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    Faust, a Tragedy (Part 1)
    Faust, a Tragedy (Part 1)
    Faust, a Tragedy (Part 1)
    Ebook236 pages3 hours

    Faust, a Tragedy (Part 1)

    By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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    The classic drama about a deal with the devil, in English translation. According to Wikipedia: "Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's Faust is a tragic play in two parts... Faust is Goethe's most famous work and considered by many to be one of the greatest works of German literature. Goethe completed a preliminary version of Part One in 1806. The 1808 publication was followed by the revised 1828–29 edition, which was the last to be edited by Goethe himself... Goethe finished writing Faust Part Two in 1831. In contrast to Faust Part One, the focus here is no longer on the soul of Faust, which has been sold to the devil, but rather on social phenomena such as psychology, history and politics, in addition to mystical and philosophical topics. The second part formed the principal occupation of Goethe's last years. It appeared only posthumously in 1832."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSeltzer Books
    Release dateMar 1, 2018
    ISBN9781455388981
    Faust, a Tragedy (Part 1)
    Author

    Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

    Johann Wolfgang Goethe, ab 1782 von Goethe (✳ 28. August 1749 in Frankfurt am Main; † 22. März 1832 in Weimar), war ein deutscher Dichter und Naturforscher. Er gilt als einer der bedeutendsten Schöpfer deutschsprachiger Dichtung. Das künstlerische Werk Goethes ist vielfältig. Den bedeutendsten Platz nimmt das schriftstellerische Werk ein. Daneben stehen das zeichnerische Werk mit über 3.000 hinterlassenen Arbeiten. Goethe war auch ein vielseitiger Übersetzer. Er übertrug Werke aus dem Französischen, dem Englischen, dem Italienischen, dem Spanischen und dem Altgriechischen.

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    Reviews for Faust, a Tragedy (Part 1)

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    • 1/5
      Found this very boring and couldn't make it further than about a quarter, but I think it may have just been an uninspiring translation. (George Madison Priest.)
    • 2/5
      The first half was excellent. The Gretchen tragedy was incredibly disturbing and dramatic. However, I was bored by the second halfs descent into what seemed like a series of unrelated scenes. By the end of the long digression into Greek myth, I was bored by the whole thing and no longer even cared what happened to Faust
    • 3/5
      Although it's been staged, Goethe's Faust is described as a "dramatic poem" and at least in the translation I've read (Walter Kaufman for Part One) reads much more to me like Milton than Shakespeare. Indeed, there are to my ear echoes of Milton--and The Book of Job for that matter--in the Prologue where God and the devil Mephistopheles have a discussion that results in putting the soul of Faust into play. A lot of the of the plot and even some lines were familiar to me from classical music. Operas by Gounod and Boito, an oratorio by Berlioz and German lied by Schubert and Schumann among other works were adapted from from Goethe. I really got a kick out of recognizing the inspiration for Gounod's "Jewel Song" and Schubert's "Gretchen at her Spinning Wheel." Most of those adaptations only deal with Part One of the two part work, and for good reason. Part One was mostly a joy to read. The language is often striking and gorgeous and only one small segment made me go huh? (The Walpurgis Night's Dream with the Wedding of Oberon and Titania, which didn't seem to contribute to the plot or theme.) Mephistopheles first shows up by Faust's side as a poodle, and he helps a lot in cutting a lot of Faust's often high-flown language with his acid sarcasm, and I actually found a lot of humor in the first part of the poem--such as the scene where Martha flirted with Mephistopheles. If I were rating just Part One, I'd give Faust five stars for an amazing read. Part Two is a different matter altogether. In the book featuring the Kaufman translation, only the first scene and the last Act of Part Two is included. In the introduction Kaufman defends this saying it is his "hope that those who who would like to enjoy Goethe's Faust--as opposed to those who want to be able to say that they have read it, all of it" should find his edition to their liking. Well, I'm stubborn--and I did want to read all of it. Among the reasons Faust was listed in Good Reading's "100 Significant Books." Faust isn't just a classic--it's a formative, incredibly influential classic, and I've found in tackling those you aren't just entertained--you're educated. So, I read Part Two in another edition and translation. And found Kaufman is right. Part Two isn't enjoyable. It seems almost an entirely different work without the Gretchen element and with long static, weird set pieces that include Faust involving himself with Helen of Troy. Indeed, Faust disappears for long stretches in this part--so much of which seemed bizarre. I didn't like Part Two much at all. And not just as a reader wanting to be entertained. If there's one thing I've learned about myself reading the classics, it is that I like a sense of unity and structure, and have held it against works such as Moby Dick, War and Peace and Les Miserables when they seem to go off the rails in self-indulgent pedantry and digressions. I adore Dante, and Dante is erudite--and his philosophy very much opposed to mine. But I'm awed by the structure of The Divine Comedy. Nothing, but nothing is superfluous--down to the rhyming scheme and the number of Cantos. I can't say the same of Faust, particularly Part Two. For me Part Two is just one big huh?? and incredibly tedious. Maybe I'm missing something, but no, I can't say I got a lot out of Part Two, thus why this is winding up with a much lower rating than if I were reviewing Part One alone.
    • 4/5
      This is an abridged version of the massive play. This was abridged, cut, and translated into English for a BBC radio adaption in the 1940s.

