsciously  remembered  a 
passage  firum  Schiller's  Wilhelm  Tell:  — 

"  Dinn  cm  E«iiEi>'  ich  meine*  Lcbeni  itchi, 

(Then  first  do  I  truly  enjoy  my  life,  when  I  reconquer  it 
every  day  as  a  new  possession.) 

It  is  hardly  necessary  that  I  should  call  the  reader  to  ob- 
serve how  Faust's  great  work,  which  was  at  first  planned  to 
exhibit  the  victory  of  Man  over  the  forces  of  Nature,  now 
becomes,  to  his  cleaier  spiritual  vision,  a  permanent  gain  and 
blessing  to  the  race.  All  unselfish  work  is  better  than  the 
worker  knows  ;  and  if  Faust  has  only  given  "free  activity" 
and  not  absolute  "security  "  to  the  millions  who  shall  come, 
he  sees,  at  last,  the  great  value  of  iheir  very  insecurity,  as 
an  agent  which  shall  keep  alive  the  virtues  of  vigilance, 
association,  and  the  unselfish  labor  of  each  for  the  common 
good.  He  foresees  a  free  people,  living  upon  a  free  soil, — 
courage,  intelligence,  and  patriotism  constantly  developed 
anew  by  danger.  There  is  a  passage  in  Montesquieu's 
Esprit  lies  Lois,  wherein  a  similar  thought  is  expressed. 

Through  this  prophetic  vision,  Faust,  experiences  the  one 
moment  of  supreme  happiness.  He  has  attained  it  in  spite 
□f,  not  through,  Mepbistopheles.    He  his  blessed  his  fel- 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


45» 


eons  to  come,  bjr  creating  for  them  :•  Geld  of 
',  surrounded  wiih  conditions  which  assure  them 
its  possession  and  their  own  freedom  and  happiness.  Not 
through  Knowledge,  Indulgence,  Power.  —  not  even  through 
the  pur«  passion  of  the  Beautiful,  or  victory  over  the  Ele- 
ments,—  has  he  reached  the  crowning  Moment  which  he 
would  fain  delajf ;  the  sole  condition  of  perfect  happines* 
is  the  good  which  he  has  accomplished  for  olbeis. 

169.    Bat  Time  it  lord,  en  earth  the  eld  man  Ua. 
Mephistopheles   almost    quotes    the    Archbishop   (page 
270):  — 

■'  Who  jMlitnl  it,  and  tighi,  hit  d>y  ihall  jct  iriu." 
His  mariner  also  suggests  his  words  to  the  Lord,  in  the  PrU- 
^ut  in  Heavtit :  — 

"  ir  I  fulfil  my  opectilion. 
You  'II  Iti  nK  triumpb  wiih  t  iwellini  biUM." 
The  Chorus  now   purposely  repeats  the  expression  used 
t^  Fault,  in  completing   the  Compact  (First   Part,  Scene 
IV.);- 

Tim  let  (he  dsith-bcU  chimt  Iht  lolun. 
Then  an  thou  Ironi  thy  icrvic«  fca  I 
The  cinck  i»y  (lop,  the  hind  bt  bmken, 
Then  Time  be  finiihed  unlo  mi  I 
The  answer  of  Mephistopheles  to  the  eiclatnation  of  the 
Chorus:  "Tis  pasti"  seems  to  conflict  with  the  passion 
for  annihilation,  which  he  cxpiesses  in  first  describing  his 
nature  10   Faust  (First  Part,  Scene  III.).      He  drops  his 
character  of  Negation  suddenly,  and  becomes  the  popular 
Devil,  who  is  a  very  positive  personage.    From  this  point  to 
the  end,  we  are  reminded  of  the  Miracle-plays  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

170.    Sepulture. 
The  chant  of  the  Lemures  is  here  again  suggested  hj  the 
Grave-digger's  song  in  Hamltt.  third  verse  :  — 


ih,Googlc 


451 


FAUST. 


