THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
THE FIVE GEEAT SKEPTICAL DEAMAS
OP
HISTORY
ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS.
THE
FIVE GREAT SKEPTICAL DRAMAS
HISTORY
BY THE LATE
JOHN OWEN
AUTHOR OF " SKEPTICS OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE," " SKEPTICS OF THE
FRENCH RENAISSANCE," ETC., ETC.
LONDON
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
1896
frt
PREFACE.
A LIFE-LABOUB expended on thinkers of a special type, com-
bined with a survey of all Literature from the standpoint of
the same thought, might not unreasonably be expected to make
discoveries and induce results of a peculiar kind. Without
anticipating any a priori harmony or providential relation, so
to speak, between the labour and its outcome, the philosophical
thinker may feel no small gratification at observing how much
greater and richer and how much more important his scheme of
thought is than he had anticipated. Contemplating, for example,
the history of skeptical free-thinkers as a department of philo-
sophy in which less labour had been spent than it seemed to
deserve, the author of the following pages was struck with the
remarkable fact that just as the greatest thinkers have been of
a skeptical kind, so all the dramas that have most impressed
themselves on the minds of men have been dramas whose
subjects and characters have pertained to skeptical free-
thought. In a word, all the greatest dramas and dramatic
plots in all ages of the world have been of this class.
Thus the greatest of Greek plays, the master-work of the
greatest of Greek dramatists, is without doubt the " Prometheus
Bound " of Aeschylus ; the'noblest of Bible-books, that is, with
a dramatic plot and character, is unquestionably the Book of
Job ; the greatest play of England's, and of the world's, great
dramatist has been the "Hamlet" of Shakespeare; and the
noblest drama of the most famous of modern poets has been
the " Faust " of Goethe ; while the problem of the " Faust " has
again been considered by Calderon from a more strictly Roman
Catholic point of view in the most striking of all his dramas " El
Magico Prodigioso ". No dramas have attracted so much
attention each in its special environment of time and circum-
stance as these five. None have been taken as manifesting
so adequately the intellectual and spiritual idiosyncrasy of their
13^2116
vi Preface.
writers none have enjoyed so great a popularity as represent-
ing the character of the writer, as well as that of his nation,
as each of these great plays has done.
Now a brief reflection may serve to suggest that these
dramas, starting from the same standpoint, and resembling
each other's plot and evolution so closely, must needs possess
matter of exceeding interest for all thinkers and schools of
thought.
First, they prove that the problems and difficulties with
which men have coped through all time are essentially the
same : Prometheus in opposition to the Olympian Deities ;
the Patriarch Job in antagonism to the Hebrew Jahve ; Faust
and the Wonder- Working Magician contending with the
Deity of the modern world and with the laws by which he
endeavours to rule it all are vindicators of the self-same issue
protagonists in the self-same battle. They occupy the same
standpoint of inherent justice, and of automatic mental inde-
pendence, of self-determining reason and conscience ; they com-
mence from the self-same starting-point ; they employ largely
the same arguments ; they arrive mostly at the same con-
clusions. In a word, the contest is the same humanity set in
array against the dread powers of the universe, which has
engaged the attention of the noblest minds whose specula-
tions are recorded in human history ; a contest contemporaneous
with the growth of reason, instinct with its life and attributes,
and bound to endure as long as reason and humanity are
destined to last in other words, to the eternity of man and
whatever is eternal and divine in his speculation and
aspiration.
A word of exception may perchance be thought needful for
Hamlet as one of the five skeptical thinkers. In harmony
with a nationality which, starting from that of its author and
nation, is far more practical than speculative, his doubt is
largely concerned with action. He recognises the compulsion
in the laws of the universe and in human enactments. His
hesitation and fear to act are based on the difficulties inherent
Preface. vii
in the circumstances of his own life-problem. In point of fact,
he combines speculation with practical doubt, but it is in the
direction of action that he finds his actual conclusions. His
final justice is mainly accidental ; he decides the practical
issues of his life by a sort of ethical fluke. If in the issue he
kills himself, it is no more than the logical issue of his doubting
course of life. The problem he aims to solve is doubt in action
this far more than doubt in speculation but even here the
reasons he appealed to are not unlike those of speculative
doubters, and so far much of his reasoning illustrates, and is
illustrated by, the arguments of other skeptical free-thinkers.
" To be or not to be," to think or not to think, to act or not
to act, are only cleverer phases of human problems, all of them
beset with, if not identical at least with, similar difficulties, and
demanding, not perhaps the same, but analogous methods of
consideration and resolution.
Separated by centuries of time, by long ages of linguistic
advance or retardation, by infinite degrees of human culture
and civilisation, by continents and oceans of terrestrial space,
man is found in every condition of existence propounding the
same problems, coping with the same or analogous difficulties.
The world drama in which he is engaged is always alike in
plot, and his role is ever the same in aim and character. Nor
is its outcome dissimilar. From the whole history of the past,
from the world dramas in which the noblest characters have
essayed to choose and play their parts, we have the importance,
the divine sacredness, of freedom of thought and independence
of conscience. The heroes of human thought and action
resemble each other in this : they stand firm in the conviction
of a mysterious superior justice that rules the universe ; they
are persuaded of the truth as being both infinite and eternal,
that, with all his difficulties, man finds in reason and conscience
the weapons best adapted for establishing his rightful claims
and position in a universe of which reason and conscience
constitute the supreme law and rule.
THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS
OF
AESCHYLUS
MOTTOES.
Ildi/ra dfols dvedrjKav "Ofj.rjp6s $' 'Hcr/oSo's re
ocrcra. Trap' dvdpmTroicriv ovei'Sea KOI iffoyos e'crri'i/.
e/j.icrria epya
K\f7TT(ii> .oifvfiv re KOI d\\ovs airarevfiv.
XENOPHANES.
Das gemeine Menschenschicksal, an welchem wir Alle zu tragen haben, muss
denjenigen am, schwersten aufliegen, deren Geisteskrdfte sich fruher und breiter
entuickeln. Wir mogen unter dem Schutz von Eltern und Verwandten empor-
kommen ... so ist doch immer das Final dass der Mensch auf sich
zuriickgewiesen wird, und es scheint, es habe sogar die Gottheit sich so zu dem
Menschen gestellt das sie dessen Ehrfurcht, Zutrauen und Liebe nicht immer,
wenigstens nicht gerade im dringenden Augenblick, erwiedern kann."
GOETHE, Wahrheit u. Dichtung, Book xv.
Know ye not me
The Titan ? He who made his agony
The barrier to your else all-conquering foe.
SHELLEY, Prometheus Unbound, Act i.
Ich dich ehren ? Wofiir ?
Hast du die Schmerzen gelindert
Je des Beladenen ?
Hast du die Thrdnen gestillet
Je des Geangsteten ?
Hat nicht mich zum Manne geschmiedet
Die allmachtige Zeit
Und das eurige Schicksal
Meine Herrn und deine.
GOETHE, Prometheus.
IN the investigation of mythological subjects no inquiry is more
difficult than that which relates to their age and their origin.
Other things being equal, the measure of antiquity possessed
by any myth may be accepted as a presumption that its subject
matter is a generally accepted belief, or else denotes a widely re-
ceived experience on the part of humanity. For the very fact
of our knowledge of its antiquity postulates not only the ex-
istence but the overt perhaps repeated expression of such a
belief during a very long period, and in myths as in other matters
we must acknowledge the operation of some such law as that
called " The survival of the fittest ". Another mark of a gene-
rally received myth consists in its variants. The same rudi-
mentary conceptions are found to underlie an almost inex-
haustible variety of forms. Thus most of the great myths
e.g., the solar myth are found in the traditions of all those
races which have attained sufficient culture and continuous ex-
istence to possess any traditions at all. A myth in fact may
be likened to a musical theme evolved and expressed by the
earliest races of the world, which their descendants have
surrounded with variations and accompaniments which, while
serving to elaborate, disguise more or less its original features
Or it might be termed the cosmopolitan alphabet the primary
rudiments of the religious thought of humanity, for beneath
the surface of all the great world-faiths may be discovered a
substratum of mythology. But perhaps the most striking evi-
dence that a myth embodies a widely accepted truth or belief is
found in its ready assimilation and expression by varying, per-
haps even discordant, modes of thought. Like a useful metal
it is made to subserve an almost infinite variety of purposes,
being taken up, reconstructed and employed by many different
departments of human intellectual energy. For a myth is not,
as once was supposed, a consolidated uniform tradition a petri-
4 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
fied deposit of human faith or experience possessing always
the same definite outlines and homogeneousness of substance.
Nothing indeed could be more contrary to truth. A myth is a
kind of molluscous versatile product of human experience and
imagination. It is therefore a plastic material, capable of being
moulded by any environment within which it is received.
Starting into life as a crude, fanciful expression of some fre-
quently recurring natural phenomenon, it may assume a number
of subsequent Protean forms. Thus it may be held to express an
historical event, a fact of natural history, a generalisation of social
experience, a characteristic of some ethical law or a quality of
the speculative intellect. This mobility does not of course mean
that the belief expressed by the myth is necessarily true. It
implies only that it has long formed a part of the intellectual or
imaginative currency of mankind, and that it has thereby be-
come invested with authority and human interest. We observe
precisely the same mobility of form in other matters of profound
concernment or interest for large sections of humanity, quite
irrespectively of any truth they may be supposed to possess.
Thus in the dogmas of any historical religion and in the fables
themselves mythical in their origin which form such a large
portion of the early oral tradition of all ancient races, we re-
cognise a similar susceptibility to new forms, the readiness to
assume under varying circumstances diverse modes of presenta-
tion. Still less does it mean that the significance of a myth will
be the same in all its stages of evolution. On the contrary, the
variety of its forms will be some, albeit not infallible, testimony
to a corresponding divergency in its meaning. The myth, for ex-
ample, which in a primaeval condition of any people has only a
concrete physical significance, may with the intellectual progress
of such a people attain to higher interpretations, and may become
the chosen exponent of historical, scientific, or even metaphysical
and spiritual truth. An obvious corollary from this premiss is that
the significance of a myth, taking it as a whole, must needs be of
a diversified character, even if, as is sometimes the case, the formal
variation between its different stages be not very great or dis-
tinctive.
Now the myth of Prometheus exemplifies all the qualities I
have just enumerated. Firstly, it is one of the most ancient in
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 5
the whole compass of Greek mythology ; secondly, it is a prin-
cipal member of a large class of similar myths ; and, thirdly, it
has entered into various provinces of Hellenic thought, and has
thereby assumed a corresponding divergency of forms and
meanings.
1. The antiquity of the Prometheus myth is shown, firstly, by
the prominent position which it occupies in the authoritative
depository of old Greek belief the works of Hesiod. Here we
find not only that the myth is already an accepted part of ancient
Hellenic faith, but that it has assumed a peculiarly elaborated
form, that it has become encrusted with accretions from other
myths more or less related with itself. Nor is this all ; we find
on close examination that it goes back to a time anterior to the
first settlement of the Pelasgi and other primitive Aryan tribes
in Greece, nay, according to some writers to a period prior to the
great Aryan migration from Central Asia. In its main outlines
we undoubtedly find traces of the myth in the ancient literature
of all the chief Indo-Germanic races. Its especial connection
with India is marked by the Sanscrit derivation of the word
Prometheus, for this, following the vicissitudes of the myth
itself, is not derived, as the Hellenes thought, from Greek roots
signifying " foresight," but from the Sanscrit term pramantha or
pramaihyus, employed to designate the primitive Indian instru-
ment for kindling fire. 1 Of still greater importance is the con-
nection of the myth with Semitic legends. Its marked affinity, for
example, with the Hebrew narrative of the creation has long been
acknowledged by commentators of every school of thought, and
is indeed too obvious to be denied. Some have attempted to
account for this similarity by supposing that the myth formed
part of the common tradition of the Indo-Germanic and Semitic
races at a prehistoric period before they were divided, while
others, with perhaps more probability, explain it by supposing
that the early Pelasgian settlers in Greece may have learned the
tradition from the Phoenicians. 2 In either case the origin of the
myth may be said to transcend the limits of human history. In-
cidentally, too, this remote antiquity seems confirmed by its
. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, etc., p. 18, and passim.
2 This is the view of Petersen. See his article on Greek Mythology
in Ersch and Gruber, EncykL, sec. i., vol. Ixxxii., p. 96.
6 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
direct reference to the creation of man. This is true, no matter
whether the myth be regarded as having a physical and natural
or a metaphysical and moral origin, for in the first case one form
of the legend makes Prometheus the creator of the first man,
whom he made of clay and animated with celestial fire stolen
for the purpose, while in the second he bestows on men the
divine gift of reason or intelligence by the same agency of stolen
fire the latter being a secondary stage in human evolution,
which all ancient records represent as following closely on the
creation of man.
2. But the myth of Prometheus is only one form of a some-
what large group of myths. Indeed it is a noteworthy fact in
mythology that all the more significant and comprehensive
myths are found in groups of greater or less extent, thus attest-
ing, as we might indeed have anticipated, the action of a
number of minds upon a phenomenon or truth-presentation pos-
sessing the same general features for all alike. We have a re-
markable fact of the same kind in the linguistic syntheses which
are so frequently alike in languages of varying races and of dif-
ferent degrees of culture. Thus the Prometheus myth is a
member of what might be termed the Titanic or anti-celestial
class in Greek mythology. All of these, whatever their differ-
ence of local origin, particular elaboration, etc., possess similar
characteristics. This will readily be seen by a brief enumeration
of the chief of them. We have, for example, the myths of Atlas the
brother of Prometheus and the leader of the Titans against
Zeus. He was defeated and condemned to the eternal labour of
bearing the heaven on his head and hands. 1 He was also gifted
with especial knowledge, for, according to Homer, he knew all
the depths of the ocean. The myth of Tituos is of a similar
kind. Instigated by Here he made an attack on Artemis or Leto
(wife of Zeus), for which the indignant sovereign of gods and
1 Assuming that some of these anti-celestial, skeptical or knowledge
myths may have had a metaphysical origin, the task of Atlas and the
difficulty he found in discharging it may be compared with the remark-
able words of Ecclesiastes, iii., 11; or with poetic utterances, such as
Wordsworth's :
" The heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world ".
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 7
men punished him by first killing him with his thunderbolt
(" lightning-blasted in his strength," Aeschylus calls it) and then
casting him into Tartaros, where his gigantic frame covered no
less than nine acres of ground. Here, too, his body (for being
immortal he could not die) was for ever mangled by two vultures
or snakes which continually devoured it. Tuphoeus or Tuphon is
the name of another monster of the same species, whose wisdom
is crudely symbolised by his possession of a hundred heads. He
wished to acquire, we are told, the sovereignty over gods and men,
but was subdued after a fearful struggle by the thunderbolt of
Zeus. Another version of the myth represents him contending
with all the immortals. However, he was defeated, and, as a
punishment, was buried in Tartaros under Mount Etna. Men-
oitios is the name of another Titan who for similar insurrection
against the Olympian divinities was slain by Zeus, and was
doomed to expiate his crime in Tartaros. Of a slightly different
kind are the myths of Tantalos and Sisuphos. The former is said
to have been the son of Zeus, and was King of Lydia, or Argos
or Corinth, according to different versions of the story. He
divulged the secrets which Zeus his father had imparted to him.
For this he was punished by being placed in a lake, but so as to
render it impossible to drink when he was thirsty the water
always receding when he stooped forward to quench his thirst.
Branches laden with fruit also hung over his head, but when he
stretched out his hands to clutch them they withdrew all the
while a huge stone being suspended above him, for ever threaten-
ing to crush him. Sisuphos, whose name is said to be a mock-
ing reduplication of Sophos,was another subtle king who betrayed
the designs of the gods. His punishment consisted in perpetually
rolling up a hill a huge block of marble, which as perpetually
rolled down again. The myth of Phaethon, though different in
some points from those mentioned, yet possesses a few striking
resemblances. He was the son of Helios, who attempted am-
bitiously to drive the chariot of his father, but proving unequal
to the task was slain by Zeus. Now, without laying undue
stress on these legends, or magnifying their mutual affinities, we
cannot but be struck with their general resemblance to each
other, and especially in those particulars in which they share the
outlines of the Prometheus myth. All are legends of semi-divine
8 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
beings, who undertake some enterprise against the gods, either
by way of asserting their own independence of thought and
volition, or in order to benefit humanity ; most of them sharing
directly the imputation of a forbidden communication of celestial
gifts to terrestrial beings. All assume that the sovereignty of
the gods may possibly be tyrannical and unjust, and hence may
justify insurrection ; all tacitly appeal therefore to inherent
justice, right, goodness, as entities prior in worth and existence
even to the gods. All are, however, defeated by superior prowess.
All, excepting Phaethon,are punished by some form of persistently
agonising endurance a constantly overcome but ever recurring
evil. Lastly, most of them cherish, notwithstanding their sub-
jugation by superior power, an indomitable audacity and de-
fiance of that power. Like Milton's Satan they proudly boast
A mind not to be changed by place or time. 1
Though confined by Zeus in the " vasty deeps " of Tartaros, they
find reason for exultation in their fall. Their language in Mil-
tonic phrase is :
Here at least
We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence :
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition though in hell.
Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
Nor are these Titanomachies confined to Hellenic mythology.
In every main branch of the Indo-Germanic and Semitic races
we meet with myths of a similar kind. Among the Hebrews,
1 Both the resemblances and contrasts between the Prometheus of
Aeschylus and the Satan of Milton have been thus happily set forth by
Miss Barrett in her translation of the former drama: "The Satan of
Milton and the Prometheus of Aeschylus stand upon ground as unequal
as do the sublime of sin and the sublime of virtue. Satan suffered from
his ambition, Prometheus from his humanity : Satan for himself ; Pro-
metheus for mankind : Satan dared peril which he had not weighed ;
Prometheus devoted himself to sorrows which he had foreknown.
'Better to rule in hell,' said Satan; 'better to serve this rock,' said
Prometheus. But in his hell Satan yearned to associate with man, while
Prometheus preferred a solitary agony ; nay, he even permitted his zeal
and tenderness for the peace of others to abstract him from that agony's
intenseness.'' See on the same point Welcker, Griesch. Gotterkhre, ii.,
277, and compare Prof. Blackie in Classical Museum, vi., p. 8.
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 9
for example, we have the rebellion of the proud archangel,
who
with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God
Raised impious war in heaven,
together with the cognate myth of the " sons of God " and their
gigantic issue, whose opposition to the Supreme Being and de-
pravation of humanity brought about the Noachian deluge.
This myth we shall meet again in the Book of Job. In the
dualism of Zoroastrianism, the anti-celestial combats of the Devas
in the Rig-Veda, the similar warfare of the Giants of the Scan-
dinavian Edda, we have myths of a like kind, 1 all of them being
probably descendants of rudimentary ideas of the primitive
Aryans. What these root-thoughts of celestial commotions were
it is not always easy to affirm positively. As a matter of high
probability and in harmony with the conclusions of recent com-
parative mythologists, we may assume that all primitive myths
have their origin in the action of childish mythopoeic fancy as to
natural phenomena. But this assumption by no means implies
a consensus of opinion among mythologists as to the origin of
the Prometheus and Titanic myths. Thus some writers affirm
that Prometheus did not at first signify the lightning or celestial
fire as in later forms of the myth, but rather the mist and the
clouds. This is shown by his parentage. He is the son of
lapetos (air) and Klumene (water). His name is derived or
derivable from roots which signify to mount upwards like the
mist, 2 whence we have his character :
The eagle- winged pride
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts.
His brothers the sons of lapetos all seem to be related to
aerial phenomena. And as regards the minuter elaboration of
the myth, the resting of mists on the mountain sides, their daily
dispersion by the wind, and their complete dissipation by the
sun of the spring time, are uncouthly symbolised by the eagle's
daily meal on the mangled liver of Prometheus Bound, the
growth of the liver during every night and the final deliverance
of the Titan by Herakles (the sun). No doubt the conception
of a commotion or disturbance among celestial beings the root-
1 Compare Petersen, loc. cit., p. 123. 2 Petersen, loc. tit., p. 84.
io Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
thought of the Titanomachy is explicable on this theory of the
aqueous origin of the Prometheus myth; for mists, clouds
especially of portentous form and blackness, violent rain accom-
panied by hurricanes of wind, might easily suggest to men in
primitive ages a warfare among higher powers. But I confess
I myself incline to the older hypothesis which connects Pro-
metheus with the various phenomena generated by light, fire,
the sun, the stars, etc. Thus he is closely related to the eldest
of the three dynasties of Greek Olympian mythology. Through
lapetos he is descended from Ouranos, the starry heavens, and
belongs to that early prehistoric period when Sabeism or star-
worship was a widely extended if not prevailing cult among
the primitive Aryans. In conjunction with his brother Titans
Prometheus seems to me a diversiform mythopoeic rendering into
the language of a crude childish fancy of such celestial pheno-
mena as comets, aerolites or shootings stars, lightning flashes,
thunderbolts and star showers, as well as terrene manifestations
of a similar kind, such as volcanic eruptions. With these, too,
must be included such probable origins of terrestrial fire as the
kindling of a tree by a lightning flash, or the primitive method
of producing fire by rubbing together two pieces of dry wood,
etc. On this hypothesis we can easily understand the celestial
commotions which gave birth to the Titanomachies of early races
and religions. Among the Chaldeans or the primitive Aryan
star-worshippers, for example, what ideas would be evoked by a
thunderstorm, or a solar or lunar eclipse, as readily as a terrific
quarrel among celestial potentates; or witnessing lightning
flashes, thunderbolts or aerolites falling with a loud explosion
from the sky, what notion would be so spontaneously generated
as the defeat and downward propulsion of some rebellious spirit
who had lifted himself up against the powers of heaven ? while
the still more striking phenomenon of star showers or the
simultaneous fall of many aerolites would infallibly suggest as
a picturesque idealisation of mythopoeic fancy the overthrow
and hurling into Tartaros of a numerous cohort of such rebellious
spirits. Or, once more, the prevailing Greek fancy, which
allocated to the defeated Titans and other insurrectionary spirits
a place under volcanic mountains, as well as their perpetual
defiance, of the powers which placed them there, would be the
Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 1 1
natural efflorescence of childish fancy evoked by a volcanic
eruption with its usual accompaniments.
But although the Prometheus in common with other Titanic
myths had at first only a physical or astronomical significance, I
am far from thinking that this was their sole creative cause.
I believe that the Titanomachies, like most of the chief Hellenic
myths, had what may be termed moral, social, or metaphysical
promptings as well. Indeed there is in my opinion a one-sided
tendency in the present day to eliminate the metaphysical factor
from ancient myths, which operates with especial unfairness on
the mythologies of such introspective races as the Hindus and
Hellenes. Because this and similar non-physical elements were
exaggerated by myth interpreters of bygone times, we are not
thereby warranted in totally ignoring them. Probably the
oldest myths of all Indo-Germanic races are permeated by ideas
other than those suggested by physical phenomena ideas and
generalisations that owe their birth to observation of man as a
social being, to a keen insight into the working of the human
reason and the human conscience in a stage of comparative
culture. The power of introspection and abstraction pertaining
to the original Aryan peoples is abundantly attested by the
construction of the Sanscrit and the languages descended from
it. An analysis of grammatical forms and word derivations,
either of the Sanscrit, or of the Greek at its earliest emergence
in history, reveals a profundity of metaphysical penetration, an
elaboration of notional or ideal love, that must have been the
product of some centuries of introspective exercise and evolu-
tion. We might therefore anticipate that the earliest myths
current, those for example among the Greeks, would have
interwoven into them metaphysical notions, ethical ideas, general-
isations from human history, etc. Not that this stage was
the earliest in human thought-evolution. Natural phenomena
constituted undoubtedly the first raw material on which the
mythopceic fancy of primitive races exercised itself; but the
metaphysical stage succeeded long before the mythopceic faculty
had exhausted itself and subjective ideas and impressions ceased
to embody themselves in a fanciful objective form. We have
an illustration of the three chief stages in mythological develop-
ment in the oldest Olympian dynasties of Greek mythology.
12 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
The first or physical stage is marked by the period when Ouranos
and Ge the starry heavens and the fertile earth were con-
ceived as the ruling divinities of Olympus. In this stage all the
powers of Nature were represented from a purely physical or
sensible point of view. But this was succeeded by a meta-
physical stage, in which the human faculties were equal to the
formation and combination of abstractions, when, for example,
Time (Chronos) was regarded not only as a distinct entity, but
as the supreme producer of all things, and when his queen, Rhea,
was similarly excogitated from the successional aspects, which
even now form all that we know of time. Without sharing the
opinion of Sokrates that those who constructed from their ex-
perience such an abstraction as Rhea must have had some idea
of the flux of Herakleitos, we must allow that the effort involved
no inconsiderable amount of metaphysical proficiency ; and yet
this was clearly allied with the exercise of the mythopoeic faculty.
The next stage may be termed anthropomorphic, in which the
ruling powers of Nature, albeit their physical characteristics are
not overlooked, are more and more invested with the attributes
seen to pertain to man, and when Chronos is succeeded by Zeus,
and the Olympian Court assumes the likeness of a disorderly
human family. These stages of myth-evolution need not here
be investigated further. To return to the object for which they
were adduced, we probably have in the Prometheus myth, as in
most others, metaphysical and moral as well as physical causes.
Thus, if the commotions and mutual animosities of heavenly
powers embodied in the Titanomachies were first suggested by
physical phenomena such as thunderstorms, star showers, etc.,
this rudimentary conception was in all likelihood confirmed and
matured by observation of the conduct of men in societies and
social communities. The dissidence among celestial potentates
first inferred from Nature was attested by experience of the
mutual collision of human wills, dispositions and inclinations.
It seemed impossible for reflective men, even in primitive times,
to conceive a number of beings like the Olympian deities, each
endued with intelligence, power and volition to an extreme
degree, without a gradual inference of antagonism and perhaps
final separation. This is one root-thought of the polytheism
which is the primary form of all the known religions of the
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 13
world, and from which, as John Stuart Mill pointed out, the
common forms of Christianity are by no means exempt. Whether
the primitive Aryans, who first excogitated the rudimentary
ideas from which celestial strife in all its varied forms has been
evolved, based their moral presumption of such a theory on
observation of the enmities, wars, etc., among earthly potentates
it is impossible to say ; but it is easy to see that they could have
had no difficulty in assimilating natural phenomena of a striking
kind to the ordinary manifestations of human volition. For at
that time, we must remember, every natural appearance was
regarded from a personal and anthropomorphic standpoint. The
thunderstorm, the rain shower, were not then considered the
inevitable results of law, still less as the purposeless effects of
chance or accident. They were instinct with will, conscious
effort, deliberate intention. There was little difference in this
respect between the supreme rule of a physical dynasty like that
of Ouranos, and a metaphysical or immaterial one like that of
Chronos. Each of those universal sovereigns was invested with
volition and purposeful energies, just as much as were the actions
of a primitive Aryan chief or king, and there was no conscious
distinction between the volitional manifestations of the heavenly,
and those of the earthly, potentate. Hence, when the early
Aryans, with their prepossession that all the heavenly bodies
were deities endowed with power and volition, saw the wondrous
phenomenon of a star shower, no idea could have seemed so
natural and reasonable as that they were witnessing the ter-
mination of some heavenly battle, an internecine strife of angels,
giants, or Titans, in which the dissentient wills and powers of
the star gods were arrayed against each other, and the hurling
of the defeated rebels into Tartaros. An early Aryan poet
might have imagined the stationary stars driving their insurrec-
tionary and fugitive brethren before them, just as in Flaxman's
or Core's illustrations of Paradise Lost the celestial archangels
are driving Satan and his hellish legions out of heaven at the
point of the sword.
3. But while we affirm with moral certitude that the Pro-
metheus myth had a two-fold origin, one physical and natural,
the other metaphysical and symbolical, these two sources by
no means exhaust all the different embodiments and interprets-
14 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
tions the myth has received in ancient or modern times. Or
putting the matter in another form, these sources are divisible
into a number of subordinate classes. Thus we have the six
following expositions of the myths :
1. Aqueous, in which Prometheus represents the clouds or
mist.
2. Fiery Celestial, in which he represents the stars, light-
ning, eclipses, etc.
3. Fiery Terrestrial, in which he embodies either the de-
structive aspects of fire, as for example in vol-
canoes, or its useful and enlightening phases.
4. Medical or Scientific.
5. Historical.
6. Rational, Moral, and Metaphysical.
I. The primary germ of the Prometheus myth its rudiment-
ary conception divested of all accretion is strife among rival
powers, the initiatory idea in all probability not including the
beneficence or maleficence of those powers in relation to man,
though their human aspect soon emerges in the history of early
myths. Now the mere statement of such a myth-germ proves
its capacity for assuming a considerable diversity of forms.
Strife, rivalry, and dissonance, or phenomena that lend them-
selves to such an interpretation, are observable in many aspects
of Nature, not only among its violent commotions, but among its
more peaceful and ordinary phases. To the mythopoeic fancy
there is a rivalry and perpetual conflict between cloud-forms
and the breezes that scatter or for a time annihilate them. A
still more marked antagonism seems revealed by the thunder-
bolt or lightning flash that cleaves the forest tree, rives asunder
gigantic rocks, or sets human habitations on fire. A rivalry of
another kind is that which exists between opposing principles or
elements in Nature, for example, between heat and cold, between
fire and water, etc. The harshness of natural dissonance assumes
however a more violent form when man and his interests are
regarded as a primary if not exclusive concernment of Nature,
and when every agency that affects prejudicially his welfare is
considered as a personal foe. Nor is this all ; for turning
from Nature to humanity we find strife and rivalry the normal
products of men in every stage of social life the collision of
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 1 5
divergent and opposing volitions being a necessary factor in all
human progress. 1 Strife is lastly the undeniable condition of the
individual man regarded as a reasoning being, when once he has
attained a stage of retrospection and introspection. We thus
see how natural, nay, how inevitable, it was that the germ of the
Prometheus should assume under varied conditions of develop-
ment the manifold forms contained in the foregoing classifica-
tion, and we are also able to appreciate the truth too often over-
looked by mythologists that the same myth, originating among
different races and at different times, may possess diverse sources
and designations while sharing the same general outline of formal
conception, as the Aeschylean Prometheus significantly says of
his mother 7ro\\(av ovo^drwv /j,op(f>r) fiia, " one form with many
names ".
I. Prometheus the Mist or Cloud.
Although the preponderating and general source of the Pro-
metheus myth in all its forms seems to connect it with fire, light,
etc., yet in fairness we must allow that there are some arguments
for its alleged affinity with mist and cloud phenomena. First
it represents the more ordinary phenomena of Nature upon which
rather than upon its rarer, more striking aspects the earliest
mythopoeic fancy seems in the first instance to have exercised
itself. Secondly, it is capable of being supported by the deriva-
tion of the name Prometheus, while in other languages, Semitic
and Indo-Germanic, we find an analogous affinity between
clouds and mists and the names and titles of great personages.
Thirdly, it possesses certain acknowledged Titanic attributes ; for
mists and clouds are earth-born, gigantic, unshapely, terror-
causing, 2 while mists climbing the mountain side might well
1 The classical scholar need hardly be reminded of the function of
the beneficent or progressive "Epis in the works of Hesiod. Compare,
for example, Opera et Dies, i., 24 ; dya6t) 8'*Epis rj8( PpoTow.
2 The personification and mythification of cloud and mist-shapes i8 a
large subject which cannot be here discussed. We may however ob-
serve, as bearing on this interpretation of the Prometheus myth : 1. The
facility with which the forms of clouds lend themselves to mythopoeic
fancy. 2. The rivalry of cloud-myth personages to celestial beings. 3.
The gift of foresight, frequently attributed to them, as for example in
the case of the Cymric Cyoeraeth or hag of the mist, the Irish Banshee,
1 6 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
claim the character of aspiring, ambitious, heaven-storming, etc.
Fourthly, for the last reason it must be credited with a consider-
able share of mythopceic suggestiveness, for we can readily
imagine how the ascent of a mist as it were from earth to
heaven and its development into a firm overhanging pall of clouds
might be fancy-shaped into the bold effort of an earth-born monster
to assault the citadel of heaven, and extinguish the light of the
sun or of the moon and stars. More than one ancient myth is
based on this phenomenon ; indeed, we are assured by compara-
tive mythologists that it is a frequently occurring form of myth-
making lore. A remarkable illustration of the mode of evolution
pertaining to this myth is afforded us by Elihu's speech in the
Book of Job (xxxvi., 26): as describing the feelings evoked
among early races by the observation of mists and clouds "rising
to thunder" as West of England people phrase it it seems
deserving of quotation :
Behold, God is so great that he is not known,
The number of his years cannot be counted ;
For he draweth up the water-drops
Which pour themselves in rain as his mist.
Wherefore the light clouds spread themselves ;
They descend in drops on many people.
Can any understand the spreadings of the clouds
Or the noise of his pavilion 1
Behold he spreadeth his light upon it
And covereth the roots of the sea.
For by these he judgeth the people
And giveth them food in abundance.
His hands he clotheth with lightning,
And sendeth it against his foes.
His thunder announceth him,
So do the kine his mounting upward.
Ay, at this my heart trembles,
And leaps up from its place.
etc. On the general subject a writer in Notes and Queries (ser. i., vol. i., p.
295) well remarks: "Any one who has witnessed the gathering and
downward rolling of a genuine mountain fog must fully appreciate the
spirit in which men first peopled the cloud with such supernatural beings
as those above described ; or with those which dimly yet constantly per-
vade the much-admired Legend of Montrose ". Of course the ascending
mist would be more symbolical of a Titanic personage contending
against the gods than that which rolls down the mountain.
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 1 7
Hear, hear ye the noise of his voice,
The roar that proceedeth from his mouth.
He disperses it under the whole heaven,
And his lightning to the bounds of the earth.
In this passage we have the consecutive appearances of mist and
cloud formation narrated in a manner equally graphic and
poetical. The first stage is the condensation of atmospheric
moisture in filmy drops. Then follows their aggregation in
light vapoury clouds. Rising from the ground and gradually
increasing in size, they appear to take the form of a gigantic
monster animated with life and motion. This apparition, now
mythicised into an earth-born giant, begins slowly to creep up
the mountain side. Its progress upwards is watched with
alarm by the cattle, for they presage a thunderstorm. 1 Up-
ward ascends the mist-Titan still increasing in immensity and
power. Presently he spreads himself like an immense sail or
carpet over the sky, covering the whole expanse of heaven,
quenching the light of the sun, and hiding the roots of the cloud-
sea the water above the firmament as the poet, with a bold
metaphor, terms the long shafts of light streaming downwards
between two clouds. And now begins the contest between the
giant and the celestial powers. The deity prepares for the
fight. His coming is announced, while the mist-giant is creeping
up the mountain side, by the faint rumbling of distant thunder.
He arms himself with the lightning which he hurls against his
foe. The noise of the battle is heard throughout the world, and
the lightning flashes are seen from one side of heaven to the
other. For a time the fight seems to wage with varying fortune ;
but at last victory declares itself on the side of the celestials, and
the cloud-giants are dispersed. The storm is over, and once
more the sun shines forth in all its brilliancy. Occasionally the
struggle here depicted assumes a somewhat different form. It is
a contest between cloud-forms and winds, the latter being regarded
in this case as the emissaries of the celestials, and employed by
them to perform the same militant service as the thunder and
1 Compare Virgil, Georgics, i., 374-6 :
"... ilium surgentem vallibus imis
Ae'riae fugere grues, aut bucula coelum
Suspicions patulis captavit naribus auras ".
2
1 8 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
the lightning flash. This plan of the myth is also alluded to in
the same portion of the Book of Job :
When men see not the sun,
Because its light is hidden behind the clouds,
Then passeth the wind, and the sky is pure ;
From the North comes the gold ray of light
To reveal the glory of God.
But there is another aspect of this interpretation of the Pro-
metheus myth deserving notice. In most Hellenic versions of
the myth the Titan is represented as conveying the sacred
celestial fire for the behoof of mortals in the hollow of a
fennel rod. Now it is remarkable that the Greeks called the
long pillars of light which are occasionally seen shooting down-
wards between two clouds by the name of staves (pdfiSot), just
as they are now called in some parts of England " sun-posts ".
Their purpose according to the folk-lore of most European
countries is to draw or suck up water, and they are accounted
an infallible prognostic of rain. With this function agrees our
derivation of the name Prometheus, which some writers trace
to the roots ^77, prjO, prjT, related to the Greek //,<&>, and which
imply movement in an upward direction. On this theory the
descending light-shafts would symbolise at one and the same
time the descent of Prometheus with the stolen light and the
ascent of the ambitious Titan to take by storm the abode of the
celestial deities. It is clear that this modification of clouds and
mist by the rays of the sun struck forcibly early observers of
meteorological phenomena, while not less remarkable is the
general concurrence of opinion as to the function of these pillars
of light. In Germany and England at the present day, as I
have just stated, they are said to draw water, and we have the
same idea in ancient times. The Scandinavian Edda, for example,
represents the god Loki (light : a deity whose affinity to the
Hellenic Prometheus, as we shall see farther on, is very marked)
as drinking water in this way ; x and the Hebrew poet in
Elihu's speech above quoted seems to allude to the same
function.
1 Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, i., p. 221.
The Prometheus Vine (us of Aeschylus. 1 9
II. Prometheus conceived as Fire (celestial).
I have already alluded to the stars and other heavenly bodies
as presenting phenomena which, subjected to the vivid fancy
and plastic energy of myth-makers, would readily take the form
of a myth resembling that of Prometheus. Indeed the con-
nection of Prometheus with fire or some of its properties is a
feature so distinctly impressed on all the older and more widely
diffused forms of the myth that we must, I think, accept it as
the factor in its original formation. Sabeism or star worship
was, we are aware, a prevailing form of religion among the
Semitic and Indo-Germanic races of prehistoric times. Abun-
dant traces of it exist in the Old Testament as well as in the
early records of most branches of the Aryan race. Now the
first impressions that would naturally be produced on early star-
gazers by a contemplation of the heavens would be : 1. A con-
viction that the stars, like the clouds, etc., were living beings.
2. That they were related to each other as superior and inferior
in a kind of celestial hierarchy, beginning with the sun and
moon and descending to the smallest visible star. 1 When the
imaginations of these early astronomers had become still further
matured, and when the conditions of social life were sufficiently
advanced to suggest the symbolism, nothing could be more
natural than to take the two great luminaries as celestial re-
presentatives of an earthly king and queen; or, in the agricultural
stage of society, of the Patriarch or tribal chief and his wife.
The principal stars, estimating them in the order of size or light-
giving powers, would be the heavenly types of those persons who
on account of kin or for other reasons stood next in order to the
king or chief. This conception of the starry heavens as a kind
of celestial Olympus probably preceded the cognate but sub-
sequent idea of the stars being the spirits or habitations of
mighty heroes or potentates, who were awarded a place among
the constellations for services rendered to the gods. At any
rate the connection of the stars with princes, chiefs, giants, etc.,
is very distinctly marked in the mythologies both of Semitic
J The general order of priority among star-worshippers seems to
have been : 1. The moon. 2. The stars, and especially the planets. 3.
The sun. Compare Schultze's Fetischismus, p. 237.
2O Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
and Aryan races. When this stage of star personification was
once reached, nothing would be easier than the imaginary evolu-
tion of such a myth as that of Prometheus.
