Faust by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

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[Illustration: Faust]
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[Illustration: _Have you not led this life quite long enough?_]

FAUST

_by_

_Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

_Harry Clarke_

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH, IN
THE ORIGINAL METRES, BY

_Bayard Taylor_

_An Illustrated Edition_

THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY

CLEVELAND, OHIO NEW YORK, N.Y.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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CONTENTS

PREFACE
AN GOETHE
DEDICATION
PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE
PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN

SCENE I. NIGHT (_Faust's Monologue_)
II. BEFORE THE CITY-GATE
III. THE STUDY (_The Exorcism_)
IV. THE STUDY (_The Compact_)
V. AUERBACH'S CELLAR
VI. WITCHES' KITCHEN
VII. A STREET
VIII. EVENING
IX. PROMENADE
X. THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE
XI. STREET
XII. GARDEN
XIII. A GARDEN-ARBOR
XIV. FOREST AND CAVERN
XV. MARGARET'S ROOM
XVI. MARTHA'S GARDEN
XVII. AT THE FOUNTAIN
XVIII. DONJON (_Margaret's Prayer_)
XIX. NIGHT (_Valentine's Death_)
XX. CATHEDRAL
XXI. WALPURGIS-NIGHT
XXII. OBERON AND TITANIA'S GOLDEN WEDDING
XXIII. DREARY DAY
XXIV. NIGHT
XXV. DUNGEON
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FAUST

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[Illustration: Preface]

It is twenty years since I first determined to attempt the translation
of _Faust_, in the original 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 existence, the experiment had not yet been
made. The prose version of Hayward seemed to have been accepted as the
standard, in default of anything more satisfactory: the English critics,
generally sustaining the translator in his views concerning 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 necessary love and patience
to an adequate reproduction 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 exhibited 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 fluency 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
residence in Germany and a more careful study of both parts of _Faust_
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 me but to follow him in all essential
particulars. His example confirmed me in the belief that there were few
difficulties in the way of a nearly literal yet thoroughly 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 Goethe's thought was thereby
passed through the tinted glass of other minds, and assumed the coloring
of each. Moreover, the plea of selecting different metres in the hope of
producing a similar effect is unreasonable, where the identical metres
are possible.

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 opinion 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),[A] are quite independent of his views
concerning the value of form, which we find given elsewhere, in the
clearest and most emphatic manner.[B] Poetry is not simply a fashion of
expression: it is the form of expression absolutely required by a
certain class of ideas. Poetry, indeed, may be distinguished 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 form: it is
useless to say that the naked meaning is independent of the form: on the
contrary, the form contributes essentially to the fullness of the
meaning. In Poetry which endures through its own inherent vitality,
there is no forced union of these 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 attempting to translate music into speech.[C]

[A] "'There are two maxims of translation,' says he: 'the one requires
that the author, of a foreign nation, be brought to us in such a manner
that we may regard him as our own; the other, on the 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 examples.'"
Is it necessary, however, that there should always be this alternative?
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 _Faust_ ought
to be given, in French, in the manner of Clement Marot; but this was
undoubtedly because he felt the inadequacy of modern French to express
the naive, simple realism of many passages. The same objection does not
apply to English. There are a few archaic expressions in _Faust_, but no
more than are still allowed--nay, frequently encouraged--in the English
of our day.

[B] "You are right," 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 expressed in the tone and measure of Byron's
'Don Juan,' it would really have an atrocious effect."--_Eckermann_.

"The rhythm," said Goethe, "is an unconscious result of the poetic mood.
If one should stop to consider it mechanically, when about to write a
poem, one would become bewildered and accomplish nothing of real
poetical value."--_Ibid_.

"_All that is poetic in character should be rythmically treated_! Such
is my conviction; and if even a sort of poetic prose should be gradually
introduced, it would only show that the distinction between prose and
poetry had been completely lost sight of."--_Goethe to Schiller_, 1797.

Tycho Mommsen, in his excellent essay, _Die Kunst des Deutschen
Uebersetzers aus neueren Sprachen_, 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 the 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 as the Homer of Voss, and the
Shakespeare of Tieck and Schlegel--is an incontrovertible evidence of
the vitality of the endeavor."

[C] "Goethe's poems exercise a great sway over me, not only by their
meaning, but also by their rhythm. It is a language which stimulates me
to composition."--_Beethoven_.