171.  tiett  hath  a  miäti/ude  of  jam,  in  tkml. 
Goethe'«  (iral  plan  ms  to  Mnd  Mepbiaiopbeles  into  tbe 
presence  of  The  Lord,  for  the  purpose  of  announcing  that  he 
had  won.  This,  however,  would  hare  interfered  with  the 
effect  of  the  doaing  scene,  and  he  selected,  instead,  the 
machinery  of  the  Miracle-plays,  as  better  adapted  to  hU  pur- 
pose. The  open  jaws  of  Hell,  as  they  aic  still  represented 
in  many  chapels  of  Catholic  countries,  and  the  two  varietie* 
of  Devils,  are  intentionally  introduced  as  a  coarse,  almost 
vulgar  framework  for  a  scene  which  is  meant  to  include  the 
sharpest  contrast  of  two  principles,  Heaven  stooping  down, 
and  Hell  rising  up  to  talce  hold  of  tbe  soul  of  Man. 

17a.    Pliuk  eff  tht  wings,  'I  it  but  a  hidcmu  wrm. 
This  passage  is  a  satirical  reference,  both  to  the  old  tradi- 
tions of  the  appearance  of  the  soul  and  Its  manner  of  escape 
from  the  body,  and  to  various  psycholi^cal  apeculatioiks  of 

173-  AnJ  Gtnita,  surely,  seeks  al  enei  te  rise. 
The  long,  lean  Devils,  in  whom  a  commentator  (probably 
related  to  Nicolai)  finds  a  symbol  of  the  Jesuits,  are  directed 
to  catch  the  soul  in  the  air,  if  it  should  escape  tbe  dutches 
of  those  who  bend  over  the  body.  All  tbe  contempt  of 
Mephistopbeles  for  Faust's  ideal  aspirations  seems  to  be  ex- 
pressed in  this  sneer  at  "  Genius." 

174.    hjust  the  thing  thär  prayers  demand. 

Mephistopbeles  here  becomes  Goethe,  lor  a  moment  The 
latter  (irmly  believed  in  the  universality  of  the  Divine  Power 
and  the  Divine  Love,  and  few  things  were  more  repulsive  to 
his  nature  than  the  horrors  of  the  conventional  Hell  of  medi- 
eval theology.  Nothing  could  be  more  savagely  satirical 
than  this  declaration  of  Mephistopbeles  that  tbe  worst  tor- 
ments invented  by  (he  fiends  are  demanded  by  the  faith  of 
the  Pious. 

Härtung  says  of  tbe  appearance  of  the  angels :  "  Mephis- 
topbeles calls  (he  glory  which  surrounds  them  an '  unwelcome 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


4S3 


day,'  their  cbtmt  a  '  nutjr  tinkliDg,  a  boy-girlish  atTumming,' 
etc.  This  ia  a  satire  on  the  Moravian  hymns  and  those  of 
other  canting  sects."  The  correctnera  of  the  last  assertioii 
u  by  no  meana  evident. 

175.  Chokob  of  Angels  {uatUring  rotti). 
The  angelic  chorusea  in  thii  scene  are  scarcely  less  won- 
derful than  those  of  Eastei  morning,  in  the  First  Part.  They 
present  an  equal  difficulty  to  the  translator  in  their  interlink- 
ing feminine  and  dactylic  rhymes,  and  perhaps  a  greater  one 
in  that  unnatural  compression  of  phrase  which  almost  de- 
stroys the  form  of  the  thought.  In  one  or  two  instances 
Goeth«  has  attempted  the  impossible,  and  failed;  yet  liis 
failure  is  so  grand  that  we  are  tempted  to  accept  it  as  a 
success.  I  add  the  literal  translation  of  ibis  Chorus,  for  the 
help  of  those  who  are  unacquainted  with  the  original:  — 


To  Ihe  Oiit  whs  «» I 
In  the  closing  scene,  the  roses  arc  dedared  to  have  been 
scattered  by  the  haods  of  "loving,  sanctified  wonten-penl- 
tents."  They  are  symbolical  of  Love;  but  rot  yet,  as 
some  commenlalors  suggest,  of  the  Divine  Love.  I  agree 
with  Dr.  Bloede,  who  in  his  essay,  Die  Religiimi-Philesepkit 
CmM-V,  calls  them  "acts  of  Love,"  in  which  the  highest 
principle  of  Good,  manifested  through  Man,  overcomes  the 
principle  of  Evil. 

176^    Angels. 

The  spirit  of  this  Chorus  is  clear,  in  the  original,  but  not 

the  language.    Even  a  literal  tranalatioD  is  impoMible  twlca» 


ih,Googlc 


Lor«  ditHEniute  tbe^t 

Ripcure  prcpuT  thcr» 

M  Ihe  heart  nuf  Irecon  or  coDUin  ij. 