Turning however to the more particular sources of that
myth, we find Prometheus in its very earliest stage of formation
connected with the planet Venus. He is the morning star, the
dawn bringer (eo) or the light bearer ($o>cr-<6/3o) the
latter term in a cognate form (6 7rup>6po?) being the common
Hellenic designation of the Titan and his mission. Epimetheus
his twin brother is the same planet seen as the evening star
(their actual identity being not at first recognised). It would
seem that in primitive times when Sabeism was a widely preva-
lent form of cult among the common ancestors both of Semites
and Aryans, the morning and evening stars stood highest among
all stellar phenomena, as those which impressed themselves most
forcibly upon men's attention. 1 Nor is this surprising. Few
celestial appearances are more striking than the majestic rising
of Venus from the earth, or, as the Greeks would mostly witness
it, from the sea, during the pre-solar half of her orbit ; preceding
by an hour or two the great luminary of day, and heralding
the " rosy-fingered " or " crocus-mantled " dawn. This is the
phenomenon described by Homer :
?>> ii j. / >\
fvr r)o(r(popos fieri (pocos fpea>v CTTI yaiav
SvTf p.era KpoKOTTfTrXos vntlp aXa tuBvarat 'Hcor. 2
And the same subject has exercised the imaginations and pencils
of poets from his time to ours. But hardly less striking is the
appearance of Venus soon after sunset in the post-solar half of
her orbit. It was impossible even in the earliest ages to avoid
connecting these phenomena and assimilating the morning and
evening stars as at least correlated and co-equal orbs ; the peculi-
arity of appearance shared by both (the white shimmering light
of Venus serving to differentiate her completely from all the
other planets), their mode of rising, the altitude they attained,
and their close relation to the sun, were common characteristics
1 Schultze, Fetischismus, p. 237. Compare Hesiod, Theogony, p. 381 :
" TOVS Se /xeY' dcrrepd rinrfv '~E(O(r(p6pov 'Hpiyevtia
aovpa re Xa/i7TTo'a)j/ra, Tar' ovpavos eTai ".
Iliad, xxiii., line 226.
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 2 1
that would soon have impressed themselves on early observers. 1
Hence we have them described by the Hellenes as twin and inti-
mate brothers, while in the Scandinavian Edda they figure as the
two eyes of the giant Thiapi which Odin places in the heavens
as stars. 2 But their identity as the same star in different posi-
tions was a discovery made at a very early period. Whewell
indeed says that " he can hardly conceive men noticing the stars
for a year or two without coming to this conclusion ". 3 The dis-
covery is attributed by Apollodoros to Pythagoras, 4 who probably
derived it with other stellar lore from Oriental sources it was
certainly made at a very early date.
But before this discovery, when Phosphoros and Hesperos were
as yet regarded as two stars or stellarised persons for the ani-
mated or personified idea of heavenly bodies must never be left
out of consideration when discussing mythological astronomy
we have the development of that beautiful symbolism which
forms the outline of the myth as it afterwards became popu-
larised in Greece through the works of Hesiod and Aeschylus.
To the early night-watchers who first directed their gaze to
Phosphoros, the most remarkable features in its rising were its
own brilliancy and the consequent suppression of other stars in
the eastern part of the sky, excepting those that were of the first
magnitude. This phenomenon, interpreted by the lively imagi-
nation of Orientals, would not unnaturally assume the form of a
Titanic attempt to take possession of the heavens, i.e., the
celestial vault or expanse which is signified by the word Zeus.
That the attempt was frustrated was seen when the dawn in-
creased and Phosphoros with his giant brethren 6
began to pale their ineffectual fire,
1 Thus Cicero speaks of " Stella Veneris quae Lucifer dicitur cum
antegreditur Solem, cum subsequitur autem Hesperus ". De Nat. Deor.,
lib. ii. Compare also Donne, Of the Progress of the Soul :
" Venus retards her not, to enquire how shee
Can being one star Hesper and Vesper bee ".
Poems, ed. Grosart, vol. i., p. 138.
2 Grimm, D. M., 686. * History of Inductive Sci., i., 109.
4 nepl f S> v , Book ii. But Phavorinus ascribes the discovery to Par-
menides. Most modern astronomers, however, prefer Pythagoras. Com-
pare Whewell, op. cit., p. 109 ; Flammarion, Les Terres du Ciel, p. 175.
5 Compare Job, xxxviii., 7, "When the morning stars sang together
22 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
and were soon entirely extinguished. In the Sanscrit, one name
for Venus, Daitya Guru, is said to mean the Queen of the Titans,
while in the Hebrew mythology Lucifer is a Latinised form of
the name for the chief of the insurrectionary angels. A cognate
and still more remarkable idea is that of the ancient Mexicans,
who held Venus to be superior to the Sun. 1
More significant still was the moral symbolism that in pro-
cess of time came to be attached to Prometheus and Epimetheus
as the impersonations of the morning and evening stars. The
former was the bright harbinger or herald of the day. He is
therefore the emblematical representation of forethought, fore-
sight, anticipation and hope. He symbolises providence, prudence,
insight, and therefore skill, energy and progress. He directs
men's gaze to the future of light and joyousness, and bids them
turn their back on the dark, irretrievable past. On the other
hand Epimetheus, the evening star, possesses with opposite posi-
tion a corresponding symbolical meaning. The sun has departed,
taking with him that light which was the physical and mental
sustenance of the thoughtful Greek. The darkness of night is
approaching. Hesperos recalls the light that has disappeared.
Its outlook is directed, not to the dark vista of the future, but
to the brightness of the past. It is hence the star of after-
thought, of reflection, of memory, of retrospection, and, by a con-
nection of thought easily traceable, of irrresolution, hopelessness
and despair. In short, Prometheus brings light with its attendant
blessings to mortals, and especially for this is the consummation
of his gifts he bestows upon them hope. In his own words :
Bvrjrovs y en-avera fjif) Trpo8fpKcr6ai popov.
rv(p\as fv avrols (\7ri8as Karw/acra. 2
Man's doom from mortal foresight I kept hid,
I caused to dwell within them sightless hopes.
and all the Sons of God shouted for joy;" and Virgil's "Titaniaque
astra," dZneid, vi., 725. The same idea also occurs in Isaiah, xiii., 10,
where the word D^7^D3, the plural of the name rendered in our
version Orion, signifies "gigantes coeli," i.e., majora coeli sidera. See
Gesenius, ad. voc.
1 Compare Schultze, Fetischismus, p. 249.
2 Aeschylus, Prom., 256, 258. The contradiction implied in these
lines, both to the express function of Prometheus as the bestower of
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 23
Epimetheus on the contrary introduces darkness and error, and
while in conjunction with Pandora he is the means of bringing
many ills on mortals, he adds to these ill offices this greatest evil
of all, that he or rather Pandora prevents hope from blessing
humanity.
fjiovvri 8' avTodt 'EATTtr eV dppijKrowt 86fj.oi(riv
evdov fptfj.ve Tridov VTTO ^fiXfcriv, ovde dvpaf
We hence see how Phosphoros and Hesperos became typical
to prehistoric races of foresight and aftersight, of hopefulness and
hopelessness. Nor is this symbolism of morning and evening
phenomena an isolated or uncommon feature of mythology ; for
we find kindred ideas in the myth traditions of most ancient
races. Thus, to take another instance, in German mythology 2
the reason given for the redness of the dawn is that it denotes
its uncertainty as to whether it will accomplish its daily course and
the full evolution of light where the prospective, hopeful nature
of Prometheus emerges very distinctly ; the redness of evening
twilight being accounted for by its standing over hell, i.e., the
abode of darkness, where again the fearful, helpless nature of
Epimetheus seems clearly indicated. With these main outlines
of stellar symbolism so far as regards our subject of Prometheus
kept in view, we cannot have much difficulty in filling them
up. Pandora, the Zeus-given wife of Epimetheus, with her jar
of ills, may perhaps be taken in one sense to represent the night
foresight on humanity and to the blind condition of men prior to his
beneficent agency, has been often remarked ; but it may be doubted
whether it is so great as is supposed. At least it is conceivable that the
foresight he extinguished was the dread anticipation, the animal terror,
of death, which would be a result of a low stage of civilisation ; while
the " sightless hopes " he substituted for these alarms may be taken as
the far outlook into the hidden future, which is frequently an accom-
paniment of high imaginative culture. The idea of immortality'
regarding it only as a product of advanced culture, may be taken as an
illustration of the rv ' '.: {,.:- J
'gebrauchet das Feuer, das Prometheus euch brachte ! Lasset es heller
und schoner glanzen : denn es ist die Flamme der immerfortgehenden
Menschenbildung ' " (Herder, Sdmmt. Werke, vol. xv., p. 151).
1 On the religious significance of fire among the Jews, compare
Ewald, Alterthumer, p. 30, and his Jahrbuch d. Bibl. Wissenschaft, vol. xj.,
p. 39.
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 55
that no offering could be so acceptable to them as that served up
by an element akin to the sun. A further connection of the
sacrificial offerings of the Greeks with the myth of Prometheus is
suggested by their sharing alike the property of forecasting the
future. The haruspex who from an inspection of the victim's
intestines attempted to foretell coming events was exercising a
peculiarly Promethean function. Not that this prophetic func-
tion was confined to the sacrifices ; the flame which consumed
them as well as sacred fire otherwise obtained and employed was
credited with the power of determining the secrets of the
future. This art of pyromancy is one of those branches of
human science which the Prometheus of Aeschylus claims to
have taught mankind :
. . . the fiery signs
Unlearned hitherto I now made clear.
In ancient times this formed one of the most common methods of
divination. The professor of the occult art claimed to discern
in the shape and direction of the flame and smoke clear inti-
mations of the will of heaven. In the expressive words of
Calderon :
La grande Piromancia
Verds, quando en vivo fuego
En los papeles del lumeo
Caracteres de luz leo. 1
Here also might come in the medical and lustratory properties of
sacred fire. We have already noticed that the nud fire was
supposed to possess curative and revivifying powers on all things
submitted to its action, and Greek mythology supplies us with at
least one instance (Triptolemos) of a man who acquires immor-
tality by means of purification by fire. 2
IV. Medical.
It was an inevitable outcome of the story of Prometheus that
it should be held to refer to the art of medicine. The more
ancient form of the myth which regarded him as the creator of
1 " Los Encantos de la Culpa."
2 Welcker, Or. Ootterkhre, vol. i., p. 660, who, however, thinks it might
have been borrowed from Asia.
5 6 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
the human race would of itself suggest a power over human
infirmities, while his more peculiar office as the bestower of
intellectual life and vigour would naturally be held to signify
power over mental diseases. Aeschylus in his enumeration of
the benefits conferred by him on man gives a prominent place to
his instruction in the healing art. He contrasts their anti-
Promethean condition with their subsequent enlightenment :
Chiefest, indeed, when any man fell ill
There was no remedy ; no solid drug,
Nor salve, nor draught, but lacking medicines
Men were reduced to skeletons until
1 show'd them compounds of mild remedies
By which they guard them from all maladies.
In harmony with this conception of the Promethean office is
the use of the term Promethean as an epithet of medicine, and
especially to distinguish the drug by which Medeia rendered men
invulnerable :
Tf\f6pos
Kpavai 7T(npa>Tai. ' pvpiais 5e irrjfjiovms,
bvais T Kafj.(p6dsj 2>f Seo-fia
Tf\vij 8' avdyKTjs d whence see Paley's note.
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 77
theus, they manifest the customary Hellenic dread of irreverence
for the gods. They also declare their preference for the joyous
aspects of existence, rather than for that terribly earnest concep-
tion of it which they cannot help discerning pertained to Pro-
metheus. They are, moreover, doubtful whether the combined
gift of fire and foresight to humanity was worth the direful con-
sequences entailed by it. They place knowledge in its most
mournful collocation with the shortness of human life. Under
the circumstances, they are almost inclined to side with Zeus
against Prometheus. For the time at least, they share the
feeling already set forth by Okeanos its accredited exponent in
the drama of mingled remonstrance for his boldness with com-
passion for his sorrows.
Char. Never may Zeus, who all doth sway,
Against my purpose his might array,
Nor in serving the gods may I be nice
At their sacred feasts, when in sacrifice
The oxen fall at the knife's fell gleam
By Father Okean's unresting stream,
Nor in words may I stray,
But by me alway
May this feeling be cherished,
Nor e'er fade away :
Sweet is long life when with hopes bravely dight,
Up-buoying the soul with mirth ever bright.
But I shudder thee beholding,
Whom countless woes are now enfolding.
For regardless of Zeus,
In self-will, Prometheus,
Thou honourest mortals more than just,
But how bootless thy grace
Acknowledge thou must,
For from whence to man's race
Can real aid find place ?
What advantage, my friend, to beings can accrue,
Whose span of life every day makes new ?
In what impotence weak, dost not see aright ?
(Like forms that delude us in dreams of the night)
Are involved those mortals ungifted of sight.
Ah ! never shall schemes of men though great,
The order harmonious of Zeus violate,
So teaches, Prometheus, thy deadly fate.
Hereupon follows, after a passing allusion to his marriage
in all probability a late addition to the original myth the
78 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
episode of lo. As, however, this has only an indirect bearing
on the main plot of the drama, it may be fittingly passed over
with a few cursory observations.
The connection of the hapless hornet-driven maid with Pro-
metheus is twofold. First, as a common victim she shares with
the Titan in the arbitrary tyranny and cruelty of Zeus. Second,
she is the ancestress of the hero who is fated to be his deliverer.
In the first relation, the narrative of lo undoubtedly adds to the
culpable aspect in which the dramatist presents the conduct of
Zeus to Prometheus. It reveals the supreme ruler of Olympus
not only as the jealous oppressor of intellectual wisdom and
human progress, but as the cruel violator of maiden modesty
and virtue. No doubt there is nothing strange in the latter
presentation. It was the character of Zeus most prevalent in
Hellenic mythology. But it is observable that, as related by
Aeschylus, the story of lo is set forth with a purposeful accentua-
tion of its harsher features, and in a manner calculated to enlist
the sympathies of the hearers. Many commentators have striven
to show that the general design of the poet was not to lessen the
popular feeling of veneration which, however begotten or sus-
tained, the Greeks entertained for Zeus. 1 Such an hypothesis is
far from being confirmed by his mode of treating the story of
lo. Taken by themselves, the sufferings of Prometheus might
have been plausibly attributed to his own self-will, to his resist-
ance against immutable law. There was more than one stand-
point from which the tortures of the Titan might have been
regarded as in part self-inflicted, and the conduct of Zeus as not
1 Compare on this view of the question Professor Blackie's able
paper in the Classical Museum, vol. v., p. 1. On the other hand, Welcker
has clearly shown what is indeed self-evident, both from the Prometheus
and his remaining dramatic works, that Aeschylus does not believe in
the gods of the popular mythology, and has no objection to point out
the degrading and immoral effects of such a belief. Like Prodikos,
Perikles, Sokrates, etc., he uses the customary names of the divinities
of Olympus, but invests them with new and higher significance. Zeus,
for example, is to him a name for the ruling powers of nature.
" Zeus is the earth and air, and Zeus the heavens,
Yea, Zeus is all, and what is over all."
Compare on the poet's theological standpoint in the Prometheus,
Welcker, Aesch. Tril., pp. 110, 111 ; and Griech. Gotterlehre.
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 79
absolutely incapable of exoneration. But the disastrous lot of
lo had no such palliating circumstances. Nor is the supreme
agency of Fate here obstructed as in the legend of Oidipous and
other well-known Hellenic myths. The sole instigator and
mover in the plot is Zeus himself and his lustful volition.
Those who are unwilling to suppose that a certain measure of
disdain for the supreme deity of the popular belief was intended
by the poet as an outcome of his drama might be asked to realise
and that from the Hellenic standpoint the effect which a
chained and tortured Prometheus and a horned and crazy lo
appearing together on the stage would be likely to have on the
audience. Nor, indeed, are we left to our imaginations in the
matter. The poet makes lo reciprocate the joy of Prometheus
at the prospect of the final overthrow of their common oppressor
in such a manner as to disclose the sensibilities of his hearers,
which he would fain awaken ; while a still greater measure of
sympathy with the sufferings of lo is clearly sought to be
aroused by the expressions of horror and repugnance with which
the chorus listens to her story. However much the idea may con-
flict with the religiousness of the Hellenes, or with the reverential
tone of the poet in speaking elsewhere of the deities of Olympus,
it is inconceivable that he should have put such sentiments in the
mouths of his characters if his object had not been to question
and detract from the veneration customarily bestowed upon Zeus.
The second relation of lo to Prometheus as the ancestress of
Herakles is only incidentally dwelt upon in the Prometheus
Vinctus. Probably it occupied a more prominent position in the
third part of the Trilogy " Prometheus Unbound " though, as
Welcker has pointed out, the manner of the Titan's deliverance
and the mode in which Herakles was to contribute to it were
points on which the different parts of the Trilogy were by no
means consistent. Perhaps, indeed, it would not be incorrect to
say that the Titan seems as a rule to lay more stress on his
oppressor's overthrow than on his own deliverance, albeit he cer-
tainly regards the two events as having a close relation to each
other. After the departure of lo, who rushes off with crazy
shrieks calculated still further to excite the sympathies of the
audience and their indignation against her oppressor, Prometheus
addresses the chorus on this point.
8o Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Yet in truth will Zeus, maugre his proud mind,
Be humble such a match he means to make
As from his throne and rule shall hurl him forth
A castaway. Then shall be well fulfilled
His father Chronos' curse, which he invoked
When from his ancient throne he was deposed.
Deliv'rance from these ills, none of the gods
Except myself could clearly show to him ;
These things I know, and how they might be warded,
In his bravado then let him rest on,
Confiding in his aerial noise, and brandishing
The fire-breathing thunder in his hands,
For nought shall these avail to thwart his fall,
Dishonoured, unto things not to be borne.
Such an antagonist is Zeus preparing,
Omen invincible ! against himself.
Who truly flame more potent than the lightning
Shall find out, and louder din than thunder.
Poseidon's spear shall he to pieces break.
Encount'ring with this ill Zeus then shall learn
The difference 'twixt ruler and 'twixt slave.
The chorus here attempts once more to appease the irritated
Titan, but with the usual effect of increasing his indignation and
the vehemence of his objurgation.
Ghor. Thou threat'nest against Zeus what thou desir'st.
Prom. What will befall, besides being what I wish.
Ghor. Must we expect some one will o'erthrow Zeus ?
Prom. Aye, and that he'll suffer greater pains than these.
Chor. How dost not trouble belching forth such words ?
Prom. What should I fear for whom death is undoomed ?
Chor. But Zeus may send thee woe far worse than this.
Prom. Let him then do so. All's foreseen by me.
Ghor. Who worship Adrasteia are the wise.
Prom. Well, worship, kneel, and cringe to him who rules ;
For me, I care for Zeus e'en less than nought,
So let him do, and lord it his brief time
Just as he lists, for long he shall not rule
The deities. But soft ! for I discern
Approaching near the errand boy of Zeus
The servant of the tyrant, newly crowned,
No doubt he's come announcing some new thing.
The ensuing colloquy of Prometheus with Hermes may be
said to form the most dramatic portion of the tragedy. As in
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 8 1
the commencing so in the final act of the drama, Prometheus
comes into direct collision with the messengers of Zeus. There
is, however, a subtle though befitting contrast between his be-
haviour when insulted by Kratos and his conduct when taken to
task by Hermes. The insolence of the former as the representation
of brute irresistible force he does not deign to answer, whereas to
Hermes, who tries to persuade him of his inferiority to Zeus, he
replies with readiness and vigour. The latter encounter serves
also to reveal the indomitable firmness of the Titan's mind, and
the fearless audacity not unmixed with disdain with which he
contemplates Zeus and the deities of Olympus. The interview
forms a fitting prelude to the final scene of the drama wherein
Zeus employs all his power to crush his invincible adversary.
Enter HERMES.
Thee, the subtle one, surcharged with bitterness,
Who sinned'st 'gainst the gods, bestowing gifts
On day-lived beings the fire thief I address.
The sire bids thee unfold what match that is
Thou vauntest, whereby he must fall from power.
And these things, too, no way mysteriously,
But in exactest detail set those forth
Nor cause thou me two journeys. Prometheus,
Thou see'st that by such acts Zeus is not soothed.
Prom. Mouthed loftily at least and full of pride,
Thy speech, as of a messenger of gods
Being young, ye lord it youthfully and think
Ye dwell in palaces impregnable
To sorrow. Yet from these have I not seen
Two kings cast forth ? and I shall see the third,
Who sways it now, deposed with equal shame
And speed. Seem I to thee in aught
Submissive, trembling to the new-made gods ?
Much, nay, altogether, do I lack such awe.
For thee, do thou again pursue the path
That brought thee here, for thou shalt never learn
Ought of the matters that thou seek'st of me.
Herm. By such stiff-neckedness did'st thou of yore
Harbour thy ship in these calamities.
Prom. For thy base thraldom, heed thou it full well,
I would not barter my unhappy lot ;
Since I deem better slav'ry to this rock
Than to be trusted messenger to Zeus.
Thus meet it is reviler to revile.
6
82 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Herm. Thou seem'st to glory in thy present state.
Prom. Glory ? glorying thus I fain would see
Mine enemies, among whom I count thee.
Herm. What, blamest thou me too for thy ill fate ?
Prom. In simple phrase, I detest all the gods ;
As many as by me advantaged
Do thus unjustly, cruelly me requite.
Herm. I hear thee raving with no slight disease.
Prom. Diseased I am, if hate of foes be so.
Herm. Unbearable wert thou if prosperous.
Prom. Alas !
Herm. That plaintive utt'rance knows not Zeus.
Prom. But Time becoming old doth all things teach.
Herm. Thou truly not as yet hast wisdom learnt.
Prom. Else had I not address'd thee, being a slave.
Herm. Nought then thou'lt tell of what the Father seeks ?
Prom. Being so obliged, I would return his kindness.
Herm. Thou floutest me as though I were a boy.
Prom. Art thou not a boy, and yet more foolish,
If thou expectest to learn aught from me ?
There is no outrage nor device by which
Zeus shall compel me to disclose those things,
Before my tort'ring fetters shall be loosed.
Hence let his naming lightning be shot forth
And with the white winged snow and thunder-claps
Beneath the ground commingle, trembling all things,
For none of these shall move me to declare
By whom 'tis doomed to hurl him from his power.
Herm. Bethink thee now if this course seems availing.
Prom. Long since has this been thought of and resolved.
Herm. Dare thou, O foolish one, dare now at length
For these thy present ills to think aright.
Prom. As vainly dost thou urge me with thy pleas
As thou might'st thwart the ocean wave, for ne'er
Occur to thee the thought that, sorely dreading
Zeus's wrath, I shall become effeminate,
And shall beseech him whom I greatly loathe,
With womanish upliftings of my hands,
To loose me from these chains. I'm far from that.
Herm. Though speaking much, I seem to talk in vain,
For nowise touched or softened is thy heart
By prayers. But champing as a new-yoked colt
The bit, thou warr'st and fightest with the reins,
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 83
And yet on reason impotent thy rage is based,
Because self-will in one not rightly minded
Doth of itself avail e'en less than nought.
Mark too, if unpersuaded by my words,
What tempest and a third-wave surge of ills
Shall strike thee, unescapable. For first,
With thunder-bolt and blazing lightning-flash,
The Sire will rive apart this rugged cliff,
And overwhelm thy body,
An angle-ledge of rock buoying up thy frame.
Then after ending a long space of time,
Thou shalt return to light, and a wing'd hound
Of Zeus an eagle thirsting blood, shall tear
Voraciously thy huge and mangled frame.
Upon thee creeping daily, like a guest
Unasked, and on the black food of thy liver
Shall feast its fill. Nor yet do those expect
The term of such a woe until some god
As substitute of these thy pains appear,
Who willingly shall go to sinless Hades
And to th' abysses dark round Tartaros.
Hence take thou heed. No feigned threat is this,
But earnestly avouched ; for lying words
The mouth of Zeus knows not, but every word
Is act. Take heed then and be wise, nor rank
In any case self-will above good counsel.
It deserves here to be remarked that the chorus is for the
moment carried away by the combined influence of the high
station and fervent appeal of the messenger of Zeus, together
with the pathetic spectacle of the Titan's misery. Accordingly,
it joins with Hermes in urging Prometheus to give way, but
with the result of disclosing more forcibly the stern self-de-
pendence of Prometheus and the utter impossibility of any
reconciliation between himself and Zeus that depended on his
own submission.
Chor. To us indeed seems Hermes to advise
Things opportune : for thee he recommends
Thy self-will yielding to pursue wise counsel,
Be persuaded ! To the wise 'tis base to err.
Prom. On me who know hath this slave urged his errand ;
But for a foe to suffer ill by foes
Is nothing base. Hence let the fiery wreath
Of lightning doubly edged be hurl'd on me,
84 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
And vexed be aether by the thunder-claps
And paroxysms of fierce winds.
Earth from her basements let the storm-wind rock,
Aye, from her very roots,
Let th' ocean waves and paths of heavenly stars
In violent surge commingle mutually,
Let Zeus my body cast, with whirling fling,
By Fate's stern eddies into murky Tart'ros
At least he cannot visit me with death.
Herm. Resolves and words like these one may in truth
From maniacs hear. What lacks indeed of madness
His own lot ? How falls it short of raving ?
But ye who sympathise with this man's woe,
Depart ye elsewhere quickly from this spot,
Lest the harsh roaring of the thunder-clap
Should smite your minds with frenzy.
This advice of Hermes to the chorus was probably based on
the counsel of the latter to Prometheus to yield to Zeus. If so,
the messenger of Olympus entirely misconceived the direction
and strength of the sympathies of the chorus. However much
it might regret the Titan's obstinacy, it was by no means pre-
pared to forsake him in the coming struggle with Zeus. Hence
it meets the counsel of Hermes with indignation and disdain.
Chor. Speak and enjoin to me some matter else
In which thou may'st prevail : for now at least
Thou hast obtruded on me this advice
Not to be borne.
What ! dost thou bid me practise villainy 1
With this man will I suffer what's decreed,
For traitors have I learn'd to hold in hate,
Nor is there sin that more excites my loathing.
Herm. Remember then the things that I forewarn,
And do not when in Ate's net caught fast
On fortune throw the blame. Nor ever say
That Zeus in sorrow unforeseen hath cast you.
By no means. Since ye bring it on yourselves,
For knowing and not sudden nor in secret
Will you be taken by your want of sense
In Ate's net, from whence is no escape.
With these words of warning Hermes returns to Olympus to
announce the bootless result of his mission ; and the drama con-
cludes with a vivid description of Zeus's efforts to subdue the
indomitable Titan, or at least to exact vengeance for his refusal
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 85
to disclose his own future. The terrible convulsions that follow
precursors of the severer sufferings foretold by Hermes are
described by Prometheus himself, though they cannot induce any
feeling of fear or regret, or extort any cry except a final appeal
to the sun and mother earth to behold his sufferings.
And sooth to say in deed nor more in word
Upheaves the earth.
The raucous noise of thunder bellows by us,
Forth gleams the ruddy lightning in forked flashes,
Fierce hurricanes in eddies whirl the dust,
Loud blasts of all the winds are darting forth,
Each against each, a war of conflict gusts,
Commingled is the aether with the sea.
Such the attack that clearly comes from Zeus,
And meant to fright me.
O majesty revered of Mother Earth,
O aether that the common light of all
Revolv'st around,
Ye see what wrongs I suffer I
We are now in a position to estimate the final stage of the
Promethean or fire myth. Generally this might be termed
metaphysical, and we might regard it as comprehending the
secondary meanings which in process of time, and by the exer-
cise of metaphor and analogical reasoning, were evolved from
the more primary and obvious uses of fire and light. These may
be fitly considered under the sub-divisions rational, naturalistic,
ethical and social.
I. The first heading introduces us at once to the especial theme
of the Prometheus Vinctus ; in other words, the relation of the
physical elements fire and light to their intellectual and other
analogues the relation of sensuous to mental perception the
analogy subsisting between sun, star and terrestrial fire on the
one hand and human reason, intellectual vision and enlighten-
ment on the other. That this relation should have been not only
discovered but elaborated at so early a stage in the history of
humanity is certainly a very remarkable fact, but it is suffi-
ciently attested by philology no less than by mythology, as our
investigations have sufficiently proved. It is impossible, how-
ever, to determine even approximately the time which such a
stride in the intellectual evolution of humanity must have taken.
86 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Judging by analogous transitions in ascertained history, from
physical facts to their mental and spiritual correlations, it can-
not have been less than many centuries. The fire myth was
already beginning to lose its more markedly physical features
when Aeschylus wrote his Trilogy. No doubt the first division
of the tripartite drama dealt with the discovery of fire at some
considerable length, but the metaphysical and rationalistic stand-
point of the Vinctus justifies us in concluding that it was the
analogical applications of the myth that possessed most attraction
for the philosophical poet. What especially engaged his attention
was not so much the primary qualities of fire as its diversified
developments and uses the transmutation, for example, of the
physical element into the rudiments of civilisation and culture
the progress in human evolution of physical light into intellec-
tual wisdom the transformation of cave-dwellers, ignorant of
speech and number, into rational and thinking beings the
transfiguration of wretched bipeds, doomed by Zeus to destruc-
tion, to co-equality by possession of the self -same gifts with the
divinities of Olympus themselves.
With this as the motif of his drama, Aeschylus naturally in-
sists on the advantages of knowledge regarded as a human
possession. In the description and elaboration of these advan-
tages the parallelism between physical and intellectual fire and
light was soon found to be capable of considerable extension.
The properties of the physical elements were seen to pertain to
their metaphysical analogues. No doubt the first general esti-
mate formed of fire by those who at the earliest period dis-
covered and employed it was unconditionally favourable. Man
was ready to pronounce on his new acquisition the verdict of
the Hebrew Jahve on his creation of light. It was altogether
very good. This also, as above observed, is the general verdict
of the Prometheus Vinctus. Indeed, it constitutes the chief
justification of the theft on the part of the Titan, and is con-
ceded as fully by his enemies as it is claimed by himself. " The
gleam of fire whence spring all arts " is the description given to
it by Kratos, who also terms it " the honours of the gods ".
Prometheus himself seems scarce able to do justice to the many
excellencies of fire, both in its physical and metaphysical impli-
cations. In the former sense it has taught men the rudiments
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 87
of civilisation, in the latter it has instructed them in the opera-
tions of thought and language, while in general terms he de-
scribes it as " the teacher of all arts and source of all invention ". It
was just this unqualified appreciation of fire, with its accompani-
ment of light, as a human possession signified by such a verdict
as " all arts to mortals from Prometheus come " that aroused the
ire of the Olympian deities. As we shall see further on, the
Titan refused to place any limit on the intellectual advance of
mortals other than those inherent in the inevitable circumstances
of the case, though he might and did regard the task of com-
municating knowledge as attended by suffering for those who
were engaged in it.
But beneath this conception of the advantage of knowledge,
which forms the general theme of the Prometheus Vinctus, there
is discernible the still profounder idea of its drawbacks. Here
also the parallel of fire, light, etc., might conceivably have offered
suggestions. With all its manifold services to man, fire is a
dangerous and destructive element. If it warms the dwellings
of men and dresses their food it may also devour both their
houses and themselves. Volcanic eruptions, though lighting up
the firmament with a blaze of splendour, not unfrequently carry
destruction in their train. The bolt of heaven with its momen-
tary illumination as it seems to fall to earth not unfrequently
slays men and demolishes the fruit of their labours. Animal
heat, the mark and test of life, may become excessive and
develop into the burning anguish of some deadly fever. Nor is
light free from the mischiefs of excess. Too much light may
blind the beholder and thereby manifest the same results as
total darkness. The visual organs of terrestrial beings are only
capable of receiving a certain quantity of light, and of exercising
their powers of vision only within a certain limit. Similarly,
knowledge and enlightenment may attain a stage of excess ; at
least they may become dogmatic and intolerant or too self-confi-
dent and presumptuous. In this stage of self-assertion, know-
ledge may array itself not only against tyranny and injustice
but also against the inevitable laws of the universe. In any
case, the enlightenment of finite beings e.g., man must needs
be imperfect. Not only is it bounded by the range of human
faculties, but by the duration of human life. No doubt this is
88 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
not the standpoint of Prometheus himself ; it is rather that of
his enemies, the Olympian deities. Their persistent reproach
against the Titan is that he has given the honours of the immor-
tals to the beings of a day. The chorus itself appears to regard
this objection to the Promethean view as justified. What lasting
profit, they seem to ask, can result from the gift of knowledge
to creatures of an hour ? The objection is one that has often
found utterance in skeptical and pessimistic estimates of know-
ledge not the least outspoken being that contained in the
Hebrew Koheleth (Ecclesiastes). But although Prometheus does
not share the depreciation of knowledge in itself, either for this
or any other reason, he seems occasionally to regard his lot as
significant of the fate which ordinarily befalls the dispenser of
knowledge. Few lines in the Prometheus are more pregnant
with meaning than those in which the Titan repudiates the hope
of the chorus that eventually he shall be free and be equal in
power to Zeus :
Not so are those things ordered by Fate
Who all things consummates. But bowed down
By countless grievous woes I thus escape
My chains ; and art is weaker far than fate.
And a similar obligation of suffering is suggested by Hermes
when he declares that Prometheus cannot be freed until another
god-like substitute can be found willing to undertake his des-
tiny. 1 Now it is a remarkable fact that this conception of the
drawbacks and even positive ills of human knowledge was
widely prevalent at a very early period in the history of human-
ity and was occasionally the theme of mythological fancy. How
far this dual character of knowledge, reason, enlightenment,
which forms the root-thought of the cynical jibe of Mephisto-
pheles
Er nennt's Vernunft und braucht's allein,
Nur thierischer als jedes Thier zu seyn
and similar sarcasms, was suggested by the twofold qualities of
fire and light it is not easy to determine. It seems not impro-
bable that while the analogy between physical and mental light
1 According to Apollodoros, this substitute for Prometheus was
Cheiron, the wisest of the centaurs. See on the point, Welcker,
Epischer Cyclus, ii., p. 415; Griech. Gotterlehre, vol. ii., p. 265.
The Prometheus Vinctits of Aeschylus. 89
was detected at an early period, the mixed qualities of the latter
had even previously been the result of independent observation.
At any rate, we find this dual conception of knowledge in the
older Hellenic, the Semitic and the Scandinavian mythologies.
In the earliest religious thought of Greece no feature is more
marked or more painful than the jealous malignancy with which
the immortals are represented as regarding the progress and
enlightenment of humanity. Thus the great teachers and
benefactors of mankind, whose history is recounted in ancient
mythology such personages, e.g., as Orpheus, Homer, etc. are
represented as blind or suffering from some other calamity which
marks them as victims of the divine Nemesis. The position of
the Prometheus Vinctus is noteworthy in this relation, because
while it connects the dissemination of knowledge with suffering,
it is also a vigorous and immortal protest against the misan-
thropy of the Olympian deities. We may, I think, take it as
the first determined protest in the religious history of Greece
against a dominant and over-bearing theology against a view
of deity which is immoral, arbitrary and utterly destructive of
all human independence of thought and volition. Still more
striking is the conviction of the dual and conflicting attributes of
knowledge which we find in old Semitic records e.g., the narra-
tive of the Fall in Genesis. Here Satan who is identified in
later Hebrew mythology with Azazael, the chief of the rebellious
heaven-watchers is admitted to have rendered the fallen Adam
and Eve like gods by means of their knowledge of good and
evil, though the advance was purchased at the cost of certain
physical penalties. Similarly, the influence of Loki, the Teutonic
god of light, is represented as of a mingled character. To quote
Mr. Thorpe who points out that the same conflicting attributes
pertain to all the chief deities of the old Scandinavian mytho-
logy" Nor is Loki the god of fire alone, but is also the origin
of all evil and the father of lies". 1 I need not point out the
connection of these ideas with the open Dualism or Manichaean-
ism of some Oriental creeds.
II. A new class of implications meets us when we directly
connect the story of Prometheus with natural phenomena. How
1 Comp. Thorpe, North. Myth., vol. i., p. 203 ; and Grimm, D. Af., p. 225.
90 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
legitimate such a connection is need not here be insisted on.
However metaphysical the secondary meanings of the myth, its
primary significations were as we have seen naturalistic. Zeus
himself is the personified firmament ; Prometheus, besides being
earth-born, personified fire, partly celestial, partly terrestrial.
Their conflict is frequently described as a war between the ele-
ments. Now the first thing to be remarked in this Nature
exposition of Prometheus is the dissonance manifested in the
wills of the rival divinities. Zeus desires one thing, Prometheus
another. Zeus wishes to extirpate the human race, Prometheus
to preserve and elevate it. Zeus wishes to share the Titan's
foresight into his destiny the limitation of his powers in this
respect being probably an outcome of his naturalistic origin
Prometheus declines to gratify his desire. That this relation of
conflict and rivalry between the deities might have been sug-
gested by natural phenomena is a truth we have sufficiently
insisted on. To early observers all the great processes of Nature
were largely volitional. The laws that determined them were
regarded as endowed with direct purpose and determination.
Winds and clouds, for example, waged a war for the mastery.
Sunshine and storms brought their rival wills into collision.
Shooting stars and the falling lightning manifested the superiority
of the firmament over inferior beings who attempted its invasion.
This conviction of the discordant volitions of the great powers of
nature was of course confirmed and intensified when social
experience demonstrated how the wills of human beings often
run counter one to the other.
But a more important phase of the Nature interpretation of
Prometheus is found in man's own relation to Nature. It is im-
possible to conceive reasoning beings living any time in the
world without perceiving that their wills, desires, efforts were in
immediate relation often antagonistic to some great power out-
side of them, whose laws and volitions were equally inscrutable
and irreversible. However the action of this power might be
construed, whether as a blind unimpassioned fate or as an
anthropomorphised deity of perpetually changing purpose, such
as Zeus, there could be no question of the power nor of the
inferiority of the man whose lot it was to contend with it.
When this idea became sufficiently matured and generalised,
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. g i
some such relation as that described by Aeschylus in his Prome-
theus as existing between Zeus and the Titan was the result. It
is observable that Zeus employs the harsher and more violent
aspects of Nature to overthrow the Titan, while Prometheus on
the other hand appeals to her gentle and beneficent phases, such
as the sun, the fruitful earth (which he also calls his mother), the
gentle zephyr, the multitudinously smiling ocean. Moreover,
the effect of Prometheus's gift of fire is described as elevating its
possessors above the necessities and restrictions of Nature, and
teaching them to divert her laws and processes from their
normal course to their own special advantage.
No doubt Nature, regarding it as in part personified by the
supreme divinity of Olympus, is exhibited as an overmastering
irresistible power, the sole absolute will to which all others were
in theory compelled to render obedience. Still Nature is not
omnipotent. As a principle of material force, it is liable to be
thwarted by intellectual or spiritual principles. In this respect
Nature occupied in Greek thought the same position as did Fate
or Zeus. One or the other, or even all combined, might array
themselves against the good man, might put forth all their
strength to crush him, but their success in the effort was by no
means certain. Thus we have exemplified in Prometheus the
lesson so often inculcated by all the great dramatists and chief
philosophers of Greece the superiority of mind over matter the
truth that free-will may victoriously contend even with fate
that man may effectively struggle with the forces of Nature, both
by his power of doing, and his capacity for patient suffering.
And this leads us to
III. The ethical significance of the drama. Regarding the
opposition of Prometheus to Zeus as a contest between opposing
volitions, it teaches how virtue, unselfishness, and sympathy might
rise superior to every despotism, whether human or divine. For
we must never leave out of sight that Prometheus had incurred
the ire of Zeus, not by any act of self-seeking or personal advan-
tage, but by conferring favours on poor, despised humanity.
Kratos, as the executor of the Olympian decrees, admits that
one object of his punishment was to make him cease from
his philanthropic mood, though it proved utterly ineffective
for such a purpose, and throughout the story the love of the
92 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Titan for mortals is set forth as a crime committed against
the gods.
We are here confronted with the important fact that the
religious thought of Greece like that of all peoples who possess
a theology occasionally presented a dichotomy between religious
and ethical duty. Their deities were popularly conceived, not
only as out of sympathetic relation with humanity, but as
manifesting an attitude of hostility, disdain, or caprice towards
them. The recollection of this will help us to understand
certain anomalies at least they seem so to us both in the
characters of the divinities themselves, and in the light in which
they were regarded by men. Thus it is clear that the immoral con-
duct ascribed to Zeus, prompted though it often was both by
lust and by unbounded contempt for the rights and virtues of
mankind, did not produce in the average Greek that feeling of
utter loathing which they excite in us, though it is impossible to
suppose that they did not create a feeling of dislike and mistrust
among all right-minded men. Now Prometheus Vinctus must,
in my judgment, be regarded as disclosing a break and a new
point of departure in Hellenic religious tradition. Zeus is here
implicitly arraigned both generally for his want of sympathy with
the race men, and especially for his unchastity in the case of lo, and
judgment is tacitly pronounced against him on each count of the
indictment. Prometheus is thus the embodiment for the time
being of the rights of humanity. Himself the son of Themis, or
Justice, he represents and exemplifies human ethics as distin-
guished from theology. He denotes that advance an indubit-
able mark of progress in every theological system which is
indicated by a fuller and more unconditional recognition of the
claims of men on the justice and sympathy of the gods. It
would be easy to show by a glance at the writings of the other
great dramatists and philosophers of Greece, that this protest of
humanitarianism against the traditional theology was by no
means a unique phenomenon in Hellenic literature.