The various theories of translation from the Greek and Latin poets have
been admirably stated by Dryden in his Preface to the "Translations from
Ovid's Epistles," and I do not wish to continue the endless
discussion,--especially as our literature needs examples, not opinions.
A recent expression, however, carries with it so much authority, that I
feel bound to present some considerations which the accomplished scholar
seems to have overlooked. Mr. Lewes[D] justly says: "The effect of
poetry is a compound of music and suggestion; this music and this
suggestion are intermingled 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. I cannot accept this illustration as valid, because Mr.
Lewes purposely omits the very quality which an honest translator should
exhaust his skill in endeavoring to reproduce. He turns away from the
_one best_ word or phrase in the English lines he quotes, whereas the
translator seeks precisely that one best word or phrase (having _all_
the resources 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. Surrendering
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,"[E] 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,[F] in the passages which he translated, both literally and
rhythmically, from the _Helena_ (Part Second). In fact, we have so many
instances of the possibility of reciprocally transferring 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 Castle by the Sea," of Uhland,
and the "Silent Land" of Salis, translated by Mr. Longfellow; Goethe's
"Minstrel" and "Coptic Song," by Dr. Hedge; Heine's "Two Grenadiers," by
Dr. Furness and many of Heine's songs by Mr Leland; and also to the
German translations of English lyrics, by Freiligrath and Strodtmann.[G]

[D] Life of Goethe (Book VI.).

[E] Mr. Lewes gives the following advice: "The English reader would
perhaps best succeed who should first read Dr. Anster's brilliant
paraphrase, and then carefully go through Hayward's prose translation."
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 _other_ metres; while Hayward's entirely omits the element of
poetry.

[F] Foreign Review, 1828.

[G] When Freiligrath can thus give us Walter Scott:--

"Kommt, wie der Wind kommt, Wenn Waelder erzittern Kommt, wie die
Brandung Wenn Flotten zersplittern! Schnell heran, schnell herab,
Schneller kommt Al'e!--Haeuptling und Bub' und Knapp, Herr und Vasalle!"

or Strodtmann thus reproduce Tennyson:--

"Es faellt der Strahl auf Burg und Thal, Und schneeige Gipfel, reich an
Sagen; Viel' Lichter wehn auf blauen Seen, Bergab die Wasserstuerze
jagen! Blas, Huefthorn, blas, in Wiederhall erschallend: Blas,
Horn--antwortet, Echos, hallend, hallend, hallend!"

--it must be a dull ear which would be satisfied with the omission of
rhythm and rhyme.

I have a more serious objection, however, to urge against Mr. Hayward's
prose translation. Where all the restraints of verse are flung aside, we
should expect, at least, as accurate a reproduction 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,[H] 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.[I]

[H] On his second page, the line _Mein Lied ertoent der unbekannten
Menge_, "My song sounds to the unknown multitude," is translated: "My
_sorrow_ voices itself to the strange throng." Other English
translators, I notice, have followed Mr. Hayward in mistaking _Lied_ for
_Leid_.

I:
I take but one out of numerous instances, for the sake of
illustration. The close of the Soldier's Song (Part I. Scene II.) is:--

"Kuehn is das Muehen,
Herrlich der Lohn!
Und die Soldaten
Ziehen davon."

Literally:

Bold is the endeavor,
Splendid the pay!
And the soldiers
March away.

This Mr. Hayward translates:--

Bold the adventure,
Noble the reward--
And the soldiers
Are off.

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 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 as to meet their reciprocal
requirements. A man, however, who 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 in passing through his mind, and frequently presents very much the
same resemblance to the original as an unhewn shaft to the fluted
column. Mr. Hayward unconsciously illustrates his lack of a refined
appreciation of verse, "in giving," as he says, "_a sort of rhythmical
arrangement_ to the lyrical parts," his object being "to convey some
notion of the variety of versification which forms one great charm of
the poem." A literal translation is always 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 argument. 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 violent. From the cold bare outline thus
produced, the reader unacquainted with the German language would
scarcely guess what glow of color, what richness 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 form of the original 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.[J]

[J] I cannot resist the temptation of quoting the following 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 ancient laws of sound. The unteachable
(nevertheless _learnable_) profusion of its middle-tones has conferred
upon it an intrinsic power of expression, such as no other human tongue
ever possessed. Its entire, thoroughly intellectual and wonderfully
successful foundation and perfected development issued from a marvelous
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 the material basis, while the latter
added the intellectual conceptions. The English language, by and through
which the greatest and most eminent poet of modern times--as contrasted
with ancient classical poetry--(of course I can refer only to
Shakespeare) was begotten and nourished, has a just claim to be called a
language of the world; and it appears to be destined, like the 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 languages can be compared with it,--not even our German,
which is divided even as we are divided, and which must cast off many
imperfections before it can boldly enter on its career."--_Ueber den
Ursprung der Sprache_.

