Gem-fretted, shine like skies; a Paradise May light on softness, and her eye meet nought LYNCEUS. Small is what our Lord doth say; hands of Faust; his pardon by the fair Greek; his subsequent magnanimous offer to her, and discourse with his master on the subject,might give rise to various considerations. But we must not loiter, questioning the strange Shadows of that strange country, who, besides, are apt to mystify one. Our nearest business is to get across it: we again proceed. they two build the lofty rhyme, in concert, with all convenience, but, in the course of a page or two of such crambo, many love-tokens come to light; nay, we find by the Chorus, that the wooing has well nigh reached a happy end: at least, the two are "sitting near and nearer each other,-shoulder on shoulder, knee by knee, hand in hand, they are swaying over the throne's upcushioned lordliness;" which, surely, are promising symptoms. Whoever or whatever Faust and Helena may be, they are evidently fast rising into high favour with each other; as, indeed, from so generous a gallant, and so fair a dame, was to be anticipated. She invites him to sit with her on the throne, so instantaneously acquired by force of her charms; to which graceful proposal he, after kissing her hand in knightly wise, fails not to accede. The courtship now advances apace. Helena admires the dialect And herewith exit Lynceus, and we see no more of Lynceus, and how "one word seemed to kiss of him! We have said that we thought there the other," for the Warder, as we saw, speaks might be method in this madness. In fact, the in doggerel; and she cannot but wish that she allegorical, or at least fantastical and figura- also had some such talent. Faust assures her tive, character of the whole action is growing that nothing is more easy than this same pracmore and more decided every moment. He- tice of rhyme: it is but speaking right from lena, we must conjecture, is, in the course of the heart, and the rest follows of course. this her real historical intrigue with Faust, to Withal, he proposes that they should make a present, at the same time, some dim adumbra- trial of it themselves. The experiment suction of Grecian Art, and its flight to the North-ceeds to mutual satisfaction: for not only can ern Nations, when driven by stress of War from its own country. Faust's Tower will, in this case, afford not only a convenient station for lifting black-mail over the neighbouring district, but a cunning, though vague and fluctuating, emblem of the Product of Teutonic Mind; the Science, Art, Institutions of the Northmen, of whose Spirit and Genius he himself may in some degree become the representative. In this way, the extravagant homage and admiration paid to Helena are not without their meaning. Such ill-timed dalliance is abruptly disturbThe manner of her arrival, enveloped as she was ed by the entrance of Phorcyas, now, as ever, in thick clouds, and frightened onwards by hos- a messenger of evil, with malignant tidings tile trumpets, may also have more or less pro- that Menelaus is at hand, with his whole force, priety. And who is Lynceus, the mad Watch- to Storm the Castle, and ferociously avenge man? We cannot but suspect him of being a his new injuries. An immense "explosion Schoolman Philosopher, or School Philosophy of signals from the towers, of trumpets, claitself, in disguise; and that this wonderful rions, military music, and the march of nume"march" of his has a covert allusion to the rous armies," confirms the news. Faust howgreat "march of intellect," which did march ever, treats the matter coolly; chides the in those old ages, though only at "ordinary unceremonious trepidation of Phorcyas, and time." We observe, the military, one after the summons his men of war; who accordingly other, all fell; for discoverers, like other men, enter, steel-clad, in military pomp, and quitting must die; but "still the next had prowess their battalions, gather round him to take his more," and forgot the thousands that had sunk orders. In a wild Pindaric ode, delivered with in clearing the way for him. However, Lyn- due emphasis, he directs them not so much ceus, in his love of plunder, did not take "the how they are to conquer Menelaus, whom fairest maid," nor "the steer" fit for burden, doubtless he knows to be a sort of dream, as but rather jewels and other rare articles of how they are respectively to manage and parvalue; in which quest his high power of eye-tition the Country, they shall hereby acquire. sight proved of great service to him. Better Germanus is to have "the bays of Corinth;" had it been, perhaps, to have done as others while "Achaia, with its hundred dells," is redid, and seized "the fairest maid," or even the commended to the care of Goth; the host of "steer" fit for burden, or one of the "horses" the Franks must go towards Elis; Messene is which were in such request: for, when he to be the Saxon's share; and