A further ethical lesson inculcated by Prometheus was the
indomitable self-assertion that was regarded as the peculiar
prerogative of virtue and disinterestedness by the foremost
thinkers of Greece. We must, no doubt, admit that Aeschylus
represents the Titan as sustained in his contest against Zeus by
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 93
some amount of obstinacy. 1 But a more powerful influence in
the same direction was the persuasion that justice, virtue,
unselfishness, and philanthropy were arrayed on his side. In no
part of the drama is this ethical self-assertion more strikingly
manifest than the climax with which it terminates. Indeed,
it would be difficult to match in sublimity and moral grandeur
this magnificent close of the greatest of Greek tragedies. The
heroic Titan, brave in the conviction of the justice and benevo-
lence of his task, hurls defiance at the cruel despotism of
Olympus, and regards Zeus's terrific onslaught with imperturb-
able serenity as " intended to frighten him ". To him justice and
humanity are superior to divine prerogatives, superior even to
the unscrupulous malevolence of Zeus himself. He is, however,
aware that this ethical defiance of Olympian despotism is only
attainable by indomitable self-reliance, and by a readiness to
endure the extremest physical tortures. He may thus be
designated an ideal Hellenic martyr. He is a witness for the
truth which has so often found noble expression in the world's
history that bodily tortures are powerless against spiritual
vigour and a determined will, based on the foundation of con-
scious rectitude and benevolence.
Nor is this majestic endurance of Prometheus impaired by
an impatient expectation of release from his sufferings. Indeed,
with all his foresight it does not seem that he has any clear or
consistent notion of the manner or conditions of his future de-
liverance. At least his anticipation of such deliverance is never
cherished as a palliative of his present torments. He rather
holds that suffering is the normal destiny of those who contend
with powerful oppression the normal fate of the enlighteners
and civilisers of humanity.
It would be interesting to speculate on the sentiments with
which the average Greek audience left the theatre (for the con-
secutive performance of the three portions of the Trilogy may be
considered doubtful) at the close of the Prometheus Vinctus,
when the proscenium veiled from their view the benevolent
1 Welcker has well observed that the insolence (u/3pw) of the Titan
is only a requital in kind of Zeus's conduct towards him. Griech.
Gotterl, vol. ii., p. 257.
94 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Titan " crushed but not subdued " by the terrors of Zeus, and had
listened to his last appeal to the majesty of earth and the aether
suffused with sunlight. On which side their sympathies were
ranged it is needless to ask. Zeus was the supreme divinity of
their ordinary every-day worship. To him they rendered prayers
and offered sacrifices. They maintained his temples and sup-
ported his priests. And yet, by the magic of the dramatist's art,
by his daring appeal to human instincts and feelings, they were
compelled for the time to disown their deity, and to side with
the despiser and mocker of his supremacy. No doubt the arraign-
ment which Aeschylus preferred against him is rather implied
than avowed. There is at least no overt and elaborate incrimi-
nation of all the deities of Olympus, like that put forth by
Xenophanes a century before ; still less do we find that cynical
mockery of the national gods which characterised Euripides.
Aeschylus is content to indicate by the plaints of Prometheus
and the outspoken sympathies of the chorus that the ruler of
Olympus had attained his position by fraud and cruelty that he
represented not justice but power that in the satisfaction of his
arbitrary will he disdained and ill-used the race of mankind
that he enviously denied them such blessings as might haply
approximate their condition to that of the gods. But in all this
Zeus merely acted according to popular Hellenic belief within his
confessed rights. The superior of gods and men had in theory
an acknowledged claim to exercise his supremacy. These were
beliefs professedly admitted by all the Greeks. It was only
when this prorogation of autocracy became forcibly contrasted
with the inherent rights of created beings as represented, for ex-
ample, by Prometheus that this conviction received a shock, and
probably was undermined in the minds of bolder thinkers among
the Hellenes. They saw that before Zeus were of necessity justice,
reason, and goodness, that there were moral attributes no less than
a material inexorable Fate to which in the interests of humanity
and virtue he'was compelled to render allegiance. The conviction
was analogous to a fundamental maxim of Greek politics, viz.,
that no conceivable prerogative on the part of a ruler could an-
nihilate the rights of those he ruled. Indeed, both the political
and ethical convictions were products of the very profound sense
of personal freedom and justice which as a rule is found to charac-
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 95
terise the Hellenic race. Very noteworthy in this connection are
the two allegations, firstly, of Kratos that no one is free except-
ing Zeus, and, secondly, of Prometheus that Zeus kept justice
to himself. Greater grounds of umbrage against the supreme
divinity of Olympus could hardly have been conceived. Much
of the highest speculation of Greece both among its philosophers
and its dramatists may be said to consist of the vindication of
human morality and free-will against the inexorable coercion of
Fate and Zeus. Notwithstanding the seeming omnipotence with
which the forces of Nature, the irrevocable effects of Time, etc., ap-
peared to oppress the manifestation of human ability and energy,
the power of human volition to recalcitrate against these tyrants,
to vindicate its own freedom of self-assertion, was distinctly
seen and acknowledged. Prometheus is thus the symbol of free
volition as opposed to a reckless immoral coercion. He is a
mythical ancestor of a long line of descendent ideas religious,
ethical, and philosophical in which human individuality in its
diverse phases is opposed to external despotism. The antagonism
of mind to matter is only a more general aspect of the same
conflict. Prometheus is the representative of foresight, reason,
thought ; Zeus being the exponent of material force animated by
imperfect intellectuality and foresight. In this particular, Pro-
metheus is also contrasted with his brother Titans. In their war
against the new dynasty of Olympus they refuse to listen to
Prometheus, who recommends cunning as superior to brute force,
and assures them that it is by these mental qualities that the
new divinities must be vanquished. They refuse to listen to him,
and hence their defeat. Thus Prometheus, among his other im-
plications, may be taken to express that stage in human evolu-
tion when intellect, forethought, contrivance, are seen to be more
powerful than material energy in man's strife with Nature or
Fate. Welcker has well pointed out how a similar opposition
of intellectual against material force is symbolised by the rivalry
of Achilleus and Odusseus, 1 and remarks that the idea is a
favourite one in the Homeric poems. We cannot, however, say
that the superiority of intellectual to material force is distinctly
marked in the " Iliad " and " Odyssey," while it forms a root-
thought of the Prometheus myth.
1 Episcker Cyclus, ii., p. 415.
96 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
It would not be difficult to show how the Promethean con-
ception of " eternal and immutable morality" leavened the minds
of the foremost characters in Greece at the highest period of her
history. Her chief thinkers and statesmen seemed to have par-
taken of the npofjujdeiov dpfj,atcov, which the legend declared to
have been generated from the blood of the Titan. They were
often dominated by a sense of duty, of virtue and honour, of
human sympathy and disinterestedness, of enlightened patriotism
which rose far above the level of thought and action which the
common mythology ascribed to the rulers of Olympus. Men
like Parmenides, Demokritos, Aristides, Perikles and Sokrates
derived no small part of their influence from a calm, self-con-
tained, ethical standard, which owed little or nothing to the
current theological teaching of their time ; nay, which sometimes
even came into conflict with it. The Prometheus Vinctus is
only one of a large class of dramas in which human ethics and
duties are vindicated at the expense of the customary deeds of
the gods. The same fact also serves to explain what has puzzled
so many inquirers into Greek thought the forbearance of its
leading exponents with the crude mythology of the popular
belief. Adopting the same process as that employed by other
advanced thinkers when popular creeds are in imperfect har-
mony with reason and science, they instinctively regenerated in
their own minds and invested with ethical significance the root-
conceptions which underlay the divinities of Olympus.
IV. Not the least significant among the secondary meanings
of the Prometheus is what I have termed its social import.
Humanity and its progress constitute its real themes. They are
not indeed obtruded on the recognition of the beholders, for it
is observable that a genuine human being, with the doubtful
exception of lo, nowhere appears during the progress of the
drama. No doubt the other two portions of the Aeschylean
Trilogy contained direct representations of mankind in their
relations both to the Olympian deities and to Prometheus ; but
in the Prometheus Vinctus the dramatic action is confined to
divine and semi -divine personages. Still humanity is the
ultima ratio of the Titan's action, and as a consequence of his
passion as well, as he repeatedly says, the cause of his punish-
ment is his too great friendship for mankind.
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 97
The first consideration hereby suggested is the view indi-
cated by the drama as to the relation of man to the gods, and
the modification of the older beliefs of Greek mythology in this
particular. The primary conception of that relation was that
which is customary in all rudimentary stages of religious specu-
lation viz., it was one of fear, jealousy and antagonism. The
deities were immortal and blessed, men were mortal and un-
happy. That men should seek to escape from their inferior con-
dition signified impious presumption on their part, while any
attempt to communicate divine gifts to men was regarded as
high treason against the gods. Any advance of humanity in
knowledge, prosperity, fertility of resource and contrivance was
held to entail the awakening of what Herodotus termed the
divine jealousy (fyOovepbv TO Oelov], and the extent of this un-
worthy susceptibility on the part of the divinities of Olympus
has been often remarked by classical writers. 1 We find
similar stages in the early religious evolution of other races, e.g.,
the story of the Fall in early Semitic and Chaldaic literature.
Now Prometheus may be defined as an immortal protest against
this disjunction of the divine and the human. Despite the wills
of the gods, he in pure compassion to men imparts to them
celestial honours. He bestows on them the divine fire, which,
like the forbidden fruit in Eden, renders men like the gods.
Thus he appears, among his other meanings, to mark that
advanced stage in intellectual insight when both human and
divine reason are recognised as one single inseparable entity or
attribute ; at least, when the difference between them is dis-
cerned to be merely one of degree, not of kind. How fully this
fruitful idea took possession of Greek speculation is a large topic
into which we need not enter. Suffice it to remark that the
identity of human and divine reason the indissoluble oneness
of truth, goodness and purity, whether heaven-born or earth-
born is a conception which enters largely into all the idealistic
thought of Greece, beginning with the Eleatics and ending with
the Neo-Platonists.
Another human aspect of the Prometheus, related to the pre-
ceding, is the tacit protest it contains against the doctrine of
1 Compare Nagelsbach, Homerische Theologie, 2 1 * Auf., p. 33.
7
98 . Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Nemesis. No reproach of Prometheus is more common than
that he has honoured mortals too much, or " more than just ".
Although the son of Themis, he has transgressed the divine
maxim of moderation which was the Hellenic limit of action and
aspiration, whether for men or gods. It almost seems to be im-
plied that the Titan might have manifested interest in his
human proteges and adopted methods of serving them without
proceeding to the lengths he actually did. Lesser honour than
the supreme one of possessing celestial fire might have satisfied
the requirements of day-lived beings. This was no doubt the
current estimate of the actions of the Titan, and represents the
standpoint whence the ordinary religious Hellene may possibly
have contemplated his punishment with indifference if not with
positive satisfaction. But it is remarkable we find no acknow-
ledgment of such excess on the part of Prometheus himself not
the smallest intimation that his conduct has been unworthy the
son of Themis. 1 It is true he admits that the dissemination of
knowledge may be attended with suffering, and even implies
that their conjunction is inevitable, but he never allows that its
possession by men can be aught but the greatest of blessings.
As we have seen, he delights to dwell upon and magnify the
effects of his gift. He sets forth in a tone of evident self-com-
placency the diverse nature of those effects. He places no limit
to its present use or future potency. He claims for it the proud
and unique position of being the only source of all human arts.
Notwithstanding his own experience, he has no mistrust of its
influence on mankind, and no fear of its becoming excessive.
He manifests, in a word, the unrestrained confidence in enlight-
enment that has characterised so many of the noblest intellects
in the world's history, and which must be accepted as a primary
requisite in all genuine truth search. 2 That there is another side
1 It should be remembered, as helping to explain the evident
sympathy of Aeschylus for his noblest dramatic creation, and for the
imperfect play which Nemesis appears to have in the punishment of
Prometheus, that the poet expresses in a remarkable passage of the
Agamemnon his dissent from the current Greek notions on the subject
of Nemesis. He does not think prosperity, progress, etc., are of them-
selves invariable precursors of calamity (Agam., ed. Paley, lines 727-
755, where see his note).
2 This Promethean vindication of the unlimited enlightenment of
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 99
to this picture we have already admitted. That human know-
ledge and the inevitable conditions of its search may have their
drawbacks is a truth on which the foes of Prometheus strongly
insist. It is also a theme which has employed the pens of the
greatest poets both of ancient and of modern times. Still this is
not the aspect of the question that commends itself to the Titan,
nor is his high estimate of knowledge achievement in the present
affected by the truth that the future can only be an object for
blind hopes.
We have already pointed out that the Prometheus implicitly
asserts the rights of men as against the gods. In some respects
this is the most important feature of the drama. It denotes that
gradual insurrection of the highest Greek intellects against the
dominant mythology which historically began with Xenophanes
and continued with unabated force through all the after-course
of Greek history. Prometheus thus becomes the symbol of indi-
viduality, the embodiment of righteous self-assertion against
oppression, whether by the gods or by human usurpers of unjust
power. We can readily see how this principle of conscious
rectitude and unselfishness which animated the Titan might be
extended to every similar insurrection against unjust power.
The spirit of Prometheus is indeed found in some of the noblest
characters of the Greek drama. We recognise it in Orestes,
Antigone, Electra, Hippolutus, Herakles, etc., waging war with
unjust authority, sometimes of the gods, sometimes of human
traditions and customs, sometimes of express laws and enactments,
and though capable, like all useful principles, of abuse, yet often
proving its utility as a standpoint whence overweening despotisms
of every kind might be assailed or resisted. Nor is this all, for
the individual being part of the community there is a necessary
transference of his standpoint, given identical circumstances to
his fellows. The divine fire of reason conferred by Prometheus
humanity has been pointed out and insisted on by most of the com-
mentators on the drama notably, as is well known, by Goethe in his
version of the myth. Similarly, Herder declares the noblest and pro-
bably the most natural meaning of the drama to be "die Bildung und
Fortbildung des Menschengeschlechtes zu jeder Cultur; das Fortstre-
ben des Gottlichen Geistes im Menschen zu Aufwerkung all seiner
Krafte " (Sammt. Werke, xv., p. 151).
ioo Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
was not on the individual man alone, but on the race. Indeed,
the community of human reason with divine postulated the
similarity of the faculty in all reasoning beings. Hence in
ultimate implication Prometheus, as the fire-giver, is the founder
of all human communities based on rational principles. Indeed
it may even be questioned whether much of the self-assertion
that constitutes the noblest individuality is not based on the tacit
conviction that the individual represents for the time being the
community to which he belongs. He expresses in his single
personality the sense of justice, of goodness, of wisdom, that are
the necessary bonds the sole indestructible bases of all social
order and unity. It is just this common possession of identical
instincts and feelings which explains in the Prometheus Vinctus
the sympathy of the chorus in the civilising enterprises and
consequent sufferings of the Titan.
It would be easy to extend these social implications of the
Prometheus myth. If the Titan represents human individuality
in its struggle with unrighteous power, and implies the common
reason which is the foundation of every community, he also
symbolises the detailed requirements of man as a social being.
In his own enumeration of the blessings he conferred on man, we
cannot help being struck by the fact that all of them are social
advantages. They are not designed to benefit man regarded as a
solitary recluse, but as a member of the race or of any given
community. Thus house-building, language, numbers, rudi-
mentary astronomy, the science of medicine, religious rites, are
especially social arts. Indeed, it might be alleged that the Greek
possessed no other standpoint than social utility from whence to
estimate any art or science. We may hence regard the Pro-
metheus Vinctus as containing an early intimation of the truth,
since often insisted on, that civilisation is indissolubly bound up
with the general progress of social life.
The Prometheus is the first drama in history which may
be termed skeptical, that is, which turns upon the dissidence that
inevitably emerges between a popular creed founded on a super-
natural basis and a critical rationalism which must needs reconcile
its conclusions with the dicta of human experience; which
recounts the conflict between that passive stage in the growth of
humanity when men receive without question the beliefs of their
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 101
forefathers and the active stage which determines to analyse and
discriminate between them ; which assumes as a basis the right
to judge of the laws of nature, the dogmas of theology, the
power of circumstances from a human and individual standpoint ; 1
which, moreover, takes cognisance of human knowledge and
reason not only from the side of their advantages, but also from
that of their drawbacks and limitations. It is the precursor of
the Book of Job in Hebrew literature, of Goethe's "Faust," of
Shakespeare's " Hamlet," of Calderon's " El Magico Prodigioso,"
and of Lord Byron's " Manfred ". I do not mean to say that the
other skeptical dramas do not include phases of knowledge
search and knowledge growth not contained in the Prometheus.
That they should do so was an inevitable result of their being
outcomes of very different circumstances of thought and belief
than those which existed in the time of Aeschylus. Thus while
the Prometheus signifies the antagonism of man and his ad-
vocate against the deities of Olympus, Job represents humanity
vindicating its rights against the Hebrew Jahve. " El Magico
Prodigioso " and " Faust " portray the truth-seeker struggling
with conditions of knowledge and belief into which Christianity
enters as a large, and in Calderon's play, predominant factor.
"Hamlet" denotes the contention between overmuch thought
and obvious human duty. Lord Byron's " Manfred " reproduces
and accentuates the anti-theistic humanitarian standpoints of
Prometheus, Job, and "Faust". But notwithstanding these
1 Welcker tries to make a not very intelligible distinction between
the more anti-theistic implications of the Promethsw of Hesiod
and the directly humanitarian object of the Prometheus
He says: "Das Streben des Menschengeistes, der sich seines eig
Willens bewusst geworden ist, sich selbstandig fiihlt, liber die Schranken
des Endlichen, der Abhangigkeit von einem hohern Willen hinaus,
indem ihm seine Freiheit als eigne Errungenschaft als ein Raul
vorkommt, der Muthhat sich Gott gleich zu stellen, mit Gott zu
sich gegen ihn zu emporen, wie in einem Hiob, Sisyphos, dem Hesi
ischen Prometheus und Faust, ist dem Prometheus des Aeschylu
der letzte Zweck des Drama, sondern vorbildlich wird durch den T
in der Weltregierung ermittelt was im Wesen des Menschen ai
dem Geflihl Gottes, das tiefste ist, freier Wille und Rechtsgefiihl (G
Gotterlehre, ii., 249, 250). But it is difficult to see how human free-
and sense of justice could find their due sway, unless they wer
of being arraigned for justifiable reasons against arbitrary power.
IO2 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
dissimilarities in treatment, arising from varying times and
circumstances, the general theme, the central thought, is the
same. Generally we may define it as an attempt to answer the
question : " What are the true relations between man as a reason-
ing being and the higher powers, traditional authorities, etc., by
which he is surrounded?" Nor is it only in theme that the
Prometheus Vinctus and succeeding skeptical dramas resemble
each other, but also in structure. The dramatic action in each
case consists largely of a gradually unfolded and elaborated
antagonism between the exponent of free thought and his dog-
matising friends, who counsel his submission to " the powers that
be ". Thus the relation between Prometheus on the one side, and
Okeanos and Hermes on the other, is further exemplified in the
opposed conceptions of Job and his three friends, as well as in
the contrast between Faust and Wagner, between Hamlet and
Polonius, between the Pagan Cyprian and the Christian Justina
in Calderon's play. Further resemblances will meet us when we
come to investigate those dramas in subsequent essays. For the
present we may summarise those points and ideas in respect of
which the Prometheus Vinctus has been of classical dramas
by far the most fruitful for all after-time, premising, however,
that the mingled aspects of knowledge, its good and evil sides,
are divided between Prometheus and his partial friends or open
foes. We seem then to have indicated by Aeschylus with more
or less distinctness :
1. That the condition of man in relation to the deities is one
of independent rational recognition, not of coercion nor of help-
less slavery.
2. That man by the gift of reason and foresight has a capacity
for progress in some respects limited, in others unlimited. The
latter seems generally, as already explained, the view of Pro-
metheus, though it is also expressed incidentally by his foes, as
for example in the words of Kratos when he urges Hephaistos to
his bonds, sure
For from th' impossible he'll find a way.
3. That there is no inherent distinction between human and
divine reason, nor between human and divine ethics.
4. That man possesses by means of his reason and conscience
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 103
a sense of individuality which enables him to face every kind of
injustice and external coercion with greater or less equanimity ;
in other words, that mind is essentially superior to matter, voli-
tion to arbitrary power.
5. That knowledge search is allied with suffering as well as
with perpetual effort. The latter truth, as is well known, is the
root- thought of Goethe's " Faust ".
6. That knowledge search should be attended with becoming
modesty and self-distrust. This seems indicated by the cynical
maxim of Okeanos : " It is best for him who is wise not to seem
so," as well as by the remark of the chorus
Who worship Adrasteia are the wise.
This is, however, not the true Promethean standpoint so much as
an adverse comment upon it by its enemies.
7. That knowledge may in some respects consist more in
anticipation than in actual realisation. Besides being implied in
the name Prometheus this seems one meaning of the noteworthy
statement that Prometheus bestowed upon men " blind hopes ".
Passing over the epithet " blind," which adds nothing to the
meaning of hopes, we have here indicated one of the most pecu-
liar features of truth search, which is moreover exemplified in all
the skeptical dramas I mean its relation to the Infinite. This
probably is the reason of Prometheus for ignoring the reproach of
his enemies. If men, he might have argued, were, as they
alleged, " creatures of a day," they were yet gifted with fore-
sight, expectation and hope. They could transcend in imagi-
nation and aspiration the limits of their terrestrial existence
could look forward and grasp by anticipation the boundless vista
of futurity. This is also part of the transcendental signification
of the drama on which idealists both ancient and modern have
not unjustifiably laid stress.
8. That virtue and disinterestedness are superior to every
kind of immoral authority, as well as to mere power of whatever
sort or origin.
9. Another lesson of a somewhat different kind is the impli-
cation of the drama for the intellectual history of humanity.
For the first time in Greek thought we have expressed in a form
equally distinct and picturesque the relation of metaphysical and
IO4 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
spiritual ideas to their physical origin. The Prometheus
Vinctus is a drama based upon a theory of evolution. It re-
presents the growth of mankind from their primary recognition
of physical facts and their own needs in relation to them, to the
highest spiritual and moral truths. By its very structure it
denotes the progress of men in analogical reasoning. It has
therefore a special significance for a period like the present,
when evolution is the accepted mode for all phenomena whether
physical or metaphysical.
Possessing all these varied implications, we are prepared to
understand the marvellous fascination which the Prometheus
myth has exercised on the noblest intellects that have adorned
the history of humanity. It appeals directly to all that is
heroic, magnanimous and disinterested in man's highest nature.
Whenever human giants have been crushed by some over-
mastering and unscrupulous tyranny and have demanded some
principle of resistance to it ; whenever they have striven for
further knowledge and enlightenment and have determined at
whatever risk to attain it ; whenever the great heroes of man-
kind have felt their energies thwarted, their aspirations circum-
scribed by the iron fetters of fate or circumstance ; whenever
ethical qualities, justice, unselfishness, generosity, have approved
themselves superior to mere force and authority, whether (sup-
posedly) divine or human ; whenever leaders of men have had to
contend with neglect, with solitude and friendlessness, with
abuse and persecution, then the image of the suffering Titan and
his indomitable spirit have exercised a most potent sway.
Whatever may have been the nature and extent of that worship
which some writers suppose to have been offered at his shrine in
the Academy at Athens, the character of Prometheus has un-
doubtedly been enshrined in many a human heart, and has
obtained from congenial spirits a full measure of fealty and
reverence. With the single exception of a crucified Jesus, no
example of suffering goodness has taken such profound hold on
the imaginations and affections of humanity. The extent of
this power is instructively shown by its diversified character.
Not only has the Promethean fire kindled the intellects and
quickened the imaginations of all the most eminent thinkers in
the world's history, but it has disseminated its influence in the
The Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus. 105
multiform irradiatory manner in which all great conceptions
exercise their power. The nature and amount of this diversity
may be readily gathered from a list of the more illustrious
among those who have been attracted by the story and have
recognised its profound significance. Thus Prometheus has
exercised a prepotent sway on Hesiod, Aeschylus, Sokrates,
Plato, Lucian, Cicero, Plotinos, some of the later Christian
Fathers, Abelard, Giordano Bruno, Campanella, Bacon, Vico,
Calderon, Jean Paul, Herder, Goethe, Fichte, Heine, Leopardi,
Shelley, Byron and Coleridge. Nor of less import is the varied
modes in which the narrative has been re-constructed and in-
vested with new meanings by these and other variously minded
thinkers. While idealists, such as Plato and Plotinos in ancient
and Coleridge in modern times, have discovered in it the germ
of an abstruse and elaborate system of transcendentalism, 1 cynics
and misanthropists, like Lucian and Leopardi, have in the spirit
of Mephistopheles thrown ridicule on the Promethean gift of
reason to mankind. Shelley interpreted the myth in a mystico-
naturalistic sense, characteristic of his genius, but also significant
of the wide-ranging capacity of the story. Byron seized especi-
ally those features of Prometheus which represent the Titan as
contending with invincible destiny. Hence his " witch-drama "
possesses rather Epimethean than Promethean significance.
Campanella, Bacon, Jean Paul, Herder, Goethe, Fichte, etc.,
agree in laying stress on the Aeschylean notion that Prometheus
enlightens mankind against the volitions of the powers that be ;
while Giordano Bruno, Heine, etc., make the suffering Prome-
theus a symbol of down-trodden humanity in its perennial
struggle with tyranny, whether human or superhuman. Other
writers, of whom Vico may stand as a type, have laid stress on
portions of the Prometheus myth not contained in the drama of
Aeschylus. Such are some of the many renderings which the
Prometheus Vinctus has received a few of the indumenta in
which the mighty Titan has been invested by the intellects and
fancies of minor Prometheuses, most of whom sjiare his indomi-
1 Of these attempts, Coleridge's is at once the most subtle and sug-
gestive, but it suffers from excessive elaboration and refinement (see
his Lectures on Shakspere, vol. ii., p. 208, etc.).
io6 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
table spirit, his passion for enlightenment, his unbounded philan-
thropy.
Nor is there any probability that the influence which the
creation of Aeschylus has enjoyed in the past will grow less in
the future. As long as humanity in its best and noblest
development remains what it is ; as long as mortals have to
struggle with their surroundings and their incompatibility or
imperfection ; as long as human knowledge is recognised as
partial, and its search as entailing disappointment and suffering ;
as long as generosity and self-sacrifice are regarded as essentially
divine ; as long as human free will, animated by noble impulse,
is recognised as more powerful than any arbitrary power, so
long will Prometheus preserve his sway over the thoughts,
feelings and imaginations of mankind.
THE BOOK OF JOB
MOTTOES.
ON N2$n tftyl
hytt rro D^ntr
Words of Zophar, Job, xi., 7, 8.
sn wn ^M n^^'' p siv IQM^
T : T T - : -:! T T :
Words of Job, xxviii., 12-14, 28.
OVKOVV, ILpoiirfoev TOVTO yiyvaxrKfis, art
opyfjs voo'oiia'Tjs flcrlv larpol Xoyo< ;
Prometheus Vinctus, 385-6.
Mais la question que I'auteur se propose est precisement celle que tout penseur
agite sans pouvoir la resoudre ; ses embarras, ses inquietudes, cette fagon de retourner
dans tous lessens le nceud fatal sans en trouver Fissue, renferment bienplus dephiloso-
phie que la scolastique tranchante qui pretend imposer silence aux doutes de la
raison par des reponses d'une apparente clarte.
RENAN, Job, p. Ixvii.
PASSING from the masterpiece of the Greek drama to that
marvellous book which, if any, may claim a like position in
Hebrew literature, our first feeling is that of dissimilarity in
respect of environment. They are products of races differing in
origin, in religion, in political and social life. But amid these
divergencies a closer observation discerns analogies and simi-
larities, neither few nor unimportant, sufficient to warrant the
juxtaposition in which we have here placed them.
For present purposes these might be classed as: 1, Inevitable ;
2, Accidental.
1. Notwithstanding the contrasts necessarily existing between
the great religious and the great cultured races of antiquity, their
varying conceptions as to most matters of human concernment, they
share a few striking points of resemblance. Each has discovered
that there are problems of equal interest and profundity attaching
to man and his place in the universe. Each has attained a stage
of intellectual growth which seems to justify a fearless investi-
gation of such problems. Each determines from a common
conviction of the existence of absolute justice and human right
to oppose traditional methods of solving them; and in that
endeavour each finds reason to arraign its own ruling deity the
Zeus of the Greek Olympus, and the Jahve of later Jewish
theology. We have termed these similarities inevitable, because
they refer to such a relation of man to the universe as must
under any conceivable hypothesis be necessary. Among every
thinking people the theme of man with respect to his cosmical
surroundings must always excite attention and interest. Nor
can we feel much surprise if, the main conditions of the problem
being always alike, there should ensue some mutual resemblance
in its attempted solutions, however different their attendant
circumstances.
2. Not less striking are the accidental similarities between
no Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
the Prometheus and the Book of Job. The first consists in
the association of knowledge with physical light and light-giving
bodies. , No doubt this is fuller and more direct in the Prome-
theus than in Job. In the former it forms the mythical plot of
the drama, in the latter it is more incidental and vague. Still
the Book of Job is itself the product of a time when Sabeism was
a not uncommon form of idolatry. Job himself intimates that
star-worship existed around him, and disclaims all complicity
with such idolatry (chap, xxxi., 26, 27). The stars, especially
those of the morning, are identified with the angels as the sons
of God. The heavenly constellations are regarded, just as in
Greek mythology, as giants and monsters who, having risen in
insurrection against the ruling deity, have been defeated and
chained to their places in the sky. Sometimes these are only
alluded to indirectly, but frequently they are expressly mentioned
by name. Thus we have the crooked serpent (called by the
LXX. the Apostate Dragon) mentioned as being of the number
of those (constellations) with which Jahve has garnished the
heavens. We have also allusions to the dragon Rahab as well as
to the comrades who aided him against Jahve (chap, ix., 13). 1
Ash, the Great Bear (?), is probably another monster subdued by
Jahve, so also is Chesil (Orion), who by some is identified with
Nimrod, the traditional chief of the antediluvian Titans, but
whose name the LXX. translates by Hesperos the evening star.
The twelve signs of the Zodiac are also mentioned, as well as the
constellations Pleiades and Arctourus. Nor less significant is the
fact that the dawn and the dawn stars seem invested in the
Book of Job with peculiar sanctity. The former is often per-
sonified, and its effect described with equal truth and beauty.
Few of the thousands of similes expended on the subject are more
expressive than Job's comparison of the result of the dawn to the
impression of a seal on clay. The dawn is further said to give
a new vesture to the earth, to distribute the east winds, to
vanquish the darkness, and, in a word, to exercise those varied
Literally, " the helpers of Kahab ". The sense of
the passage is explained by the parallel passage, chap, xxvi., 12, as well
as by other places in the Old Testament, where reference is made to
Rahab. Compare Ges. Thes., ad. we., and Ewald, Das Buck Hiob, p. 126.
The Book of Job. 1 1 1
functions which render the earth the fitting sphere of human life
and action. Thus the stars of the twilight are said to look
forward to the dawn, just as they are in the myth of Prometheus. 1
Another Promethean element of Job is found in the character of
the lightning. This is always regarded as Jahve's messenger a
fire of God which descends from heaven, and carries his errands
among men.
To those who have read the preceding essay, it is needless to
point out how all these elements have points of similitude to
different portions of the Prometheus myth. Nor is this all. The
Book of Job contains more than any book of the Old Testament
traces of Jewish belief in a Titanomachy. Satan himself, the
tempter of Job, and in probable origin the compeer of Azazael
and of the Titans before the flood, is still regarded as a member
of Jahve's celestial council, wherein his voice, though dissentient,
continues to possess some power. We find other allusions to
supposed conflicts in some primeval period between Jahve and
certain other potentates, who were then approximately his
equals. We have already spoken of the monsters whom he thus
defeated and chained as starry constellations to the firmament.
Job is himself compared, and by no means without reason, to the
giants that existed before the flood, and is said to share their
Titanic defiance of the deity (xxii., 16, 17). Eliphaz demands :
Wilt thou hold then to the ancient way,
Which the men of sin once trod,
Who were cut down before their time,
Whose foundation was o'erturned by the flood,
Who said unto God : " Depart from us,"
And (asked) what the Almighty could do to them ?
a passage, we may incidentally remark, which fully justifies
the classification of Job with the heaven-storming heroes of
Greek and Hebrew mythology. Indeed, Job himself may be
said to sanction, though unconsciously, this comparison, for in
one passage (chap, xvi., 14) he complains that Jahve has treated
him as an ancient giant, i.e., Titan. Further allusions of the
same kind will meet us when we come to investigate the book.
Another form of Titanomachy found, as we have seen, in the
Prometheus myth is also discovered in Job, viz., the strife and
1 Compare preceding Essay, p. 24.
1 1 2 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
conflict of different meteorological phenomena regarded as per-
sonified beings. The sun and dew, clouds and wind, light and
darkness struggle together with the result that some are victors
and others are vanquished. Occasionally Titanic impulses seem
ascribed to these terrestrial beings. The most expressive and
poetical of these passages is Elihu's description of the mist-giant
(quoted in the preceding essay 1 ) gathering his forces together,
ascending the mountain side and scaling the very heavens, when
he wages fierce battle till he is vanquished by the thunder and
the lightning flash.
Now these evidences of dissension and conflict in the ruling
powers of the universe are described by the Book of Job not
only as belonging to a remote past in Jahve's government of the
world, but as characterising his actual rule. They are not
merely fragments of old myths, they are parts of a creed held
and believed when the Book of Job was written. Just as Zeus
had his opponents in the Olympian council, so has Jahve in his
celestial conclave. In human affairs, Satan is literally and really
his antagonist, though he can only work on some men by the
divine permission.
We are far from wishing to push unduly these analogies
between Prometheus and Job. We shall presently find, when
after examining the book we come to speak of the comparative
ideas and general conclusions of the two dramas, not a few dis-
similarities between them. What seems important to observe on
entering on our subject is that notwithstanding the greater
religious advance of the Hebrews, notwithstanding the diversity
in respect of their culture and civilisation compared with the
Greeks, they share much of their stress on light and light-giving
powers, as also their myths and Titanomachies. We are, there-
fore, although in other respects in a very different region of
thought, still at that stage of general human culture in which
ideas connected with physical light are passing into others
related to its higher analogue, human and rational enlighten-
ment, though in Job we have advanced beyond the particular
point of that stage which we found to mark the Prometheus.
The dramatic character of the Book of Job is generally
1 Ante, p. 16.
The Book of Job. 113
allowed by most Biblical commentators ; certainly it possesses the
most essential constituents of a drama. It has characters and
dialogue. It has a plot and denouement. We might perhaps
summarise the plot as consisting of a conspiracy, a trial and a
verdict, nearly the same original elements, in fact, as are found
in the Trilogy of the Prometheus. There are, besides, special
points of resemblance, as we shall find, between the Book of Job
and the Prometheus Vinctus. They share for the most part the
same motif, the same vigour of invective and defiance of deity,
though their final issue is different, and, as might be expected
between an Oriental and Greek drama, there is little resemblance
between them in respect of dramatic movement and vigorous
forward action.
The opening scene of the Job-drama takes place in heaven.
Jahve is represented as surrounded by his celestial council the
" hosts of heaven," or the " sons of God," as its members are
termed indifferently and with reference in each case to their
stellar origin. In itself the scene is not unlike the Olympian
council described in the Prometheus, in which the Titan dissents
from the rest of the assembled deities on the question of man's
destiny. At least the Hebrew heaven is not freer from dissen-
tient opinions than the Court of Olympus. Among the rest of
the sons of God comes to the celestial conclave Satan, the adver-
sary or " public prosecutor " of humanity. In both the Greek
and the Hebrew heaven, man and his relation to God furnishes
the apple of discord. Prometheus believes that Zeus has treated
mankind too harshly, Satan is of opinion that Jahve treats his
people too well. Job, to whom Jahve calls the accuser's atten-
tion as a man in whom even he can find no fault, is in Satan's
opinion precisely a case in point. Job is righteous, objects the
accuser, for purely selfish reasons. Jahve has enclosed him and
his within a hedge of prosperity, but were Jahve to put forth his
hand and touch his substance, Job would deny him to his face.
Whereupon Jahve allows Satan to do as he will with his pro-
perty, so that he does him no personal harm. Accepting the
challenge, Satan employs all his power to destroy Job's sub-
stance. All his flocks and herds become a prey to casualties of
different kinds, and heaviest blow of all his sons and daugh-
ters perish by the downfall of the house wherein they are
8
ii4 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
assembled. But notwithstanding these misfortunes, each follow-
ing the other with a rapidity which has rendered them pro-
verbial in all after human history, Job does not relinquish his
integrity nor forego his trust in Jahve. In his own words, he
came naked into the world and naked must he leave it.
A second time Satan appears at the celestial council. Again
his attention is directed to Job as a man whose integrity is
invincible to all his machinations. But Satan explains his
defeat by the well-known law of self-preservation " Skin for
skin, all that a man has will he give for his life". Again we have
the same challenge or mutual bargain the predecessor, no doubt,
of all the compacts in the Faust legends, the chief illustration of
which will meet us in the next essay. Satan is allowed to visit
Job with all sorts of calamities, providing only that he spares his
life. He immediately avails himself of this additional permis-
sion by afflicting Job with some loathsome and painful disease
probably some form of elephantiasis but even now he is
doomed to defeat. Job declares, in reply to the taunts of his
wife, that if a man receives good from Jahve he cannot refuse to
receive evil.
Thus far we have the primary elements of a dramatic plot :
a conspiracy is entered upon by the ruling powers of the world
to test the integrity of a certain man. Accordingly he is made
to suffer the most dire misfortunes ; and the whole after-portion
of the drama is devoted to exemplifying his behaviour under the
trial. Satan now disappears from the scene. The action is
left between Job and Jahve together with certain persons
who take on themselves the office of spokesmen for Jahve. Job
has indeed no knowledge that an intermediate agency has been
concerned in his calamities, and even if he had known it, it
would have made but little difference, he is so fully persuaded
of the divine omnipotence that he ascribes all that happens in
the world to his sole volition.
At this stage begins the real action of the drama. Over-
whelmed with misfortune and crushed by disease, Job presents a
terrible exception to the dogma or fixed belief of the Hebrews,
which connected integrity with worldly prosperity. Gradually
he loses somewhat of his patience. His own experience begins to
undermine his creed, so far as that creed consists of the universal
The Book of Job. \ \ 5
consensus of his nation, i.e., for this particular purpose the
Jews. This consensus, however, finds unqualified advocates in
three friends who come to commiserate him. Believing the ordi-
nary creed of the Jews and the inseparable conjunction of sin
with misfortune, they proceed to accuse Job of different and
manifold transgressions. As they are aware that his character
has ever been that of a righteous man, they are compelled to
believe that his sins have been secret, and that he is so far guilty
of hypocrisy. Thus we have the cruel reproaches of his friends
alternating with Job's vehement self-defence forming the greater
part of the dialogue, in the course of which much free thought and,
from the common Jewish standpoint, speculative licence are evoked.
After being thus stricken by Jahve, Job resembles the victim of
Zeus bound down to the desert rocks of Mount Caucasus. He is
represented as sitting in ashes and employing a potsherd to ease
the irritating itch of his elephantiasis, while near him sit, also on
the ground, his three friends too confounded by his inexplicable
misfortunes to utter a word. After some days spent in this
moody silence, Job at last opens his mouth no longer to utter
only pious expressions of resignation but to mingle with them
cries of fierce invective, indignation, and despair.