      The play itself is meant to be a closet drama - ie. its meant to be read and not exactly played and acted out on a stage in front of an audience.

      It is a tremendous play and a massive and tremendous piece of work/literature. I have trouble though deciding on **** or ***1/2, but I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and go with ****. It's a bit deep with the satire, going into Greek mythologies (esp. in Part II) and it draws from a number of sources, some German, some classical Greek/Roman, some Shakespearean, and English. It's a hard play to wra your head around as the verse isn't aptly descriptive of the events and a large amount of 'reading between the lines' needs to be done. Overall it is a highly recommended work that should be read for no other reason than to at least acknowledge how Goethe is a great writer and to feel some sort of semblance of culture emanating from the work.
    • 4/5
      No denying the beauty of the language in this, the iconic "sell your soul to the devil" story, but it seemed lightweight for it's subject. This modern verse translation of Part I is the only verse translation to be perfomed in the modern theater--which speaks highly of it's readability.
    • 5/5
      Goethe packs a lot of original truth into this very sensual work. In particular, his observations about society, learning, and, of course, religion, are thought provoking. The style and plot are also unique and impressive, especially in the interaction between Faust and Mepistopheles and Margaret.
    • 4/5
      Obviously a classic, but the second scene between the archangles, God and Mephistofoles is pure music.
    • 4/5
      While I do not care for Goethe, I do like MacDonald's rhyming translation. It makes it much better to get through it! Did this for Part II so that the Kindle could read the rhyming to me with the text to speech feature.
    • 5/5
      Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s Faust begins with a prologue set in Heaven. The scene is modeled on the opening of the Book of Job in the Old Testament. While the angels Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael praise the Lord, Mephistopheles mocks human beings as failed creations because reason makes them worse than brutes. God tells Mephistopheles that he will illuminate his servant Faust. Mephistopheles wagers with god that he can corrupt Faust instead. With the assent of god Mephistopheles goes into action.

      In the next scene, Faust appears in acute despair because his intellectual studies have left him ignorant and without worldly gain and fame. In order to discover the inner secrets and creative powers of nature, he turns to black magic. Thus, he conjures up the Earth Spirit, the embodiment of the forces of nature. However, the Earth Spirit mocks Faust’s futile attempts to understand him. As he despairs of understanding nature, he prepares to poison himself.
      At that moment, church bells and choral songs announcing that “Christ is arisen” distract Faust from killing himself. Celestial music charms Faust out of his dark and gloomy study for a walk in the countryside on a beautiful spring day in companionship with his fellow human beings. Observing the springtime renewal of life in nature, Faust experiences ecstasy. At this moment, Faust yearns for his soul to soar into celestial spheres.

      This Easter walk foreshadows Faust’s ultimate spiritual resurrection. However, he must first undergo a pilgrimage through the vicissitudes and depths of human life. In a famous moment he proclaims that "two souls are dwelling in my breast". It is in this battle within himself that he becomes emblematic of modern man. As he battles Mephistopheles offers him a wager for his everlasting soul that will provide him a fleeting moment of satisfaction in this world. Mephistopheles commands a witch to restore Faust’s youth so that he is vulnerable to sensuous temptations. When Faust sees the beautiful young girl Margaret, he falls into lust and commands Mephistopheles to procure her. Mephistopheles devises a deadly scheme for seduction. Faust convinces Margaret, who is only fourteen years old, to give her mother a sleeping potion, prepared by Mephistopheles, so that they can make love. Mephistopheles makes poison instead; the mother never awakens.