Wordu,  ihg  (rut, 


The  meaning  of  the  last  four  lines  seenu  to  be  that  true 
words  are  the  clear  ether  wherein  the  eternal  hcwts  of  spirits 
find  everywhere  Day  —  or  Light.  There  are  several  Ger- 
matt  interpretations  of  this  chant. 

177.  Chorus  of  Angels. 
The  grotesque,  medixval  character  of  the  strife  belongs 
to  the  Devils  alone  ;  the  Angela  are  not  yet  seen,  only  their 
Chants  fall  from  the  Glory  above.  The  celestial  Koseibum 
and  sting,  "sharper  than  Hell's  red  conflagration,"  and  both 
varieties  of  Devils  are  so  tormented  that  they  plunge  head 
foremost  into  the  Jaws  which  stand  open  upon  the  left  hand, 
leaving  Mephlstopheles  alone.  We  are  to  suppose  that  the 
Angels  gradually  descend  during  the  tinging  of  this  Choms, 
which  I  also  give  literally :  — 


wh,i. 

wt  ippciuiu  lo  700 

H'Wy 

«>>voM; 

Whiii 

■«ub[»jou.inDcrbeiD 

D»r.y 

DunolHiffer. 

Should 

ilpieopoxrfiillTin, 

W.m„ 

Lon  on\y  (he  Lovinf 

Ludi 

17S.     Whal  nma  rislraia!  mc,  (hat  I  dan  Mol  eitrset 
Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  coarseness  and  irreverence 
of  this  and  the  following  passage  (Julian  Schmidt,  for  in- 
stance, pronounces  them  "atrocious"),  there  could  be  no 
more  tremendous  illustration  of  the  baseness  and  blindness 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


455 


tS  (he  prindple  of  Evil.  Although  M«phistophe1e«  is  cov- 
ered from  head  to  foot,  like  Job,  with  boila  which  the  burn- 
ing rosea  have  left  behind  them,  be  becomes  enamored  of 
the  beauty  of  the  Angels.  In  this  languishing  mood  he  Ja 
doubly  a  Devil,  and  the  Negation  embodied  in  bim  reaches 
a  climax  beyond  all  previous  suggestion,  for  it  is  placed  in 
antagonism  to  sacred  purity. 

179.    Chorus  of  Angels. 


Vi,  loving  FUunul 
Tbcm  who  djuuti 
Lei  Truih  heal, 
Thai  Ihey  FtDin  I 
JoroiuJy  redeem 
Tbo>  in  (he  All-i 


iSo.  TTit  eld  cate-hardtmd  Dtvil  toeitl  astray. 
The  word  which  I  have  translated  "case-hardened"  U 
ausgepichten,  an  adjective  usually  applied  to  barrels  and 
signifying  "  thoroughly  seasoned  with  pilch."  This  is  one 
of  the  many  instances  where  the  correct  translation  must  be 
equivalent,  and  not  literal.  The  impression  left  upon  Meph- 
istopheles  is  evidently  that  the  Angels  have  uken  advantage 
of  his  attack  of  "senseless  passion  "  for  them,  and  stolen 
from  him  the  loul  of  FausL  He  understands  only  the  letter 
of  his  compact,  for  redemption  through  love  and  beneficent 
labor  for  others  is  to  him  simply  incomprehensible.  Thus, 
not  only  consistent  with  his  original  character,  but  illustrat- 
ing, as  never  before  in  the  whole  course  of  the  drama,  the 
eternal  ignorance  and  Impotence  of  Evil,  he  disappears 
from  our  sigbL 

181.    Holy  Anchorites. 

This  closing  scene,  although  it  ends  in  the  higher  regions 

of  Heaven,  appears  to  begin  on  Earth.    Goethe  evidently 

meant  to  symboliie  a  continual  ascending  scale  of  being,  in 


ih,Googlc 


456  FAUST. 

whicb  Death  U  simpl;  a  form  of  tnnaftion,  not  a  profonnd 
gulf  between  two  diflferent  worldi.  In  one  of  hU  letter*  ta 
Zeller,  be  »ay» :  "  Let  us  continue  our  work  until  one  of  m, 
before  or  after  the  other,  returns  to  ether  at  the  summoni  of 
the  World-Spirit!  Then  may  the  Eternal  not  refuse  to  ua 
new  activitieB,  analogous  to  those  wherein  we  have  here 
been  tested  I  If  He  shall  also  add  memory  and  a  continued 
sense  of  the  Right  and  the  Good,  in  His  fatherly  kindness, 
we  shall  then  surely  all  the  sooner  take  hold  of  the  wheels 
which  drive  the  cosmic  machinery  (hi  die  Kihnwu  dtt  (fW/- 
gitriebti  tingrtifin)" 