He begins by cursing the day of his birth ; fain would he
blot it out from the months of the year. He wishes he had
never seen the light, or that the next best fate in the judgment
of the old Greek had befallen him, viz., that being born he
had immediately died. In language of surpassing pathos and
beauty he says :
For now should I have been at rest
I should have slept and been at peace
With the kings and great ones of the earth
Who built for themselves the Pyramids,
Or with princes who possessed much gold
And who filled their houses with silver ;
Or as a hidden abortion, I had not been
As children who have not seen the light.
There the wicked cease from tormenting,
There the weary are at rest,
There the captives enjoy quiet,
They hear not the voice of the oppressor ;
There the great and the small meet together
And the servant is free from his master.
1 1 6 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
jy
The casual desire to solve or rather to annihilate the prob-
lems of existence by wishing it had never been, is common to
all the skeptical dramas. Prometheus wishes Zeus had sentenced
him to the unseen world, where no one could have beheld his
calamities. Job, to whom existence when prosperous seemed
comprehensible and natural enough, sees in it when smitten by
adversity the most painful and insoluble of enigmas. Faust, de-
siring to break down the narrow limits of knowledge by which
he seems closed in on every side, is fain to drink the poisonous
draught which he thinks will give him freedom ; and Hamlet,
when the nature of his surroundings and his own task in relation
to them is forced upon him, wishes he had never been born, and
begins a course of morbid speculation on suicide.
To Job, in common with most Hebrew thinkers, the idea of
happiness is so indissolubly joined with existence that the latter
without the former is an anomaly. He demands :
Why is light given to the suffering,
And life to those who are troubled in heart,
Who^long for death, though it cometh not,
Who seek it more eagerly than treasure,
Who are happy even unto ecstasy
And rejoice when they have found the grave ;
(Why is light given)
To that man whose way is dark,
And whom Jahve hath enclosed on every side ?
In this question we have mooted the real problem of the book.
Job generalises on human existence from his own experience, with
the result of bringing all his former notions of God and man into
doubt. Regarded as the gift of omnipotence a human life
charged with irremediable sorrow seems inexplicable. A greater
antagonism to current Hebrew opinion, which connected suffering
with sin and the divine displeasure, could hardly be conceived.
Indeed, there was only one possible escape from the dilemma.
Job must have transgressed God's commands, although his friends
and neighbours had not known it. This is the argument of his
three consolers throughout the remainder of the drama. Eliphaz
commences the plea in favour of the old Hebrew dogma by
adroitly complimenting Job on his influence in the past, especially
in strengthening the weak and encouraging the wavering. He
asks :
The Book of Job. 117
Is not thy piety, thy trust,
Thy hope the innocence of thy ways ?
But if so, he appeals to his experience.
Consider then, who being innocent came to nought,
And when have the righteous perished ?
Eliphaz relates his own experience.
Nor myself, I have seen that they who plough evil
And sow ungodliness, do reap its harvest.
At the breath of Jahve they disappear,
Before his anger-storm they vanish.
He seeks to confirm this experience by what he regards as a
personal divine revelation. A spirit appears to him in the night,
and questions him.
Shall man be held righteous in God's sight?
Shall mortal be pure before his Maker ?
Jahve trusts not even his own servants,
And in his messengers he finds error.
How much more in dwellers in clay houses,
Whose foundations are laid in dust, etc.
Job may desire to appeal from this omnipotence and fatal
supremacy were there any advocate of humanity among the
angels to whom he might carry his suit. Eliphaz bids him
remember that misfortune is not accidental.
For evil springeth not from the dust,
Nor doth trouble sprout from the ground,
Rather is man born to trouble
As the sparks of fire mount upwards.
He recommends Job to leave his cause in God's hands and to
submit to his chastisement. Indirectly, he accuses him of pride,
self-assertion, and reliance on his own wisdom. He tells him
that God takes the wise in their own craftiness, and the counsel
of cunning men he brings to nought As the source of all
power, the lot of man is dependent on God.
He wounds and heals the wound ;
He strikes and his own hands heal.
In short, Eliphaz reiterates the old Jewish belief in the supremacy
of Jahve and in the righteousness of his dealings, estimated by
the lot of humanity. The real outcome of his argument is that
1 1 8 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Job is justly punished. The complaint he has just uttered seems
to indicate the nature of his sin, for it is charged with self-
consciousness and with murmuring against the retribution he has
doubtless deserved. The consolation thus offered bears a striking
resemblance to that which the daughters of Okeanos proffer to
Prometheus, while hardly less Titanic and defiant is Job's recep-
tion of it.
At the close of Eliphaz' argument, Job again takes up his
complaint. His friend has evidently thought lightly of his
troubles indeed, the misconception of his would-be consolers
as to the true nature of his sufferings adds to their own weight.
He wishes for some method of preventing this injustice.
Would that my bitterness were weighed,
That my sorrows were laid together in balances,
Then would it out-scale the sand of the sea.
For this cause my words are impatient,
For the arrows of the Almighty have pierced me,
Their burning drinks up my life.
He refuses to admit that his complaint is causeless. Had his
prosperity continued he had not murmured, for
Doth the wild ass neigh over his pasture ?
Doth the ox low over his fodder ?
He wishes the Almighty would carry his severity one stage
further, and slay him outright. Were he to do this
Were it his will at once to crush me,
Were he to put forth his hand and cut me off,
Even from hence would spring forth my trust,
On which I lean in all my deepest sorrow,
Ne'er have I transgressed the word of the Holy.
This sublime self-conscious rectitude, this defiance of the
extreme power and possible injustice of Jahve, bears a close
resemblance to the self-assertion of Prometheus, the chief differ-
ence being that Prometheus knows Zeus to be unjust, whereas
Job, in a passionate outburst of defiance, only speculates on the
injustice of Jahve as a contingency. With this momentary
half-consciousness of the divine unrighteousness, Job continues
to point out the inequality in this instance of oppressor and
oppressed. With bitter irony he demands if his strength is
the strength of stones, or whether his body is made of brass
The Book of Job. 119
Deprived of every kind of help, each path of safety seems closed
against him. The afflicted, he thinks, ought to be pitied by his
friends even if he has abandoned the fear of the Almighty. But
his own friends have been as treacherous as a winter torrent
which deceives the Bedouins in the desert. He expected of them
comfort and kindly counsel, but he has received nothing. He
made no great demands on their friendship. He did not ask for
their property ; for deliverance from the hands of Bedouin
robbers. He only desired truthful, unprejudiced words, which
they refuse to give him. They are therefore no better than
those false men who crush orphans and betray friends. Job
wishes them to look him in the face and see for themselves
whether he is lying. Then in possible answer to some move-
ment or gesture on their part, as if they contemplated leaving
him he utters the sarcastic wish that they would carry out
their apparent intention and abandon him to what they have
assumed to be his guilt.
Return then, let not injustice be done,
Go back again, my righteousness is concerned in it ;
Is there iniquity in my tongue?
Cannot my taste discern what is perverse ?
Job next reverts perhaps after a pause to the transitoriness
and misery of human life. He compares himself and his desire
for death to the servant who toiling in the heat of the day longs
for the shadows of evening, or to labourers who eagerly desire
the end of their task. His days and nights seem lengthened by
his anguish and wretchedness. In addition to his mental sor-
rows is his bodily disease, which he describes in these piteous
terms :
My body is covered with worm-breeding ulcers and earthy scurf,
My skin is either a scab or a weeping sore.
His life, more fugitive than a weaver's shuttle, is drawing to a
close without hope. Presently the eye of God and that of his
friends will look for him in vain. But this very thought of the
brevity of life suggests another reason why he should discharge
his load of mental bitterness before the grave closes his mouth
for ever.
Therefore will I not restrain my mouth,
I will speak in the heaviness of my spirit,
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
I2O Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Whereupon he turns to Jahve and in a tone of passionate invec-
tive demands :
Am I a sea or a sea monster
(i.e., one of those insurrectionary monsters that Jahve has sub-
dued, and to which, as we have seen, Job more than once com-
pares himself),
That thou settest a watch over me ?
When I say my bed will comfort me,
My couch will lighten my groaning,
There, too, thou frightest me with dreams,
And terrifiest me with visions,
So that my soul chooseth strangling
And death, as better than these bones ;
I loathe (life), I would not live always.
Away from me ! for my days are but a breath.
What is man that thou esteemest him
And on him directest thy thought,
That thou visitest him every morning,
And each moment spiest him out ?
When at last wilt thou look away from me
And let me be while I swallow my spittle ?
If I have sin'd, what is it to thee, O spy of men ?
Why hast thou made me a reproach unto thee,
So that I am a burden to myself ?
And why forgivest thou not my sins
And overlookest mine iniquity ?
For shortly I shall be in the dust,
Thou wilt seek me, but I shall be no more.
It would be difficult to find in any of the free-thought
dramas language bolder or more full of the indignation of un-
merited human suffering than these fierce utterances of Job.
For the time being his standpoint resembles that of Prometheus
in his defiance of Zeus, nor are the strength and fervency of his
language at all inferior to those of the Titan. We are reminded
of the Goethean Prometheus and his demands in the interest of
human justice.
Ich dich ehren ? Wofiir ?
Hast du die Schmerzen gelindert
le des Beladenen ?
Hast du die Thranen gestillet
le des Geangsteten, etc., etc.
The Book of Job. 121
To Job's passionate feeling Jahve has become the source of
injustice, of arbitrary and ignoble dealing, of extreme harshness
and cruelty. Those very attributes which lay at the root of
Jewish conceptions of Jahve, and which are most insisted on by
his friends in their animadversions, are perverted by Job to
cruel, tyrannical qualities, and to unscrupulous attacks on him-
self. Thus the idea of Providence, of an omniscient, all-
pervading sovereignty over human affairs, is interpreted
as a mean system of malicious espionage. Not only is
Jahve a tyrant, but he is a suspicious and petty tyrant.
Like some inhuman Nero or Dionusius of Syracuse, he is for
ever on the watch for unguarded words or acts in order
to torture and punish their authors. Job wishes this close in-
spection of him would cease for even the brief seconds needed to
swallow his spittle. Nor is this all ; he adopts a perverted view
of the divine omnipotence. For granting that he has sinned
against this spy of humanity, why cannot he, instead of being
so eager to punish, altogether forgive him, especially as he is
shortly doomed in the course of nature to die, when all such
possible benefits will be possible no more ?
On the cessation of this outspoken invective, Bildad, his second
friend, takes up the argument against him.
He compares Job's words to the rude bluster of a strong
wind, but he clearly discerns their import.
Doth then Jahve pervert righteousness ;
Doth the Almighty falsify justice ?
is his indignant demand. He reiterates, however, the old argu-
ment. Had Job's life been just and pure Jahve would doubtless
have continued him in his prosperity. This conclusion is based
upon the traditions of the fathers. These all unite in testifying
that evil men perish as speedily as the papyrus and bulrush
when their moisture becomes dried up. The wicked cannot stand
before the combined power and justice of Jahve.
In reply, Job is quite prepared to acknowledge the omnipo-
tence of Jahve, just as ready as Prometheus is to allow the power
of Zeus, nay more, Job is willing to suggest instances of it in
Nature.
He removeth the mountains without warning ;
He overturneth them in his anger.
122, Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
He maketh the earth bound from its place,
So that its pillars are shaken.
He commandeth the sun that it shine not ;
On the stars he placeth his seal ;
Above he spreadeth the heaven as a tent ;
And walketh on the tops of the waves.
He made the Great Bear, the Giant, the Pleiades,
And the hidden chambers of the South.
He doeth wonders that are unsearchable,
And marvels that cannot be numbered.
But it is precisely this overmastering supremacy of Jahve that
constitutes in part Job's grievance. For who can say unto God
What doest thou ?
God doth not restrain his anger
Unto him bow the helpers of the Dragon.
How then should I reply to him,
How choose out my words against him ?
Were I to call and he answered,
I would not believe that he heard my voice.
He who attacks me with his tempest
Increaseth my wounds without cause.
He will not let me even take breath,
But filleth me with bitterness.
With this oppressive sense of Jahve's greatness, his own merit
or demerit appears to Job an unimportant matter. He has no
power to assert the former or to defend himself from the impu-
tation of the latter. The Divine power seems to him to make no
clear distinction between good and evil. God annihilates equally
the innocent and the guilty.
When a scourge slays unexpectedly
He mocks at the despair of the guiltless.
This, according to Job, is the general character of the government
of the earth.
The earth is given up to the hands of the wicked ;
He veils the faces of their judges,
If not, where and who is he ?
I am afraid of all my troubles
I know thou wilt not hold me guiltless,
I am already (or beforehand) condemned,
Why then need I trouble in vain ?
Were I to bathe myself in snow,
The Book of Job. 123
And purify my hands with soap,
Then wouldst thou plunge me in a ditch,
So that my garments made me defiled.
He is not as I a man to be answered,
And that we should come together in judgment;
There is no arbiter between us
Who may lay hand upon us both.
In view of the general character of Hebrew religionism the
freedom of these utterances is very remarkable. In his extreme
indignation and his overpowering sense of helplessness, Job is
inclined to attach unscrupulousness as a consequence of the
divine attribute of omnipotence. In bitter irony he says in
effect : If God is so all-powerful what use is it for me to pro-
test my innocence ? His omnipotence is equal to the task of
making me guilty whether I am so or not. The idea here is not
that found in other parts of Scripture, that the Divine omni-
science so much exceeds human self-knowledge that God might
possibly find a man guilty even though his conscience pronounced
him .innocent. Job rather contemplates an immoral use of
almighty and irresponsible power. For the time being he is
so cowed and crushed by his consciousness of God's supremacy
and his own utter helplessness that the Divine government pre-
sents itself to him in the light of a tyrannical despotism against
which it is useless to contend. We may note in passing that the
development of this germ-thought may be found in every system
of theological fatalism. Whenever Divine power has been so
exaggerated as to leave no room for human free-will, for indi-
vidual independence, for ethical assertion, the results assumes the
character of Job's complaint.
I am beforehand condemned,
Why then trouble myself in vain ?
Job is so prostrated and benumbed by Jahve's oppression that,
as he says, he cannot utter, as he otherwise might, his complaint
though it is hard to see how he could exercise greater freedom
of speech than he actually does. He is like a cowed child with
the instrument of punishment like a sword of Damokles
hanging over him, and ever ready to fall, so he says :
Let him remove his rod from me,
Let his terrors cease to pursue me,
Then would I address him without fear,
For in myself I am not thus (fearful).
124 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
The abject terror which Job feels has its source in external
circumstances. Jahve has adopted unjust means of compelling
Job to feel his guilt, but as yet without success. As he is tired
of life and reckless as to his fate, he will disclose all the bitterness
of his heart.
Do not condemn me so soon,
Make me know why thou pursuest me ;
Dost thou delight in oppression,
In condemning the work of thy hands,
While thou givest light to the counsel of the evil ?
It would almost seem, remarks Job sarcastically, that Jahve's
attributes are those of men, that he shares their vacillation and
the favour they bestow on the wicked.
Hast thou then eyes of flesh,
Or seest thou as men see ?
Are thy days like the days of men,
Or thy years as those of a mortal,
That thou seekest after my guilt,
And searchest for my sins,
Though knowing well that I am innocent,
And that none can free me from thy hands ?
There appears to Job a violent inconsistency in the fact that
his maker should also be his destroyer. Jahve has exercised his
own volition in his creation. He has moulded him after his own
fashion. His plea is that of St. Paul's objector : " Why doth he
yet find fault, for who hath resisted his will ? "
Thy hands in moulding have fashioned me
Round about ; and wilt thou destroy me ?
Remember now that as clay thou has made me,
And wilt thou again reduce me to dust ?
Hast thou not poured me out as milk,
And coagulated me like a cheese ?
Thou hast clothed me with skin and with flesh,
Thou hast intertwined me with bone and with nerves,
Life and favour hast thou granted me,
Thy care hath preserved my life.
But this Providence which Job thus acknowledges was, in his
opinion, purposely contrived for sinister and treacherous objects.
Jahve has with secret malice been nursing him for the day of
adversity. He has always clandestinely cherished the intention
of blasting his happiness. In other words, Job brings the divine
The Book of Job. 125
foreknowledge to bear directly on his calamities, and interprets
what seems to him to be its action in a grossly anthropomorphic
manner.
And yet this is what thou hid'st in thy heart !
I know that this was thy mind ;
When I sin thou would'st deal harshly
And from my guilt would'st not free me.
Were I unrighteous then woe unto me ;
If just, shall I not lift up my head
Though full of shame and seeing but my disgrace ?
And if I lift it, thou huntest me as a fierce lion,
Thou showest again thy marvels against me,
Thou bringest new witnesses to oppose me,
Thou increasest thy spite upon me,
(Thou bringest) changes of foes against me.
Once more Job refers to the initial injustice of his birth and
existence.
Why took'st thou me out of my mother's womb ?
Else had I died, and no eye had seen me,
So I should have been as though I had not been ;
I should have been carried from the womb to the tomb.
Are not my days nothingness ? Away !
Leave me that I may rejoice a little
Ere I depart whence I cannot return,
To the land of gloom and of horror
The land of darkness and of midnight
Of obscurity and of chaos
Whose brightness is the darkness of night.
Zophar, the third interlocutor, now takes up the ungrateful
task of reasoning with Job. He does so with some increase of
vehemence. He demands whether men are to be silenced by
Job's falsehoods, and put down by his mockery. Job has loudly
protested his own righteousness, but Zophar wishes that Jahve
himself would answer him. The divine wisdom transcends
infinitely all human knowledge. He propounds the perennial
question of God's unsearchableness as unanswerable to-day as
when it was first mooted.
Canst thou reach the depths of God,
Or attain to the height of the Almighty ? l
1 The phrase here rendered " height " (n^7^n"l^ DN) implies
also " to the extremity of perfection ". The words are noteworthy from
126 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
High as heaven, what canst thou do ?
Deeper than hell, what dost thou know ?
Its measure is longer than the earth
And broader than the sea.
But in harmony with his transcendent wisdom is Jahve's
judgment of humanity it is far beyond all human estimate, so
that he has exacted of Job less retribution than he deserved.
Whatever God does, there is no one who dare call him to
account. Not only does he know the sinful, but he discerns
crime where no one suspects it. His discipline is instructive.
So is a vain man readily taught,
And the wild ass is born anew as man. 1
Zophar, like Job's other friends, advocates repentance. Job
must have discovered by this time that he cannot deceive God.
If he consents to put away his wickedness, Zophar promises him
a return of his former prosperity. As may be supposed, Job is
not much consoled by this re-assertion of his guilt. He has now
heard his three friends, and finds their counsel uniformly falla-
cious. They have merely given utterance to the old dogmatic
platitudes, and have not really touched his own actual experi-
ence. The riddle he wants solved remains precisely where it
was, notwithstanding their assumption of superior wisdom who
undertook its solution. Besides, their reasoning is based on
falsehood. Accordingly Job replies to his three comforters in a
strain of bitter irony.
No doubt ye are the people
And wisdom shall die with you,
But I have a head as well as you ;
I am not inferior to yourselves,
Yea, who knows not such things as these ?
He is not only disdainful, he is indignant. He considers that
he has been mocked by his friends. Their advice he treats with
the point of view which regards Job, as a knowledge-drama, as showing
the passionate eagerness of truth search therein spoken of or com-
mended. Nor is this by any means the only place where such a de-
scription of truth search and its true nature is found. Comp., e.g., chap,
xxviii.
1 These words may however have the sense of ridiculing man's
hasty wisdom, especially taken in connection with his native inability
to acquire perfect wisdom.
The Book of Job. 127
the same asperity as Prometheus did the counsel of Okeanos ;
indeed, his rejection of it is couched in the same language. 1 He
remarks that the unfortunate are always an object of contempt
to the prosperous.
" For misfortune contempt " is the rule of the lucky,
It waits upon those whose feet totter.
He carries his bitter humour further, for he alleges that evil-
doers are blessed by God with peace and prosperity.
The wild robbers have peaceful tents,
And they who disquiet the Most High have security,
Who carry their God in their hand.
As to Zophar's exposition of natural theology, that is every-
where acknowledged. The beasts of the field, the birds of
heaven, the earth, the fishes, all testify to the Creator's wisdom
and power. But in Job's own recapitulation of the argument
there still lurks the assumption that the Divine Omnipotence
may prove immoral.
With him is strength and wisdom,
His are the deceived and deceiver ;
Senators he makes captives,
And turns judges into fools.
He looseth the belt of kings,
And fasteneth a girdle on their loins.
He removeth understanding from the chiefs of the earth,
And maketh them lose themselves in a pathless desert.
They grope without light in darkness,
He maketh them reel like a drunkard.
Mine eye hath seen all this,
Mine ear hath understood and caught it,
As much as ye know, I know also,
I am not inferior to you.
In other words, he argues that the divine power is manifested
by inducing confusion and a complete inversion of the normal
order of things. He thereupon vents his anger on friends who
have only stale platitudes to offer. He calls them liars and
useless physicians. He wishes they had manifested their wisdom
by keeping silence. He desires to know whether their unjust
pleas and their falsehoods are proffered for God, and suggests
1 Comp. Prometheus Vinctus, ed. Blomfield, line 271-3.
128 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
that in that case God would not approve their advocacy nor the
respect of persons adopted in favour of himself. Once more he
bids them let him alone to indulge his plaint without contradic-
tion ; Jahve himself may do his worst.
Let me alone that I may speak,
And let happen to me what will.
Whatever befalls, I take my flesh in my teeth,
And put my life in my hand ;
Though he slay me, I care not,
But I will maintain my ways before him.
In this invincible consciousness of rectitude, and, as a result
of this feeling, his indifference to the worst fate that can befall
him, Job, like Prometheus in similar circumstances, finds ground
for self-satisfaction. For the same reason, he is quite prepared
to argue his cause with Jahve, for, as he suggests, no ungodly
man would dare to appear before him. He is the more ready to
discuss the issue because he is persuaded that Jahve, however
secretly and indirectly, is nevertheless ranged on his side.
See now, I have set in order my suit,
I know that I shall be justified.
All that he asks for is that Jahve would so far mitigate his
sufferings as to allow him strength to make his plea. That
granted, he does not care whether Jahve or himself takes the part
of plaintiff and defendant. He complains that his adversary, for
so he ostensibly regards Jahve, has hid his cause from him. He
demands the reason of this.
How many sins and transgressions have I ?
My offences and iniquities make me to know.
For what cause, in other words, has Jahve made Job his
enemy, and such a weak, puny, unworthy foe ?
Wilt thou terrify a wind-blown leaf ?
Wilt thou persecute a dried straw ?
That thou inditest against me bitter things,
And mak'st me to inherit the sins of my youth.
I.e., Jahve must have made his indictment depend on sins com-
mitted at so early an age that Job was unconscious of them. 1
Nor is this all that Job has to allege against Jahve's injustice.
1 Compare Kenan's translation, p. 56.
The Book of Job. 129
He has encased his feet in fetters, and afterwards scrutinises his
steps as if there were no impediment to their free motion, and
this malicious power is directed against a mere infirm, rotten
thing, as a garment half devoured by moths.
This thought again suggests the old theme of the vanity
and uncertainty of human life.
Man born of woman
Is brief in time and full of sorrow ;
Like a flower in bloom is he cut down,
Like a shadow he fleeth and stayeth not.
On such an one dost thou sharpen thy gaze,
And bringest me unto judgment with thee.
Who can bring clean out of unclean ? No one.
When his days are already determined,
And his months are numbered with thee,
Thou hast set him bounds which he cannot pass.
Take thine eyes off that he may rest,
Till he joy like the hireling in the close of his day.
The combined vanity and brevity of life are such that man is
inferior even to trees.
For to a tree there is some hope,
If it be cut down it will resprout,
And its tender shoot will not cease,
Though its root grow old in the earth,
And its stock die away in the ground ;
By the scent of water will it rebud,
And put forth shoots like a plant.
But man dieth and cometh to nought,
Yea, man expireth and where is he ?
As the waters disappear from the sea,
And the stream faileth and drieth up,
So man lieth down and riseth not.
They will not awake while the heavens last
They shall not be raised from their sleep.
Oh that thou would'st hide me in the grave,
That thou would'st cover me till thy wrath be turned,
That thou would'st fix me a term and remember me !
If a man die, shall he live again ?
All the time of my servitude will I hope,
Till my deliverance come.
9
130 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
In which words we have one of those occasional expressions of
trust in the future which alternate as in the parallel case of
Prometheus with the feelings of despair suggested by the
present. In the case of the Greek Titan the feeling is prompted
partly on his own foresight of his future destiny, partly 011 his
invincible persuasion of the final supremacy of justice, while in
that of Job, though the latter consideration is by no means for-
gotten, his chief basis of hope is his personal trust and faith in
Jahve as the righteous judge of the earth. It is this perpetually
recurrent though oft obscured conviction which gives such a
Hebrew and religious colouring to the doubt of Job, and makes
him the perennial type of men who combine with religious
skepticism and extreme freedom of utterance a firm and in-
vincible confidence in God. Job is thus persuaded that Jahve
will yet visit him at some future time.
Thou wilt call and I will answer ;
Thou wilt yearn to the work of thy hands.
But this feeling finds for the time only momentary expression.
The future with its possibilities cannot annihilate the present ;
indeed, Job seems so far to generalise from his own particular
example and his despondent mood that the hope of man seems to
share the destruction which so often attends .the processes of
Nature. Thus the mountain falling by successive landslips dis-
appears. The rock is removed out of its place. Waters wear
away stones. Floods carry off the soil of the river-beds.
So destroyest thou the hope of man ;
Thou assail'st him always and he disappears ;
Thou changest his visage and sendest him hence.
This concentration on one man of God's visitations has of neces-
sity an individual, almost a selfish aspect.
His sons are honoured he knoweth it not ;
They are dishonoured he perceiveth it not ;
Only his own body gives him pain,
His own spirit causeth him anguish.
At this point there is a natural break in the structure of the
book. Job has in his opening speech laid out his cause against
Jahve. His three friends have one by one taken up Jahve's de-
fence, and to each of their pleas Job has replied. In the next
The Book of Job. 131
division of the book, comprising chapters fifteen to twenty-one,
we have a repetition of this, which we might term the simple
ground-plan of the book. Again do his friends take up their
parable against him, and once more are their reproaches followed
in each case by Job's answer and self-defence. Most commenta-
tors have remarked on the forcible contract between the variety
and profundity of Job's utterances and the monotonous char-
acter of his friends' attacks. We almost seem to have fore-
shadowed the depth and versatility which result from a free
standpoint like that of Job's, compared with the sameness which
must necessarily characterise speculation based on and limited by
prescribed belief. While his friends ring the changes on their
old themes of human demerit proved by suffering the power-
lessness of men to contend with Jahve the need of submissive
silence for down-trodden humanity, Job's invective against Jahve
on the one hand and his friends on the other is marked con-
tinually by rapid and novel turns of thought, feeling, and
illustration.
Eliphaz reiterates his former argument as to Job's impiety.
All human tradition is against him as to the invariable connection
of sin with suffering. In forsaking this tradition of the elders
he approves himself a Neologian, a despiser of aged men and
ancient lore. He demands sarcastically :
Art thou the first man that wast born,
Or wast thou made before the hills ?
Hast thou shared God's secret counsel ?
Hast thou drawn to thyself all wisdom ?
What knowest thou and we know it not ?
What understandest thou and it is hid from us ?
With us are the grey-headed, the aged ;
Men richer in years than thy father.
He again asserts his former complaint that Job is speaking
against God, and once more urges that suffering is the exclusive
destiny of the wicked.
Job is more impatient than ever at the reiterated accusations
of his friends. He is tired of hearing the old theme once more
treated from the old point of view. Hence he begins his reply.
Many such things have I heard.
Wretched consolers are ye all.
132 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
He retorts the irony of Eliphaz.
I too could speak as ye do ;
If ye were in my place
I could array words against you,
I could shake my head at you.
He protests, however, that he would not act thus towards his
friends were they placed in his circumstances. Rather would he
endeavour to strengthen them. As the case stands, his friends'
pretended comfort has been to him an additional source of weak-
ness and provocation. This also he attributes to Jahve, who has
set them at him.
They open their mouth to devour me,
They smite me shamefully upon the cheeks,
They gather themselves together against me,
God hath abandoned me to the evil.
He hath thrown me into the hands of the wicked.
And yet there are no iniquities in my hand,
My prayer also is pure.
Quite in the spirit of the Greek Titan, Job appeals to Earth
to testify to the injustice from which he suffers.
Earth, hide not thou my blood,
So that there be no place for my cry for vengeance !
He still hopes that Jahve himself will be his avenger.
Yet even now is my witness in heaven,
And my avenger on the high places.
Though my friends deride me,
Mine eye sheddeth tears to God,
That he would vindicate a man before God,
And a son of man before his neighbour.
The present necessity of some such vindication before he
departs hence suggests to Job another lamentation for the
shortness of life. In words like those of Hamlet he speaks of
the bourne whence no traveller returns. Reverting to his
miscalled friends, he calls them mockers and without under-
standing. He contrasts their conduct with that of the upright and
innocent. They would have been astonished at Job's trouble.
The innocent will stir against the hypocrite,
The righteous will cleave to his way,
And the pure of hands will grow in strength.
The Book of Job. 133
" But as for you," he continues, addressing his friends, " do ye
return, for I cannot find one wise man among you."
Bildad next takes up his plea against Job. He begins by
resenting his disdain of himself and his fellow-comforters. He
asks :
Why are we counted as beasts,
And reckoned impure in thy sight ?
He compares Job to a wild beast caged or netted, which tears
itself in its fury. He puts the taunting question :
Shall the earth be laid waste on thy account ?
Shall the rock be removed out of its place ?
Once more he brings forward the well-worn theme of the
sufferings of the wicked, with, however, a more direct allusion to
the particular fate of Job, e.g.,
He hath neither son nor descendant in his tribe,
Nor any survivor in his house.
More vehement than ever is Job's answer.
How long will ye distress my soul,
And rend me in pieces with your words ?
Ten times already have ye insulted me,
Shamelessly have ye hardened yourselves against me.
Nor is their behaviour justified by their theory of his sin.
And be it so ; grant that I have sinned,
My transgression abideth with me.
If ye certify against me my shame,
And urge against me my reproach,
Know then it is God who hath oppressed me,
And hath compassed me with his net.
I protest against the violence no one answereth.
I make my appeal no one gives me justice.
He hath hedged round my way impassably,
He hath spread darkness about my path.
He hath stripp'd me of my glory,
And removed the crown from my head.
He continues his protest against Jahve, whom he charges with
treating him as an enemy. The Hosts of God are besieging his
tent. His condition seems isolated and forlorn. Brothers,
friends, neighbours, have forsaken him. He has become strange
to those who were his servants, indifferent to his wife, rejected
134 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
by his children. The only thing left him is his life, and
nothing can be more frail than his tenure of that.
My bones cleave to my skin as though (they were) flesh,
I am escaped by the skin of my teeth.
So penetrated is he with his forsaken condition, with the
pressure of his many woes, as well as with the feeling that it is
God himself who is the real agent in his misfortunes, that in a
moment of passionate yearning he is led to implore the sym-
pathy even of those friends who have dealt so hardly with him.
Pity me ! pity me ! O my friends,
For the hand of God hath stricken me.
Why do ye persecute me as God,
And refuse to be satisfied with my flesh ?
Would that my words were written,
That they were printed in a book,
That they were graven with an iron pen and with lead,
That they were sculptured in the rock for ever.
This wish forms the prelude to the strongest asseveration
which the book contains of Job's confidence that justice will
ultimately be done to him, though he may not live to see it.
For I know that my avenger liveth,
And a survivor will rise from the dust ;
And after men have devoured my body
Yet out of my flesh shall I see God,
Whom I shall see for myself.
Mine eyes shall behold him, not those of another,
My veins within me are consumed with desire.
Then will ye say : Why persecute we him ?
For the root of the matter will be found in me ;
Then be ye afraid of the sword,
For fiery are the punishments of the sword,
Whereby he shall know the Almighty.
Job's expectation of a particular goel, or avenger, who should
vindicate his character and his cause, forms a curious parallelism
to the similar anticipation of Prometheus, though with the
characteristic difference that the hope of the latter seems based
on the Hellenic notion of fate regarded as a rectifier of injustice,
while Job's expectation is grounded on the Hebrew notion of a
ruling Providence a personal embodiment of absolute justice
which sooner or later arranges equitably all terrestrial affairs.
The Book of Job. 135
Prometheus is further sustained by the feeling that he is immor-
tal, while Job is also supported by a vague persuasion of some
kind of consciousness after death.
The answer of Zophar pursues the same line of thought as
the pleas of his friends. He once more urges the troubles of
the wicked and the evanescent character of their prosperity-
Indirectly he accuses Job of robbery and cruel oppression. Thus
only can he account for his sudden fall from prosperity into the
depths of adversity.
In the fulness of his plenty shall he suffer want,
Every blow of misfortune shall strike him.
By this time Job has been goaded by his friends to such a
pass that he is tempted to deny any ruling Providence in human
existence. The defect of justice which he sees so forcibly exem-
plified in his own case, he now perceives to mark generally God's
dealings with men. It is evident, Job thinks, that Jahve either
approves the course of the wicked by granting them prosperity,
or that he allows a man's fate to be quite independent of his
merits or demerits. Under either hypothesis, his friends have
been pleading falsely. Job anticipates their surprise, and ex-
presses his own dread at the daring character of the utterances
which his friends' falsehood and his own sufferings extort from
him.
Mark me and be stupefied,
And lay your hand on your mouth ;
When I think of it I tremble,
And my flesh is seized with horror.
How happens it that the wicked live ;
That they grow old and increase in strength ?
Their children continue prospering around them ;
Their offspring under their eyes.
Their houses are free from fear,
And the rod of God resteth not on them.
Their bull gendereth without fail ;
Their cow calveth without abortion.
They send forth their offspring like a flock ;
Their children dance around them.
They play on the timbrel and harp,
And rejoice in the sound of the psaltery.
They pass all their days in mirth ;
136 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
They descend in a moment into their graves,
And they say to God : " Away from us,
We desire not the knowledge of thy ways.
Who is the Almighty that we should serve him ?
And what are we better for praying to him ? "
Is not their happiness in their hand ?
(Such counsel of the wicked be far from me.)
If the next five verses are genuine (xxii., 17-22), they
indicate a sudden transition into the opposite or traditional
mode of thought, and adopt the plea of his friends. The pros-
perity of the wicked is of brief duration, and sooner or later
God punishes them. The book offers other examples of such
rapid transition indeed, it is in harmony with Job's emotional
mobility, his extreme sensibility, and his continual vacillation
between one idea or standpoint and another; but few are so
abrupt and self-contradictory as this. 1 His own standpoint is
again taken up in verse 22.
Can any teach God knowledge,
Seeing he judgeth the mighty ?
This man dieth in the height of his well-being,
Perfectly tranquil and happy :
His milk-troughs are full of milk ;
His bones are well moistened with marrow.
That man dieth in bitterness of soul,
Not having partaken of pleasure.
They lie down together in the dust,
And the worms cover both (alike).
Job proceeds to apply this estimate of Providence to his own
case.
Behold, I know your thoughts,
And the schemes ye devise against me.
Ye say : " Where is the house of the tyrant,
And the tent where the wicked inhabit ?
Have ye not asked of the passers-by ?
And their tokens (opinions) do ye not know
That in the day of trial, the wicked shall be spared
The day when floods of wrath are brought forth ?
Who will declare his way to his face ?
1 Ewald takes the passage as intended to contrast forcibly with Job's
usual sentiment. Kenan interprets it as ironical. It is one of the many
passages which make the Book of Job the most difficult of all the Old
Testament for consistent interpretation.
The Book of Job. 137
And who shall repay him what he hath done ?
Yet shall he be carried to the grave,
And on his monument shall he keep watch
(i.e., like a statue).
Sweet unto him are the clods of the valley ;
While after him all people draw,
And before him are they without number."
How, then, do ye console me in vain,
Seeing that the basis of your answers is falsehood ?
The foregoing passage must be held to express the extreme
depth of Job's skepticism his most daring profession of unbelief
in the old Jewish theory of retribution. So far from being well
affected to the righteous and blessing them with prosperity, it
would seem that Jahve's affections are altogether of a contrary
kind and are concentrated on the wicked, at least that he regards
both good and evil with the supremest indifference.
In his reply Eliphaz seems to concede something to Job's
novel view of deity, for he grants that man's integrity and per-
fection are of no service to God.
Can a man be profitable to God ?
No ! The wise profits but himself.
What matters it to the Almighty that thou art just ?
What doth he gain that thou makest thy way perfect?
Will he punish thee for fear ;
And will he enter with thee into judgment?
His increased irritation against Job is shown by his making
his accusations of impiety more personal and direct. Hitherto
the charges of himself and his fellow-friends have mostly been
general. The assumed proof of Job's guilt has been recognised
as indirect and circumstantial. Job is punished by God, and
therefore must have sinned against him in some way or other.
Now, however, Job's indictment is drawn out explicitly. It is
no longer inferential. What it lacked in directness is supplied
by Job's obstinate profession of his innocence, and his invective
against Jahve. It is only the bold sinner against God who
could thus launch out against his injustice. Accordingly Eliphaz
makes Job's impeachment more definite. It is clear, he says,
that Job's evil is great, and his iniquities numberless. He has, for
example, taken a pledge for nought, has stripped clothes from the
naked. He has not given drink to the thirsty nor bread to the
138 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
hungry. He has allowed the mighty to tyrannise over the earth.
He has sent widows away empty, and the arms of the orphans
were broken.
Therefore hath sorrows surrounded thee,
And thou art troubled by sudden terrors.
In a passage already quoted he accuses Job of wishing to
rival the Titanism of the giants before the flood those types of
impious ambition to the Jews, as the brood of Titans were to the
pious Hellenes.
He ends by exhorting Job to return from his evil ways,
promising that if he does so, he will experience a renewal of his
former prosperity, thus concluding his friendly advice with the
precise plea with which he began it in chap. iy.
From this point onwards (with the exception of a few words
of Bildad, chap, xxv.) the indictment of Job's friends ceases. The
case for the prosecution, so it may be called, is completed, and
Job is left to continue his defence until Jahve himself sums up
the cause, and awards the final verdict.
Disgusted at last with what he considers the complete want
of sympathy with his friends, Job appeals definitively to Jahve,
or, rather, he wishes for those conditions and relations which
would render such an appeal effectual.
Oh that I knew where to find him,
That I might come even to his judgment-seat !
I would arrange my cause before him,
And would fill my mouth with arguments.
I would know what answer he would give me,
And mark what he would say to me.
Would he urge against me his mighty power ?
No ; but he would attend to me.
Then a righteous man might dispute with him,
So I should be delivered for ever from my accuser.
Such a wish is, however, vain. Job cannot find Jahve in the
sense of coming into personal contact with him. He is neither
forward nor backward, neither on the right hand nor on the left.
Nevertheless he knoweth Job's way.
He knoweth the way that is with me :
When he proves me, I shall come forth as gold.
My foot hath always kept his steps ;
The Book of Job. 139
His way have I held without deviation.
I have not strayed from the precepts of his lips ;
More than my portion I have kept his word.
But again the thought occurs, what use is Job's conscious
innocence against the omnipotent and irresponsible might of
Jahve ?
But he is alone ; who can turn him ?
What his soul desireth, that he doth.
Yea, he will fulfil my destiny :
And many such (fates) are with him.
Wherefore I am terrified before his face ;
When I consider, I tremble before him.
Again does Job resume his attack on Jahve on the ground of
unfairness to men. If God foresees all human times and
fates, why should not men who claim to know him have also
some insight into the divine times and ways ? That they have
not that insight, however much they may suppose they possess
it, Job has proved by bitter experience. He again reverts to
that perennial enigma from his own standpoint the prosperity
of the wicked.
Some remove the landmarks ;
They rob men of their flocks and feed them ;
They drive away the ass of the orphans ;
They take in pledge the cow of the widow.
And so he proceeds with a long enumeration of ill-doings, mostly
acts of oppression and violence towards the poor and helpless.
Of these robbers, some work by day, others are enemies of the
light and prowl about by night. No doubt ultimately the
wicked and violent come to an end, but rather by the course of
Nature than by any active agency of Jahve. Job concludes his
speech by demanding turning probably to his friends who
will convict him of falsehood.