      Unwittingly, Margaret has murdered her mother. Furthermore, she is pregnant by Faust and alone. When Faust comes to visit Margaret, he finds her brother, Valentine, ready to kill him for violating his sister. Mephistopheles performs trickery so that Faust is able to stab Valentine in a duel. Dying, Valentine curses Margaret before the entire village as a harlot. Even at church, Margaret suffers extreme anguish as an evil spirit pursues her.

      In contrast, Faust escapes to a witches’ sabbath on Walpurgis Night. He indulges in orgiastic revelry and debauchery with satanic creatures and a beautiful witch until an apparition of Margaret haunts him. Faust goes looking for Margaret and finds her, in a dungeon, insane and babbling. At this moment, Faust realizes that he has sinned against innocence and love for a mere moment of sensual pleasure. Even though it is the very morning of her execution, Margaret refuses to escape with Faust and Mephistopheles. Instead, she throws herself into the hands of God. As Faust flees with Mephistopheles, a voice from above proclaims, “She is saved!”

      Goethe will continue his drama with a second part, but the narrative from this first section has become one of the markers for the beginning of the modern era of human culture. I have previously written about some of the ideas in this drama in my discussion of "Active vs. Reactive Man". Translated by many over the two centuries since its original publication it has become a touchstone for the study of the development of the human spirit. It has also inspired other artists to create operas and novels based on the characters from Goethe's drama.
    • 5/5
      Goethe is an amazing writer.
      Faust despairs and wants the death because he can not understand the truth.
      Dissatisfied with knowing all there is to know about everything, Faust sells his soul to the devil to learn, experience and understand more.

      It's classic, it's brilliant and full of wisdom and eternal truths.
    • 4/5
      I read this in January 1952 and said on Jan 20: Decided to read Faust despite the unfavorable atmosphere for reading presented by barracks life. It is almost stiflng in its beauty, and I wish I had a dead silent room to simply surrender my mind to it. The translation I am reading is Bayard Taylor's, which is in verse form, and quite literal--so that verbs are often at the end of sentences. As an example of clear beauty, romantic and untouched by sarcasm and cynicism I give you this from Scene 2 of the first Part:
      "Then would I see Eternal Evening gild
      The silent world beneath me glowing,
      On fire each mountain-peak,
      with peace and valley filled,
      The silver brook to golden rivers flowing..."
      I finished the first part on Jan 21, and said the second part is allergorical and I am afraid I shall get nothing from it, because conditons for studying are not good--or maybe it's just that I am not good at divining deeper, subtle meanings of things. I finished the book on Jan 23 and said: Finished Faust--got little out of the second Part.

    Book preview

    Faust, a Tragedy (Part 1) - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

    FAUST, A TRAGEDY (PART 1), TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE

    ________________

    Published by Seltzer Books. seltzerbooks.com

    established in 1974, as B&R Samizdat Express

    offering over 14,000 books

    feedback welcome: [email protected]

    ________________

    WITH NOTES BY CHARLES T BROOKS

    SEVENTH EDITION.

    BOSTON, TICKNOR AND FIELDS

    MDCCCLXVIII.

    Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by CHARLES T. BROOKS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Rhode Island.

    UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY, CAMBRIDGE.

    TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

    DEDICATION.

    PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE.

    PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN.

    FAUST. Night. In a narrow high-arched Gothic room, FAUST sitting uneasy at his desk.

    BEFORE THE GATE. Pedestrians of all descriptions stroll forth.

    FAUST and WAGNER.

    STUDY-CHAMBER. Enter FAUST with the POODLE.

    STUDY-CHAMBER. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

    AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPSIC. Carousal of Jolly Companions.

    FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES.

    WITCHES' KITCHEN.

    A STREET. FAUST. MARGARET [passing over].

    EVENING. A little cleanly Chamber.

    PROMENADE. FAUST [going up and down in thought.] MEPHISTOPHELES to him.

    THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE.

    STREET. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

    GARDEN. MARGARET on FAUST'S arm. MARTHA with MEPHISTOPHELES. [Promenading up and down.]

    A SUMMER-HOUSE.

    WOODS AND CAVERN.

    MARGERY'S ROOM.

    MARTHA'S GARDEN.  MARGARET. FAUST.