The  scene  (apparently  from  some  hint  of  Goethe's,  which 
has  not  been  recorded*)  is  taken,  according  to  the  best 
German  commeniaton,  from  Monlsemt,  the  remarkable, 
isolated  mountain  near  Barcelona.  This  mountain,  duriug 
the  Middle  Age«,  ma  Inhabited  by  anchorites,  who  were 
divided  into  regions  according  to  the  degree  of  tpiritual  per- 
fection which  they  attained  ;  the  youngest  occupying  cells  in 
the  great  summit-pyramids  of  rock,  difficult  and  dangeron« 
of  acceHS,  while  the  older,  after  certain  probations,  gradually 
approached  the  base,  their  privations  diminishing  as  their 
sanctity  increased.  Goethe  reverses  this  order,  commendng 
with  the  spirits  who  retain  most  of  Earth,  and  rising  above 
the  highest  summits  into  the  pure,  spiritual  ether. 

Schnetger's  remarks  are  as  just  as  Ihejr  are  concise :  "  The 
whole  closing  scene  exhitnts  nothing  else  to  us  than  a  uni- 
versal upward  movement  of  loving  natures,  to  whom  other 
loving  natures  ofler  their  hands ;  so  that  we  have  a  long 
chain,  the  lowest  link  of  which  is  on  the  Earth,  the  highest 
in  the  loftiest  regions  of  Heaven,  the  lowest  a  man  still 
heavily  burdened  with  the  Corporeal,  the  highest  the  Deity. 

*  Ad  indirect  clew  luf  perhapft  b«  found  id  the  following  pi— g» 
noni  1  leiter  which  Wilhelm  tdd  Humboldt,  ifter  viulisi  MoDUeml, 
wrou  10  Goethe:  "Your  »friUrüilw  pooDwrilteii  b;r  Coetbe  in  17t)] 


ih,Googlc 


It  ii  not  a  Heaven  fiill  ot  eteinally  inactive  bit»,  BDCh  a 
lazy  Piety  imagines,  which  is  exhibited  to  ni,  but  one  of  the 
purest  Icving  aitrvity. 

183.  Pater  Ecstaticus. 
II  is  generally  agreed  —  and  the  tendency  of  Goethe's 
mind  diuing  bis  last  years  justifies  the  belief —  that  the  three 
J^Urtt  symbolize  different  fonns  or  manifestations  of  devo- 
tional feeling.  Their  appearance,  as  we  afterwards  feel,  was 
suggested  by  the  necessity  of  avoiding  a  sudden  transition 
from  the  blasphemous  sensuality  of  Mephislopheles  to  the 
"  indescribahie  "  eialtation  of  the  dosing  mystery  ;  but  they 
also  have  their  appropriate  place  in  this  evei-rising  and  ever- 
swelling  symphony,  with  its  one  theme  of  the  accordance  of 
Human  and  Divine  Love. 

Since  it  was  known  that  Goethe  selected  actual  figures  to 
serve  as,  at  least,  an  imaginary  basis  for  his  spiritual  and  al- 
legorical cliaracters,  the  commentators  have  exhibited  their 
research  in  endeavoring  to  fix  upon  the  originals  of  these 
Palres.  Although  the  title  Ecitatktit  was  bestowed  on  Dio- 
nysiua  the  Carthusian,  and  is  also  applicable  to  St.  Anthony, 
it  is  not  likely  that  Goethe  meant  to  represent  the  individual 
character  of  either.  St  Theresa,  in  fact,  is  a  better  personi- 
fication of  that  ikstasis,  which,  as  here,  would  temporarily 
annihilate  the  material  and  dissolve  the  soul  in  a  frenzy  of 
devotional  love. 