His challenge is only partly accepted. Bildad attempts to
reply by a restatement of the oft-employed plea of himself and
his fellow-comforters that Jahve is omnipotent, and that no
mortal dare contend or even reason with him. But Job repels
the solution with scorn. He turns upon Bildad and answers
him from his own reasoning. Be it that man is weak and
erring-r-
140 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
How hast thou holpen the weak,
And sustained the powerless arm ?
How hast thou informed the unwise,
And plentifully manifested thy knowledge ?
To whom hast thou taught words,
And whose breath went forth from thee ?
The omnipotence of Jahve Job again concedes, as he has often
done already. (It is with the common application of that truth
to human affairs that he is dissatisfied.) He alludes to the
victory Jahve has obtained over the giants of yore, who, like the
Titans against Zeus, rose in insurrection against him.
The giants tremble
Beneath the waters and its inhabitants ;
Hell is uncovered before him,
And the abyss is unveiled.
He extendeth the north over the void,
And hangeth the earth over nothingness.
He encloseth waters in the clouds,
And the cloud is not rent under them.
He covereth the face of his throne
While he spreads his cloud before it.
He hath determined a bound for the waters
At the end of the light ; with the darkness
The pillars of heaven tremble
And are alarmed at his threatening.
By his might he maketh the sea quake ;
By his wisdom he slew the dragon.
His breath maketh the heaven pure ;
His hand hath pierced through the flying serpent.
Lo ! these are parts of his works,
But how small a portion is heard of him 1
Who then can understand the thunder of his presence ?
An abrupt but not unusual turn of thought leads Job to con-
sider his own relation to this omnipotence. He is ready to
testify his integrity before Jahve with an oath, although he
knows he has treated him unjustly.
While my breath remaineth in me
And the spirit of God in my nostrils,
My lips shall not speak iniquity,
My tongue shall not utter falsehood.
God forbid that I should justify you,
Till death I will not renounce my integrity ;
The Book of Job. 141
My righteousness I cleave to and will not let it go,
My conscience shall not prick me as long as I live.
(No) let mine enemies be considered guilty
And mine adversaries as the sinner.
Perhaps it is the recollection of his enemies' shortcomings
that prompts the invective which follows. Job is thus led to
speak of the hope of the hypocrite and the uncertainty of the
prosperity of the wicked. Somewhat inconsistently (with refer-
ence to his general tone of thought) he thus turns the tables
against his consolers. They, assuming Job's guilt, have been
hurling against him the divine judgments. Job, on the other
hand, inferring their iniquity from their falsehood, threatens
them with the same fate.
We have now seen enough of Job's character to be able to
form a not unfair estimate of it. He is not only a deeply
religious, but he is an intellectual and truthful man. He is a
born natural philosopher, who has explored for himself every
available department of human knowledge. He brings his
reasoning faculties to bear without fear or reserve upon the
operations of Providence in the world. Although no longer a
firm believer in the old Jewish doctrines of special providence
and divine retribution which he regards as falsified by his own
experience he still retains his faith in Jahve as the creator and
governor of the universe. His change of doctrinal position, like
the development of Judaism as a whole, has imparted a wider
view of the divine dealings. Man and his interests have become
less in a conspectus of the divine rule which embraces the whole
creation. But these questions of theology are not the sole
objects of Job's attention and his inquiring research. He has also
investigated the other and more secular departments of human
knowledge, as it existed in his time. He has paid attention, for
example, to mining a branch of human science then especially
in advance. He has studied methods of warfare and husbandry
the arts of war and peace. He has investigated the habits
and faculties of wild beasts, the manners and customs of various
races of men. He speaks of great buildings and statues. He
expresses all that was then known of astronomy, earthquakes,
eclipses, floods, landslips, etc. In a word, Job is a genuine
truth-seeker a man who has bent all his powers to the investi-
142 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
gation of knowledge, whether human or divine. This capacity
for research is proved by many of his utterances already quoted.
But the passage which especially exemplifies this tendency and
reveals Job as a genuine wisdom- or truth-seeker is the twenty-
eighth chapter, which we may moreover take as the last word not
only of Hebrew skepticism but of all wise human inquiry what-
soever.
Surely there is a mine for the silver,
And a place for gold where they smelt it ;
Iron is taken from the dust,
And brass molten from stone.
Man has put a limit to darkness,
He searcheth out all profundity
The stones hidden in the shades of death.
He bridges the shaft, far from human dwellings ;
There hang suspended the forsaken of their feet,
Far from the haunts of men.
The earth whence cometh forth bread
Is inside disturbed as if by fire ;
The stones of it are the place of sapphires
There is found dust of gold.
No bird knoweth the path thereto ;
The vulture's eye hath never perceived it.
The fierce beasts have not trodden it ;
The lion hath left no tracks on it.
Man putteth forth his hands to the flint
He overturneth the mountains by the roots ;
He cutteth out rivers among the rocks,
And his eye beholdeth every treasure.
But wisdom where shall that be found ?
Where is the place of understanding ?
No man knoweth its worth,
Nor is it to be found in the land of the living.
The depth saith It is not in me ;
And the sea saith It is not in me.
It cannot be bought for gold,
Nor shall silver be weighed for its price ;
It cannot be weighed against the gold of Ophir,
Or with the precious onyx, or the sapphire ;
Gold and crystal cannot equal it ;
It cannot be exchanged for vessels of fine gold.
Crystals shall not be named with it, nor coral ;
For the price of wisdom excels rubies.
The topaz of Gush comes not near it ;
The Book of Job. 143
Neither shall it be valued for pure gold.
Whence then cometh wisdom ?
And where is the abode of understanding?
It is hid from the eyes of all living,
And veiled from the fowls of the air.
Destruction and death say :
We have only heard its fame with our ears ;
God understandeth the way thereto,
And he knoweth the abode thereof ;
For he looketh to the ends of the earth
And seeth under the whole heaven,
To mete the winds in his balance.
And he weigheth the waters by measure,
When he gave a law to the rain,
And a path for the thunder-flash,
Then did he see and declare it ;
He prepared and searched it out.
And unto man he said :
The Fear of the Lord is wisdom,
And to flee evil is understanding.
Among other characteristics of this compendium of Hebrew
philosophy, we may remark that Job lays especial stress on those
aspects of human knowledge and enterprise which exhibit the
greatest boldness precisely those physical qualities which were
nearest akin to his own mental fearlessness. In mining was dis-
played not only man's power and intelligence but also his
dominion over nature. Here, therefore, if anywhere, might be
expected the discovery of the highest wisdom, of supreme abso-
lute truth. But, alas ! this is not to be found, neither in man nor
in any other domain of nature. Its abode must therefore be
with God, who gave a law to the rain and a path to the light-
ning. Is man therefore altogether without truth and wisdom ?
Job answers : No ! man has practical wisdom still left. The fear
of the Lord is wisdom, and to avoid evil is understanding. Few
commentators have observed this distinction between speculative
and practical truth occurring at such an early stage of human
thought, and the express denial of the former to mankind. Not-
withstanding all the progress which human speculation has made
since the days when this Bedouin chieftain meditated on nature,
humanity and God, this fact remains now as true as it was then.
In other words, man cannot, from the very nature of things,
attain omniscience, and must therefore be satisfied with that
144 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
sphere or law of practice which is given him in ethical duty, and
which is indubitable and imperative under any and every con-
ceivable theory of speculative truth. 1 Nor is this all that may
be alleged for the high philosophic and religious standpoint of
Job in this chapter ; for he makes human duty here absolute,
and not determined, as in his general utterances, by the favour of
God manifested, more Hebraico, by the temporal well-being of
a man.
This twenty-eighth chapter, which is really a poem in itself,
may be called Job's mount of transfiguration. It is his highest alti-
tude of philosophical religion. He relapses into his more usual
mood in the next chapter. Here he recalls his days of past pros-
perity, and maintains that, notwithstanding the falsehoods of his
friends, it was founded upon virtue. He describes the time in
language of equal pathos and beauty.
When I was still in my summer days,
When the counsel of God rested on my tent,
When the Almighty was still with me,
And my children about me.
In that palmy period, when Job was reverenced by the poor
and respected by the great, the secret of his high position was
this :
Because I delivered the poor in his crying,
The orphan who had none to help him,
I was blest by him who was ready to perish,
And I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy.
I put on righteousness as a vestment,
My judgment was a robe and crown.
I was eyes to the blind,
And feet to the lame, etc.
It was for this reason and his confidence in his rectitude and in-
nocency that Job expected a long continuation of his prosperity.
And I said I shall die in my nest, 2
And shall reckon my days as the sand.
1 Ewald's comment on this chapter, and especially on its conclusion,
is well worth reading. He sums it up thus : " Ungemein grosse Gedanken
in den wenigsten Worten hingeworfen; eine Glanzstelle des ganzen
Buches, und der wttrdigste Schluss dieses Haupttheiles sowie des
ganzen menschlichen Streites " (Hiob, p. 259).
2 I.e., like the fabled Phoenix. Compare Ewald, p. 271.
The Book of Job. 145
With this retrospect he contrasts his present misery. Instead of
being respected by princes, he is now derided by men whose
fathers he would not in former days have put on an equality
with his sheep-dogs. These bushmen he describes as little better
than savages, feeding on roots, and living in caves. To abjects
of this sort Job has become an object of derision and insult. It
does not seem quite certain whether his friends, or, rather, their
ancestors, are included among these outcasts. If they are, Job's
invective against them is much harsher than it is elsewhere.
But here also the true object of his indictment is Jahve himself,
who has delivered Job into their hands.
Thou art become cruel to me,
With thy strong hand thou settest thyself against me.
Job finally sums up his long plea in a reiteration of his innocence
(chap, xxxi.) of the calumnies adduced by his friends. He wishes
God would weigh him in an even balance that he might know
his integrity. Moreover, he invokes all kinds of maledictions on
himself if he has ever been guilty of unchastity, oppression,
lying, fraud, or avarice. Among the rest, he frees himself from
the charge of astrolatry.
If when I saw the sun in its splendour,
And the moon marching in brightness,
And my heart hath been secretly seduced,
Or my hand hath kissed my mouth,
This were a crime to be judged,
I should have denied God on high.
He concludes his whole pleading.
that I had one to hear me 1
Behold this is my case Let the Almighty answer !
that I had my adversaries' writing (indictment) !
Surely I would take it on my shoulder,
1 would bind it to me as a crown.
Never, we might safely add, did a defendant go into court with
cleaner hands or a more guiltless conscience than the much-
enduring man of Uz.
With the thirty-first chapter ends Job's argument. The counter-
pleas of his friends are also exhausted, and Job appeals to the
Almighty for his verdict. This is begun in the twenty-eighth
chapter (for the speech of Elihu, though quite in harmony with
10
146 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
the tone of the book, and possessing many interesting features and
much poetic beauty of its own, is, without doubt, a later inter-
polation) and continued to the forty-first. We must regard this
sublime exposition of what, in Job's time, were regarded as the
greatest wonders of the universe, as the real denouement of the
drama. It is the conclusion of which the pleas of Job and his
friends respectively must be taken as the two premisses the
solution of the problem indicated by Job's combined innocence
and adversity. How far it is altogether satisfactory we shall see
further on.
Then did Jahve answer Job, speaking out of the whirlwind,
and said :
Who is he that darkeneth counsel
By words without knowledge ?
Gird up thy loins like a man,
I will question and thou shalt answer me.
Where wert thou when I laid the foundations of the world ]
Tell me, if thou hast the wisdom,
Who hath set forth its dimensions, doubtless thou knowest ;
Or who hath drawn over it the measuring line ?
On what are its foundations sunken ;
Or who hath laid its corner-stone ?
When the morning stars sang together,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy.
Thereupon follows a series of sarcastic questions, founded
upon the divine operations concerned in the work of creation,
Jahve demands who it was that shut up the sea with doors when
it came forth as if from the womb. Has Job commanded the
morning and the dawn that it might seize the earth and disperse
the wicked with its light ? At its appearing, the aspect of the
world changes as clay when impressed with a seal. It is newly
enrobed as though by a garment. Evil-doers see their own light
(darkness) extinguished, and the arm (of the night-marauder)
lifted in pride is broken. Has Job penetrated to the sources of
the sea, or walked on the floor of the great deep ? Have the
portals of death been revealed to him, or has he seen the gates of
the nether darkness ? Has he comprehended the breadth of the
earth, etc. ?
With these questions are interspersed ironical appeals, " Tell,
since thou knowest it all," as if Job's inculpation of Jahve's
The Book of Job. 147
dealings with himself must have proceeded from an intimate
knowledge of all his general operations, and thereby from an
assumed omniscience. Jahve continues :
Where is the way wherein light dwelleth,
And darkness where is its abode ?
That thou should'st pursue it to the bound thereof,
And should'st know the paths to the house thereof.
Thou knowest it, no doubt, because thou wast already born,
The number of thy days is great.
Hast thou entered the treasure-house of the snow ?
Hast thou beheld the arsenals of the hail
Which I have stored up for the time of trouble,
For the day of battle and war ?
By what way is the light parted
Which disperseth the east-wind over the earth ?
Who hath divided a channel for the overflow of waters,
Or a path for the lightning of the thunder ;
To cause it to rain on unhabited ground,
On the wilderness, whereon no man dwelleth,
To satisfy the desolate and the waste,
To cause to spring the bud of the green herb ?
Hath the rain a father ?
Who hath begotten the drops of dew 1
Out of whose womb came the ice 1
And heaven's hoar-frost, who hath produced it ?
The waters are hardened as a stone,
And frozen is the face of the deep.
Didst thou bind the ties of the Pleiads,
Or canst thou loose the chains of the giant ?
Canst thou bring forth the twelve signs in their season,
Or lead the Great Bear with his sons 'I
Knowest thou the laws of heaven ?
Canst thou order their dominion on earth ?
Canst thou lift to the clouds thy voice,
That floods of water may cover thee ]
Canst thou send lightnings, that they go ?
Do they say to thee, " Here we are " ?
Who hath put wisdom within man,
Or hath given understanding to the heart ?
Who can reckon the clouds with wisdom,
Or can incline the water-jars of heaven,
When the dust is turned to mire
And the clods cleave together ?
Leaving now the greater and more general phenomena of
148 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
nature, Jahve turns to the brute creation and shows that Job
(i.e., man) is equally powerless to control or guide them.
Wilt thou hunt its prey for the lion,
Or satisfy the hunger of the young lions
When they hide in their dens,
Or abide in ambuscade in the cover 1
Who prepares for the raven its food
When its young cry unto God,
And wander without meat 1
Knowest thou the time when the chamois bring forth,
Or canst thou mark when the hinds calve ?
Canst thou reckon the months they fulfil,
Or knowest thou the time when they bear 1
Bowing themselves, they bring forth their young,
They free themselves from their woes ;
Their young are strong, growing up in the field,
They go forth and return not to them.
Who hath given the wild ass its freedom ?
Who hath loosed the bonds of the wild ass ?
For which I have made the wilderness a house,
And the barren land his dwellings.
He disdaineth the noise of towns,
He hears not the shouts of the driver.
He seeks through the mountains his pasture,
And searcheth after every green thing.
Will the buffalo be willing to serve thee ?
Will he pass the night for thee in a stall ?
Canst thou bind him with a cord to the furrow,
Or will he harrow the valleys after thee ?
Dost thou trust him for his strength is great,
Or wilt thou leave him the care of thy works ?
Reckonest thou on him to bring home thy seed,
Or to gather it into thy barn ?
The wing of the ostrich beats joyously
Is it therefore the wing and feathers of the pious (stork) 1
That she leaveth her eggs in the earth,
And lets them warm in the dust,
And forgetteth that the foot may crush them,
Or that the wild beast may break them.
Hard as a stranger to her offspring,
In vain is her labour without fear,
Because God hath deprived her of wisdom,
Nor hath he imparted to her understanding.
When once she lifteth herself on high,
She mocketh at the horse and his rider.
The Book of Job. 149
Gavest thou the horse his strength ?
Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder 1
Canst thou make him bound as the grasshopper ?
The glory of his nostrils is terrible.
He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength ;
He rusheth against the armed force ;
He laugheth at every fear and trembleth not ;
He turneth not back from the sword,
Upon him rattle the arrows,
The flaming spear and the lance ;
He trembles, he neighs, he devours the ground.
He cannot keep still when the trumpet soundeth ;
At the sound of the trumpet he saith : " Ha ! Ha ! "
And he scenteth the battle from far,
The thunder of the chiefs and the battle-cry.
Doth the hawk fly by thy wisdom,
And spread its wings to the south 1
Doth the eagle mount at thy word,
And build her nest on high?
She dwells in the rock, and makes her nest
In the teeth of the rock and the strong place,
From thence she espyeth her prey,
Her eyes behold it afar off ;
Her young gorge themselves with blood,
And wherever the dead are, there is she.
Thus did Jahve answer Job and said :
Shall he that striveth with the Almighty teach ?
He that reproveth God, let him answer it.
To this direct appeal Job replies by acknowledging his
general unworthiness, as well as his inability to contend in
argument with Jahve.
Behold, I am nought ; what shall I answer ?
My hand will I place on my mouth.
Once have I spoken I will not reply ;
Yea, twice but will not add a word more.
Jahve then proceeds with his self-defence, speaking out of the
whirlwind :
Up ! gird up thy loins like a man !
I will question, do thou give answer.
Wilt thou then despise my justice ?
Wilt thou, to clear thyself, condemn me ?
Hast thou an arm like that of God ?
150 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Canst thou thunder with a voice like his ?
Adorn thyself with majesty and glory ;
Clothe thyself with grandeur and magnificence ;
Give free course to the heat of thy wrath ;
Humiliate the proud with a glance,
Look on the proud and abase him ;
Trample down the wicked in their place,
Bury them together in the dust,
Cover their faces in darkness ;
Then will I in turn command thee,
That thine own right hand can save thee.
Behold now behemoth, which I have made as well as thee,
He eateth grass like an ox ;
His strength is in his thighs ;
His power in the tendons of his body.
He moveth his tail like a cedar ;
The nerves of his thighs are fast-bound together ;
His bones are tubes of iron,
His members are bars of iron.
He is the chief among God's works ;
His Creator hath bestowed on him his sword.
The mountains bear for him his pasture,
There play all the beasts of the field ;
He couches under the lotus leaves,
In the coverts of the rush and the fens ;
The lotus covereth him with their shade,
The willows of the river surround him.
If the flood rises he trembles not
He is fearless though Jordan mount up to his throat.
Would any one seize him before his face ;
Or trap him with nets, and bore his nose ?
Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook ;
Or canst thou seize his tongue with a line ?
Canst thou put a hook through his nose ;
Or bore through his jaws with a lance ?
Will he make many prayers to thee ;
Or will he speak softly to thee 1
Will he make a bargain with thee 1
Wilt thou make him for ever thy slave ?
Wilt thou play with him as with a small bird 1
Wilt thou tie him up to amuse thy maidens ?
Will the companions make a market of him?
Will they divide him among the Canaanites ?
Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons ;
Or his head with harpoons ?
The Book of Job. 151
Only place thy hand on him,
And thou wilt not think to begin the fight.
Behold, the hope of him is deceived !
Will not one be struck down at his look ?
None is so fierce as to stir him up.
Who is he then that can stand before me ?
Who hath rivalled me I will repay him.
What is under the whole heaven is mine.
I will not pass over his limbs,
Nor his strength, nor the form of his build.
Who can lift up the hem of his garment ?
Who can come within his double bite ?
Who can open the door of his face
Round about 1 his teeth are a terror.
Splendid are the scales of his shield,
As though they were close-fastened by a seal ;
One cleaves so close to another
That no air can come between ;
Each to the other they cling so fast,
Holding to each other without division.
His sneezings maketh light to shine ;
His eyes are like the eye-lids of the dawn ;
Out of his mouth go burning torches ;
Sparks of fire leap forth ;
Out of his nostrils proceeds a smoke,
As out of a boiling pot or cauldron ;
His breath kindleth coals,
Out of his throat proceedeth flame ;
In his neck abideth strength,
Before him bounds away terror.
The scales of his flesh are soldered together,
They are nailed to him and are immovable.
His heart is solid as the stone,
And hard as the nether milestone :
When he riseth the bravest tremble,
Before they are wounded they flee.
Whoso attacks him no sword holds,
Nor spear, dart, nor shield ;
He regardeth iron as straw,
And brass as rotten wood.
The arrow doth not drive him away,
Slung-stones are turned for him into stubble,
Darts are counted as stubble,
And he laughs at the rustle of the spear.
Sharp potsherds are under him,
152 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
He extendeth sharp points on the mire :
He makes the deep boil like a cauldron,
The sea he makes like an ointment pot.
Behind him he makes his track to shine,
One would think the sea were hoary.
He hath no master upon earth,
Created as he is to fear nothing.
All that is lofty he beholds ;
He is the king over all proud beasts.
This is the conclusion of Jahve's argument, and of his vindi-
cation of his omnipotence and the unsearchableness of his ways.
He arrays against Job and against the assumed omniscience, on
which alone the vehement invective Job has employed against
himself could be reasonably based, the most awe-striking and
inscrutable of the products of Nature. Job professes himself
fully convinced. He says :
I know thou canst do everything,
And no thought of thine can be frustrated.
Who is he that darkeneth counsel without knowledge ?
Wherefore I have spoken what I understood not ;
What was too marvellous for me that which I knew not.
Hear, I pray thee, and I will speak :
I will ask thee, declare unto me.
As the ear heard, so had I known thee ;
But now mine eye hath seen thee,
Wherefore I retract and repent
In dust and in ashes.
It would almost seem, judging from the arguments of Jahve
and from their general tone, that the final judgment on the issue
would have been in favour of his friends and not of Job. To
speak in the language of law courts, the judge appears to sum
up " dead " against Job. This is further confirmed by the atti-
tude of penitence and submission which Job thereafter assumes.
He, it is clear, does not regard Jahve's utterances as in his
favour. It is therefore not a little surprising to find that this
conclusion is not borne out by the remainder of the drama.
This closes with the expression of Jahve's indignation against
his would-be advocates and his reiterated approval of Job's
utterances concerning himself. Job himself has to make atone-
ment for his three friends as a condition of Jahve's forgiveness
of them. Hence, Job's penitence seems to be somewhat mis-
The Book of Job. 153
placed. Indeed, it is represented as the spontaneous outcome of
his own feelings, and not as a direct requirement of Jahve.
Besides, a further and final approval of Job's conduct is shown
by Jahve's reinstating him in all his ancient prosperity his
flocks and herds, his children and servants being all restored to
him. Thus Job dies old and happy " in his nest," as he phrased
it, like the fabled phoenix rising with new life and vigour from
the devouring flame of affliction.
The determination of Job's position in the denouement of the
drama will, however, be best arrived at by casting a glance at
Jahve's speech from out of the whirlwind. This, it is evident, is
the part of all others in the drama which is of most importance
just as a judge's summing up in an ordinary trial excites more
general interest than the ex parte statements either of one side
or the other. Now, while we are far from wishing to detract
from the poetry and sublimity of Jahve's utterances, we may
point out that its main ratiocination does not fully meet the
question at issue. Job himself has never denied the Divine
omnipotence nor questioned the inability of man to search out
its physical operations, etc., in creation. What he is most exer-
cised with is the common Jewish theory of providence or retri-
bution the action of Jahve in human aflairs. According to
this, the virtuous and God-fearing are happy. But Job's experi-
ence is the very reverse of this. Although he has always been
virtuous, he is doomed to the greatest misery. Hitherto, not-
withstanding the injunctions of his friends, Job has not been
able to derive any solace from the contemplation of Jahve's
almighty power. When they had urged on him this considera-
tion, he had received it with impatience. It appeared to add to
the injustice of which he professed to be conscious. If Jahve
were thus almighty, why could he not ward off his evils why
could he not shield him from his calamities ? Why not, even
supposing he had sinned, forgive his sins ? Why break such a
puny human butterfly on the terrible wheel of his power and
wrath.
But although not directly meeting Job's especial grievance,
Jahve's argument does so suggestively and indirectly, and that
in three ways.
1. By presenting in a peculiarly bold and trenchant manner
1 54 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
the perennial contrast between the finite and the infinite.
Jahve ridicules Job's pretensions of insight into His operations
by ironically dwelling on its improbability. How could the man
who has seen or can see so few days on earth presume to criticise
and pronounce judgment on matters that took place at the crea-
tion. This was the inconsistency which the enemies of Prometheus
rebuked when they blamed him for bestowing celestial fire on
" creatures of a day ". Nor was the finiteness one of duration
only, it was also one of extent in space. Job, with all his
knowledge and his eager investigation of so many branches
of human learning, could not pretend to have seen the whole
measure and extent of creation. How then could he criticise
merely from his own personal experience and his limited know-
ledge operations and laws which comprehended the whole uni-
verse in their embrace ? How could he claim a knowledge of the
mind and motives of that great Being beneath whose sway exist
not only man and the few animals he has domesticated, but the
great beasts of the forest, the wild waste, the mighty river, the
boundless ocean. Not, indeed, that Jahve's position must be
pronounced unanswerable from the point of view of modern
thought. Thinkers like Goethe in Germany, or J. Stuart Mill
in England, would retort, in the words of the former, that one
need not go round the earth in order to determine whether the
sky is blue. Job might not be able to subdue great sea or river
monsters like behemoth and leviathan, and yet might have given
a correct judgment on a question of simple duty or justice,
whether as between God and man, or as between man and man.
Still, with due allowance for that point of view on which
depends, indeed, Job's justification and the main motive of the
drama it does not render nugatory Jahve's position. He touches
on a genuine shortcoming in Job's spirit and manner when he
taunts him with claiming tacitly omniscience. So far, therefore,
he is justified when he urges the inevitable limitation of human
knowledge, and, as a result, the inscrutability, taking them as a
whole, of the divine operations in nature and humanity.
2. For if it be granted that all the operations of nature and
creation which man sees about him are inexplicable, may not a
similar unsearchableness, ex natura rerum, pertain to God's
dealings with men ? If Job cannot see whence comes the rain or
The Book of Job. 155
determine beforehand the path of the lightning, may not a
similar inability extend to others of the divine operations in
which man's own welfare is more especially concerned ? Might
not, e.g., the source of his calamities, which he ascribes entirely
to the malevolent will of Jahve, be attributable to other causes,
generally, or, at least, largely, operative among men. Job thus
manifests that morbid excess of individuality which is the
natural outcome of free and independent thought, as well as of
some extreme forms of religionism. Incidentally his friends
touch upon this weakness when they ironically ask in the words
of Bildad :
Shall the earth be wasted on thy account ?
Shall the rock be removed out of its place 1
though they do not see that the argument cuts the ground from
beneath the doctrine of special providence which they have set
themselves to defend. In a word, Job's standpoint, however
commendable in some respects, is too narrow in its basis and
selfish in its objects. His invective against Jahve is founded too
conclusively upon passion as distinct from reason, upon a narrowly
personal sense of injustice, not upon a wide induction and con-
sideration of the general working of God's laws.
3. Sharing this narrowness is another phase of Job's complaint
animadverted on by Jahve, viz., Job has magnified too much his
own human importance and position on the earth. Man, with
all his superiority, suggests Jahve, is only a part of creation, and
his dwellings do not quite exhaust the earth's surface. Jahve
reminds Job that he comprehends the whole world under his
rule, and intimates that other interests were to be considered
besides those of humanity. Thus he rains on the desert place
where no man is, in order to make bud the green flower-shoots.
He guides the instincts of wild beasts, which live far away from
the haunts of men, e.g., the wild ass, which has an instinctive
repugnance to the noise of towns and to the voice of a human
driver. He feeds the young lions of the forest and desert, a task
far beyond man's powers. He rules behemoth and leviathan,
which men could not possibly do. It is not man with his
petulance and vanity, but these monsters of the forest and river
that are the chiefest of God's creatures. Even the descriptions
of scenery in Jahve's discourse betray a preference for the wilder
156 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
aspects of nature, scenes farthest removed from man's dwelling
or his influence, e.g., the ostrich laying her eggs in the desert, the
eagle sitting in lonely majesty on the rocky crag, the raven
searching for its prey, the lion lurking in the coverts, the wild
ass ranging the mountains, the behemoth in the secluded reach
of some great river, shaded by lotus leaves, and half hidden
by rushes and willows ; leviathan, also some sea or river monster,
which man can neither capture nor kill. In short, Jahve points
out that there is a world of life, motion, instinct, concernment
outside and away from the lesser universe of man's interests and
cares, and he more than hints the superiority, in many respects,
of this wilder, freer nature. In idea his words are almost an
anticipation of Goethe's joyous lines, which every admirer of his
will recall from the following rendering :
On the mountains is Freedom the breath of the tomb
Cannot clamber their summits of health and of bloom.
The world is perfection through all its domains,
Where man cannot foster his cares and his pains.
They remind us also of Cicero's expression, when he enume-
rates among the effects of his Nature-study Humana despiciimis.
Now, while we grant the Bedouin " local colouring " no less
than the philosophic breadth of this view of nature, we cannot
close our eyes to the fact that it undermines that theory of
special Providence held by the Jews and advocated by Job's
three friends. Indeed, both this and the former plea of Jahve's
dealings being inscrutable from the very breadth of their opera-
tion quite cut the ground from beneath the theory on which
Judaism was based, as well as from the reasoning on which Job
had founded his accusation against Jahve. In passing, we
may further point out that Jahve's discourse adopts a precisely
similar method of dealing with Jewish narrowness and of en-
larging men's scope of the divine actions as Jesus Christ does in
the Sermon on the Mount, when he says that God maketh his sun
to rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and
the unjust. Not that this doubt of the old Jewish theory is
openly expressed in the Book of Job. Nowhere is the Jewish
dogma, whether of special providence or of divine retribution,
called expressly into question. Indeed, the conclusion of the
drama and Job's restoration to his former wealth would seem in-
The Book of Job. 157
tended to confirm it. But certainly Jahve's answer to Job sug-
gests forcibly considerations which if they did not quite destroy
must have greatly modified the old Jewish doctrines. The man
who, in the spirit of that memorable discourse, extended the oper-
ation of divine providence not only to alien peoples and nations
but to the wild beasts and birds of the desert, had made a
serious departure from the most characteristic of all Jewish
beliefs.
How far Job himself was impressed by these considerations,
or at what particular point the voice out of the whirlwind touched
him so as to induce his penitence and submission, we are not able
to say. While he was vastly superior to his friends in mental
fearlessness, general information, and comprehensive grasp, he was
far from being emancipated from those theories against which he
formally contends. Nor does he intimate that he is converted by
Jahve's reasonings to a wider view of the universe and of hu-
manity. All he really admits is his rashness ; he has spoken
without sufficient thought, without bearing sufficiently in mind
the inevitable limits of human speculation on which he is occa-
sionally quite ready to insist. In other words, his submission
was mostly determined by the Hebrew and Eastern feeling of
acquiescence to the inevitable deference to the omnipotence
which dominates our every human destiny, and which it is
equally impossible to evade or oppose.
It cannot, however, be denied Job's penitence does present
somewhat puzzling feature regarded as parts of the denouement
of the drama, unless, indeed, we regard it as a final expression of
the insolubility of the problem which constitutes its plot. That
Job had always maintained his integrity is not called in question
by Jahve or by his own conscience. That his reasoning on the
moral government of God the question at issue was not only
sincere and fearless, but was orthodox and correct, is asserted on
two different occasions by Jahve himself. There was, therefore,
no imperative need of repentance, except as a solace to his own
overcharged feelings, still less any demand for it on the part of
Jahve. The statement of so many commentators that Job's re-
instatement in his former prosperity was in consequence of this
act of contrition is disproved by the narrative itself, which makes
Jahve commend Job not for his penitence but for his truthful
158 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
utterances on the subject of his own Providential government.
On the other hand, if Job's contribution to this question was in
all respects correct, what need was there for Jahve's answer, espe-
cially as this insisted upon various considerations which Job in
his haste and rashness had clearly overlooked. On the whole, it
seems most reasonable to conclude that so far as Job's ratiocina-
tion with his friends was based, as it generally was, on a broader
and more general view of the scope of Providence in opposition
to the Hebrew special theory, so far was his argument praise-
worthy. So far, however, as he had been intemperate in his
language and sometimes unduly dogmatic or narrow in his con-
clusions, so far did his own conscience, after hearing Jahve's dis-
course, reproach him, and he felt the need of retractation and
penitence.
We considered in the preceding essay what effect the repre-
sentation of Prometheus would probably have upon a thoughtful
Hellene ; here we might inquire what was likely to be the
influence of the Book of Job on a Hebrew hearer or reader.
How did it leave the problem discussed ? Would he gather from
it that temporal happiness was no longer to be accepted as a
token of God's favour, and that human suffering had no imme-
diate relation to human demerit that the old Jewish belief was
thus altogether falsified ? Probably not. He would most likely
conclude, both from the general tone of the arguments as well as
from the main incidents of the drama, that the question was
left nearly in statu quo that the problem, if not altogether
insoluble, had a sufficiency of profound, many-sided and incon-
sistent aspects to prevent any given solution from being regarded
as adequate. He would not think that the book, with all its
power and beauty, had quite bridged over the gulf between the
finite and the infinite, or that it altogether reconciled Divine
omnipotence with human suffering. Besides, he could not forget
the end Job's restoration to all his former prosperity and
what it implied. He would perceive that virtue and physical
happiness were thus reunited after the temporary estrangement
they had undergone in Job's particular case, and that so far the
problem of the book is finally left in the precise state in which it
is taken up at the commencement.
Incidentally, however, no attentive reader of the book could
The Book of Job. 159
rise from its perusal without a new sense of revelation, not at all
unlike the consciousness of new knowledge which a pious but
thoughtful and candid Hellene would have derived from witness-
ing the representation of Prometheus and contrasting its lessons
with the old mythological lore in which he had been indoctrin-
ated. Such a student of the Book of Job could hardly fail to
be struck: (1) With Job's sublime conviction of absolute justice
as a sovereign power in the universe, however much its due mani-
festation might be impeded from different causes ; or with the
fact that it was precisely this that formed the basis of Job's
invincible trust in Jahve, or rather in the goodness and justice
which Jahve embodied to his spiritual consciousness. (2) He
could not fail to notice the subjective side of the preceding con-
sideration Job's unassailable conviction of his own integrity,
and therefore the virtual infallibility he assigns to the human
consciousness. (3) He would probably observe, as the outcome
of these two principles, the distinct sanction of honest doubt, free
inquiry, free speech, which is presented by the words of Job,
and thereby the justifiability of all questioning and research
based on the pure love of truth, especially if attended by unsel-
fishness, intellectual candour and religious reverence. (4) He
would most likely recognise the greatly enlarged scope assigned,
both in Job's speeches and Jahve's discourse, to ancient Hebrew
notions on the subject of God and his government of the world ;
nor could he fail to perceive the effect of these broader concep-
tions in enlarging man's own view both of himself and of his
true place in the universe. In short, to a candid and intellectual
Hebrew, the study of the book might not inaptly be defined
as a liberal education, especially if he had been nurtured on
theocratic notions and on ideas of national exclusiveness. But
(5) such a reader would be brought, as Prometheus, Job, Faust and
all other genuine inquirers have been brought, to a conviction of
the drawbacks of human truth-search proceeding from the un-
bounded scope of knowledge as well as from the limited powers
of man. He would learn from Job the common lesson of all the
skeptical dramas that speculative truth was for man an impos-
sibility, and that man must learn to be satisfied with the nar-
rower but sufficing range of practical and ethical duty.
These free-thought results of a study of Job lead us to say a
160 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
concluding word on its relation to Prometheus, its predecessor,
and to Faust, its successor in our series of skeptical dramas :
I. Prometheus and Job are outcomes not only of different times
and countries, but of different races and religions. The former
represents Aryan and Western, the latter Semitic and Oriental
civilisation. While, therefore, the first is marked by human
general culture interest in man's secular progress the second
is intensely religious, and concerns itself especially with man's
spiritual relation to the deity. In point of culture and material
progress the former has the advantage, in respect of religion and
metaphysical profundity the latter stands highest. They are
respectively types of idiosyncrasies which after the spread of
Christianity found fitting outlets in the Western and Eastern
Churches and in the diverse questions which each community
loved best to discuss.
II. There is an essential distinction between the Zeus of
Prometheus and the Jahve of the Book of Job. The former is to
the Titan a new deity, the successor of two or more dynasties which
have in turn wielded supremacy at Olympus. Jahve, on the other
hand, is the eternal creator and sustainer of the universe. But this
radical difference in the ruling deities of the two dramas seems to
affect but little the freedom with which they are addressed by
Prometheus and Job. This is founded upon a community of
thought in respect of those ideas which form the basis and back-
ground of their respective theologies. Both Prometheus and Job
are firm believers in absolute justice as a self -existent power or
influence superior to all rule whether divine or human, as well as
to all dogma and tradition, of whatsoever kind. It is because
Prometheus is convinced that the rule of Zeus is not in harmony
with justice that he rebels against and defies him, and, on the
other hand, it is because Job is persuaded that Jahve 's sovereignty
is ultimately consonant with supreme justice that, however
sorely tried, he never quite relinquishes his faith and trust in
him. Both the Greek and Hebrew Titan further agree, as we
noticed, in looking for a future vindicator of their innocence, and
a defender against the oppression of Zeus and Jahve, though we
have no right to press too closely a resemblance which is on some
points accidental, however much it may be finally based on ideas
of supreme justice common to both.
The Book of Job. 161
III. A more striking similarity dependent on these ideas is
that the invective both of Prometheus and Job against their
respective deities is grounded on the injustice they are held to
have been guilty of towards man. Zeus has treated men harshly
in refusing them fire and light, the primary requisites of civilisa-
tion. Jahve has ill-treated Job, and through him other men as
well, by visiting him with sorrow, notwithstanding his piety and
rectitude, in other words, by making no distinction in his dealings
between the righteous and the wicked. Thus we have the differ-
ent standpoints and problems of the two dramas. Prometheus
represents human struggle with physical nature, with mytho-
logical fate, while Job portrays the same contest with the moral
defects of the world, regarded from the Jewish point of view.
The problems of Prometheus are human progress and liberty,
and the alien influences which thwart and obstruct them ; the
problems of Job are special providence and retribution, the
divine award for human acts and conduct, and the impediments
to their due action in the world.
IV. While, however, both Prometheus and Job criticise their
deities with a fearlessness based, as we have seen, on an invincible
confidence in justice and conscience, their free speech is marked
in each case by interesting diversities. That of Prometheus is
founded upon an Hellenic combination of culture and reason
precisely the influences which induced the free criticism of the
gods by Sokrates; but Job's freedom, though reason is by no
means excluded from its bases, is largely due to religionism, the
intimacy which comes from a mystic persuasion of nearness to
and personal fellowship with deity. Incidentally, the first free-
dom may be compared to the free speech of the Italian Renais-
sance or the French encyclopaedists, while the second may be
illustrated by the devout but excessive freedom of mystics, or by
that which the Puritans employed under the English Common-
wealth. In other words, Prometheus addresses Zeus in the spirit
of a thoughtful and fearless Athenian, a member of a cultured
republic, while Job addresses Jahve as the scion of a theocracy
a divinely privileged religious community.
V. Not the least instructive among these contrasts of Pro-
metheus and Job are their different conceptions of man : 1, in
relation to deity ; 2, in respect of his position in the universe.