The difficulties in the way of a nearly literal translation of _Faust_
in the original metres have been exaggerated, 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 familiarized
us with dactylic (triple) rhymes, and they are remarkably abundant and
skillful in Mr. Lowell's "Fable for the Critics": even the unrhymed
iambic hexameter of the _Helena_ occurs now and then in Milton's _Samson
Agonistes_. It is true that the metrical foot into which the German
language most naturally falls is the _trochaic_, while in English it is
the _iambic_: it is true that German is rich, involved, and tolerant of
new combinations, while English is simple, direct, and rather shy of
compounds; 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 style is compact; the many
licenses which the author allows himself are all directed towards a
shorter mode of construction. On the other hand, English metre compels
the use of inversions, admits many verbal liberties prohibited 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. The flow of Goethe's verse is
sometimes so similar to that of the corresponding English metre, that
not only its harmonies and caesural pauses, but even its punctuation,
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
successful 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 music, I gave the preference to the former. By
the term "original metres" I do not mean a rigid, unyielding adherence
to every foot, line, and rhyme of the German original, although this has
very 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 slight liberty
I have taken with the lyrical passages is in Margaret's song,--"The King
of Thule,"--in which, by omitting the alternate feminine rhymes, yet
retaining the metre, I was enabled to make the translation 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, _Faust_ is far from being a
technically perfect work.[K]

[K] "At present, everything runs in technical grooves, and the critical
gentlemen begin to wrangle whether in a rhyme an _s_ should correspond
with an _s_ and not with _sz_. If I were young and reckless enough, I
would purposely offend all such technical caprices: I would use
alliteration, assonance, false 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 so many good things that every one would be
attracted to read and remember them."--_Goethe_, in 1831.

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 portions (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 overcome 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 termination,
and the want of an accusative form to the noun also restricts the
arrangement of words in English verse. I cannot hope to have been always
successful; but I have at least labored 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.

B.T.

[Illustration]

AN GOETHE

_Erhabener Geist, im Geisterreich verloren!
Wo immer Deine lichte Wohnung sey,
Zum hoeh'ren Schaffen bist Du neugeboren,
Und singest dort die voll're Litanei.
Von jenem Streben das Du auserkoren,
Vom reinsten Aether, drin Du athmest frei,
O neige Dich zu gnaedigem Erwiedern
Des letzten Wiederhalls von Deinen Liedern!

II

Den alten Musen die bestaeubten Kronen
Nahmst Du, zu neuem Glanz, mit kuehner Hand:
Du loest die Raethsel aeltester Aeonen
Durch juengeren Glauben, helleren Verstand,
Und machst, wo rege Menschengeister wohnen,
Die ganze Erde Dir zum Vaterland;
Und Deine Juenger sehn in Dir, verwundert,
Verkoerpert schon das werdende Jahrhundert.

III

Was Du gesungen, Aller Lust und Klagen,
Des Lebens Wiedersprueche, neu vermaehlt,--
Die Harfe tausendstimmig frisch geschlagen,
Die Shakspeare einst, die einst Homer gewaehlt,--
Darf ich in fremde Klaenge uebertragen
Das Alles, wo so Mancher schon gefehlt?
Lass Deinen Geist in meiner Stimme klingen,
Und was Du sangst, lass mich es Dir nachsingen!_

B.T.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: =Dedication=]

Again ye come, ye hovering Forms! I find ye,
As early to my clouded sight ye shone!
Shall I attempt, this once, to seize and bind ye?
Still o'er my heart is that illusion thrown?
Ye crowd more near! Then, be the reign assigned ye,
And sway me from your misty, shadowy zone!
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 bring the unknown multitude my treasures;
Their very plaudits give my heart a pang,
And those beside, whose joy my Song so flattered,
If still they live, wide through the world are scattered.

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

[Illustration]

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