Normann is to quitted practical Science and the philosophy clear the seas, and make Argolis great. Sparta, of Life, and addicted himself to curious subtil- however, is to continue the territory of Helena, ties and Metaphysical crotchets, what did it and be queen and patrozess of these inferior avail him? At the first glance of the Grecian Dukedoms. In all this, are we to trace some beauty, he found that it was "naught, poor, and faint changeful shadow of the National Chamisunderstood." His extraordinary obscura-racter, and respective Intellectual Performance tion of vision on Helena's approach; his nar- of the several European tribes? Or, perhaps, row escape from death, on that account, at the of the real History of the Middle Ages: the irruption of the northern swarms, issuing, like Faust and his air-warriors, "from Cimmerian Night," and spreading over so many fair regions? Perhaps of both, and of more; perhaps properly of neither: for the whole has a chameleon character, changing hue as we look on it. However, be this as it may, the Chorus cannot sufficiently admire Faust's strategic faculty; and the troops march off, without speech indeed, but evidently in the highest spirits. He himself concludes with another rapid dithyrambic, describing the Peninsula of Greece, or rather, perhaps, typically the Region of true Poesy, "kissed by the seawaters," and "knit to the last mountainbranch" of the firm land. There is a wild glowing fire in these two odes; a musical indistinctness, yet enveloping a rugged, keen sense, which, were the gift of rhyme so common as Faust thinks it, we should have pleasure in presenting to our readers. Again and again, we think of Calderon and his Life a Dream. Faust, as he resumes his seat by Helena, observes that "she is sprung from the highest gods, and belongs to the first world alone. It is not meet that bolted towers should encircle her; and near by Sparta, over the hills, "Arcadia blooms in eternal strength of youth, a blissful abode for them two." "Let thrones pass into groves; Arcadianly free be such felicity!" No sooner said, than done. Our Fortress, we suppose, rushes asunder like a Palace of Air, for, "the scene altogether changes. A series of Grottoes now are shut in by close Bowers. Shady Grove, to the foot of the Rocks which encircle the place. Faust and Helena are not seen. Chorus, scattered around, lie sleeping." The In Arcadia, the business grows wilder than ever. Phorcyas, who has now become wonderfully civil, and, notwithstanding her ugliness, stands on the best footing with the poor light-headed Cicada-Swarm of a Chorus, awakes them to hear and see the wonders that have happened so shortly. 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 extraordinary transaction; but of these Phorcyas gives her silly woman no hint whatever. She tells them, in glib phrase, what great things are in the wind. Faust and Helena have been happier than mortals in these grottoes. Phorcyas, who was in waiting, gradually glided away, seeking "roots, moss, and rinds," on household duty bent, and so "they two remained alone." Sure enough, ye foolish creatures! These are unexplored recesses; a beautiful, purely melodious music of stringed instruments resounds from the Cave. All listen, and soon appear decply moved. It continues playing in full tone;" while Euphorion, in person, makes his appearance, "in the costume above described;" larger of stature, but no less frolicsome and tuneful. Our readers are aware that this Euphorion, the offspring of Northern Character wedded to Hall runs out on hall, spaces there on spaces: these I Grecian Culture, frisks it here not without re musing traced. ference to Modern Poesy, which had a birth so precisely similar. Sorry are we that we cannot follow him through these fine warblings and trippings on the light fantastic toe: to our ears there is a quick, pure, small-toned music in them, as perhaps of elfin bells when the Queen of Faery rides by moonlight. It is, in truth, a graceful emblematic dance, this little life of Euphorion; full of meanings and halfmeanings. The history of Poetry, traits of individual Poets; the Troubadours, the Three Italians; glimpses of all things, full vision of nothing! Euphorion grows rapidly, and passes from one pursuit to another. Quitting his boyish gambols, he takes to dancing and romping with the Chorus; and this in a style of tu mult which rather dissatisfies Faust. The wildest and coyest of these damsels he seizes with avowed intent of snatching a kiss; but, alas, she resists, and still more singular, "flashes up in flame into the air:" inviting him, perhaps in mockery, to follow her, and "catch his vanished purpose." Euphorion shakes off the remnants of the flame, and now, in a wilder humour, mounts on the crags, begins to talk of courage and battle; higher and higher he rises, till the Chorus see him on the topmost cliff, shining "in harness as for victory;" and yet, though at such a distance, they still hear his tones, neither is his figure diminished in their eyes; which indeed, as they observe, always is, and should be, the case with "sacred Poesy," though it mounts heaven ward, farther and farther, till it "glitter like the fairest star." But Euphorion's life-dance is near ending. From his high peak, he catches the sound of war, and fires at it, and longs to mix in it, let Chorus, and Mother, and Father say what they will. EUPHORION. And hear ye thunders on the ocean, Is the law of life, That is certain once for all. HELENA, FAUST, and CHORUS. Shall I view it, safe and gladly? HELENA, FAUST, and CHORUS. EUPHORION. Ha!