II
1 62 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
1. Prometheus regards man in the developed state he has
attained by his teaching as gifted with god-like reason the sole
agency of all wisdom and power. He is thus rendered to a
certain extent independent of Zeus, and able to prosecute for
himself his various researches into the fields of science, as well as
to advance in all those provinces of general culture which are
summed up in the word civilisation. This position is altogether
different in Job. Here we find Jahve regarded as having duties
to man not only of rule and supremacy, but of kindness and con-
sideration. Conversely, man is held to be entirely dependent on
Jahve, not only for his knowledge acquirements, but also for the
faculties whereby he has attained them. Thus while Prometheus
is the philosophic advocate of man's general culture and social
progress, Job is especially the preacher of righteousness, who
regards man's claim to equality with deity as moral and ethical
rather than scientific and .rational. In truth, man's supreme
deity in the Prometheus is fate, as the power above and before
Zeus, and his religious duties take therefore the form of divina-,
tiori. In the Book of Job, on the other hand, man, while render-
ing due homage by prayer and sacrifice to Jahve, is able to
address him, if need be, with words of remonstrance and even
of indignation, as a favourite child to its father. 2. Not less
interesting are the different views of the dramas as to man's place
in the universe. Prometheus especially insists on those aspects
of human knowledge which relate to man's material and social
progress. He recounts his advance in house building, in language,
in numbers, in medical knowledge, in agriculture, etc. The
human knowledge insisted on by Job is as befits a Bedouin chief-
tain of another kind, e.g., mining, hunting, fishing, the study of
natural history. The former regards man as dominant over
nature and the impediments which nature offers to his advance
in all the arts of civilisation and culture. With the latter nature
is dominant over man, at least, is independent of man, so that
wild beasts and uninhabited wastes are as much a care to Jahve
as man and his dwellings. A striking proof of this is the
perpetual reproach of " manless," etc., with which Prometheus
stigmatises his abode on Mount Caucasus, compared with the
stress which the Book of Job places on scenes and animals far
removed from human dwellings. Other curious contrasts of the
The Book of Job. 163
same sort might be added, e.g., Job regards behemoth and
leviathan as untameable by man, whereas the taming of monsters
is one power which Prometheus boasts he has conferred on man.
So again Job dwells on the wildness and natural restiveness of
of the horse, while Prometheus claims to have taught men how
to make him obedient to the reins. The greatest triumph of
human ingenuity for Job is mining and smelting metals. Pro-
metheus regards the operation as one among ordinary human
labours. No doubt these distinctions testify to different civilisa-
tions and ideas pertaining to civilisation. The contrast here
pointed out is largely such as might be expected from an
Athenian writer like Aeschylus, with the urban instincts which
Athenians so readily developed, and the nature-loving proclivities
of an Arab chief, whose home is in the desert. Here the contrast
is adduced as showing that if the Prometheus as the drama of
material progress, has in some respects advantages over the
religious drama of Job, these are largely compensated by the
fuller and more comprehensive outlook over nature, and by
greater philosophic breadth in its estimate of the divine rule of
the universe which pertain to the latter.
VI. More truthful also is Job in its clear and emphatic teach-
ing as to the drawbacks and limitations of human knowledge.
In Prometheus, the drawbacks attending knowledge-diffusion
from the Greek point of view are illustrated by the fate of the
Titan himself, but the countless obstructions to human know-
ledge the utter impossibility of human omniscience the fatal
brevity of human life all these considerations are urged not by
Prometheus but by unsympathetic friends or open foes. More
decisive than their expostulations is Job's final verdict as to the
impossibility of finding wisdom or discovering the abode of
understanding, while far transcending in philosophical and moral
insight anything contained in the Prometheus is Job's practical
outcome of human nescience his categorical imperative of
human duty the fear of the lord is wisdom, and to flee evil is
understanding. In fairness, however, we should add that the
human knowledge described in the Prometheus consists for the
most part of those arts and sciences which contribute to man's
material progress, and that it leaves untouched all speculative
theorising on the great problems of the universe.
164 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
VII. We cannot institute any comparison, whether of con-
trast or similarity, between Job's final submission and retracta-
tion and the continued defiance of Zeus with which the Prome-
theus concludes, because we have not the third part of the
Aeschylean Trilogy. That the Titan finally came to terms with
the supreme ruler of Olympus is, however, certain 1 ; indeed, this
is already foreshadowed in the Prometheus Vinctus itself (lines
195-200). Now the Job drama gives us not only " Job bound "
by the original conspiracy formed against him, as well as by
his own misfortunes and sufferings but we have also " Job
unbound " i.e., victorious over his enemies and freed from his
calamities. There is therefore no essential difference between
the conclusions of the two dramas. The Greek as well as the
Hebrew Titan learn at last the lesson of submission to omni-
potence, and acquiescence in the bounds of finite knowledge and
limited power.
Turning now to " Faust," we find the contrasts and similarities
between the Book of Job and Goethe's masterpiece equally various
and striking. No doubt the interval which separates "Faust"
from Job is greater than that which divides Job from Prome-
theus, and in proportion to the greatness of the interval is the
disparity in range of thought and idea. But in point of fact, the
distance which severs "Faust" from both Prometheus and Job
is immeasureable, and for practical purposes infinite. A Bedouin
chieftain of the seventh century before Christ, an Athenian
thinker of the fifth century before Christ, suddenly introduced
to the modes of thought and of scientific research of our own
time, illustrate the gap which divides the ancient dramas of free
thought from their great successor in modern times. Indeed,
" Faust " introduces us into the midst not only of modern thought
but of modern advanced thought. But notwithstanding this
enormous difference and its many-sided implications, the frame-
work of the knowledge-drama remains for the most part the
same. There is the central figure of the man who strives to
attain or diffuse truth. There are the sovereign powers that
thwart him in his efforts. There is the conflict and its vicissi-
tudes. There is, lastly, the final issue all these common ele-
ments remain. They are so many skeleton forms sharing the
1 Comp. on this point Welcker, Prometheus, p. 35.
The Book of Job. 165
same type. They are found in " Faust," as in Prometheus and Job.
But how different in shape, size and general embodiment how
varied in dramatic incident, tone and colouring. The Zeus of
Olympus, the National Jahve of the Jews, each is in Goethe's
tragedy transmuted into an impersonal ruler of the universe
the principle of all vitality and productiveness. The Satan of
Job is in like manner transformed into the principle of destruc-
tion, stagnation and nothingness. Faust, the type of the modern
inquirer, is similarly metamorphosed from his ancient Hebrew
or Hellenic type. Though like them an earnest truth-searcher, he
is no longer concerned with the beginnings of human knowledge
like Prometheus, nor with the religious problems of Job. He
has long since investigated all these matters and outgrown them.
He has reached the farthest attainable limit of all human know-
ledge, but, as we shall discover, he still reveals the perennial
phenomena of thought-search the old doubts the old yearnings
the old disappointments the old despair the old endeavours
the old consciousness of limit and, finally, the old enforced
acquiescence in nescience.
I. The first point in which Job is related particularly to
" Faust " is in its plot. This, we need hardly say, is reproduced
bodily from the Book of Job. Few readers of " Faust " are aware
how much and how deliberately Goethe contrived to permeate
his mind with Jobian spirit and ideas while concocting his
tragedy of " Faust ". Not only have we the imitation just spoken
of, of the opening scene in heaven, but occasionally throughout
the drama we have reminiscences of the man of Uz. Two
Jobian elements especially commended themselves to Goethe.
The defiant invective against Jahve was quite in harmony with
Goethe's own Titanism, while the pessimism of other portions of
the book was no less consonant to some of his Werther moods,
especially during the earlier half of his life. Job must therefore
be regarded as one of the foundation-stones of Goethe's " Faust ".
Indeed, its influence must be extended to all the Faust legends
of the mediaeval ages. Whatever plot or story was founded on a
compact between God and Satan, or between Satan and man,
could claim Job as a precedent and authority and all the more
unimpeachable because it was sacred. Perhaps no idea of pure
legendary lore has been so prolific in this respect as the Job plot ;
1 66 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
none has taken such a countless variety of forms, or provided
aliment for so many imaginations of such various aptitudes and
powers.
II. Goethe's philosophic enlargement of Jahve, and his special
providence as conceived by the Jews, to the general principle of
life, motion, and fruitfulness, which permeates and energises
through all nature, is conceived on the lines of Jahve's own
discourse in the Book of Job. While no comparison can be made
of the extent of the generalisation in each case, the motive and
tendencies of both are alike. Both aim at universalising what
had been special, broadening what had been limited, extending
to the world what had been restricted to Palestine, and to creation
at large what had been confined to the Jewish people. Goethe's
parallel expansion of the spirit of evil to the general principle of
destruction and lifelessness the necessary complement of the
former while too profound in its actual development for the
Book of Job finds in it a few suggestions and incidental affinities.
Satan is certainly conceived by it as the agency of disease, and in
certain cases as the minister of death.
III. The problem of " Faust " in this particular more resem-
bling that of Prometheus is intellectual rather than religious.
But even with this difference the basis is in essentials that of Job.
In both man has to contend with his surroundings of different
kinds human beliefs and tradition inexplicable laws and aspects
of nature intellectual and spiritual needs equally imperious and
insatiable calamities in his own life inextricable complica-
tions in social relations, etc., etc. In both he must discover some
standpoint of reconciliation which he can loyally and honestly
accept, and until he finds such a haven of rest, either within
himself or in the world outside, he will naturally be at war with
his environment. Hence,
IV. Both Job and " Faust " are dramas of effort and truth
search. Streben, the key-note of " Faust," is in reality the
governing impulse of Job's life. Their main differences are purely
verbal. The absolute truth of the modern philosopher Job
conceives and defines either as deity or as divine wisdom. It is
just this sincere wisdom or truth effort that forms the justification
of Job's impetuous and wayward moods, as well as of his
vehement invective against Jahve because he refuses to respond
The Book of Job. 167
to his passionate yearnings and to reveal himself and his ways as
the sole object of his inquiries. Whoever compares the opening
scenes of " Faust " with the 28th chapter of Job will perceive
that they really reveal the likenesses of the same truth-searcher
sketched in different methods and colours by two painters of very
different schools, the chief traits being closely similar notwith-
standing the great differences in style, manner, and accessories.
V. The conclusions both of Job and " Faust " are alike. The
problems of the universe are pronounced by both to be inscrutable ;
in the words of Goethe, this is " on rational grounds the inevitable
result " of all human inquiry. 1 Hence there is nothing left for
man when he has exhausted all methods and degrees of search
but acquiescence in the insoluble residuum. The great stress
which Goethe placed on this " Renunciation," as he termed it, is a
point which will meet us in the next essay. Here we need only
remark as at once the summary and conclusion of our Job study,
that Prometheus, Job, and " Faust," the representatives of
races and countries, nationalities and religions, civilisations and
ideas so widely apart, all agree in the implicit answer to Job's
questions.
But wisdom (truth), where shall that be found ?
Where is the place of understanding ?
No man knoweth its worth,
Nor is it found in the land of the living.
The depth saith : " It is not in me " ;
And the sea saith : " It is not in me ".
So far all are agreed, both in the truth of human nescience, and
in its mode of expression. Job, however, as becomes a religious
philosopher, goes one step further, and gives a specially Hebrew
and religious colouring to beliefs which Prometheus and
" Faust " both accept in another form.
And unto man he said :
The fear of the Lord is wisdom,
And to avoid evil is understanding.
1 Aus meinen Leben, Vierter Theil, Werke, vol. ix., p. 588.
GOETHE'S FAUST
O T T O E S.
Die bedeutende Puppenspielfabel des andern (Faust) Klang und summte gar
vieltonig in mir wieder. Auch ich hatte mich in allem Wissen umhergetrieben und
war friih genug auf die Eitelkeit desselben hingewiesen warden. Ich hatte es auch
im Leben auf allerlei Weise versucht, und war im.rn.er unbefriedigter und gegudlter
zuruckgekommen .
GOETHE, Aus Meinem Leben, Book x.
The mystery of existence is an awful problem, but it is a mystery, and placed
beyond the boundaries of human faculty ! Recognise it as such and renounce.
Knowledge can only be relative, never absolute. But this relative knowledge is
infinite, and to us infinitely important : in that wide sphere let each work according
to ability. Happiness, ideal and absolute, is equally unattainable. Renounce it.
The sphere of active duty is wide, sufficing, ennobling to all who strenuously work
in it.
LEWES' Life of Goethe, p. 479.
Wer Alles und Jedes in seiner ganzen Menschheit thun oder geniessen will,
wer alles ausser sich zu einer solchen Art von Genuss verkniipfen will, der wird seine
Zeit nur mit einem ewig unbefriedigten Streben hinbringen.
GOETHE, Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre, viii., 7.
Es irrt der Mensch, so lang er strebt.
Gerettet ist das edle Glied
Der Geisterwelt vom Bo'sen :
Wer immer strebend sich bemuht,
Den konnen wir erlosen.
GOETHE, Faust.
COMPARED with Prometheus and Job, Goethe's " Faust " brings us
into contact with the relation of skepticism to the whole sum of
human knowledge. Divided by twenty centuries from the latest
of those dramas, the interval of time is not greater than the dis-
tance in scope and object which sunders them. Prometheus and
Faust represent respectively the Alpha and Omega of human
progress and enlightenment. The Titan prides himself on his
extrication of humanity from the condition of " cave-dwellers ".
Faust has exhausted omne scibile the whole sum of human
knowledge. Prometheus taught men how to build houses of
sun-burnt brick. Faust has explored and dissected the most
elaborate systems of human thought. Prometheus taught men
how to speak articulately. Faust knows and despises all the
resources of scientific logic and rhetoric. The Titan instructed
men in the rudiments of the healing art. Faust has penetrated
its profoundest secrets. In a word, the former drama represents
humanity as in many respects in its early youth ; the latter por-
trays it in its sere but dissatisfied old age.
/ o
Nor is the interval less great which separates Job, the
Bedouin chief of the seventh century B.C., from the Teutonic
philosopher of the eighteenth century of the Christian era. Job
is the religious doubter the daring questioner of God's attri-
butes ; Faust denies his personal existence. Job makes all the
events of the universe the outcome of the Creator's will ; Faust
regards them as manifestations of irreversible law. In all his
doubts and perplexities, Job still cherishes a secret trust in God.
Faust has passed into a denial of all supernatural powers as the
causes of human fear or hope :
Mich plagen k,eine Scrupel noch Zweifel,
Fiirchte mich \veder keine Scrupel noch Teufel.
But the distinction between those ancient doubters and
Faust, great as it is, is altogether surpassed in importance by
1 72 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
their similarities. For notwithstanding the revolutions of so
many centuries and the multiform changes they have produced
among men, one thing has still retained its stability the nature
of the human mind the instinctive aptitudes and propensities
of its faculties. Prometheus, Job and Faust are beings of kin-
dred thought, sympathies and aspirations. No doubt they are
generated by very different conditions of human progress, but
beneath the divergencies thus produced they share a common
basis in respect of motive, method and aim. Thus they resemble
each other in representing humanity as having attained the
stage of self-consciousness and independence. They all repre-
sent a dissonance as existing between man and his surroundings.
They all vindicate the right of man to analyse traditional and
prescribed opinions and to determine for himself what to choose
and what to reject. They all seek for freedom by means of
doubt. To these may be added the further similarhy shared
also by Hamlet and Calderon's, El magico prodigioso that they
are products of analogous conditions in the intellectual develop-
ments to which they severally belong. In Prometheus, e.g., the
Greek intellect at its highest point of maturity casts a retrospec-
tive glance at its older beliefs, places itself in antagonism to the
popular faith, vindicates human independence and prospects for
humanity an indefinite advance in culture. Job seems the out-
come of a similar crisis in the history of the Hebrews, when by
means of its own development and contact with Gentile races
the Jewish intellect criticises and calls in question its older theo-
cratic conceptions of providence, retribution, etc. Faust repre-
sents the mingled unrest and consciousness of intellectual inde-
pendence of modern Europe, from the time of the Renaissance to
the German " Sturm und Drang ". In a narrower sphere, both
Hamlet and the wonder-working magician of Calderon were
products in their respective countries and times of literary
maturity, combined with deep mental disquietude. Nor is this
all ; Faust shares with the preceding dramas of free-thought the
same key-note their chief distinctive qualities are restlessness,
strife, effort, contention. They represent men human giants all
engaged in Titanic enterprises, grappling with antagonistic
surroundings, however necessary or inevitable these might be.
Prometheus contends with Zeus for the well-being of humanity.
Goethes Faust, 173
He fights for human light, progress and civilisation. Job con-
tends with Jahve for his own personal rights, for the reward
that should wait on conscious rectitude, and through himself for
justice to oppressed humanity. Hamlet struggles with an unto-
ward fate and with a personal unfitness to approve himself
superior to it. Similarly, the text- word of Faust is " Streben"
perpetual effort, with its collateral implications of error, unrest
and unceasing search ; this is the quality that connects Faust
and all kindred spirits with Greek skeptics. The philosophic
free-thinker of ancient Greece was not the denier, but the
indomitable searcher the man who would fain attain, were it
possible, absolute truth. Faust cherished similar yearnings, not
only for absolute truth but for infinite happiness. He represents
the Zetetic of the seventeenth century from the point of view
of one of its greatest thinkers.
Not that Goethe was himself a skeptic. Probably he was
unable adequately to comprehend the true skeptical standpoint,
he certainly did not consciously sympathise with it. His nature
was too sensuous and realistic to appreciate search for absolute
truth. Though full of ardent zeal for inquiry, especially in his
own domain of natural science, he was not enamoured of contro-
versy, nor did he care for intellectual exercitation for its own
sake. In this particular he resembled Shakespeare, who was
equally averse to speculative extremes. So far from being a true
skeptic, Goethe was on some points unwarrantably dogmatic.
This is conclusively shown by his attitude on his farbenlehre
theory. It was characteristic of him that he occupied in the
domain of belief that central point which he tried to attain on all
matters of human thought and practice. Thus he united in equal
proportions skepticism with dogmatism, just as he did realism
with idealism, intellectualism with sensuality, dignity with
extravagance, gentleness with hauteur, kindness with severity.
He seems to have prided himself on the coequal development of
every faculty or tendency of his humanity. In trying to attain
this equipoise he occasionally forgot that if on one side man is
related to the angel, he is on the other allied to the ape, and
that it behoves every reasoning being to let the angel scale of his
balances preponderate.
Goethe's impatience of extreme skepticism was the result of
174 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
different causes. Foremost among them we must place his intense
realism, his passionate regard for the visible and palpable aspects
of Nature, his keen sense of the phenomenal and actual. Not
that he was deficient in metaphysical power regarded as a
theoretical apprehension of supersensuous entities. He was con-
versant with the German philosophy of his time, and recognised
the transcendental impulse it had taken from Kant. He regarded
the great teachers of Konigsberg with approval, but distrusted
and ridiculed the developments of it which Fichte, Jacobi and
others had begun to make. His realistic idiosyncrasy presented
everything to him in a sensuous form. Even abstractions he loved
to contemplate as actually existing entities. When, for example,
he showed Schiller the typical plant form on which he had
founded his law of plant metamorphosis, his brother poet charac-
teristically exclaimed : " That is not an experience; that is an idea".
Goethe was taken aback at this metaphysical interpretation of
what he deemed a natural fact, but he at once recognised the
distinction in their mental confirmations which the observation
betrayed. Instead of transmuting, as Schiller was apt to do, the
phenomenal into the ideal, Goethe, whenever possible, attempted
the contrary operation. Hence his true universe was Nature,
regarded as a living entity, instinct with life, movement and
energy. He was never tired of watching her various processes
expatiating on her countless mysteries, calling attention to her
incomparable beauties, while nothing gave him so much delight
as a discovery which enabled him to reduce her manifold opera-
tions to a common law. Compared with Nature, humanity had
only a secondary interest for Goethe. He would at any time
have abandoned the creation of his noblest human character in
order to investigate a law of plant growth or some recondite fact
of anatomy, and it is well known that he estimated his dramatic
productions as worthless compared with his discoveries in physical
science.
Very instructive is the comparison of Goethe with Shake-
speare in this particular. In his dislike of metaphysical specula-
tion the latter was also realistic, but he sought his realities in a
1 Wakrheit und Dichtung, p. 695 ; Werke, vol. ix. It may be mentioned
that the edition of Goethe's works quoted in this essay is that of the
Bibliothek der Deutschen National-literatur, edited by Kurz.
Goethe's Faust. 175
different direction. While with Goethe Nature ranks highest,
and humanity with its mysteries derives its importance as being
a component part of Nature, with Shakespeare humanity stands
supreme. He explores with never failing delight the profundities
not of physical, but of human nature. He loves to investigate
the perplexities by which motives are surrounded and disguised
the subtle links which connect men's wills and actions the
countless phases of human passion the innumerable problems
which arise from social relations and intercourse and all the other
multifarious operations of that wonderful machine humanity.
Of the two objects which Kant affirmed used to strike him with
especial wonderment, viz., the starry universe and the mind of
man, Goethe would have laid stress on the former, Shakespeare
on the latter.
But both Goethe and Shakespeare agree in making their
universes of cosmic and human nature a reason for distrusting
supersubtle idealities the extreme abstrusities and refinements
of the reason and imagination. Each says of his own universe,
the circle which confines his thoughts and sympathies : " This
gives me truth and reality. This universe of Nature or of man
affords scope and verge enough for the fullest exercise of my
fancy and my reason. Why project myself into idealities un-
fathomable and interminable ? Why lose myself in trying to
penetrate the absolute when the relative so far transcends my
power ? Why investigate possibilities when I am not competent
to determine actualities ? " or, putting the dilemma in the form
which Goethe generally employed, why explore metaphysics
when the realm of physics so far surpasses our limited faculties ?
No doubt there were resemblances between the worlds of Goethe
and Shakespeare by means of which they were alike able to
oppose themselves to extreme idealism. 1. Both were visible and
tangible. Goethe had only to go to his garden to find a plant
that besides being an actual fact was both a stupendous mystery
in itself, and suggested unlimited scope for theorising. Shake-
speare had only to converse with the first man he met to discover
a human problem which he would at once have admitted was
impenetrable. Both plant and man were capable of affording
sufficient aliment for physical and metaphysical observation
without trenching on the unseen world of ideas. 2. Both
1 76 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
were alike in their nearness and interest for the thinker.
Goethe's nature, Shakespeare's man were only different forms of
the common consciousness of each. The former delighted to
represent a man, especially when, in his judgment, he was in se
ipso totus, teres atque rotundus, as a nature, while Shakespeare's
nature was, in its fullest concentration and supremest effort,
humanity. There was nothing in either of these cases of the
ordinary distance between the skeptical idealist and the subject
matter of his speculations. 3. Both were alike in representing
movement on a world- wide scale. Shakespeare and Goethe were
evidently enamoured of motion, life, and active energy, but the
movement that delighted Goethe was the equable motion of the
universe, the action and interaction of its countless laws and
processes, while Shakespeare loved better to contemplate the
surge and clash of rival human interests and activities. But
with these resemblances there emerges one cardinal distinction
between the imaginations of Goethe and Shakespeare. That of
the former was cosmic, while that of the latter was human.
It would be hard to say that there is more scope for imagina-
tion in physical science investigation than in researches into
purely human and social phenomena. Possibly the diverse
directions and methods of that forward faculty in each case
are sufficient to establish a diversity of nature. Certainly none
of those thinkers who have been most eminent in applying
imagination to solve the problems of the universe have attained
to the first rank as dramatists. Goethe, it is true, discovered the
law of plant metamorphosis and created " Faust," but the latter
creation, with all its excellencies, is entirely inferior in uniformity
and artistic finish to the highest products of the Shakespearian
drama, e.g., " Hamlet," " Othello," and " Lear ". Hence results
the dissimilarity already spoken of, which is apparent in the
common dislike of Shakespeare and Goethe to metaphysics. Both
poets allowed their fancy what might be termed metaphysical
licence. Both projected their imagination into supersensuous
regions, but the human imagination of Shakespeare showed
more aptitude for such an ethereal excursion than did the
cosmic imagination of Goethe. If Shakespeare distrusted meta-
physics, it was only when they were opposed to human physics,
when they were altogether divorced from the practical activities
Goethe s Faust. 177
and concernments of mankind. The distrust probably served to
confine his fancy within a more limited area, and this very limita-
tion imparted greater probability to its creations. Goethe, on
the other hand, projecting his imagination beyond the limits of
the visible universe, and disdaining to regulate its flight by the
metaphysical facts of humanity, allows it to attain a scope far
surpassing both his belief and his artistic power. Hence arises a
distrust of excess which seems to us to have affected prejudicially
his creative faculty in the region of pure imagination. In other
words, Goethe never believes in the creations of his supersensuous
fancy, or, at most, it is only half belief. He is a skeptic in
imagination when its scope is transcendental This is readily
seen by any reader who compares his supernatural personages
with the more human creations of his phantasy. The transcen-
dental personages which occupy the second part of " Faust " are
quite a case in point. Not only are they grotesquely unreal
in themselves, but the poet allows us to perceive that he also
thought them unreal. He thus permits the creative function of
his imagination to transcend its plastic harmonising power.
Now there is nothing of this hi Shakespeare. With a dislike for
metaphysics as great as Goethe's, he confines his imagination
more within the scope of his own belief and sympathies. He
never projects his fancy into unknown regions, and there creates
beings and abstractions beyond his power of intellectual and
artistic assimilation. All Shakespeare's superhuman creations
are only expansions of human aptitudes and facultiea In short
he recognised the profound truth, that it is man's own composite
nature, not cosmic phenomena, that forms the best guide to
idealities whose right to human sympathy and recognition must
be determined by humanity itself.
We might have supposed that the extreme and somewhat
non-human reach of Goethe's imagination would have inclined
him to favour the transcendental research of skepticism not
that the imagination nourished by cosmic influences is more
liable to skeptical excess than that founded on observation of
humanity, doubt having its germ and scope alike in the universe
without and in the universe within, but, as we have seen, its
influence was counterbalanced by other characteristics. Besides
his sensuous temperament, which would fain realise even abstrac-
12
178 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
tions, his hatred of mysteries and insoluble questions, his cultiva-
tion of mental serenity, his stress on disinterestedness, not only
as a moral, but as an intellectual habit, all conspired to thwart
and repress whatever skeptical impulses he might otherwise have
cherished. He was not only convinced of the limits of human
reason, but he fully acquiesced in the existence of those limits.
He did not care, as a genuine skeptic would have done, to
investigate closely their existence or their nature, still less to
ponder the problem how they might conceivably be surmounted.
He had ascertained by personal investigation that they existed
and that to him, as probably to others, they were ultimate.
With this he professed himself satisfied. How closely this
position of Goethe's and the resolve founded on it agrees with
the similar conclusion of Shakespeare, we shall see in our next
essay. No doubt Goethe's standpoint was confirmed in his own
judgment by his natural science studies. The limits of human
reason were only one form or aspect of other limitations pertain-
ing both to the thinker and his thought. That he could not
transcend the bounds of the outer world of nature was so far an
argument of his inability to pass the limits of the inner world of
mind. In truth, one was as infinite as the other. Accordingly
he forced himself to acquiesce. He renounced the dubious
pleasure of struggling with the inevitable, of trying to extort from
nature or humanity demonstrations which they were powerless to
afford. He accepted as the final dictum, both of his nature and
his human studies, the fact that knowledge is surrounded on all
sides by infinitudes and inscrutabilities. This position he fre-
quently admits as his own, and inculcates on his friends. Thus
in a letter to Pfenniger, a friend of Lavater, he says : * " Believe
me, dear brother, the time will come when we shall understand
each other. You talk to me as a skeptic who wishes to understand,
to have all demonstrated, who has had no experience. The contrary
of all this is the fact. Am I not more resigned in matters of under-
standing and demonstration than you are ? " In a similar strain
he says to Eckermann : " The summit of human attainment is
astonishment, and if an ultimate phenomenon has astonished us,
we ought to rest content ; nothing higher can be granted to us,
1 Quoted by Lewes, Life of Goethe, p. 166.
Goethe s Faust. 179
and we ought not to seek anything behind it ; this is our limit.
But generally the sight of an ultimate phenomenon does not
satisfy, and we are like children who, after looking into a mirror,
immediately reverse it to see what is on the other side." This
was Goethe's own standpoint from which, however much he
might speculatively deviate, he never wholly departed. But
while maintaining this position he was fully aware as the
quotations just adduced serve to prove that other intellects
were differently constructed from his own. Indeed, he manifests
a peculiar aptitude for criticising the extreme malcontents of
skepticism, for tracing in whatever direction, and under whatever
disguise, the dissatisfaction with the universe which he professed
to disclaim. He makes, for example, Werther, the skeptic of passion,
thus bemoan his condition : " When I look upon the limits within
which man's powers of action and inquiry are hemmed in ; when
I see how all effort issues simply in procuring supply for wants
which again have no object but continuing this poor existence of
ours, and then that all satisfaction on certain points of inquiry
is but a dreaming resignation, while you paint with many
coloured figures and gay prospects the walls you sit imprisoned
by all this, Wilhelm, makes me dumb. I return to my own
heart, and find there such a world ! " etc. 1 Of a similar pro-
pensity in the region of speculation Lessing was his favourite
illustration. He said to Eckermann : " Lessing, from his polemical
nature, loved best the region of doubt and contradiction. Analysis
is his province as there his fine understanding could most aid
him. . . . You will find me wholly the reverse. I have always
avoided contradiction, striven to dispel doubt by inward efforts
and uttered only the results of my mental processes." Again,
speaking of a controversial tract written againsfrSpinoza, he says :
" It made little impression on me, for I hated controversies, and
always wanted to know what a thinker thought, and not
what another conceived he ought to have thought ". 2 These
quotations, which might easily be increased, suffice to show
the nature and grounds of Goethe's aversion to extreme skep-
ticism. They also indicate its fluctuating and uncertain extent.
Goethe certainly had a theoretical and artistic conception of
1 Goethe, Werke, vol. vi., p. 12. 2 Lewes, p. 170.
180 Five Great Skeptical Dramas,
skepticism which far transcended his own personal sympathies, as
we shall presently see when we come to examine his " Faust,"
but even within the narrower circle of his own individuality, he
was unwilling that his recognition of the bounds of reason should
have the effect of compelling his investigations to stop short of
their very extremest capacities. His desire was still to explore
as far and as fully as his mental powers or the objects of his
quest permitted. Thus when he had withdrawn his attention
more and more from the observation of humanity and concen-
trated it on natural science, he describes the change in these
terms : " No one acquainted with the charm which the secrets of
nature have for man will wonder that I have quitted the circle
of observations in which I have hitherto been confined, and have
thrown myself with passionate delight into this new circle. I
stand in no fear of the reproach that it must be a spirit of
contradiction which has drawn me from the contemplation and
portraiture of the human heart to that of nature. For it will be
allowed that all things are intimately connected, and that the
inquiring mind is unwilling to be excluded from anything
attainable. And I who have known and suffered from the
perpetual agitation of feelings and opinions in myself and in
others delight in the sublime repose which is produced by contact
with the great and eloquent silence of nature." l Regarded as
a self -revelation of his own nature, this passage is very note-
worthy. It indicates both the philosophical and personal
grounds of his objection to extreme skeptic idealism. As to the
former, man must limit his quest by what is attainable. His
ideal must be capable of some kind of realisation. Quite in
harmony with this conception was his opinion of the uselessness
of searching for final causes. He was as fully convinced as was
Bacon of their sterility for scientific purposes. Man might put
the questions what and how, he was forbidden to ask why ; or if
he dared that ultimate of all human interrogations, the silence of
nature was its sole response. In the same direction of acquies-
cence in the commonly accepted limits of human investigation
pointed his own most cherished idiosyncrasy the equable tem-
perament which was the one imperative necessity of his existence.
1 Lewes, p. 278.
Goethe's Faust. 181
He identified doubt and the disruption and conflict which
attended it with inward commotion and disturbance, and for this
reason regarded it with disfavour. This fact, however, does not
destroy, it only qualifies, what is equally true, viz., that Goethe
was fully aware both from his own experience and that of others
that doubt was a perfectly natural and legitimate procedure.
Nor could he deny its utility as a pioneer of human enlighten-
ment, however much he might have wished that the course of
this world had been so peaceably ordered by Providence that no
occasion had been afforded for such violent commotions as the
Reformation or the French Revolution. These cataclysms in
human history seem to have exercised the same disturbing
effect on his views of the progress of humanity, as did the earth-
quake at Lisbon and similar catastrophes on his belief in the
providential government of the universe. It may, however, be
suspected, not unfairly, that there is some amount of affectation
in Goethe's professed dislike of the mental disturbance arising
from doubt. Both his own history and that of his chief creations
are at least agreed as we shall see further on in testifying to
a most wonderful and intimate acquaintance with the thoughts,
feelings, and methods of skeptics sufficient to account for if not
fully to justify the skeptical reputation which has always
attached to the name of Goethe.
But while we concede Goethe's antipathy to extreme skeptical
idealism, we must beware of denying or underestimating the
generally idealistic set of his intellect. In point of fact, he was
himself an ardent idealist. In philosophy, in natural science, in
poetry, in art, in religion, his never failing impulse was to exalt,
sublimate, and refine the raw material which those subjects
presented to him. His cherished object was to transfer into a
higher region of thought, to transmute into ideas, ethereal, per-
manent, and universal, the res which nature or humanity prof-
fered for his acceptance. This treatment of the outer world he
regarded as the highest function of literature. 1 Nor was this
object at all inconsistent with his avowed realism. On the
contrary, the mere res the facts of the world and humanity
only attained their due measure of reality, their highest reach of
1 Compare Hettner, Oeschichte dtr Deutschen Literatur, iii., 1., p. 139.
1 82 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
truth and universality, by being thus regenerated and spiritual-
ised. Without this idealising faculty innate, according to
Goethe, in every man J nature were a mere mass of disconnected
phenomena. The mind of man now, like the spirit of God in
Genesis, sits brooding on the waters, and thus evolves order out
of disorder, thoughts from things, kosmos from chaos, reality
from res. By a similar process, men are enabled to lay hold of,
co-ordinate, the facts of experience, and apply them as rules of
social existence or artistic perfection. Only Goethe required
for this ideal realism, or real idealism, a firm basis either in his
own consciousness, or in the undisputed truths of nature and
humanity. Moreover, he required that the idealisation should
have its limits distinctly marked, that it should confine its
operations within the bounds of the humanly useful or attainable.
Purely metaphysical idealism, that which had its starting-point,
for example, in the imagination or the physically non-real, and
was prepared to transcend ordinary human capacities, he pro-
foundly distrusted. " You have long known," said he to Falk,
" that ideas which are without a firm foundation in the sensible
world, whatever be their value in other respects, bring with them
no conviction to me " ; 2 and on another occasion : " I am accus-
tomed to attach no extraordinary value to ideas which have no
foundation in sensible perceptions ". 3 In other words, Goethe
disliked the " high a priori " road of truth research, and was
content to pursue the slower but surer path of the experience
philosophy of Bacon and Des Cartes. Many illustrations might
be adduced of this his favourite procedure. He even identified
it with genius. " What is genius," he asks, " but the faculty of
seizing and turning to account everything that strikes us of co-
ordinating and breathing life into all the materials that present
themselves, of taking here marble, there brass, and building a
lasting monument with them ? " 4 We have already alluded to
Goethe's researches into the archi-typal plant (the story is hardly
less typical of Goethe's intellectual method). As we have seen,
1 On this point see his letter to W. von Humboldt, Werke, xii., p. 447.
It is translated in Miss Austin's Charteristics, iii., p. 302.
2 Characteristics, vol. i., p. 69. 3 Ibid., p. 83.
4 Characteristics, iii., p. 75.
Goethe s Faust. 183
this was to him a conclusion from a large induction a general-
isation abstracted from many concrete examples. It was no
more, therefore, than a scientific fact based on experience, and
he was irritated with Schiller for stating it in terms not of
experience, but of idealism. But from his own standpoint
Schiller was right. The difference between them consisted in
this : Goethe never forgot the concrete facts from which the
abstraction was derived, and to which it owed whatever amount
of veraciousness it might be said to possess, while Schiller valued
the idea in and for itself as a self-existent, universal, eternal
truth, and was unwilling to tie it down to a material, sensuous,
or individual origin. Goethe's Urpflcmze was only one of a
whole class of similar idealisations. He speculated on such
abstractions as Urthier, Urmensch, Ewig-weibliche, as archi-
typal forms of animal, man, and woman, not, of course, in Plato's
sense of independent forms, but as personal Goethean abstractions
from a number of individuals. Goethe applied the same method
to every other subject-matter of thought. Schiller complained
that his whole philosophy was subjective, meaning that it was
too individualistic. He adds that he cannot agree with it
because "it extracts from the senses what he (Schiller) would
draw from the soul ". l The same procedure is seen in Goethe's
teachings on Art. He defines artistic perfection as the union of
nature and the idealising power of the artist, " nature and the
idea being inseparable ". Similarly religion was the etherialised
junction of the facts of nature and of the needs, instincts, and
feelings of man, while God was in simple terms an idealisation of
nature. Jacobi's mystic assertion that nature hid God caused
Goethe more irritation than any of the many discrepancies which
threatened to interrupt their friendship, it contravened so com-
pletely his own most cherished opinion on the true origin of
the idea of God. But here, as in all the other provinces of Goethe's
thought, the basis was sensuous and substantial. The material
universe was a fact. The deliverances of man's consciousness and
his idealising faculties were indisputable, and these were Goethe's
double foundation for the superstructure of all truth. We shall
see further on that this subjective individual idealism had an
1 Ersch und Gruber, sect, i., vol. Ixxii., p. 305, Art. "Goethe".
184 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
unmistakably skeptical significance, though not sufficient to con-
trovert Goethe's own disclaimer of skeptical idealism.
Leaving now Goethe's idealism we must next call attention to
other features of his life and character which disclose a more
pronounced affinity to skepticism. First among these must be
placed his appreciation of freedom, especially as a condition of
personal development. To English readers of his numerous
biographies this is probably the most striking characteristic of
his life. Whether it be our insular prejudice or the outcome of
superior moral training, we are certainly surprised at the latitude
of thought and conduct which Goethe permitted himself from his
early youth to his old age. Some of his biographers have
discerned a special significance in the unusual absence of restraint
or home discipline which marked his youthful years. A more
philosophical mode of accounting for his ardent love of liberty
would be to find it in his intellectual and moral organisation, for
no fact in his life is better attested than his resolve at an early
stage of his career to become a law unto himself. 1 He claimed,
in other words, to determine the scope and direction of his
faculties as he himself saw best. Goethe's conception of liberty
was thus mainly personal and subjective. It represented the
area within which moved his intellectual and imaginative as well
as his sensuous and emotional impulses the scope which seemed
required by his human development in all directions. The
exciting agencies as well as the limits of this freedom were
furnished by himself by his own wants, desires and propensions.
What an immense range these afforded to a nature like Goethe's
is well known to every reader of his works. In every depart-
ment of literature and art, of human thought and practice, he
found a field for the exercise of his faculties and a stimulus to
that exercise. Regarded from his personal standpoint, mental free-
dom was as essential to his spiritual as fresh air was to his physical
well-being. No doubt he recognised, as we have already observed,
1 Compare Wahrheit und Dichtung, book xi. (Werke vol. ix., p. 299).
Hettner in his Geschichte, vol. iii., 1, pp. 9, 10, has pointed out that this
self-legislation and self-development was claimed by all the young
geniuses of the "Sturm und Drang." It is the conflict of this claim with
social and political restraints that constitutes the root thought of
Werther.
Goethe's Faust. 185
certain limits both in speculation and conduct which in theory
he professed never to overstep. Not only so, but he was fond of
insisting that such limits were essential for the highest enjoy-
ment of freedom. Renunciation was in his judgment the highest
law and manifestation of human development whether in specu-
lation, in ethics, or in art. He perpetually claimed to have
established such limits in his own case, and was undoubtedly
sincere in asserting this claim, but we must remember that the
bound is assigned by himself as the measure, not of his own
volition or convenience, as of the utmost stretch of his intellectual
powers, or of his most cultured sense of right, duty and morality.
" A man is never happy," says Jarno in Wilhelm Meister, " till
his vague striving has itself marked out its proper limitation." l
The principal thus indicated may be held to represent the law of
Goethe's inner being. We may define it as a general maxim
thus. All human faculties and appetites are self-determining.
Each possesses a certain innate spontaneously energising power
which is capable of recognising its proper sphere of action, and
of abstaining from encroachment on its limits. The importance
of this dictum is at once apparent, and Goethe applies it to every
endowment or energy of man. 2 At the same time the limits are
confessedly subjective and personal both in range and origin, and
this fact supplies the clue to Goethe's idea of liberty. That a
bound should be placed arbitrarily and ab extra to the free
exercise of any of his powers, or independently of his consent to
the satisfaction of his impulses was a thought not to be borne.