The  last  four  lines  spoken  by  the  Pater  Bcttatiais  must  be 
^en  literally,  for  the  sake  of  comparison  :  — 
*■  Thai  TCiilir  Ihe  void,  tntiiilDry, 

All  be  di-Spsnd  (or  aluled), 

[AikQ  bum  ihk  ebdnrinc  ttir, 

GtrB  of  ElCRiil  Ixnn  I " 

183.    Pater  Fküfundus. 

We  might  almost  say  that  the  Paler  Ecsiaticus  represent» 
Devotion  as  manifested  through  temperament  or  exalted  sen- 
sation ;  the  Pater  Profundus,  Devotion  as  it  shapes  the  in- 
tellect, which  perceives  symbols  in  all  things,  feels  the  llmi- 

VOL.  U.  20 


ih,Googlc 


458  FAUST. 

Utiona  or  the  seiwee,  and  aspires  towards  Divine  Truth  at 
the  higtiesl  form  of  knowledge ;  and  finally,  the  Pater  Seraphl- 
cus  Devotion  as  it  possesses  the  soul  in  the  purest  glow  of 
seir-abnegaiion. 

The  title  Pater  Proßnutui  was  bestowed  on  the  EngJisb 
theologian,  Thomas  of  Bradwardyne,  and  also  on  Bernard 
de  Clairvaui,  founder  of  the  Cistercian  order,  two  centuries 
before  the  former.  It  is  not  necessary,  in  either  case,  to  seek 
for  a  parallel  which  we  are  not  likely  to  find  verified. 

1S4.    Pater  Serafhicus. 

This  name  was  given  to  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  who  is  »en- 

tioned  by  Dante  {Paraäisa,  XI.),  and  Goethe  may  possibly 

have  borne  him  in  mind,  without  borrowing  anything  from 

the  stoiy  of  his  life. 

185.  Chorus  of  Blessed  Boys. 

These  boys,  whom  Goethe  calls  "  midnight-bom,"  are 
the  spirits  of  those  who  died  in  birth,  barely  given  to  Life 
and  then  taken  from  it  before  the  awakening  of  sense  or 
mind.  The  meaning  seems  to  be  that  (hey  are  still  undevel- 
oped in  the  spiritual  world, — in  other  words,  that,  in  the 
scale  of  ascending  Being,  they  have  missed  nur  sphere,  and 
fee]  only  the  delight  of  enislence  {alleti  ist  dot  DasryH  a) 
plindS^  without  the  intelligence,  from  which  must  be  bom  the 
aspiration  for  what  is  stül  beyond  and  above  them. 

186.  [He  takes  tlum  into  himsdf.) 

The  following  passage  occurs  in  a  letter  from  Goethe  to 
Wolf,  author  of  the  &mous  Homeric  Prolegomena,  in  l3o6 : 
"  Why  can  I  not  at  once,  honored  friend,  on  receiving  your 
letter,  sink  myself  for  a  short  time  in  your  being,  like  those 
Swedenborgian  spirits  who  sometimes  receive  peimission  to 
enter  into  the  organs  of  sense  of  their  master,  and  through 
the  medium  of  these  to  behold  the  world  } " 

1S7.     Whci'tr  aifirei  uitweariedly 

Is  not  beyond  redeeming. 

Eckennann  writes,  in  June,  1831 :  "  We  then  spoke  of  the 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES. 


459 


dosing  scene,  and  Goethe  called  my  attention  to  tbe  follow- 
ing passage  "  [every  line  is  here  so  pregnant  with  important 
meaning  that  an  exact  rhymed  translation  become!  nearly 
impossible,  and  I  therefore  add  the  verse,  in  prose] ;  — 

Of  th<  ipirii-world  ftrm  Evil : 

Who,  «nr  «rivinu  [uidriiigrL  ton*  faimMlt 

Him  am  m  rnlecni. 

And  if  h(  alio  piRieipam 

In  the  Ijm  from  on  high, 

Th«  Bleucd  HiHl  «IJ  m«!  him 

With  hculieu  wclcomt." 
"  In  'hese  lines,"  said  Goethe,  "  the  key  to  Faust's  rescue 
ma;  i;e  Aiund.  In  Faust,  himself,  an  ever  higher  and  purer 
form  of  activity  to  tbe  end,  and  the  eternal  Love  coming 
down  to  his  aid  from  above.  This  is  entirely  in  harmony 
with  our  religious  ideas,  according  to  which  we  are  not  alone 
saved  by  our  own  strength,  but  through  (he  freely-bestowed 
Grace  of  God. 

