Mellower suns Shine in on us here." From this pure sky the forms of angels are seen descending, who in loving couples float down to rest on earth in blooming bowers: "Heaven's sons, bright In the spirits arraying, Are bending and swaying. View them, pursue them, Are flashing and gleaming Heaven has now descended on earth, and an image of the most luxuriant life of nature is brought before us. The line we have marked in italics is a sad blot on Mr. Martin's otherwise most spirited rendering: "Bower on bower shining! From this happy land the chorus of the spirits carries us gently on to the blessed isles: Some up the mountains On where the stars bless The spirits that love them." Whilst Faust is asleep, Mephistopheles escapes. This foretaste of sensual enjoyment charms Faust so, that at his next meeting with Mephistopheles in the Third Study-scene, he is driven to such a height of excitement, that he shatters and curses this world of disappointment and deception, gives up the other world in a bold wager, and severs the bond of his sensual and spiritual energies, which he had just now been so anxious to find. He casts aside all desire for knowledge and speculation, and hurls himself into the tumult of the passions, bursting all links of habit. And through all this raving of despair sounds the chorus of the spirits, first plaintively, then sympathizing and encouraging. With a sorrowful heart, even without a belief in the power of the devil and the possibility of happiness, he enters on his compact with Mephistopheles. Yet he seems to have some lingering hope that he may be able to drown those feelings which he in vain craves to satisfy : "If e'er at peace on sluggard's couch I lie, Faust. Done! My hand upon it! There! If to the passing moment, e'er I say, 'O linger yet! Thou art so fair! Then cast me into chains you may, Then will I die without a care!Then may the death-bell sound its call. Then art thou from my service free, The clock may stand, the index fall, And time and tide may cease for me!" The compact having been signed, Faust retires to prepare for his journey with Mephistopheles, who in a soliloquy, the tone of which reminds us strongly of the prologue in heaven, pointedly expresses the causes of Faust's fall, and his own designs with him: "Only scorn reason, knowledge, all that can Through all the dull unmeaning round Dainties and drink shall dance before Are marked for doom; and even although Mephistopheles, habited in Faust's gown, next receives a student just arrived at the university, who comes to ask the doctor's advice as to the best course of studies he is to pursue. Every line of this scene, says Mr. Lewes, is a withering sarcasm on every branch of science. And this scene is just placed there, where books are laid aside for ever, and every effort for a peaceful solution of the contest between spiritualism and sensualism is given up. Faust on returning expresses some diffidence as to his success in the world, as he wants the easy manners of society and a prepossessing appearance. But Mephistopheles assures him :-"My dear friend, all that will come of its own accord; so soon as you feel confidence in yourself you know the art of life." Confidence! a quality peculiar to those who just enter life-to young men. Faust throws off his manhood, and returns to youth, with all its strength and follies. What Faust does now all Germany did when this scene was written. Winkelmann and Goethe diverted the nation from purely spiritualistic science to art; but whilst these two brought back the better part of a dissatisfied nation to a happy age of youth, the unruly spirits, the Fausts, rushed into the extremest sensualism. Schlegel wrote his Lucinde, Heinse his Ardinghello. But let us catch hold of a corner of Mephisto's cloak, ■ follow him on his journey with Faust : Auerbach's Cellar in Leipzig.-This sce together with the scene in the witch's kite en, and the May-day Night, have sore shocked some people's sense of propriet Coleridge, who from his preconceived tions as to how he would write a Faus could not judge Goethe's poem fairly, nevertheless be considered a well-qualifjudge of the comparative excellence of t different scenes, for he knew all the trick of the poet's craft from experience. T scene in Auerbach's cellar is perhaps th very best, he says; "and also the one c the Brocken is very fine." And Shelley, b preference, translated the Brocken seen It may not be pleasant to look on brutalize humanity, but its exhibition in this pla was absolutely necessary. In the preceding scene (Mephisto's co versation with the student) we saw th academical learning-dead, worthless; her we see the academical life-low, dissipated It is the life of German students at the time as it has been well portrayed in Kortüm Jobsiade and in Zachariae's Renommis Every character in this scene, little thoug each of them speaks, is drawn with such distinctness that we could mistake each o * them for the principal character. great poet every character is the