Nor, we must add, was Goethe always satisfied with the limits
he had himself prescribed. Not a few of his actions serve to
prove that Natalia's account of her uncle in Wilhelm Meister s
Lehrjahre is a diagnosis of himself: "Yet he was obliged to
confess that life and breath would almost leave him if he did not
now and then indulge himself and allow himself from time to
time a brief and passionate enjoyment of what he could not
always praise and justify ". 3 One is forcibly reminded of Mon-
taigne's remark that if restrictions existed for him in some
1 Wilhelm Meister, book viii., chap. v.
2 Compare his above-quoted letter to Wilhelm von Humboldt.
3 Book viii., chap. v. Carlyle's translation, vol. ii., p. 93.
186 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
distant part of the universe he should feel himself more unhappy
on that account. Nor does this observation stand alone as
indicating Goethe's occasionally undue deference to prescriptions
and impulses which he considered sanctioned by nature. " Man,"
he continually asserts, " possesses no capacity or tendency without
employing and enjoying it." In the same category of extreme
theoretical liberty we must also place his ingenuous confession
that " there was no crime for which he had not felt in himself a
capacity or inclination," presumably at different times. 1 That
these subjective limits of speculation and action became some-
what narrower as Goethe advanced in life is only what we might
have supposed. The importance of renunciation as a principle of
human self-culture became more and more a prominent article
in his creed. To enforce it he wrote the second part, or " Wan-
derjahre " of Wilhelm Meister a work full of significance in its
bearing on the later stages of Goethe's own development. But
the renunciation we repeat is, like the sense of freedom which it
limits, altogether personal and subjective in its nature. Nowhere
in Goethe's writings is there any externally derived law, code, or
series of principles which have for their object the limitation of a
man's own faculties and activities ; and how free from all such ab
extra coercion and restriction Goethe managed to keep his own
actions is known to every reader of his life. Indeed every interfer-
ence from without would have disturbed and perhaps thwarted the
placid spontaneous self -development which in his judgment ought
to form the true growth of every man, and to which as a standard
he certainly tried to conform every stage of his own evolution.
In this conception of personal freedom Goethe was a genuine
child of the " Sturm und Drang ". All the primary impulses of
that movement are in truth allied to skepticism. Its impatience
with the past, its dislike of traditionalism, its desire for a new,
fresher and fuller life, its tendency to break through all existing
restrictions, often for no other reason than that they existed, its
dissatisfaction arising from the experience that there are limits,
personal, social and natural, which are impassable all were
constituent elements in Goethe's idea of liberty and the self-
1 Ersch u. Gruber, p. 236. Goethe's own defence of this extraordinary
standpoint may be seen in a review of a work on the chief truths of
revelation (Werke xii., p. 257).
Goethes Faust. 187
development based upon it. It is easy to see how his own inde-
pendent studies of nature confirmed the impression of human
freedom with which the Zeitgeist had in the first instance
inspired him. He is another example of the truth so often
exemplified in the history of the human mind that no study
exercises such a disintegrating effect on unverified dogmas and
opinions or a servile worship of the past as that of nature. In
Goethe's philosophy there were two especial aspects of nature
which indicated its free teaching. 1. Its infinity. 2. Its un-
limited multifariousness, both however possessing analogies in
the mind of man. How well Goethe loved to expatiate on these
two phases of nature, in what a variety of imagery and beauty
of language he was wont to describe them, how forcibly he
brought out their teachings for mankind, is well known to his
admirers. The infinity of the universe was in itself a guarantee
and justification of human freedom.
" To give space for wand'ring, is it
That the world was made so wide."
Nor less significant was nature's measureless diversity, its infinite
manifoldness. Important in itself as an inherent aspect of nature
it was even more so in relation to man. In human history light
without shadow was inconceivable. Time was divided into night
and day ; man's life was a commingling of virtue and vice, of
happiness and misery. 1 Occasionally this divergency assumed
the form not of unison but of dissonance and antagonism, which
it was the object of art, civilization, religion, in a word of
idealism of every kind to subjugate and harmonise. From this
dissonance as their original matrix are engendered all Goethe's
great characters, Faust, Werther, Prometheus, Ootz v. Berlich-
ungen, Genout, Wilhelm Meister, etc. They are all so many
attempts at stating, and if possible solving, the problems raised by
man's relation to every aspect of nature and humanity. Not by
any means that Goethe was unmindful of the larger generalisa-
tions in which smaller differences were, if not finally reconciled,
at least temporarily merged and lost. It might almost be
doubted whether as a normal condition of his own intellect this
synthetic conception of nature in her sublime totality did not
1 Werke xiL, p. 265.
1 88 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
overpower the analysis which took cognisance of her numberless
conflicting details. Here the various colours of nature's prism
seemed to converge and dissolve in a ray of the purest white
light. Nor was this reverence for nature as a whole devoid of
that persuasion of sacredness which pertains to religious convic-
tions. Regarded as the sensible source of all movement and
vitality, invested by his reason with inherent energies, elevated
in his imagination to an ideality, unified by his Spinozism into
an ever-present all-power, nature was Goethe's deity. Nor was
he ignorant or forgetful of the worship which best befitted this
Supreme Being. In harmony with her most distinctive attri-
butes he recognised the truth that no offering was more accept-
able to nature than the freedom and the exercise of his manifold
powers on the part of her human worshipper. But the arguments
already offered do not exhaust all those that might be adduced
to prove Goethe's devotion to human liberty. All his principal
characters may be described as determinations by means of certain
fictitious personages of the, scope which he allowed for the
exercise of human faculties and activities, especially of the range
which he permitted to his own energies. He himself confesses
that they are portions of his own individuality, integral parts of
his personal thought and experience. They represent the different
regions or provinces of which the great human continent called
Goethe was composed. Regarded from this his own standpoint,
no one can fail to recognise the enormous range of freedom
which he required for his own movements, and which he was
equally ready to allow in theory to the feelings, energies and
actions of his fellow-men.
II. Next to Goethe's sense of freedom we must place among
his pro-skeptical impulses his passionate feeling of self-conscious-
ness or individuality. Man, according to his own conception,
was a " Nature " possessing within himself an assemblage of
divine qualities and tendencies, as well as an innate capacity for
co-ordinating them in the mode best suited to his personal self-
development. This was indeed a fundamental article in the
creed of all the young Titans of the " Sturm und Drang ". They
all believed themselves at liberty to assert their self-consciousness
against whatever power or authority that might seek to influence
it from without. This contributed the sole point of argument
Goethe s Faust. 189
among natures in many respects so dissimilar as, for example,
those of Goethe, Herder, Schiller, Lavater, and Jung-Stilling.
However different the origin and direction of the individuality
in each case, all were alike persuaded of its existence and of its
right to their unconditional submission. We may, in passing,
remember that the " Sturm und Drang " bears in this respect a
striking resemblance to the Renaissance as well as to every other
epoch of history when men's minds have been profoundly stirred.
Its outcome for the individual is ever mental independence,
self-concentration, an indomitable sense of personal autonomy.
Every great movement of the kind has indeed a twofold tendency,
one contrary to the other. In itself and its diffusive energies it
is centrifugal, but in respect of those who share and possibly
guide it, it will be centripetal as well. By the very rapidity of
its motion the stream of thought expends a portion of its energies
in eddies and backwaters which react on its own sources, and
seem to move in a contrary direction from its own course. Hence
Goethe, Herder and Schiller occupy in the " Sturm und Drang "
the same position as did Montaigne and Descartes in respect of
the French Renaissance or Luther in the religious reformation of
Germany. In either case the activities of which they are centres
appear to possess a reciprocal influence on themselves, especially
in increasing, confirming, extending the individual self-conscious-
ness which probably helped to originate the movement, and
which certainly must have contributed largely to its growth.
Thus the leaders of the " Sturm und Drang " each for himself
made his own self -consciousness the final law and standard of
truth, and its due training and development the sole object of his
own efforts. Hettner describes the movement as marked by
" much foolish singing and talking of the original power and
divinity of genius, whose right and duty it was to develop fully
and entirely its own existence. From this source came the inno-
cent comical persuasion of each that he himself was such a divine
genius that he could recognise no other law of life or of morals
than the unlimited autonomy of the inborn I, no matter what its
condition, just as it came naked out of the hand of nature,
without restraint or moderation, with all its caprices and blind
passions." l The extreme outcome we may add, the reductio
1 Hettner, Geschichte vol. iii., 1, p. 9.
190 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
ad absurdum of the movement found expression in Schiller's
words :
Dern Recht hat jeder Charakter
Es giebt kein Unrecht als der Widerspruch. 1
But while Goethe himself was a genuine product of the " Sturm
und Drang," and highly valued the fresh stimulating character of
the movement, he was both averse to and openly ridiculed the
extravagances of conduct to which it gave rise in weak and
unbalanced natures. Freedom unaccompanied by principles of
self-restraint seemed to him dangerous, 2 but, as we have already
seen, he thought such limitation should be the spontaneously
generated product of a man's own nature, and not an externally
derived and therefore foreign restriction. Goethe, as is well
known, had some trouble in confining the passionate self-
consciousness of the "Sturm und Drang" within the wide
limits he had assigned for its operation. Like Luther in his
contest with Oarlstadt, he found that he had sanctioned a
doctrine whose free proclivities were at once seductive and
dangerous. Like another Frankenstein he had conjured up a
restless destructive spirit which he was powerless to lay. Not
that Goethe was a whit intimidated by this aspect of his favourite
doctrine. Like all strong self-contained natures he discriminated
between the act and its results, between the doctrine and its
possible abuses. If the former were right and true the latter
might be left to take care of themselves and to rectify, if need
were, their aberrations. Here, too, he trod in the steps of
Sokrates who was similarly convinced of the ethical value of
self-knowledge. Goethe would probably have succeeded better
in restraining the individuality of the "Sturm und Drang" if his
own statement of the principle, for example in Werther, had not
itself been excessive, and if this extreme teaching had not
1 Piccolomini, act iv., scene 6. Coleridge translates the passage thus :
" For, by the laws of Spirit, in the right
Is every individual character
That acts in strict consistence with itself.
Self-contradiction is the only wrong."
2 Compare for example : " Alles, was unsern Geist befreit, ohne uns
die Herrschaft liber uns selbst zu geben, 1st verderblich ". Werke viii.,
p. 248. Compare too his estimate of Stern, Werke xii., p. 726.
Goethe s Faust. 191
derived confirmation from his own conduct and his contempt for
ethical conventionalisms. Men could not avoid seeing that the
compensating balance was ineffective to retard the timepiece
which spite of its action continued to go too fast. But whatever
the defects in the original principle, or in the agency employed
for its restriction, Goethe calmly pursued his own course. He
concentrated all his effort on developing from within himself, his
own nature, in every direction suggested by its own innate
manifoldness. Like Faust, he placed first among the formative
elements of his own character as well as among the highest
excellencies of humanity
die hohe Meinung
Womit der Geist sich selbst umfangt.
This intense but complete personality seems to have been the
feature of his character which most struck his friends. Thus
Jacobi wrote of him in 1773 : " The man is independent or self-
contained (selbstdndig) from the crown of his head to the sole of
his foot." x "I know no man," said Henise of him about the
same period, " in the whole history of learned men who, being so
young, was so round and full of his own genius." Notwithstand-
ing his own dislike to extraneous agencies in the process of self-
evolution, Goethe himself ascribed no small power in determining
his mental and spiritual progress to Spinoza. In particular, this
great teacher at once deepened, conformed and gave a permanent
shape to his sense of self-consciousness. He also helped to
co-ordinate and harmonise the heterogeneous elements which in
Goethe's earlier life constituted his individuality. His acquaint-
ance with Jacobi pointed in the same direction. Of the latter
Goethe said : " He too experienced an inexpressible spiritual
want ; he too would not have it appeased by foreign help, but
would form and enlighten himself out of himself ". 2 This self-
growth commended itself all the more to his feelings since it
seemed to him the method of God in nature the means by
which chaos was perpetually being self -evolved into an orderly
and perfect kosmos. The development was determined from
1 Quoted in Ersch und Gruber (Art. Goethe), p. 264.
2 Miss Austin's Characteristics, vol. ii.. p. 125.
192 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
within outwardly, and in its own self-energising power was
sufficient for all things. .
Was war' ein Gott der nur von aussen stiesse
Im Kreis das All am Finger laufen liesse ?
Inn zieht's die Welt im Innern zu bewegen
Natur in Sich, Sich in Natur zu hegen,
So dass was in Ihm lebt, und webt, und ist
Nie Seine Kraft, nie Seinen Geist vermisst.
On this principle the law of nature or the divine in nature
became also a law of man. In its mode of development each
was autonomous. Nature revealed to man the true law of his
being by manifesting herself also as an individuality. The
practical outcome of this idea with reference to new truth was
to suggest to Goethe some such belief as unconscious cerebration.
When he had distinctly grasped a new conception he was satis-
fied to let it germinate of its own accord. He refused to pre-
scribe its course or to precast its final form. 1 This would have
thwarted, possibly destroyed, its own inherent power of growth.
He seems to have allowed the same autonomous development to
every other faculty of thought and conduct. Nor did he refuse
to others what he permitted to himself. Every other man con-
sisted, as he himself did, of a composite individuality, possessing
its own standpoint, its own peculiar mode of sensation, power of
reasoning, etc. This is a favourite thought of Goethe's, which he
has expressed with his usual profundity of insight and wealth of
metaphor. For example, we find among his aphoristic reflections
the following : " Every man employs the prepared, regulated,
elaborated and perfect world as an element out of which he is
engaged in creating a particular world suitable for himself. . . .
He who feels himself thoroughly penetrated with this ground-
truth will strive with no man, but will regard another's mode of
representation as just as much a phenomenon as his own. For
we find by daily experience that one may befittingly think what
is impossible to another's thought, and this too not merely in
matters which influence our weal or woe, but on things utterly
indifferent to us." 2 Elsewhere he says : " Every man must
think in his own manner, for he always finds on his own path a
1 Characteristics, vol. ii., p. 311. Compare also, p. 266.
2 Werke viii., p. 261.
Goethes Faust. 193
truth, or sort of truth, which helps him through life, only he
must not let himself go (out of his own power). The purely
naked instinct is not befitting to man. . . . Unconditioned
energy, of whatever kind, at last makes a man a bankrupt." l It
will follow as a necessary consequence that the greater the man
or the genius, the more marked and manifold the individuality.
" Every great genius," he observes, " has his own progress, his
own expression, his own tone, his own system, and even his own
costume." 2 Not only did Goethe acknowledge this truth, but he
delighted to apply it in detail to his own strangely compounded
nature. His wonderful individuality is manifest in his philos-
ophy, his religion, his Art-teaching, his social conduct, in short,
in every thought and act of his life. It is this that makes the
study of his character so interesting and instructive. Every-
where we find the same massive solidarity, the same self-contained
personality, the same equable temperament, the same calm
critical disregard of heterogeneous elements in his surroundings
which he found himself unable to assimilate into his own thought
or life. We note this first in his philosophy. Though he was
surrounded by the foremost teachers of the most philosophical
epoch in the history of Germany, and was quite capable of enter-
ing into the drift of each contemporary system, Goethe's philos-
ophy was his own. He was a follower neither of Kant, nor of
Fichte, nor of Jacobi, nor of Schelling, but of Goethe. He
allowed his philosophical method his views on nature and
humanity to grow and expand, to mature and fructify, at their
own sweet will, merely giving them the kind of attention a
gardener might bestow on a favourite fruit tree. If he could be
said to have owned a master in philosophy it was Spinoza. Of
none other does he speak in such terms of commendation, to none
other does he profess such obligations. The influence which this
great teacher exercised on Goethe is probably explicable by the
fact that his system is based upon nature and humanity, both of
which factors it treats in the idealising manner most congenial
to Goethe's own method. In all probability Spinoza found his
1 Werke, viii., p. 242.
2 Werke, xii., p. 277, speaking of Lavater. The words are the more
noteworthy inasmuch as Lavater's nature was diametrically opposed to
Goethe's.
13
194 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
greatest disciple on the road to a naturalistic Pantheism, and did
little more than confirm his own self-suggested choice. Any
other influence Goethe would have disclaimed as alien and hetero-
geneous. A purely taught philosophy he abhorred, just as he did
everything not original and spontaneous. Falk tells us he disliked
and distrusted even virtue when laboriously and painfully acquired.
Everything learned by rote was distasteful to him, so also was
all taught elevation of soul, all praying by rote, etc. 1 All such
acquirements seemed to him artificial and external the sickly
and unreal bloom obtained by forcing not the natural and
timely efflorescence of the individual's own character. Nor did
he care to systematise even the few speculative certainties on
which his mind was made up. Formal cut and dried schemes
of philosophy were as repugnant to his freedom-loving nature as
religious creeds. In neither case was room allowed for self-
development, for individuality, for nature and for liberty.
" Every great idea," he said, " operates tyrannically as soon as it
has emerged into public recognition. Hence the advantages it
brings with it are transformed all too soon into disadvantages.
For this reason one may defend and praise a given institution
when, with reference to its commencement, he is able to prove
that what was true of it in the beginning is true of it now." 2
Words in which an occult reference to Christianity is clearly
intimated. " It is not always necessary," he remarks elsewhere,
" that the true should become incarnate. It is fair enough when
it hovers around us spiritually and evokes our sympathetic
agreement ; when, like the sound of bells, it is first wafted to us
delightfully through the air." 3 These two remarks on unsys-
tematised and undogmatic truth give us a clue to Goethe's
individuality in religion. Here also he required room for self-
expansion, for spontaneity, for free play to inborn faculties and
instincts. As all his admirers know, Goethe possessed in his
many-sided conformation a large vein of religious impulse and
feeling. His capacity for emotional and imaginative idealism
found room for exercise on this sacred territory, as well as in
the more secular regions of poetry and philosophy. Before he
1 Characteristics, vol. i., pp. 28, 33. 2 Werke, viii., p. 253.
3 Ibid., p. 242.
Goethe s Faust. 195
reached the age of twenty he had speculated much on Chris-
tianity, and had even gone so far as to attempt an outline of
Neo-Platonic thought suited to his own idealistic propensities.
But Goethe's Christianity, like every other domain of his culture,
was his own. It was as free from alien admixtures of traditional
creeds and church systems as his philosophy was from the out-
wrought schemes of other thinkers. In a well-known passage of
his, Wahrheit und Dichtung, he tells us that being dissatisfied
with the ordinary authorities and presentations of Christianity,
he determined to form a Christianity for his own private use,
basing it upon the facts of history and the lessons he had derived
from nature. Of the scope and character of this Goethean
Christianity we are told all that we have a right to ask on the
subject in different passages of his writings. It was marked by
a supreme respect for the teaching and life of Christ as the true
and sole germ of the Christian faith. He especially insisted on
the human sympathetic and comprehensive aspects of that
primitive teaching. For its purely ecclesiastical and hierarchical
developments he cherished an instinctive dislike, despising what-
ever savoured of excessive austerity, fanaticism and superstition.
This however did not prevent his high estimation of particular
elements in the chief developments of Christianity prevalent in
his time. Thus he reverenced Protestantism for the freedom
and individuality it disseminated among men, while he respected
Roman Catholicism for its services to architecture and the fine
arts, as well as inter alia for its cult of the Ewig-weibliche in
the person of the Virgin. With this recognition of divers aspects
of Christianity as they commended themselves to his own nature,
he combined a cordial reverence for the Bible which seems to
have increased as he advanced in years. He specially appreciated
its many-sided teachings, in which he discerned a similarity to
the diversity which he delighted to mark in the utterances of
nature. To textual criticism he was indifferent. Thoughts and
ideas were to him of infinitely more importance than words.
He said that "he cared not how much contradiction might be
among the evangelists, provided there was none in the evangel," *
an axiom which literalists of all ages would do well to bear in
1 Ersch und Gruber, ut supra, p. 256.
196 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
mind. But while rendering due reverence to all that was best
and purest in Christianity, Goethe's generalising aptitude is as
conspicuous in his religion as in every other province of his
thought. Taught, or at least supported, by Spinoza, he univer-
salised religion just as he idealised nature. He regarded it as
being in some form a faculty, instinct or susceptibility pertaining
to humanity. In some sort it was a spiritualisation of nature
a partaker of its infinite scope and diversity. In this larger ex-
position of religion " the three reverences " of Wilhelm Meister's
Wanderjahre find their place, as well as the naturalistic Panthe-
ism which is diffused throughout most of his works. The latter
finds its fullest and most poetic expression in the well-known
confession of faith with which Faust soothes the tender distrust
of Gretchen as to his orthodoxy. But Goethe was by no means
averse to the presentation of his nature theology under current
forms. Like all great thinkers he was indifferent to words and
forms as long as they expressed or contained what seemed to him
undoubted truths. Thus he says of the first article of the Creed :
" I believe in one God " " This is a fair and praiseworthy
phrase, but to recognise God wherever and however he reveals
himself, that is peculiarly man's blessedness on earth ". 1 With
theological dogmas, however precisely defined and systematised,
Goethe had scant sympathy. For this many reasons might be
assigned. He distrusted, as we have seen, all feelings or motives
to action that were devoid of inherent vitality or spontaneity.
Personal religion was to him too high and sacred to have its
impulses and duties directed from without, or based on principles
already arranged and made to order. He also disliked the gulf
artificial he thought it which theologians always maintained
to exist between physical science and theology between nature-
knowledge and God-knowledge. Nor did he think that the
infinite diversity in Bible teachings could be compressed into a
creed. Besides, Goethe saw the truth that in their adoption and
result religious dogmas were often the outcome of human selfish-
ness. Men frequently hugged the objects of their belief as they
did their money bags, with an eye to their personal advantage,
whereas Goethe maintained that the first requisite of all genuine
1 Werke, xii., p. 730.
Goethe's Faust. 197
religion was disinterestedness. He tells us that the doctrine of
Spinoza which especially impressed him was that men ought to
love God without requiring God to love them in return. Alto-
gether in harmony with this feeling is his remark that piety
should be regarded not as an end but as a means, and the very
inmost nature of Goethe's development is disclosed by what
follows, viz., that the end of piety is to generate and sustain a
kind of ataraxia of culture or philosophic calm. 1 His general
attitude with respect to dogma, and his preference for feelings,
instincts and capacities rather than their definitive products, are
strikingly shown by his distinction of faith and knowledge, the
prime requisite of the former being that man should believe,
what he believed being altogether indifferent, whereas in know-
ledge it was its content, not the fact of knowing, that was of
most importance. 2
In short, Goethe's religion was, both in its genesis and in its
after-growth, marked by his own irrepressible individuality. It
was the gradual development from within of his own religious
nature. His faith, to use his own words, was " a kind of sacred
vessel into which he poured his emotion, his understanding and
his imagination". 3 It also represented the hallowed, ineffable
side of that general idealism which, though based on real things,
was ever the goal of Goethe's effort. He found therefore a
religious side in nature, in art, in human history, as well as in
individuals of many diverse types and tendencies. He delighted
to note this diversity among his own circle of friends, as well as
to trace it in the history of ecclesiastical or philosophical systems.*
He showed its analogy with the phenomena of nature, with the
multiform teachings of the Bible, and pointed out its true cause,
viz., the manifoldness which must needs follow productivity. 6
We need not be surprised to find Goethe's religion attacked on
this very ground of its cosmopolitan qualities. It was much too
broad and many-sided to be comprehended by the average
1 Erach und Gruber, p. 300.
2 Wahrheit und Dichtung, book xiv. ; Werke, vol. ix., p. 527.
3 Wahrheit und Dichtung ; Ibid.
4 Wahrheit und Dichtung, book viii. ; Werke, vol. ix., p. 304.
5 Ibid., p. 302.
198 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
religious dogmatist or sectarian. He manifested sympathy
with every genuine expression of the religious thought of his
day, even in cases where he was repelled by the extreme develop-
ment of any particular tendency. With the Moravian Brethren,
with the cultured Pietism of Fraulein von Klettenberg, with
Lavater and Jung-Stilling, with Kant and Jacobi, as well as
with Spinoza, he had some religious affinity. Much of what has
been termed his religious indifference was nothing more than the
inevitable expression of his many-sidedness. He bore on this
point a striking resemblance to Shakespeare both in his broad
eclecticism and in the ill-fame which sometimes befell him in
consequence.
Equally marked is Goethe's individuality in art. Here also
his object was to develop and expand all those inborn powers
and sensibilities which might be summed up as his own artistic
nature. How great and varied his own artistic qualities were is
well known. He was endowed with rare susceptibilities to colour
and to colour-harmonies. He had a vivid appreciation of form
and outline, and a keen feeling of proportion. Above all, he was
gifted with an exquisite sense of beauty and of the simplicity
and serenity which in his judgment constituted beauty. 1 To
these must be added a tender feeling for nature and a ready
sympathetic insight into her different moods and phases. Such
was the character of the " nature " which it was his aim to
nurture and develop within the limits of its own powers and
idiosyncrasies. Roughly speaking, Goethe's artistic development
may be divided into two periods, each marked by its own
individuality. The former of these, of which he says :
Da ich noch selbst im Werden war,
1 Speaking of his obligations in art culture to Oeser, Goethe says :
" Sein Unterricht wird auf mein ganzes Leben Folgen haben. Er lehrte
niich das Ideal der Schonheit sei Einfalt und Stille, und daraus folgt,
dass kein Jiingling Meister werden konne." Ersch und Gruber, ut supra,
p. 242. It may be remarked that Goethe's ideal of beauty was Andrew
MarvelPs ideal of cultured existence. Admirers of the English poet
may be reminded of the lines :
"Alma Quies teneo te ! et te, germana Quietis
Simplicitas ! vos ergo diu per templa, per urbes
Qusesivi, regum perque alta palatia, frustra ".
Goethe s Faust. 199
consisted of that enthusiastic but tentative and fanciful naturalism
which characterised his earlier thought before he came in contact
with the teachings of Oeser, Lessing and Spinoza : the latter
being the deepening of artistic perceptions, the training of his
imagination, in a word the developed idealism which he derived
from those teachers. Not that these stages are really separable
except as integral parts of the same evolution. Neither in his
own case nor in that of others would Goethe have allowed that a
real distinction was possible between a man's inborn nature and
its development through the teaching of others. 1 The former
determined the latter both as to its character and amount, and
left the mental personality intact. The difference in Goethe's
case seems to have been that the realism which altogether
dominated in the first period was qualified by the increasing
idealism of the second. It might almost be described as the
growing self-assertion of the individual his sensibility, his
taste, his imagination, his increasing many-sided culture over
the material supplied by the outer world. Thus defined, art in
relation to nature signified the intelligent grasping, the effective
harmonising, the exaltation of nature by means of the idealising
faculty of the artist. In the due exercise of that faculty the
artist may be said to recreate nature. The object represented is,
as it were, separated from its nature-matrix, is reperceived by the
eye, reconceived in the understanding, reshaped and recoloured
in the imagination of the artist, receives new birth from his
brush or pencil, and thereby becomes invested with a new
personality of its own. Goethe's works contain many pithy
remarks on this idealising function of art. Thus he says :
" Nature and idea cannot be separated without the fatal disrup-
tion of art life ". 2 " When artists talk of nature they always
understand their own idea of it without being clearly aware of
the fact." 3 No doubt the stress on idealism indicated by these
and similar passages, and which seems to have increased during
the latter half of Goethe's life, ought to have modified in some
degree what he terms his " stiffnecked realism ". But we must
bear in mind that even in his most idealising moods the basis of
1 Compare Werke, vol. xii., p. 77. 8 Werke, vol. xii., p. 13.
8 Ibid., p. 87.
2oo Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Goethe's art-thought was still realistic. His feet were firmly
planted on the ground even though his eyes were directed sky-
ward. Moreover, in his opinion nature herself revealed art-
truth to artistic and cultured insight, just as it did knowledge to
the physical science inquirer, and God to the theologian. When
the genuine artist represented a natural object, "he did not
altogether imitate what the eyes saw, but went back to that
reasoning principle of which nature consists and according to
which it acts "- 1 This profound thought he elsewhere expresses
in another form. " The highest conception of nature would be
to grasp the truth that all the actual is already theory. The
blue of the sky reveals to us the ground principle of chromatics.
Let man look for nothing behind the phenomena, they themselves
are the theory (sieselbst sind die Lehre)." 2 Hence arises a dis-
tinction between works of nature and those of art. " The
smallest production of nature has the circle of its completeness
within itself. ... A work of art, on the other hand, has its
completeness out of itself. The best lies in the ideal of the
artist, which he seldom or never reaches." 3 This passage is
important for our purpose because it discloses the outcome of
Goethe's art theory and proves its individual character. He
clearly asserts the ideal power of the artist over the objects of his
craft, and thereby cuts the ground from beneath any general or
absolute criterion of art excellence. As we shall see further on,
Goethe is quite aware of the skeptical implication of this un-
limited individualism in art, but he apparently believes in what
might be called the " consensus of the cognoscenti " in matters
of art. He thinks that general principles of artistic culture,
general agreement as to art truth and beauty, may be assumed to
exist sufficient, at least, to preserve a given individuality from
any extreme eccentricity or artistic falsehood.
But besides the artist's own ideal, there is another principle
of art judgment on which Goethe laid much stress. This is also
very largely personal, and adds to the individual character of all
art criticism. In all artistic excellence there is involved a certain
eclecticism. This is partially implied in the artist's own assertion
1 Werke, vol. xii., p. 714. 2 Ibid,, vol. viii., p. 258.
3 Miss Austin's Characteristics, vol. ii., p. 264.
Goethe s Faust. 201
of his highest ideal, for in a lively, pregnant imagination, ani-
mated by a many-sided culture, the highest will be only the final
selection from a number of high ideals. Goethe especially
recognised this faculty and its employment in landscape paint-
ing. Here also the ideal was admitted, not to annihilate but to
regenerate and beautify what actually existed. Thus Ecker-
mann tells us that Goethe once showed him a landscape of
Rubens representing a summer evening, and upon his suggesting
that it was a faithful reproduction of nature, Goethe answered :
" Certainly not, a picture so perfect is never seen in nature ".
He further explained his meaning by saying that the painter
carried all nature about with him in his memory, and that was
why there was so much natural truth in his landscapes. So also
in a review of Gessner's Idylls, Goethe incidentally thus
describes his theory of landscape painting. He says of Gessner :
" With the most sensitive eye for the beauties of nature, i.e., for
beauteous forms, proportions and colours, he has wandered about
picturesque places, has collected them in his imagination, has
rebeautified them, and in this way paradisaical landscapes
stand before his mind's eye ". 1 It is an interesting proof of
Goethe's artistic homogeneousness that he applies the same
eclectic method to the creation of his dramatic personages. He
was once accused of making the chief characters in his Tasso
copies of the notable persons of the Weimar Court. He re-
pudiated the charge in a letter to Madame Herder, who probably
quotes his own words : " The poet portrays a complete character
as he appears to him in his soul, but no individual man by
himself ever possesses such a complete character ". 2
This is not the place for commenting on Goethe's art theory
and the ideality and eclecticism of which it was so largely com-
posed. All we are here concerned with is the individuality, the
distinct self-inclusiveness, which was its distinguishing feature,
and which assimilates it to other departments of his thought and
life. We might, were it needful, pursue the same characteristic
in other directions. For example we might point out the per-
sonality traceable in his scientific studies the peculiar combina-
tion of experiment and ideal theorising which renders his
1 Werke, vol. xii., p. 261. 2 Ersch und Gruber, ut supra, p. 278.
2O2 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
researches like his autobiography, a Wahrheit und Dichtung.
Von Muller has well remarked of these two tendencies that they
" were but branches springing from one and the same mighty
radical force the desire of apprehending both the inner and the
outer world in their totality, and of giving them a living form
anew out of himself," x in other words, both the experiment and
the theory were co-efficients of his individualising tendency in
the region of science. We may here add that Goethe's science
investigations furnished him with an admirable analogy for his
favourite idea of the peculiar development of every natural
production. In the evolution of seeds and germs on which he
experimented with enthusiasm, he recognised nature's own rudi-
mentary teachings of the individuality everywhere manifested in
human history, governing the evolution of thought systems, as
well as of animal organisms, and even determining the political,
religious and social conditions of mankind.
More strikingly however, than in any province of his thought
is Goethe's individuality asserted in the conduct of his life,
especially in relation to the female sex. Perhaps it would be too
much to say that of set purpose he opposed himself to the social
opinions and conventional usages of his time, 2 for in his own
public capacity he was an exact and punctilious observer of all
court forms, customs and ceremonies. And yet in the regulation
of his private life a marked indifference to public opinion is one
of his most prominent characteristics. Here he seems to have
allowed no alien influence to disturb, thwart, or modify his own
chosen rule of action. As a result some episodes of his life were
then, and even now continue to be, objects of reprobation. His
liaisons with Frau von Stein and Christiani Vulpius, culpable in
a young man, were utterly inexcusable in a Privy Councillor of
more than forty years old. We must indeed admit that there
was a fatal consistency between his theory and his practice in
this particular. As we have already observed, he was fully
persuaded of the truth of the creed the young Titans of the
" Sturm und Drang " professed, viz., that each man should
develop for himself his own capacities and instincts in whatever
1 Characteristics, vol. ii., p. 265.
2 This has however been said. Compare Ersch und Gruber, p. 290.
Goethe s Faust. 203
direction his own nature prompted. Goethe possessed the courage
of his opinions and did not scruple to conform his life accord-
ingly. Hence his conduct, like his philosophy, his religion, his
artistic activities, was determined from within by his personal
sense of right and fitness and not by extrinsic standards whence-
soever derived. Whatever therefore be our opinion of Goethe's
lax morality we cannot deny that it was an outcome of an
individuality in this case too exuberant and unqualified. In
his enthusiasm for self-development of every portion of his
humanity, Goethe failed to stop short of the Rubicon which
severs private rights from public obligations, and when the
individual, in the wanton exercise of his in many respects fair
claims, opposes himself to the peace and well-being of the society
to which he belongs.
o
Other examples of Goethe's individualism meet us in his
various theories as to politics, literature, etc. Thus Falk tells us
that " he regarded the origin of states as something which, like
every other product of nature, must unfold itself instinctively
and without rule, out of some independently existing germ ; to
this, indeed, mountains, rivers, climate and other circumstances
contribute their share "- 1 The evolution of national literature
appeared to him to be determined by the same inherent
aptitudes, and he delighted to distinguish between the develop-
ment, literary and artistic, of different countries, as well as to
trace, so far as possible, the causes of such peculiarities. Here,
too, we discover the reason of Goethe's aversion to all wars,
popular commotions, revolutions, and whatever disturbed the
placid and timely growth of human culture. He found a refuge
from all such dissonances, whether personal or national, in the
contemplation of nature. Whatever might be the distracted
condition of his own environment, there he found order, quiet,
continuous development, in the words of Von Miiller : " In the
kingdom of nature he beheld on all sides the peaceful working
of plastic powers acting according to fixed laws, the unbroken
chain of living development, and throughout even in apparent
diversity the revelation of a holy rule ". z That this aspect of
nature had occasionally its dissonance for Goethe we have already
1 Characteristics, vol. i., p. 93. a Ibid., vol. ii., p. 275.
204 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
seen and shall again have occasion to consider, but isolated and
rare catastrophes could not altogether rob him of the mental
serenity he derived from the contemplation of nature's general
order the peaceful onward march of her manifold productive-
ness.
We have dwelt on Goethe's individuality at some length,
both from a conviction that it contains a clue to many apparent
anomalies in his character, and also because it throws light on his
pro-skeptical tendencies. Not that decisive self-assertion is in
itself an invariable mark of skepticism, but that in combination
with other qualities, as for example an innate love of liberty,
its propensities are decidedly skeptical. Indeed no great skeptic
has ever appeared who has not been characterised by self-con-
centration, and those who have founded schools, as for example
Sokrates and Descartes, have made self-knowledge or individual-
ism the basis of their system. As to Goethe it might be said
that in more than one region, when his individuality was most
pronounced, he has always been regarded as skeptical, for example
in religion and in respect of social usages. Nor is the considera-
tion of this element in Goethe's character unimportant considered
as a preliminary to the study of Faust, for whoever has carefully
considered that personage must be aware that it is surcharged with
Goethean ideas of individualism. The drama is in fact the
representation from its author's standpoint of a given nature,
though whether its development be true in all points may be
doubted.
III. We must now examine the obverse of the medal. Self-
consciousness, individuality, is in its character and mode of
operation a kind of synthesis. Its aim is constructive and
integrating, at least with respect to its possessor. It only
assumes a dissonant aspect when placed in relation to other
individualities, to alien systems and thoughts. Of a more directly
skeptical tendency is the self -analysis which perpetually watches
and criticises the different syntheses and constructions which the
human mind is ever forming in philosophy, religion, art and
other provinces of intellectual activity. In Goethe, as in most
great natures, both complemental qualities are found so evenly
balanced that it is hard to decide which has the preponderance.
The harmony and completeness of his character we have already
Goethe s Faust. 205
noticed. Probably few great natures ever attained such massive
and homogeneous solidarity. In few has the development
notwithstanding the movement that must always attend growth
been accompanied by such cohesion and uniformity. Yet in
reality Goethe's nature, when scrutinised, reveals division and
disparity. The general harmony is largely made up of musical
discords. The unbroken surface, like the rind of some fruit,
covers lines of cleavage and well-marked divisions within. This
was in truth an inevitable outcome of his intense self -conscious-
ness, for however ardently he was impelled on the path of reason,
imagination, or passion, he never lost the feeling of his own
Goethean personality. The reflective discriminating moiety of his
being was perpetually criticising his impulsive and active moiety.
The thinker watched the actor, the critic interrogated the
thinker, not, as in Hamlet's case, in such a manner as to nullify
his power of action, but so as to confine his energies within due
and reasonable limit. Similarly, the realist in Goethe watched
the idealist, the philosopher, sometimes the cynic, vivisected the
poet. In a word, each constructive faculty, whatever its origin
or direction, was liable to have its syntheses tested by some
solvent agency suitable for the purpose. Thus the individual
was never merged and lost in the active or passive energy he had
himself helped to create, as an engineer might lose control over
the mechanism he himself had designed. Goethe's self-con-
sciousness is not only a whole, an unity in itself, but is capable
of criticising and controlling each of the many faculties of which
it is compounded.
The importance Goethe attached to self -analysis, whether in
nature or in man, is manifested from various portions of his
writings. He recognises the process on the largest scale in the
manifold interaction of the laws and operations of nature. Thus
in his Betrachtungen im Sinne der Wanderer l he says : " It is
a prime quality of the living unity to sever itself, to reunite
itself, to project itself into the general, to continue in the
particular, to transform itself, to specialise itself. Thus the
living may under a thousand conditions so appear as to emerge
forth or to vanish, to become solid or to melt, to be hard or fluid,
1 Wilhelm Meister, Wanderjahre, book ii. ; Werke, vol. viii., pp. 257, 258.
206 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
to expand or draw itself together. Now since all these operations
occur simultaneously, so may all and each happen at the same
time. Growth and decay, creation and annihilation, birth and
death, joy and sorrow, every one operates through each other in
the same sense and in equal proportion. For this reason what
is most singular may present itself as an image or symbol of
what is most general." This analysing function of nature, as
a whole, keeping pace with and conditioning her eternally
constructive processes, is a truth which Goethe applies to
physical research. " If," he observes, " existence in its totality is
an eternal loosing and binding, it follows that men in contem-
plating the immense object will sometimes loose (analyse) and
sometimes bind." * But man, according to Goethe, has the right
to apply the same disintegrating process to his own mental
synthesis. He said of Lavater : " He who feels within him a
truly pregnant synthesis has peculiarly the right to analyse it,
because he proves and establishes his inward whole by his out-
ward individual parts ". 2 That Goethe was fond of analysing
his own fruitful syntheses is very evident. His self-criticism
betrays itself in every department of his thought and feeling,
from the simplest act of the senses to the highest reaches of
imagination and passion. It is this faculty which intensifies
and brings into prominence his many-sidedness, since every
manifold nature, if gifted with self-discrimination, must needs
express itself in a manifold manner. Now Goethe was not only
analytical in the sense of comprehending in a single glance two
opposite aspects of the same subject, but in that of discriminating
the multiple aspects that pertain to most subjects. He was not
only " two-eyed," to use the expressive Greek term, but he had
something of the hundred-eyed vision of the fabled Argos. Nor
was Goethe unconscious of this peculiar manifoldness of his own
nature. He both recognised and cultivated it. His zeal for
developing in its turn and measure every natural power, no
matter what its origin and direction, was partly the cause of that
contempt for conventional theories on ethics which we have
already noticed. Of the innumerable compliments he received,
1 Wilhelm Meister, Wanderjahre, book ii. ; Werke, vol. vii., pp. 257, 258.
2 Werke, vol. ix., p. 642.
Goethe s Faust. 207
probably the one which best pleased him was that of " panoramic
ability," with which some English admirer credited him. So
persuaded was he himself of the truth of this eulogium that he
wasted much valuable time in the earlier half of his life in a
futile attempt to acquire the arts of oil-painting and sketching
from nature, for which he seems to have had but little talent.