"Moreover,  you  will  admit  that  the  conclusion,  where  the 
redeemed  soul  is  carried  above,  was  very  difficult  to  accom- 
plish ;  and  also  that  I  might  very  easily  have  lost  myself  in 
vagueness,  in  such  supernatural,  hardly  conceivable  sur- 
roundings', if  I  bad  not  given  a  favorably  restricting  form  and 
firmness  to  my  poetic  designs,  through  the  sharp  outlines  of 
Christian-ecclesiastical  figures  and  representations." 

iSS.    Elental  lave,  alimt, 
Can  ttparalt  them. 
This  passage  is  somewhat  obscure,  because  it  attempts  to 
express  a  greater  bulk  of  meaning  than  tbe  words  will  hold. 
The  last  eight  lines  are  :  — 

When  iirons  inicllcenia]  powtr 

Hu  galhciBl  mlo  iuir. 

No  angel  [miy  or  nHild)  <liTi<le 

ThE  double  nitun  gmwn  iaio  oot 

OflhainiiniiicTM: 

Eternal  Lma  alone 


ih,Googlc 


46o  FAUST. 

Goethe  undoubtedly  meant  to  say  that  the  elements  o( 
earthly  knowledge  and  experience  become,  in  life,  so  blended 
into  one  with  the  apiritual  nature  of  Man,  that  (he  Angels, 
irtio  bear  Faust's  immortal  pait,  not  yei  purified  from  the 
traces  of  its  earthly  career,  cannot  separate  the  two :  it  must 
be  the  work  of  Eternal  Love.  The  soul  of  Faiut  ia  now 
given  into  the  band*  of  the  Bleaaed  Boys. 

189.  UocTOK  Marianus. 
Some  see  in  this  name  a  teüerence  to  Marianas  Scotns, 
who  died,  as  an  eremite,  in  1086.  Others,  again,  suppose  it 
to  be  Al<  cileitiai  Kamt  tf  Fmat,  although  the  soul  of  the 
latter  has  not  yet  awakened  to  the  change.  The  title  "  Doc- 
tor "  impresses  us  singularly,  after  the  Patret,  and  we  cannot 
help  surmising  some  special  btention  in  it,  although  the 
character  seems  to  be  introduced  solely  for  the  purpose  of 
describing  the  approach  of  ihe  Mattr  Gleritta.  But  there  is 
nothing  said,  which  might  not,  with  equal  propriety,  have 
been  put  into  the  mouth  of  Ihe  Paler  Seraphicus. 

19a  7^  Mater  Gloriosa  loari  info  tht  space. 
It  is  easy  to  understand  why,  in  this  mysdc  symphony  o( 
Love,  Goethe  should  have  chosen  the  Virgin  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  the  sweetest  and  tcnderest  attribute  of  the 
Deily.  Thig  variation  from  the  Frolague  in  Hiaoat  was 
(litecily  prescribed  by  ihe  ecclesias 
which  he  expresses  Ihe  symbolism 
the  critics  censure  Goethe  for  applying  to  the  Virgin  the 
word  "Goddess,"  because  it  is  not  used  by  [he  Catholic 
Church ;  as  if,  in  borrowing  the  form,  be  must  necessarily 
accept  (he  spirit  with  il  I  Nevertheless,  a  Catholic  writer, 
Wilhelm  von  Schütz,*  sees  in  this  scene  the  evidence 
that  Goethe  was  dissatisfied  with  "  Ihe  palliative  poverty 
of  the  Protestant  spirit,"  and  had  almost  reached  Calhol- 
idsm  at   Ihe   close  of  his   life  I    On   Ihe  other  hand.  Dr. 


ih,Googlc 


NOTES.  461 

Bireni*  illustrates  almoU  every  portion  of  the  tcene  hj 
passages  from  tbe  New  Tesunicnt,  uid  Pastor  Cludiiut 
declares  that  "  Fsust  is  a  sphinx,  whoae  enigmas  can  only 
be  solved  by  those  who  are  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of 
Cbrislianily."  Add  to  tbese  views  tbe  assertion  of  a  French 
critic  that  Faust  t*  "  a  Gospel  of  Pantheism,"  and  we  can 
appredale  tbe  height  of  Coetbe's  mind  above  all  sectarian  or 
theological  boaodaries. 