-and a pair of wings Folds itself out! Thither! I must! I must! 'T is my hest to fly! (He casts himself into the air: his Garments support him for a moment; his Head radiates, a Train of Light follows him.) CHORUS. Icarus! earth and dust! O, wo! thou mount'st too high. (A beautiful Youth rushes down at the feet of the Parents; you fancy you recognise in the dead a well-known Form;* but the bodily part instantly disappears; the gold * It is perhaps in reference to this phrase, that certain sagacious critics among the Germans have hit upon the wonderful discovery of Euphorion being-Lord Byron A fact, if it is one, which curiously verifies the author's prediction in this passage. But unhappily, while we fancy that we recognise in the dead a well-known form, "the bodily part instantly disappears;" and the keen Crownlet mounts like a comet to the sky, Coat, Mantie, and Lyre, are left lying.) HELENA and FAUST. Joy soon changes to wo, EUPHORION's voice (from beneath.) Let me not to realms below chant a dirge over his remains, and then : The prayer is soon granted. The Chorus HELENA (to FAUST.) A sad old saying proves itself again in me, Good hap with beauty hath no long abode. So with love's Band is life's asunder rent: Lamenting both, I clasp thee in my arms Once more, and bid thee painfully farewell. Persephoneia take my boy, and with him me. (She embraces Faust; her Body melts away; Garment and Veil remain in his arms.) PHORCYAS (to FAUST.) Hold fast, what now alone remains to thee That Garment quit not. They are tugging there, These Demons at the skirt of it; would fain To the Nether Kingdoms take it down. Hold fast! The goddess is it not, whom thou hast lost, Yet godlike is it. See thou use aright The priceless high bequest, and soar aloft: 'T will lift thee away above the common world, Far up to Æther, so thou canst endure. We meet again, far, very far from hence. (HELENA's Garments unfold into Clouds, encircle FAUST; raise him aloft and float away with him.) (PHORCYAS picks up EUPHORION's Coat, Mantle, and Lyre from the Ground, comes forward into the Proscenium, holds these Remains aloft, and says:) Well, fairly found be happily won! The rest of the personages are now speedily disposed of. Panthalis, the Leader of the Chorus, and the only one of them who has shown any glimmerings of Reason, or of aught beyond mere sensitive life, mere love of Pleasure and fear of Pain, proposes that, being now delivered from the soul-confusing spell of the "Thessalian Hag," they should forthwith return to Hades, to bear Helena company. But none will volunteer with her; so she goes herself. The Chorus have lost their taste for Asphodel Meadows, and playing so subordinate a part in Orcus: they prefer abiding in the Light of Day, though, indeed, under rather peculiar circumstances; being no longer "Per sons," they say, but a kind of Occult Qualities, as we conjecture, and Poetic Inspirations, residing in various natural objects. Thus, on division become a sort of invisible Hama dryads, and have their being in Trees, and their joy in the various movements, beauties. est critic finds that he can see no deeper into a millstone than another man. Some allusion to our English Poet there is, or may be, here and in the page that precedes, and the page that follows; but Euphorion is no image of any person: least of all, one would think, of George Lord Byron. and products of trees. A second change into successful. It is wonderful with what fidelity Echoes; a third, into the Spirit of Brooks; the Classical style is maintained throughout and a fourth take up their abode in Vineyards, the earlier part of the poem; how skilfully it and delight in the manufacture of Wine. No is at once united to the Romantic style of the sooner have these several parties made up their latter part, and made to re-appear, at intervals, minds, than the Curtain falls; and Phorcyas "in to the end. And then the small half-secret the Proscenium rises in gigantic size; but steps down touches of sarcasm, the curious little traits by from her cothurni, lays her Mask and Veil aside, which we get a peep behind the curtain! and shows herself as MEPHISTOPHELES, in order, so Figure, for instance, that so transient allusion far as may be necessary, to comment on the piece, to