principe character. Shakspeare draws his meanes servants as carefully and distinctly as hi kings and queens. Faust throughout this scene remains taciturn. He has come t seek the highest enjoyment, and finds th lowest. Retzsch has well rendered the meating of the poet by representing Faust 2 leaning abstractedly against a table, withoc taking any notice of the revellers. Luder the historian, who sometimes bored Goeth by reckoning up at great length the chron logy of Faust's life, said to him one day"I could take my oath upon it, that th scene in Auerbach's cellar was written b the student-poet during his first session 2 Leipzig. It is so fresh, so lifelike and tru that it can only have sprung up from an amidst the immediate influence of academ life." But how greatly was he mistakea Goethe wrote this scene in the greatest mettal anguish, at the time that he tore himse! from his Lili, and, like Faust, attempted t drown his sorrow. It is not less characteristic, that the fol lowing scene in the witch's kitchen, wi written at Rome, in the garden of the Villa Borghese. Here Faust passes from materia. grossness to spiritual grossness. The whole absurd apparatus of the witch and her craft are exhibited, the sieve, the kettle, the phials, with here and there a joke on bad | But she disengages herself, and passes on poets. In reading the mad nonsense of this with a curt reply. Mephistopheles, in the scene, one remembers the words of Ecker- ensuing conversation, pretends to oppose mann: "He shrugged his shoulder when they himself to Faust's desire, only in order to found a sense in so many a senseless thing, excite his passion the more. In this he and did not understand so many a plain succeeds at first, but scarcely has Faust sensible thing." German commentators have entered the sphere of his Margaret than all shown how difficult it is for some people to sensuality vanishes. In Margaret's room take a joke. They have sought mystic he feels ashamed of himself; his heart grows meanings in things which were intended to heavy when he thinks why he first accosted have no meaning, but should withal, by their her. His feelings are purified by the constrange weird sound, confuse all common tact with her, and throughout the gardensense. *The witch is to restore to Faust his scene his conversation breathes the purest youth by a magic potion. Jacob Grimm love. To heighten this contrast, Goethe has observed how strange it is that, as well lets each couple, Faust and Margaret, and amongst ancient as modern nations, the task Mephistopheles and Martha, pass three times of rejuvenescence should be assigned to old before us, the conversation of the former women, who naturally would not hesitate to couple forming a climax, that of the latter be the first to profit by the secret. Faust an anti-climax,-Martha, who scarcely has also sees this absurdity, and asks: "But heard of her husband's death, already trying why the old women in particular?" How to ensnare Mephisto, and the judicious Meever, he swallows the philter, which means, phisto, keeping clear of her snares, till at that every man, though he may ever so the end he finds out that men should never much abhor the low company around him, trifle with women; and Martha complains yet is infected when coming in constant of not being understood. On the other contact with their desires and habits. In hand, Margaret and Faust have arrived at all this grossness Faust finds one thing. In understanding each other. But Faust has a magic mirror he perceives the form of a chosen his evil companion, and already, in beautiful woman. He now is prepared to the next scene, in the summer-house, Mepass from the phase of mere material enjoy-phistopheles intrudes upon him, and his ment to that of sentiment. And thus in the holiest feelings are coarsely sneered at. next scene we witness escape from the tempter he flees into solitude, and we now find him in wood and cavern. But since men, who are not at peace with themselves, and are plagued by doubts, always suffer most in solitude, so it happens that Faust, just in his solitude, succumbs to the tempter. He cannot resist the evil thoughts crowding upon him, and only wishes that the pang may be short. During this time Margaret has been disconsolate about the absence of her lover; no evil thoughts assail her, though she is alone with her sorrow. The simple duties of the household prevent her from falling a prey to despair, and at her spinning-wheel she utters her grief in a simple song : Faust's meeting with Margaret.