191.    Magna  Fbccatrix. 

I  have  retained  the  references  attached  to  this  and  the  two 
fbllowine  itanias,  because  I  am  not  sure  whether  they  were 
originally  written  by  Goethe,  or  afterwards  added  by  Rie- 
mer. Mary  Magdalene  and  the  Woman  of  Samaria  require 
no  comment :  Mary  of  Egypt  is  desnibed  in  the  Atta  Sant- 
terum  as  an  in^unous  woman  of  Alexandria,  who,  after 
seventeen  years  of  vice,  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem. 
On  approaching  the  door  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre, an  invisible  arm  thrust  her  away.  Weeping,  overcome 
with  the  sudden  sense  of  her  unwortbiness,  she  prayed  to 
tbe  Virgin,  and  was  then  lifted  aS  by  hands  and  borne  Into 
the  Temple,  and  a  voice  said  to  her  i  "Go  beyond  the  Jor- 
dan, and  thou  wilt  und  peace."  She  went  into  the  Desert, 
where  she  lived  alone  forty-eight  years,  only  visited  by  a 
monk  who  brought  her  the  last  sacrament,  and  for  whom, 
wbcn  she  died,  she  left  a  message  written  upon  the  sand. 

These  three  sinful  yet  penitent  and  glorified  women  are 
made  intercessors  for  the  soul  of  Margaret,  which  has  not 
yet  been  admitted  to  the  higher  spheres. 

193.    Una  PtENiTENTii;H. 

Margaret  sees  her  full  pardon  in  the  face  of  the  Mater 

Gloriosa,  before  it  is  spoken,  and  the  prayer  (First  Part, 

Scene   XVIII)  which  was  a  despairing  cry  for  help  now 

•  Dtr  Ivel»  Thell  und  in»b«ondir< 
Khn  FnintuagOdlt.    Hinnonr,  iSh- 

*  Cocthi'l  Fsiul  all  Apolojäe  im  Chrülenlhiuii*. 


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46a  FAOST. 

becomei  a  stnin  of  anutterable  joy.  The  Blessed  Bof«  ap> 
proach,  bearing  the  :iOul  of  Faust,  already  OTertowering  them 
as  it  grows  into  consciousness  or  the  new  being.  By  him, 
who  has  learned  so  much  of  Life,  (hey  shall  be  taught  at  IwL 
Margaret,  no  longer  an  ignorant  maiden,  but  an  inspired 
Soul,  sees  the  beauty  and  glory  of  the  original  nature  of 
Faust,  now  redeemed,  releasing  itself  from  its  euthly  dis- 
guises and  shining  like  the  Holy  Ho«.  But  we  bear  no 
voice:  we  only  know  that  it  awakens. 

193.     Wke.fedtHgtKei.ihall/iUontktrt. 
The  literal  translation  of  these  two  lines  must  be  added : — 


194.  Chorus  Mysticus. 
The  closing  lines  of  the  wonderful  drama  must  not  be 
read  as  a  complement  to,  or  a  solution  of,  the  problem  stated 
in  the  Prologue  in  Heaven.  They  seem  to  relate  almost 
exclusively  to  the  last  scene,  in  order  to  connect  the  heavenly 
and  the  earthly  spheres,  by  suggesting,  mysteriously,  the 
relation  of  the  two.  The  translation  T  have  given  is  nearly 
literal ;  but,  inasmuch  as  every  word  is  important,  I  here 
make  it  entirely  so:  — 

All  itui  i>  mniiigrr 

Uwlyormbal: 

Th>  inHlequalc  (or  iunadenl) 

Htn  bcconm  srent :  (ralityr) 

Th(  lodocribable. 

Hen  it  ii  done : 

The  Etemal  Womanly  (or  Feminine) 

Dnn  I»  on  ind  upward. 

1  can  tind  no  English  equivalent  for  Ewigtsei^kht  except 
**  Woman- Soul,"  which  will  express  very  neatly  the  sanw 
Idea  to  those  «ho  feel  the  spirit  which  breathes  and  bans 


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NOTES.  463 

(hroQghout  the  scene.  Love  fa  the  all-uplifting  and  all- 
redeeming  power  on  Earth  and  in  Heaven  ;  and  to  Man  it  it 
revealed  in  its  most  pure  and  perfect  form  through  Woman. 
Thua,  in  the  transitory  life  of  Earth,  it  is  only  a  symbol  of 
its  diviner  Iwing;  the  possibilities  of  Love,  which  Earth  can 
never  fulfil,  become  realities  in  the  higher  life  which  follows ; 
(he  Spirit,  which  Woman  interprets  to  us  here,  still  drami 
us  upward  (as  Margaret  draws  the  soul  of  Faust)  there. 


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