    AT THE WELL. MARGERY and LIZZY with Pitchers.

    DONJON.[27]

    NIGHT. Street before MARGERY'S Door.

    CATHEDRAL. Service, Organ, and Singing.

    WALPURGIS NIGHT.[32] Harz Mountains. District of Schirke and Elend.

    WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM, OR OBERON AND TITANIA'S GOLDEN NUPTIALS.      Intermezzo.

    DREARY DAY.[46] Field. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

    NIGHT. OPEN FIELD. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. Scudding along on black horses.

    PRISON.

    NOTES.

    TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

    Perhaps some apology ought to be given to English scholars, that is, those who do not know German, (to those, at least, who do not know what sort of a thing Faust is in the original,) for offering another translation to the public, of a poem which has been already translated, not only in a literal prose form, but also, twenty or thirty times, in metre, and sometimes with great spirit, beauty, and power.

    The author of the present version, then, has no knowledge that a rendering of this wonderful poem into the exact and ever-changing metre of the original has, until now, been so much as attempted. To name only one defect, the very best versions which he has seen neglect to follow the exquisite artist in the evidently planned and orderly intermixing of male and female rhymes, i.e. rhymes which fall on the last syllable and those which fall on the last but one. Now, every careful student of the versification of Faust must feel and see that Goethe did not intersperse the one kind of rhyme with the other, at random, as those translators do; who, also, give the female rhyme (on which the vivacity of dialogue and description often so much depends,) in so small a proportion.

    A similar criticism might be made of their liberty in neglecting Goethe's method of alternating different measures with each other.

    It seems as if, in respect to metre, at least, they had asked themselves, how would Goethe have written or shaped this in English, had that been his native language, instead of seeking con amore (and con fidelita) as they should have done, to reproduce, both in spirit and in form, the movement, so free and yet orderly, of the singularly endowed and accomplished poet whom they undertook to represent.

    As to the objections which Hayward and some of his reviewers have instituted in advance against the possibility of a good and faithful metrical translation of a poem like Faust, they seem to the present translator full of paradox and sophistry. For instance, take this assertion of one of the reviewers: The sacred and mysterious union of thought with verse, twin-born and immortally wedded from the moment of their common birth, can never be understood by those who desire verse translations of good poetry. If the last part of this statement had read by those who can be contented with prose translations of good poetry, the position would have been nearer the truth. This much we might well admit, that, if the alternative were either to have a poem like Faust in a metre different and glaringly different from the original, or to have it in simple and strong prose, then the latter alternative would be the one every tasteful and feeling scholar would prefer; but surely to every one who can read the original or wants to know how this great song sung itself (as Carlyle says) out of Goethe's soul, a mere prose rendering must be, comparatively, a corpus mortuum.

    The translator most heartily dissents from Hayward's assertion that a translator of Faust must sacrifice either metre or meaning. At least he flatters himself that he has made, in the main, (not a compromise between meaning and melody, though in certain instances he may have fallen into that, but) a combination of the meaning with the melody, which latter is so important, so vital a part of the lyric poem's meaning, in any worthy sense. No poetic translation, says Hayward's reviewer, already quoted, can give the rhythm and rhyme of the original; it can only substitute the rhythm and rhyme of the translator. One might just as well say no prose translation can give the sense and spirit of the original; it can only substitute the sense and spirit of the words and phrases of the translator's language; and then, these two assertions balancing each other, there will remain in the metrical translator's favor, that he may come as near to giving both the letter and the spirit, as the effects of the Babel dispersion will allow.