these "Bearded Ones sitting watchful there by way of Epilogue." below," and then their tugging at Helena's Mantle to pull it down with them. By such light hints does Mephistopheles point out our Whereabout; and ever and anon remind us, that not on the firm earth, but on the wide and airy Deep, has he spread his strange pavilion, where, in magic light, so many wonders are displayed to us. Such is Helena the interlude in Faust. We have all the desire in the world to hear Mephisto's Epilogue: but far be it from us to take the word out of so gifted a mouth! In the way of commentary on Helena, we ourselves have little more to add. The reader sees, in general, that Faust is to save himself from the straits and fetters of Worldly Life in the loftier regions of Art, or in that temper of mind by which alone those regions can be reached, and permanently dwelt in. Further, also, that this doctrine is to be stated emblematically and parabolically; so that it might seem as if, in Goethe's hands, the History of Faust, commencing among the realities of every-day existence, superadding to these certain spiritual agencies, and passing into a more aerial character as it proceeds, may fade away, at its termination, into a phantasmagoric region, where symbol and thing signified are no longer clearly distinguished; and thus the final result be curiously and significantly indicated, rather than directly exhibited. With regard to the special purport of Euphorion, Lynceus, and the rest, we have nothing more to say at present; nay, perhaps we may have already said too much. For it must not be forgotten by the commentator, and will not, of a surety, be forgotten by Mephistopheles, whenever he may please to deliver his Epilogue, that Helena is not an Allegory, but a Phantasmagory; not a type of one thing, but a vague, fluctuating, fitful adumbration of many. This is no Picture painted on canvas, with mere material colours, and steadfastly abiding our scrutiny; but rather it is like the Smoke of a Wizard's Cauldron, in which as we gaze on its flickering tints and wild splendours, thousands of strangest shapes unfold themselves, yet no one will abide with us; and thus, as Goethe says elsewhere," we are reminded of Nothing and of All." Properly speaking, Helena is what the Germans call a Mährchen (Fabulous Tale), a species of fiction they have particularly excelled in, and of which Goethe has already produced more than one distinguished speci Had we chanced to find that Goethe, in other instances, had ever written one line without meaning, or many lines without a deep and true meaning, we should not have thought this little cloud-picture worthy of such minute development, or such careful study. In that case, too, we should never have seen the true Helena of Goethe, but some false one of our own too indolent imagination; for this Drama, as it grows clearer, grows also more beautiful and complete; and the third, the fourth perusal of it pleases far better than the first. Few living artists would deserve such faith from us; but few also would so well reward it. On the general relation of Helena to Faust, and the degree of fitness of the one for the other, it were premature to speak more expressly at present. We have learned, on authority which we may justly reckon the best, that Goethe is even now engaged in preparing the entire Second Part of Faust, into which this Helena passes as a component part. With the third Lieferung of his Works, we understand, the beginning of that Second Part is to be published: we shall then, if need be, feel more qualified to speak. For the present, therefore, we take leave of Helena and Faust, and of their Author: but with regard to the latter, our task is nowise ended; indeed, as yet, hardly begun, for it is not in the province of the Mührchen, that Goethe will ever become most interesting to English readers. But, like his own Euphorion, though he rises aloft into Ether, he derives, Antæus-like, his strength from the earth. The dullest plodder has not more practical understanding, or a sounder or more quiet character, than this most aerial and imaginative of poets. We hold Goethe to be the Foreigner, at this era, who, of all others, the best, and the best by many degrees, deserves our study and appreciation. What help we individually can give in such a matter, we shall consider it a duty and a pleasure to have in readiness. We purpose to return, in our next Number, to the consideration of his Works and Character in general. GOETHE.