-Who is to describe the witchery of the following scenes? Painters have vied with each other in representing to our eyes the visions of the poet. The common people of England, who have never heard the name of Goethe, speak of his Poem as "Faust and Margaret." And indeed we cannot be surprised that the people took out of the poem these scenes as favourites. For they are so closely connected, growing one out of the other, and so simply intelligible, that no commentary is needed. All commentators have done nothing but told the course of the story. Goethe wrote these scenes during his first happy acquaintance with Lili, and although the name was taken from his first love, yet the maiden herself is Lili. Faust, otherwise so shy, has imbibed a sufficient amount of sensuality amongst his bad companions, that he boldly offers his arm to the simple maiden, who is returning from the cathedral. *The scene in the second part, which corresponds to the Witch's Kitchen, is Faust's descent to the Mothers. Even Mr. Lewes has taken this scene seriously, and puzzles himself what the Mothers may mean. The meaning is simply that there is no meaning, but a portentous word is uttered with the intention of bewildering the hearer. Verily, Goethe here has succeeded with a vengeance! "My peace is gone, My heart is sore; 'Tis gone for ever And evermore. Where he is not Is the grave to me, I sit and I ponder One only thought; My brain 's distraught. My peace is gone, Το 'Tis gone for ever And evermore. From my window to greet him I gaze all day, I stir out, if meet him I only may. His noble form, His bearing high, His mouth's sweet smile, And the magic flow Of his talk, the bliss My peace is gone, For him doth my bosom Yes, faint and die!" The lovers meet again in Martha's Garden. The simple maiden has now learned so much by her sorrow that she knows the cause of Faust's unhappiness to be want of faith. She therefore catechises him, in her simple manner, on his faith. To her all consolation seems naturally to come from a simple belief in the doctrines of the Church. But that is just what Faust has all cast aside. Nevertheless, Margaret feels that she is wholly his. There is an irresistible charm in this scene. The planet of love is on high; there is no cloud, no breath of wind; all is peace and love and happiness. Then, like a thunderbolt from the bright sky, comes the scene of Margaret at the Well. The simple girl is mourning for the loss of her innocence, and this prepares us for her repentance before the image of the Virgin. The scene by the well shows us Margaret in her position. towards the world; the Zwinger scene shows us her position towards God. In the Death of Valentine is vividly depicted the position of Faust both towards God and man. Valentine is but a rough soldier, who has no nice ideas about manners; but he knows how to keep his honour, and his dear sister's disgrace gives him the deepest heart-stab of all. From this scene of horror Margaret takes refuge in the cathedral, to which her naturally pure mind leads her. But here a full conscious ness of her guilt comes upon her. She feels terrified at her own thoughts, and swoons away. Faust, on the other hand, being once sullied by crime, is hurried away to the Walpurgis-night. The May-day Night is clearly divisible into three parts. Ascending the Bocken, we rise from a lower scene of bestiality to a higher one. On entering the enchanted sphere, Faust is at first filled with better feelings by the aspect of nature, but these are soon suppressed by Mephistopheles, who desires nothing but a broomstick. The witch Baubo, as the representative of shamelessness, introduces them into the second circle. Baubo was the nurse of Demeter, who, by her indecent behaviour and conversation, excited the laughter of the goddess when she was mourning for the loss. of her children. In the second circle, the General, Minister, and Parvenu are introduced, canting that all is vanity, and clamouring that the world should be fashioned according to their wishes, instead of accommodating themselves to it. Lilith opens the third circle, which is that of the lowest sensual enjoyment. According to the Rabbinical tradition, Lilith was a wife of Adam, whom God created of earth, before Eve. But having quarrelled with Adam, she ran away and became an evil spirit. In her beautiful hair a large number of devils are said to have taken up their abode. Goethe, as the fragments show, intended to carry out this scheme of the Walpurgis-night, and the final scene exists fully written out. In it Satan appears on his throne and receives the homage of his faithful, after which a human sacrifice is offered to the evil spirit. In all this mad confusion and licentiousness of the Walpurgis-night, Faust begins to think of his love, and this one thought prevents him, in all this degradation, from sinking entirely. He is beside himself, when he hears, in the next scene, that Margaret is a wretched prisoner under sentence of death. On magie horses he hastens with Mephistopheles to her rescue. They pass by the Ravenstone: Faust. What weave they yonder round the Ravenstone? Meph. Can't tell what mess they have on hand. Faust. They wave up, they wave down, they Faust. They strew and make libation. This is like a picture by Rembrandt. And now we come to the concluding scene, where we see Margaret for the last time. Her reason gone, conscious of guilt and shame; and through all this, bright as when we first saw her, shines