    As to the original creation, which he has attempted here to reproduce, the translator might say something, but prefers leaving his readers to the poet himself, as revealed in the poem, and to the various commentaries of which we have some accounts, at least, in English. A French translator of the poem speaks in his introduction as follows: This Faust, conceived by him in his youth, completed in ripe age, the idea of which he carried with him through all the commotions of his life, as Camoens bore his poem with him through the waves, this Faust contains him entire. The thirst for knowledge and the martyrdom of doubt, had they not tormented his early years? Whence came to him the thought of taking refuge in a supernatural realm, of appealing to invisible powers, which plunged him, for a considerable time, into the dreams of Illuminati and made him even invent a religion?  This irony of Mephistopheles, who carries on so audacious a game with the weakness and the desires of man, is it not the mocking, scornful side of the poet's spirit, a leaning to sullenness, which can be traced even into the earliest years of his life, a bitter leaven thrown into a strong soul forever by early satiety? The character of Faust especially, the man whose burning, untiring heart can neither enjoy fortune nor do without it, who gives himself unconditionally and watches himself with mistrust, who unites the enthusiasm of passion and the dejectedness of despair, is not this an eloquent opening up of the most secret and tumultuous part of the poet's soul? And now, to complete the image of his inner life, he has added the transcendingly sweet person of Margaret, an exalted reminiscence of a young girl, by whom, at the age of fourteen, he thought himself beloved, whose image ever floated round him, and has contributed some traits to each of his heroines. This heavenly surrender of a simple, good, and tender heart contrasts wonderfully with the sensual and gloomy passion of the lover, who, in the midst of his love-dreams, is persecuted by the phantoms of his imagination and by the nightmares of thought, with those sorrows of a soul, which is crushed, but not extinguished, which is tormented by the invincible want of happiness and the bitter feeling, how hard a thing it is to receive or to bestow.

    DEDICATION.[1]

    Once more ye waver dreamily before me,

    Forms that so early cheered my troubled eyes!

    To hold you fast doth still my heart implore me?

    Still bid me clutch the charm that lures and flies?

    Ye crowd around! come, then, hold empire o'er me,

    As from the mist and haze of thought ye rise;

    The magic atmosphere, your train enwreathing,

    Through my thrilled bosom youthful bliss is breathing.

    Ye bring with you the forms of hours Elysian,

    And shades of dear ones rise to meet my gaze;

    First Love and Friendship steal upon my vision

    Like an old tale of legendary days;

    Sorrow renewed, in mournful repetition,

    Runs through life's devious, labyrinthine ways;

    And, sighing, names the good (by Fortune cheated

    Of blissful hours!) who have before me fleeted.

    These later songs of mine, alas! will never

    Sound in their ears to whom the first were sung!

    Scattered like dust, the friendly throng forever!

    Mute the first echo that so grateful rung!

    To the strange crowd I sing, whose very favor

    Like chilling sadness on my heart is flung;

    And all that kindled at those earlier numbers

    Roams the wide earth or in its bosom slumbers.

    And now I feel a long-unwonted yearning

    For that calm, pensive spirit-realm, to-day;

    Like an Aeolian lyre, (the breeze returning,)

    Floats in uncertain tones my lisping lay;

    Strange awe comes o'er me, tear on tear falls burning,

    The rigid heart to milder mood gives way!

    What I possess I see afar off lying,

    And what I lost is real and undying.

    PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE.

      Manager. Dramatic Poet. Merry Person.

    Manager. You who in trouble and distress

    Have both held fast your old allegiance,

    What think ye? here in German regions

    Our enterprise may hope success?

    To please the crowd my purpose has been steady,

    Because they live and let one live at least.

    The posts are set, the boards are laid already,

    And every one is looking for a feast.

    They sit, with lifted brows, composed looks wearing,

    Expecting something that shall set them staring.

    I know the public palate, that's confest;

    Yet never pined so for a sound suggestion;

    True, they are not accustomed to the best,

    But they have read a dreadful deal, past question.

    How shall we work to make all fresh and new,

    Acceptable and profitable, too?

    For sure I love to see the torrent boiling,

    When towards our booth they crowd to find a place,

    Now rolling on a space and then recoiling,

    Then squeezing through the narrow door of grace:

    Long before dark each one his hard-fought station

    In sight of the box-office window takes,

    And as, round bakers' doors men crowd to escape starvation,

    For tickets here they almost break their necks.

    This wonder, on so mixed a mass, the Poet

    Alone can work; to-day, my friend, O, show it!

    Poet. Oh speak not to me of that motley ocean,

    Whose roar and greed the shuddering spirit chill!

    Hide from my sight that billowy commotion

    That draws us down the whirlpool 'gainst our will.

    No, lead me to that nook of calm devotion,

    Where blooms pure joy upon the Muses' hill;

    Where love and friendship aye create and cherish,

    With hand divine, heart-joys that never perish.

    Ah! what, from feeling's deepest fountain springing,

    Scarce from the stammering lips had faintly passed,

    Now, hopeful, venturing forth, now shyly clinging,

    To the wild moment's cry a prey is cast.

    Oft when for years the brain had heard it ringing

    It comes in full and rounded shape

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