* [FOREIGN REVIEW, 1828.] It is not on this" Second Portion" of Goethe's | racter: but here, unhappily, our knowledge works, which at any rate contains nothing new to us, that we mean at present to dwell. In our last Number, we engaged to make some survey of his writings and character in general; and must now endeavour, with such insight as we have, to fulfil that promise. We have already said that we reckoned this no unimportant subject; and few of Goethe's readers can need to be reminded that it is no easy one. We hope also that our pretensions in regard to it are not exorbitant; the sum of our aims being nowise to solve so deep and pregnant an inquiry, but only to show that an inquiry of such a sort lies ready for solution; courts the attention of thinking men among us, nay, merits a thorough investigation, and must sooner or later obtain it. Goethe's literary history appears to us a matter, beyond most others, of rich, subtile, and manifold significance; which will require end reward the best study of the best heads, and to the right exposition of which not one but many judgments will be necessary. However, we need not linger, preluding on our own inability, and magnifying the difficulties we have so courageously volunteered to front. Considering the highly complex aspect which such a mind of itself presents to us; and, still more, taking into account the state of English opinion in respect of it, there certainly seem few literary questions of our time so perplexed, dubious, perhaps hazardous, as this of the character of Goethe; but few also on which a well-founded, or even a sincere, word would be more likely to profit. For our countrymen, at no time indisposed to foreign excellence, but at all times cautious of foreign singularity, have heard much of Goethe; but heard, for the most part, what excited and perplexed rather than instructed them. Vague rumors of the man have, for more than half a century, been humming through our ears: from time to time, we have even seen some distorted, mutilated transcript of his own thoughts, which, all obscure and hieroglyphical as it might often seem, failed not to emit here and there a ray of keenest and purest sense; travellers also are still running to and fro, importing the opinions or, at worst, the gossip of foreign countries: so that, by one means or another, many of us have come to understand, that considerably the most distinguished poet and thinker of his age is called Goethe, and lives at Weimar, and must, to all appearance, be an extremely surprising cha *Goethe's Sämmtliche Werke. Vollständige Ausgabe let:ter Hand. (Goethe's Collective Works. Complete Edition, with his final Corrections.) Zweite Lieferung, Bde. vi.-1. Cotta: Stuttgard and Tübingen. 1827. almost terminates; and still must Curiosity, must ingenuous love of Information and mere passive Wonder alike inquire: What manner of man is this? How shall we interpret, how shall we even see him? What is his spiritual structure, what at least are the outward form and features of his mind? Has he any real poetic worth; and if so, how much; how much to his own people, how much to us? Reviewers, of great and of small character, have manfully endeavoured to satisfy the British world on these points: but which of us could believe their report? Did it not rather become apparent, as we reflected on the matter, that this Goethe of theirs was not the real man, nay, could not be any real man whatever? For what, after all, were their portraits of him but copies, with some retouchings and ornamental appendages, of our grand English original Picture of the German generically?— In itself such a piece of art, as national portraits, under like circumstances, are wont to be; and resembling Goethe, as some unusually expressive Sign of the Saracen's Head may resemble the present Sultan of Constantinople! Did we imagine that much information, or any very deep sagacity were required for avoiding such mistakes, it would ill become us to step forward on this occasion. But surely it is given to every man, if he will but take heed, to know so much as whether or not he knows. And nothing can be plainer to us than that if, in the present business, we can report aught from our own personal vision and clear hearty belief, it will be a useful novelty in the discussion of it. Let the reader be patient with us then; and according as he finds that we speak honestly and earnestly, or loosely and dishonestly, consider our statement, or dismiss it as unworthy of consideration. Viewed in his merely external relations, Goethe exhibits an appearance such as seldom occurs in the history of letters, and indeed, from the nature of the case, can seldom occur. A man, who, in early life, rising almost at a single bound into the highest reputation over all Europe; by gradual advances, fixing himself more and more firmly in the reverence of his countrymen, ascends silently through many vicissitudes to the supreme intellectual place among them; and now, after half a century, distinguished by convulsions, political, moral, and poetical, still reigns, full of years and honours, with a soft undisputed sway; still labouring in his vocation, still forwarding, as with knightly benignity, whatever can profit the culture of his nation: such a man might justly attract our notice, were it only by the singularity of his fortune. Supremacies |