the natural innocence of her heart. She is ready to suf fer, determined not to go with the man she loves, trembling to look upon him, whilst that one is with him. Let us cast a final look upon this picture, which man never looked on without weeping. On the one side a man, who in his pride would know what held the world together in its inmost core, put to shame by the child on the other side, and that child guilty in the eyes of the world. What has become of Faust? Where are his mighty impulses? Mr. Martin has translated all the scenes in the Margaret with unusual truth and feeling. He has been especially felicitous in this last -giving to English readers no imperfect representation, not only of the tenderness and beauty of the original, but also of the power of the genius which can raise a peasant girl condemned for infanticide into a teacher of eternal lessons, and make her cell the scene of conflict between the good and evil influences which have power on the race of man. We have left out the Intermezzo, which only interrupts the development of the draThis intermezzo, a mere parenthesis, has become a very paradise for commenta ma. tors. We only add the commonly received interpretation of some of the personages. The Purist is Johann Campe, of Robinson celebrity; the Weathercock alludes to the Stolbergs; Henning was a Danish Hofrath, who had written against the Xenien, a puffing periodical which had just ceased to exist; Inquisitive Traveller, Nicolai; Crane, Lavater; Worldling, Goethe himself. The rest of the couplets apply to the various philosophical and political parties mentioned in the headings. It is apparent that each epigram is not spoken by the person indicated in the heading, but that some must be taken as reflections on that person. It is rather curious that A. W. von Schlegel should have pretended, in conversation with Mr. Hayward, not to recollect all the allusions in the intermezzo. He knew them well enough, and it seems more likely that his pretended ignorance was an instance of that petty spite which he indulged in against the great poet, who had called him a jackanapes (Maulaffe). Whether the second part of Faust be an elaborate mistake, as Mr. Lewes has called it, or not, the fact remains that Goethe did write a second part. We do not think that this second part is unworthy of the great poet, and in fact we think quite otherwise, and trust that Mr. Martin will yet give us a translation of the whole poem, the first part of which he has rendered in such an admira ble manner. ART. V.-Ecce Homo: A Survey of the Life and Work of Jesus Christ. Macmillan & Co., 1866. It is not too much to say that the great conflict, even of distinctively Christian faith in the present day, must be more and more, not with Theism or Deism, but Atheism itself, and Atheism of no common order,-not an Atheism that revolts cultivated men by its coarseness and alienates earnest men by its levity, but Atheism allied with manly and courageous science; Atheism contending for its right to a warm glow of spiritual feeling; Atheism speaking humbly of Nature as the great teacher; Atheism courting poetry as the fountain of all pure delight. And when we speak of Atheism, we do not mean, of course, the positive denial of a God, for all the intellectual scepticism of the day is learning true modesty, and asserting its own ignorance, rather than denying anything. Nay, many of the most learned and eminent men, whose teaching is morally and spiritually, as we believe, though not intellectually indistinguishable from Atheism because they take the utmost pains to extinguish trust in the love of a personal Father, -earnestly deny the imputation of intellectual Atheism, which they feel to be an absurdity. Thus a distinguished man of science, to whom the world has much reason to be grateful, and by the side of whom the most eminent men may feel their inferiority, Professor Huxley, has recently been teaching working men that "there is but one kind of knowledge, and but one method of acquiring it;" that that kind of knowledge makes "scepticism the highest of duties, blind faith the one unpardonable sin,"—all faith being described as blind" which accepts anything on any kind of authority but that of scientific experience. He describes the true religion as "worship, for the most part of the silent sort,' at the altar of the Unknown and the Unknowable," and proclaims "justification, not by faith, but by verification," as the gospel of modern science. But Professor Huxley warmly repudiates Atheism as being at least as absurd as Polytheism, though it is clear that he does so on the intellectual ground of the marvellous unity and order of nature; for all his teaching is expressly directed to extinguish the spiritual instinct of trust, regarding the spiritual world from which by Professor Huxley to a working class meeting, on * See the remarkable "Lay Sermon," first read Sunday evening, at St. Martin's Hall, and published in the Fortnightly Review for the 15th January. |