Moreover, he applied the same criterion to other men. The
degree of panoramic ability possessed by any man constituted
the measure of his excellence in Goethe's estimation, since the
more many-sided any given character the more closely did he
approximate to the variety discernible in nature, in humanity as
a whole, in the Bible, etc. Everywhere, to use his own words,
" universality is desirable, while singularity is repellent ". It is
perhaps needless to point out how all his dramatic creations are
marked by this same multiplicity. Their manifoldness is indeed
an inevitable result of the eclecticism which, as we have seen, he
employed in their construction. " Faust," the highest and most
elaborated of them all, is especially distinguished in this respect.
While Wagner, the pedant and dogmatist, has only his single
capacity, and is impatient of every other, Faust is conscious not
only of two, but of opposite and conflicting natures.
Zwei Seelen wohnen auch in meiner Brust
Die eine will sich von der andern trennen,
and many other passages testify both to the multiplicity of his
nature and his power of self-analysis. We shall see further on
how the same conception coloured Goethe's notions of truth and
truth-search, and how much of eclecticism was thereby imparted
to his intellectual operations. At present we may content our-
selves with a brief sketch of the general range of his analysing
instincts. Although he did not care to dissect sense-impressions
after the manner of a Greek skeptic and in the interests of pure
truth or falsehood, he was always alive to their artistic signifi-
cance. He said that in the interests of art men needed a critique
of the senses analogous to that which Kant instituted of the pure
reason. The observation is interesting as bearing on his aesthetic
development. It betrays the incessant discipline and watchful-
ness to which for artistic purposes he subjected his sense-im-
pressions, the care with which he discriminated between their
pictorial or ideal aspects i.e., those capable of further elaboration
208 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
by reason or imagination and those ill adapted for such purposes.
Still more marked and general is his vivisection of reason.
Probably the work among all contemporaneous treatises on
philosophy which most arrested Goethe's attention was Kant's
Kritik, though he was more interested in its larger results than
in the metaphysical processes by which these were attained.
The work ministered to his analytical propensities just as
Spinoza's writings did to his synthetic impulses. He proposed to
apply the same critical method not only to the senses but to the
understanding and to the general "common sense" (Gemein-
verstand) which is the ordinary basis of human action as well as
of popular speculation. 1 But independently of his philosophic
studies and theories, Goethe everywhere manifests a tendency to
analyse the mental faculties and to question their infallibility.
Introspection has taught him that there is in man a principle of
dissonance or contradiction 2 a parallel to the dissonance observ-
able in certain aspects of nature. He is quite aware that reason
has in common with the rest of man's highest faculties its obverse.
The opinion of Satan in the " Prologue in Heaven " of Faust as
to the depraved use men make of the " Divine Light " of reason
occurs in other portions of Goethe's works. 3 We have also many
skeptical intimations of its weakness, uncertainty and limitation.
The principle of renunciation already spoken of, on which he
insisted so strongly, was only this conviction of human limitation
elevated into an ethical principle. It was the Nemesis that
dogged with inevitable step the buoyant creations of the intellect
and the lofty aspirations of the fancy. Nor was this Goethe's
sole method of limiting within due bounds the forward impulses
of the reason. His " stiff-necked realism " furnished him with
an ever-ready principle well adapted for testing the outcome of
elaborate mental processes. This was his ultima ratio in
theology, in philosophy, in art, and in short in every domain of
1 Werke, vol. xii., p. 738.
2 " Wir konnen einem Widerspruch in uns selbst nicht entgehen ; wir
miissen ihn auszugleichen suchen. Wenn uns andere widersprechen,
das geht uns Nichts an, das 1st ihre Sache." Werke, vol. xii., p. 700. So
he says in his Wahrheit und Dichtung (Werke, vol. ix., p. 302) : " Der Geist
des Widerspruchs und die Lust zum Paradoxen steckt in uns alien ".
3 Compare for example Werke, vol. xii., p. 50.
Goethe s Faust. 209
his intellectual or practical life. One result of this realistic
analysis was that Goethe presented a front of experimental
rationalism to the extreme idealism of Fichte and Jacobi, to the
one-sided religionism of Lavater and Jung-Stilling, to the
superstitions of Catholics, and to the bibliolatry of Protestants.
Moreover he had an instinctive love for simplicity and directness
in all mental operations, which also acted as a powerful solvent
of some products of the human reason. Thus he acquired early
in life an insuperable dislike to formal logic as a cumbrous
method of performing intellectual operations which most sane
men find no difficulty in accomplishing without its aid. The
ironical advice of Mephistopheles to the student to lace up his
mind in the Spanish boots of college logic is only a striking
mode of expressing Goethe's hearty aversion to the so-called
science, together with all the formality and pedantry of which it
was the source.
The vigorous analytic which Goethe applied to religious
dogmas is well known. Faust will afford us many examples of
it. Not that the analytic was always and necessarily destructive.
Often it was no more than a kind of chemical experiment. The re-
solution of a compound into its simplest elements disintegration
for the purpose of reintegration. Goethe's was not a nature to
receive without minute analysis a dogma or belief which had no
other than an extrinsic or traditional authority. As we have
already seen, he required his religion to be the product of his own
emotional and spiritual development, and few students of Goethe
are aware of the profound depths to which his religious feelings
were capable of penetrating. Here again his realism came in as
a mode of analysis and as forming a basis and test of religious
emotions. He might respect, he could never receive, convictions
and experiences for which he failed to discern an adequate foun-
dation in nature and humanity without, or in his own needs,
feelings and capacities within. The only point on which he
allowed his reason to penetrate into mystic regions beyond the
scope of his personal experience was in his devotion to Spinozism.
Here he was penetrated by the infinitude of the universe, by the
eternal persistency and manifold activity of its energies. Still
this final synthesis does not diminish the fact that Goethe's
method in religion was largely analytic. We might indeed say
14
2io Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
that synthesis or construction is his favourite mode of presenting
formally the results of his analyses, just as a chemist sums up in
a comprehensive formula the final results of his experiments and
disintegrations.
Goethe applied the same critical method to the products of
his imagination and his theories on art. His dramatic creations,
though, as we have seen, prejudicially affected by his cosmic
imagination, nevertheless exemplify the truth that the best, nay,
the only effective means of acquiring the art of human character-
dissection is to practise that of self-analysis. He himself used to
say that he had never written what he had not experienced, i.e.,
either in his own personality or in that of other men with whom
he had come in contact. In the latter case his experience of
alien natures was always reconceived and reshaped in his own
mind, and therefore came under the operation of the perpetual
vivisection to which all his thoughts and fancies were submitted.
How closely the exercise of this faculty was related to Goethe's
ideas as to the infinite variety existing among men we need not
point out. If the analysis was the instrument by which the
diversity was discoverable, the latter constituted the material on
which the former operated and by means of which its dissecting
edge was maintained at its necessary degree of keenness. Similar
features mark Goethe's relation to art. The highest conception
of artistic beauty he defined as an union of nature and idea
somewhat like that existing between man's soul and body. Each
was indispensable to the other, though in the highest artistic
creations nature must always be subordinate to ideality as the
body is to the soul of a wise man. It was hardly more than a
corollary from these premisses that the absolute in art was as
indeterminate as the absolute in philosophy. Both the sublimest
conception and the highest reach of artistic excellence must needs
be individual and subjective. Many passages in Wilhelm Meister
and in the Kunst und Literatur might be adduced in proof of
this artistic skepticism on the part of Goethe. For instance, the
test of absolute perfection propounded to his pupils by the
Statuary " Superior " in Wilhelm Meister s Wanderjahre is this :
'' Is there any of you who, in presence of this stationary work,
can with gifted words so awaken our imagination that all we
here see concreted shall again become fluid without losing its
Goethe s Faust. 211
character, and so convince us that what our artist has here laid
hold of was indeed the worthiest ? " : precisely the process, it may
be added, which the skeptic applies to the conceivable disintegra-
tion of philosophical systems and of religious dogmas. The suc-
cess of the experiment, though Goethe only considers it from an
artistic point of view, would seem to show that he distrusted
absolute finality in art just as much as in philosophy or in
science. Nor is this the only example of what may be termed
destructive analysis in Goethe's art teaching. He lays it down
that since man is an unity of manifold inwardly conjoined
powers, art must appeal to this wholeness, it must express this
rich unity, this single multiplicity that is in him. 2 We must
however remember that here, as always, Goethe's analysis
culminates in a synthesis, though this may possibly be only
formal and relative. Art must have some standard or criterion
of excellence however exposed to disintegration from its neces-
sary individuality in final analysis. Thus : " Imagination is in
itself a vague unstable power which the whole merit of the
plastic artist consists in more and more determining, fixing, nay,
at last exalting to visible presence ". 3 Even the conventional in
art is of value, as it consists of the judgments of the foremost
artists and critics. An external standard is moreover afforded
us by nature :
Wie Natur im Vielgebilde
Einen Gott nur offenbart,
So im weitern Kunstegefilde
Webt ein Sinn der ewgen Art :
Dieses ist der Sinn der Wahrheit
Der sich nur mit Schonem schmiickt
Und getrost der hochsten Klarheit
Hellsten Tags entgegen blickt ; 4
while a further limit to capricious lawless individuality is found
in the fact that those who have most genius or native talent are
always the most anxious to submit to canons of art, though this
1 Carlyle's translation, vol. ii., p. 255. Goethe has employed the
same illustration in a previous passage (p. 119).
2 Werke, vol. xii., p. 48.
3 Ibid., vol. viii., p. 211 ; Carlyle's translation, vol. ii., p. 251.
4 Werke, vol. viii., p. 216.
212 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
is a rule which clearly applies only to the elementary teachings
and not to the highest provinces of art culture and aesthetic
taste.
Perhaps, however, the domain in which Goethe's aptitude for
self-analysis is most forcibly exhibited is in that of passion.
The power of his amatory inclinations throughout the whole of
his long life is one of the best attested facts of his character.
But it is very remarkable that in all his varied love affairs his
passion never transcends his own careful scrutiny of its impulses.
It is now admitted by all competent critics that the Mephis-
topheles who sneers at Faust's passion for Gretchen, as well as
the Faust who feels the passion, had both their origin in Goethe's
own nature. Like Heine and Byron he was in a great degree a
skeptic in love. Nor is this only the judgment of outside critics.
Both his own writings and the correspondence published since
his death clearly prove that in all his love episodes there was a
spice of retrospection, of self -analysis, sometimes even of cynicism.
Mephistopheles follows Faust, just as Faust pursues Gretchen. One
of his most trustworthy biographers assures us that he regarded
women very much as objects of psychological observation. He
took especial note of their loves and hatreds, for in these they
were sincere. On the other hand :
Wenn sie aber urtheilen und meinen
Da will's oft wunderlich erscheinen. 1
He also considered them, together with the passion they stirred
in his susceptible bosom, from the utilitarian standpoint of incen-
tives to poetic production, and he seems to have sought their
society and tried to awaken their interest with that object in
view. Mr. Lewes, alluding to the well-known denial of Wilkes
that he had ever been a Wilkite, says that Goethe was never a
Wertherite, and it is manifest, both from his own testimony as
well as from other sources, that his pretended passion for Lotte
had never been so vehement as it is represented in Werther. It
seems indeed very difficult to exonerate Goethe from a charge of
narrowness and selfishness in his dealings with women. Cultured
and accomplished women he disliked, and his favourites of the
sex, with the single exception of Frau von Stein, were more
1 Compare Ersch und Gruber, ut supra, p. 243.
Goethe s Faust. 213
remarkable for natural simplicity, grace and tenderness than for
mental endowments. In his life the type is best represented by
Christiani Vulpius, and in his writings by the immortal Gretchen
of Faust. Of his inflammable nature there can be no question,
but the depth and sincerity of his passion are certainly open to
doubt. Few readers of the Wahrheit und Dichtung can have
failed to notice the undertone of vanity with which Goethe,
when an old man, recounts the love-affairs of his life. He
evidently regarded the passion as a matter of more interest than
the objects of it. This is incidentally proved by his naive
remark : " It is a very pleasant feeling when a new passion
begins to stir in us before the old has disappeared " a maxim
curiously opposed to the old English proverb :
'Tis good to be off with the old love
Before you are on with the new.
We need not stay to point out how the true significance of this
confession is borne out by more than one episode in Goethe's life>
and especially by his cold-hearted cruelty to Frederika Briori. 1
We have stated enough to prove that his customary self -analysis
is as conspicuous in his passions as in his other convictions and
feelings. So far we must admit there is an unquestionable
consistency in the different phases and elements of his nature.
IV. No small insight into the complex character both of
Goethe and Faust, and consequently into the skepticism of each,
is obtained by reviewing the chief personages of Goethe's works.
For if it be true, as has often been alleged, that " Faust is Goethe,"
it is also true that, like his creator, Faust is a compendium of all
Goethe's chief dramatic characters. We find in him the Titanism
of Prometheus and of Gotz von Berlichingen, the Weltschmerz
and despair of Werther, the search for culture of Wilhelm Meister,
the popular sympathies of Prometheus and Genout, in addition
to his own peculiarity of inquiring skepticism. We may
bestow a passing glance at each of them in its turn.
1 Of this unworthy episode in Goethe's life, one of his recent critics
has remarked : " Man wollte ihm vieles verzeihen aber das Herz eines
solchen Madchens gebrochen zu haben, war eine Unmenschlichkeit.
In jenem selben Sommer schrieb Herder an Goethe, dass er ihm eines
wahren Enthusiasmus gar nicht fur fahig halte." H. Grimm, Vorks-
ungen, etc., i., p. 80.
214 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Goethe repeatedly confesses the fascination which the root-
thought of Titanism exercised on him. As we have seen, it was
the spirit of the age ; the leaven which fermented in the " Sturm
und Drang". He thus describes in the Wahrheit und Dich-
tung the origin of the idea in his own spiritual evolution : " I
had often enough experienced in my youth that in the moments
of our uttermost need a voice cried aloud to us : ' Physician, cure
thyself ! ' and how often was I not forced in bitterness of heart
to sigh : ' I must tread the winepress alone '. . . . When I looked
around for some support to my self-dependence, I found that its
surest foundation was my productive talent. ... I willingly
sought to make this gift the ground or basis of my whole
existence. This notion transformed itself into an image. The
old myth of Prometheus occurred to me," etc. Like most thought-
germs which took possession of Goethe's fertile intellect, the
idea proved prolific. Man's self-isolation, his equality with deity,
his independence and self-reliance, various phases and directions
of human aspiration were among the products of this Promethean
fire. But though Goethe thus manifested an elective affinity for
the Prometheus myth, he adopted chiefly those portions of it
which suited his own temperament and mode of thought. He
did not put forward any more than did Aeschylus the gigantic,
violent, heaven-storming phase of Titanism. He himself tells us :
" The Titanic heaven-attacking character afforded no material for
o
my vein of poetry. Rather did it suit me to depict that peaceful,
plastic and ever-patient resistance which owns a superior power,
but seeks to equal it. Yet even the more daring of the Titan
race were my saints. Received into the society of the gods, they
would not behave obsequiously enough, incurred the anger of
their hosts and patrons as insolent guests, and drew upon them-
selves a miserable sentence of condemnation. I pity them," etc. 1
The various directions in which the Prometheus myth operated
in the mind of Goethe are sufficiently indicated by the different
forms it assumed in his works. In Ootz von Berlichingen, for
example, the idea is represented by the struggle of the hero
against feudal oppression, and in favour of popular liberty. In
the monologue of " Prometheus " Goethe sums up in an intensified
1 Characteristics, vol. i., p. 260.
Goethe s Faust. 215
form all the antitheistic and philanthropic elements which could
by any possibility be attributed to Prometheus. The drama of
the same name consists especially of those two features of the
myth which are most prominent in the play of Aeschylus, viz.,
1, defiance of the gods; 2, sympathy with men. Still the theme
is here enlarged, and other characteristics taken from the oldest
form of the Greek myth for example, Prometheus as creator of
man are incorporated. In the series of poems which from their
treatment of different aspects of the same subject may well
be called Promethean, for example, " Ganymede," " Grenzen der
Menschheit," and " Das Gottliche," he deals with human aspira-
tions, ideal and moral beauty, the divinity of humanity, themes
which might all be summed up in the two lines :
Nur allein der Mensch
Vermag das Unmogliche.
But in its highest and most Goethean development the idea is seen
in Faust. Indeed, the two dramas of Prometheus and Faust were
wrought out at the same time, and beneath the inevitable distinc-
tion between the great hero of Greek mythology and the chief
character of mediaeval devil-legends, striking similarities may be
discerned. Like Prometheus, Faust has abjured what might be
called supernatural authority. It is true that God, probably in
virtue of his persistent striving after truth, calls Faust his
servant, but the latter makes no overt profession of allegiance to
him. On the contrary, much of Faust's discontent is based on
an outspoken incrimination of the divine arrangements, both in
man and in the universe. As to powers of evil, he expressly defies
them. He is no more alarmed at the misanthropic powers of hell
than Prometheus cares for the similar designs of Zeus. Besides,
Faust is just as independent and self-reliant as his Greek
prototype. He also resembles the Titan in his philanthropy.
He desires more knowledge, not merely for his personal enlight-
enment, but to advantage mankind, and part of his complaint
against the seeming knowledge he has acquired is that it is
useless for the latter purpose.
No doubt Titanism in its most general sense of discontent
with the arrangements of the universe enters largely into the
ground-thought of Werther, yet the prevailing sentiment of that
work is a half imbecile Weltschmerz an unreasonable and
216 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
unreasoning disgust with the laws and facts of mundane exist-
ence. For we must remember there may be a justifiable as well
as an unjustifiable Weltschmerz. The sentiment may be com-
bined with, if not grounded upon, the Sehnsucht the yearning
for the absolute or the true which must form an essential
feature of every complete thinker. It may be based on incon-
gruities in nature, or, as in Hamlet's case, on the unjust operation
with regard to humanity of the laws of the universe ; or on the
other hand, it may have no worthier source than the peevish
petty vanity, or the extravagant passion, of the individual who
professes to suffer it. In a word, the feeling may be broad ;
generous, disinterested, or it may be mean, narrow, selfish and
absurd. Each has its own exponent among Goethe's dramatic
creations, for while Faust may stand for the former, the latter is
represented by the immortal but pitiful Werther. There is
indeed ample ground for concluding that both one and the
other represent stages in Goethe's own development. The
immense power which the conception of Werther exercised on
him at one period of his life is well known, nor is it hard to
account for. The idea formed a meeting point of various
influences which Goethe derived partly from the spirit of the
time, partly from his own nature. Werther was above all things
the gospel of the " Sturm und Drang ". It represented the mal-
content, insurrectionary spirit of that movement. It portrayed
its maudlin sentimentalism, its irrepressible " gush," if we may
use the word. It indicated the impatience of social, legal and
ethical restrictions which marked it. It typified the immeasur-
able and irrepressible yearning of its teachers. Nor less was it
an outlet for the pessimism which Goethe had derived partly
from his own exuberant imagination, his ebullient and passionate
nature, partly from the instruction of pessimistic teachers, as for
example Behrisch and Marck. Moreover, it formed the pendant
in the region of human sentiment and passion to the more
intellectual Weltschmerz of Faust a character which he had
begun to elaborate even before the date of Werther. He himself
attests in vigorous terms the hold which the latter work had on
him during the period of its conception. He once told Ecker-
mann that Werther was " a creation which he, pelican-like, had
nourished with his own heart's blood ". Not that this implies
Goethe's Faust. 217
that Goethe himself was so immersed in the passion of Werther
as to have quite lost his power of self-analysis or self-conscious-
ness ; it merely signifies that he remoulded and intensified the
elements of passion given by his own experience until they
assumed the artistic form given in Werther. Now the Weltsch-
merz of Faust, as we have observed, is of the nobler kind. For
the most part it is not based on purely personal grounds but on
broad comprehensive views of humanity and its relation to the
universe. It is engendered by intellectual needs, not by sexual
passion, and for this reason represents better than Werther the
emotional side of Goethe's character and aspiration. Yet it is
remarkable that he sometimes treated even this nobler sentiment
with cynicism. Thus in the Wahrheit und Dichtung we find
him sneering at Jerusalem (the prototype of Werther) for indulg-
ing in the philosophical yearning of Faust. " If now, as they
say, the greatest happiness rests in a sense of longing (Sehnsucht\
and if the genuine longing can only be directed to something
unattainable, everything had fallen together to render the youth
whom we now accompany on his wanderings the happiest of
mortals " l an observation which we may take as exemplifying
either Goethe's occasional self-analysis of cherished moods and
beliefs, or else his general impatience of transcendental thought,
of which we have already spoken. We may probably take Faust's
ordinary mood of reasoned dissatisfaction with the conditions
of existence and of truth-search as nearly resembling Goethe's
general attitude towards the same facts. This need not prevent
our admission that the pessimism of Faust assumes occasionally
an extreme form hardly different from the petty sentiment
of Werther, since it is evident that even in the better ordered
and self - renunciatory portion of his development Goethe
was not quite free from occasional relapses into the excessive
sentimentalism of his Werther-period. Certainly the truth
searcher who, in despair of attaining the object of his quest,
takes the goblet of poison into his hands cannot be said to be
removed by an immeasurable distance from the weak-minded
hypochondriac who shoots himself for the sake of Lotte. Nor is
the distinction much greater when we bear in mind the mystical
1 Book xii. Oxenford's translation, vol. i., p. 474.
218 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
yearning of Faust for a freer and fuller existence than that of
earth, since Werther also shares some vague hopes of a greater
liberty after death, as well as a closer union with Lotte in a
spiritual world. Besides this similarity in respect of suicidal
propensities the pessimism of Faust appears to approach in its
excessive form the uncontrollable passion of Werther in another
scene, viz., that which contains his wholesale malediction of all
the pleasures and ties of human existence. Still these parallels
of thought and action between Werther and Faust must not
make us forget the fundamental distinction which demarcates
them, for the genius and method of Werther is negation while
that of Faust is generally suspense or effort. The one struggles
with the problems of existence, devises new methods for their
solution. The other solves the riddle in Buddhist fashion by
terminating, so far as possible, his own consciousness of existence.
Wilhelm Meister is another character which throws much
light both on Goethe's own development and on the true meaning
of Faust, while it also presents remarkable affinities to Werther.
The Lehrjahre teaches the same lesson with reference to art and
culture as Faust does with regard to intellectual truth and
Werther with respect to the physical passion of love. Like
Faust it is a record of human effort and aspiration thwarted by
error but sustained and ennobled by persistency. That this is
the moral of the work is testified by Goethe himself. In his
Tag- und Jahres-heften he says : " The beginnings of Wilhelm
Meister form an obscure presentiment of the great truth that
man may frequently attempt something for which nature denies
him the capacity ; he may undertake and employ himself about
that for which he has no talent. An inward feeling warns him
to abstain ; still he cannot come to terms with himself, and he is
impelled along false ways to false objects without knowing how
it will turn out. To this we may attribute all that which is
called false tendency, dilettantism, etc. If sometimes a light a
bright light appears to him on the subject, there is stirred
within him a feeling akin to despair, and yet he allows himself
to be hurried onward by his impulses, only offering them a half-
resistance. Very many waste in this way the fairest portion of
their life and sink at last into a wonderful melancholy. And
yet it is possible that all the false steps may finally lead up to
Goethe s Faust. 219
some inestimable advantage." This feeling, which in Wilhelm
Meister is perpetually unfolded, illustrated and established, is at
last avowed with outspoken words : " Thou seemest to me like
Saul, the son of Kish, who went forth to seek his father's asses,
and found a kingdom ". l The idea thus described is evidently
'applicable in some degree both to Werthef and Faust. Wilhelm
pursues an unsuitable culture or talent just as Werther cherishes
an unavailable passion, or Faust pursues unattainable truth. 2
The chief distinction between Wilhelm Meister and Faust turns
on the value of renunciation, the discovery of the bounds of
human effort and capacity, and acquiescence in their restrictions.
This is manifestly easier when the " self-denying ordinance "
relates to the limits of a man's artistic ability rather than to the
bounds of general human knowledge. There is therefore an end
of Wilhelm Meister's " Streben," while there is no terrestrial limit
to that of Faust. Hence if Wilhelm resembles Saul in going
forth to seek his father's asses and finding a kingdom, we might
say of Faust that he starts in quest of a kingdom and finds only
a few stray asses on his way, or, employing Goethe's own simile,
he gropes for treasure and finds only earthworms. The skeptical
import of the conception arises partly from the fact that it is an
inquiry directed to an unattainable object, and that it is only by
the peremptory resolution of the inquirer that the search stops
short of its anticipated goal. Supposing a similar expedient
admissible in the case of ardent ideal truth-search, it might be
described in similar terms. The cynic or satirist might pronounce
of all seekers after the infinite, the absolute, the Ding an sich,
etc., who gave up the quest in despair, that they too went forth
to seek asses but found a kingdom. But secondly, another
skeptical implication of Wilhelm Meister is that he is an opponent
of traditional ideas of culture, especially artistic and dramatic.
The existing creeds and opinions of the aesthetic world he despises
and rejects. By means of the tuition of cultured friends, by
continual reflection and ever- widening experience, and not least
by the study of Shakespeare, he attains a new artistic standpoint
which is far removed from the art ideas which obtained in
Germany prior to the time of Lessing. Perhaps, too, we ought
1 Compare Ersch und Gruber, vt supra, p. 308.
2 See on this point Hettner, Geschichte, vol. Hi., 3, p. 114.
220 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
to comprehend with the Lehrjahre the Wanderjahre as forming
the complete individuality of Wilhelm Meister. But so doing
we enlarge indefinitely the province of the hero's " Streben ".
Other influences, parental, social, religious, etc., have to be taken
into account as cultural agencies. Hence the education of the
individual and the full scope of his effort assume gradually that
infinity of aspect which is one main characteristic of genuine
skeptical and unlimited search, and Wilhelm Meister is thus
unconsciously transmuted into a kind of Faust of culture.
V. Besides the larger considerations already enumerated for
estimating the character of Goethe and its bearing on his chief
creation of " Faust," there are lesser arguments attesting Goethe's
skepticism, and throwing light on its reproduction in his greatest
drama.
1. Goethe's peculiar fitness for exploring physical science, for-
merly disputed, is now conceded by all critics whose opinion on
the subject is worth having. He possessed the patient observa-
tion, the reliance on careful experiment, the aversion to hasty
theorising, the instinct for co-ordinating numerous facts into a
general law, which collectively mark the highest scientific genius.
But with all his stress on the methods of science, and notwith-
standing his occasional dogmatism as to his own discoveries, he
was, on the whole, profoundly impressed with the limited and
uncertain nature of scientific knowledge. Indeed his opinion on
the subject is nearly as strong as that put in the mouth of Faust.
Thus we find him reviewing his own labours towards the close of
his life : " If I were to write down the sum of all that is worth
knowing in the various sciences with which I have employed
myself throughout my life, the manuscript would be so small
that you might carry it home in your pocket in the cover of a
letter ". He continues : " The chapter of electricity is that which
in modern times has, according to my judgment, been handled the
best ".* Yet electricity was with Goethe a favourite illustration
of human ignorance. Among the pithy maxims in which he
was wont to concentrate the wisdom of his life we find this :
" Who knows anything about electricity, says a merry nature-
searcher, except when he strokes a cat in the dark, or when
1 Characteristics, vol. i., p. 41.
Goethes Faust. 221
lightning and thunder are gleaming and rattling about him ? How
much and how little knows he of it then ? " l He himself becomes
more convinced the further he advances in natural science that its
progress is attended with error, that each step forward is accom-
panied by a step backward, and that it is impossible to free
science from even recognised errors. 2 Another property of
natural science not tending to certitude is that we cannot fittingly
describe many of its problems without calling to our aid meta-
physics, not, indeed, that school- and word-wisdom commonly
signified by the term, but that which was, is, and will be, before,
with, and after physics a profound remark whose implication is
too often forgotten in the present day. Goethe's cautious
attitude with respect to science is further borne out by his
general opinions on truth and error. " Truth," said Goethe, " is
like God, we cannot know it in itself but only in its manifesta-
tion ; the result being that its recognition must depend on the
receptive powers of those who discern it." Not less personal and
individualistic is his definition of subjective truth : " If I know
my relation to myself and to the outer world I call it truth.
Hence every man may possess his own truth, and yet is it always
the same," i.e., it may be presumed, in idea, or subjective relation.
Like Shakespeare he admits that truth has to human observers a
blinding or scorching effect. " It is a torch, but an enormous one,
for which reason we approach it blinkingly, and are afraid of
burning ourselves." In the same spirit he speaks of his scientific
discoveries : " To me it has befallen in the pursuit of science as
one who rises early in the dim light of the dawn and who
impatiently expects the sun, and yet when it comes forth he is
blinded ". Another difficulty in respect of truth-attainment arises
from its simplicity. In this consists its discrimination from
error, which is always compound and multiple. In one respect
" truth contradicts our nature while error does not. For truth
demands that we must know ourselves as limited ; error, on the
contrary, flatters us that we are in some way or other un-
limited" But notwithstanding its perversity, illusiveness and
difficulty of attainment, the persistent search for truth is the
mark of the noblest intellect, since " love of truth is the first and
1 Werke, vol. viii., p. 401. 2 Ibid., p. 254.
222 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
last requirement of genius ". Elsewhere he defines this passion as
" knowing how to find and treasure the good everywhere ". We
are thus reminded not to lay too much stress on Goethe's pro-
fessed dislike of the ceaseless controversy of extreme idealists
and skeptics, for it is evident that in some moods he extended to
those standpoints a sympathetic recognition. He declares, for
example, that it is necessary that men should regard the incon-
ceivable as conceivable, otherwise they would not search ; and in
another place he pronounces the inconceivable useful as an
object of thought because it is "free from the narrow implication
which belongs to every particular that is conceivable ". Doubtless
Goethe would have readily applied to himself the words of the
stranger in the first book of Wilhelm Meister : " I attempted to
form for myself some not impossible conception of things which
are incomprehensible to all of us ". However much he might have
limited in actual operations the disposition thus described, there
is no great difference between it and the tendency to extreme
skepticism which he deprecates in others.
2. More directly, though perhaps inconsistently, Goethe's
virtual skepticism is disclosed by his opinions on doubt and the
limitation of human knowledge. We have already had occasion
to touch on this subject, and we shall by-and-by have the
most fitting of all opportunities for its discussion when we come
to consider Faust, his great impersonation of philosophic doubt.
Here we merely bring together a few of the passages which
represent the poet's own sentiments on the point, and show how
closely in this, as in other respects, Faust is a reproduction of
Goethe. Falk thus describes the issue of a conversation he held
with him on the relations of faith and knowledge : " It is then
true, and even so extraordinary a genius as Goethe himself was
constrained to make the humiliating admission, that all our
knowledge on the planet we inhabit is mere botch- work. All
our sensible perceptions in all the kingdoms of nature, though
conducted with the profoundest acuteness and the utmost
deliberation, can as little enable us to form a perfect idea of God
and of the universe as the fish in the abysses of the deep (even
supposing it endowed with reason) could emancipate itself from
the influence of its conceptions formed in that region of fins and
scales of which it is an inhabitant, or in its nether element create
Goethes Faust, 223
to itself a complete and accurate picture of the human form.
The problem of life, if placed in knowledge alone, must neces-
sarily induce a sort of despairing, Faust-like discontent." l Goethe
repeats and stamps with the seal of his own experience the
commonplaces of skeptical thinkers. " A man," he says, " knows
only when he knows little, with increase of knowledge comes
increase of doubt," 2 or as he elsewhere puts it : " The more
knowledge, the more problems to be solved ". 3 The universe is
full of such problems, a fact which he urges against those who
needlessly mystify what is simple and obvious. So also is
human history, in which " the last solved problem ever produces
a new one to solve ". 4 Nor are these doubts confined to objective
knowledge ; they form an integral part of his own receptivity.
He puts this in a humorous form when he says that he likes the
opinions of others to be propounded to him decisively, he has
enough of the problematical in himself. 5 He sets forth a defini-
tion of skepticism in terms evidently intended to apply to
himself and which would readily be accepted by most skeptical
thinkers. "An active skepticism is that which is untiringly
employed in overcoming itself, and by means of regulated
experience to attain to a sort of conditional credibility." 6 A still
fuller appreciation of skeptical thought is shown by his com-
parison of the different ages of man with divers kinds of
philosophy. The child is a realist, the youth an idealist, but all
causes conspire to transform the man into a skeptic. " He does
well to doubt whether the means he has chosen for some given
end are the best. Before action and in action he has all possible
motives to preserve his understanding in a mobile condition, so
that he may not subsequently have to regret a false choice." 7 It
1 Characteristics, vol. i., p. 88. 2 Werke, vol. xii., p. 692.
3 Werke, vol. viii., p. 259. 4 Characteristics, vol. iii., p. 207.
5 Werke, vol. xii., p. 667. Ibid., p. 729.
7 Ibid., p. 737. It is interesting to note the almost ipsissimis verbis
in which Sir Thomas Brown recounts his own philosophical experience.
Speaking of philosophies, he says : " I have run through all sorts, yet
find no rest in any : though our first studies and junior endeavours may
style us Peripateticks, Stoicks, or Academicks, yet I perceive the wisest
heads prove at last almost all Scepticks, and stand like Janus in the
field of knowledge ". Works, ed. Bonn, vol. ii., p. 437.
224 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
would be difficult to propound the customary grounds of skep-
ticism more clearly or fully.
3. In connection with these causes of intellectual disson-
ance we must bear in mind, what has already been noticed,
Goethe's conviction of dissonance in nature. At one period of
his early life this appears to have assumed a very intense and
disquieting form. The earthquake of Lisbon seems to have
effected in his case, as in Voltaire's, a complete havoc of his earlier
notions as to Divine Providence, and although maturer reflection
and a fuller acquaintance with the general laws which govern
terrestrial phenomena modified the feeling, yet the conviction of
a certain demoniac and disruptive power in nature equally
inscrutable and invincible remained one of the firmest convic-
tions of his life. 1 How profoundly, albeit in many diversified
forms, this persuasion is impressed on his various works, is
testified by all his best critics. Thus Varnhagen v. Ense, to take
a single example, observes : " Early was Goethe aware of the
perplexity and confusion of a world at variance with itself, in
the midst of which he was born and grew to manhood. The
first works of his genius, ' Werther,' ' Goetz,' ' Faust,' etc.,
betray the agitation of an inward life impatiently struggling
with the forms imposed by the outer world, which can neither
conform to them nor be circumscribed by them, and yet utterly
wants the new forms in which it might freely expand and be at
peace. This struggle, a ceaseless, ever-recurring, fundamental
theme, shows itself in all the succeeding works of Goethe in the
most varied and loftiest forms," etc. 2 The most finished form of
this dissonance is to be found in " Faust," wherein we have the
dualism of the creative and destructive principles of the universe
represented respectively by the heavenly hierarchy and by
Mephistopheles, as well as occasional intimations of the truth
that without this or some antagonism the infinite diversity
of natural productions would be inconceivable. Nor is this
antagonism limited to Nature and her processes. In all human
history, when examined in successive phases, Goethe discerns the
same interaction of contrary yet reciprocating influences, the
1 Werke, vol. ix., p. 660. Compare Riemer, Mittheilungen, etc., vol. i.,
p. 111.
2 Characteristics, vol. iii., p. 286.
Goethe's Faust. 225
same conflict of the perennial and changeable, the persistent and
the mobile, the finished form and rudimentary growth. To use
his own eloquent and on this theme untranslatable language :
" Classicismus und Romanticismus, Innungszwang und Erwerbs-
freiheit, Festhalten und Zersplitten des Grundbodens, es ist
immer derselbe Conflict, der zuletzt wieder einen neuen erzeugt.
Der grosste Verstand des Regierenden ware daher, diesen Kampf
so zu massigen, dass er ohne Untergang der einen Seite sich ins
Gleiche stellte ; Diess ist aber den Menschen nicht gegeben, und
Gott scheint es auch nicht zu wollen." l It is altogether in
harmony with the acquiescent feeling of the last clause that he
elsewhere remarks : " We cannot escape contradiction in our-
selves, we must try to get rid of it by comparison (or comparative
methods). When others contradict us, that goes for nothing, that
is their concern." Besides its existence in nature and humanity,
Goethe discerns a similar dissonance in every department of
human thought or activity. It is perceptible in religion, in
political science, in physics, and even in art, for among other
definitions of the last named he says : " Art is originated by the
efforts of the individual to maintain itself against the disruptive
force of the whole " (external nature). 2 Probably it would not
be right to conclude from these remarks that Goethe was a
dualist an advocate of twofold truth but they certainly serve
to show that in his mental conformation there was room for a
subordinated and disciplined dualism.
4. Nor must we pass over another characteristic of Goethe
which assimilates him to skeptical thinkers, viz., his nominalism.
Few writers are aware what an important presumption of a
thinker's skepticism is afforded by his nominalism, and still
fewer seem to have realised the full and unqualified nature of
Goethe's admissions on the subject. Yet his nominalism is in
part the corollary of his realism. If Goethe was ever anxious,
as we have seen, to transmute thoughts and ideas into things, he
was not less eager to transform words in the same way. No
conviction of his mind was stronger than the misleading, mysti-
1 Werke, vol. xiii., p. 699. With this unlovely and dissonant principle
in nature, Goethe thinks poetry ought not to meddle. Compare Char-
acteristics, vol. ii., p. 2.
2 Werke, vol. xii., p. 273.
15
226 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
fying intervention of words, the idea underlying the well-known
utterance of Faust :
Name 1st Schall und Rauch
Umnebelnd Himmelsgluth.
He agreed with Ockam, the great leader of the nominalists,
that a verbal definition, however necessary, constitutes no
advance of knowledge. " What I rightly know," says Goethe,
" I know only to myself ; an outspoken word rarely furthers it ;
for the most part it arouses contradiction, hesitation and inability
to move onward." x Quite Ockamist too is the sentiment of the
lines :
Ihr musst mich nicht durch Widerspruch verwirren
Sobald man spricht beginnt man schon zu irren. 2
Had it been possible, says Falk, Goethe would have liked " to
renounce the imperfect medium of language to speak like nature
in symbols". It is moreover evident that these expressions
of contempt for human language were not the outcome of a
passing fancy or the love of paradox. With his usual profundity
Goethe had exhausted the utmost depths of the subject. He is
aware, for example, that words can have only a peculiar, indi-
vidual meaning. They only indicate, and even that imperfectly,
the thought of the speaker. They cannot indicate the corre-
spondent thought of the hearer, they cannot be accepted as an
infallible presentation of the common idea of which they are
nevertheless the sole mode of communication. They cannot
claim to be necessarily commensurate with, or adequate to, the
object or matter defined. To all these drawbacks of language
Goethe is quite alive. " Man, while he speaks, must for the time
being be one-sided. There is no communication, no teaching,
without separation (Sonderung). What really quickens is not
man's word but the thought of which the word may possibly be
a partial or imperfect expression." Goethe was never happier
than when he had the opportunity of transforming words to the
objects for which they stood. He never considered that he knew
anything of a foreign country or city until he had actually seen
it. When, on his Italian tour, he first beheld Venice, 28th
September, 1786, he exclaimed we use his own words " So ist
1 Werke, vol. viii., p. 403. 2 Ibid., vol. i., p. 435.
Goethes Faust. 227
denn auch, Gott sei dank, Venedig mir kein blesses Wort, kein
hohler Name, der mich so oft, mich den Todf eind von Wortschallen
geangstigt hat " l a remarkable utterance which we may take as
his ordinary mode of feeling whenever he could translate geo-
graphical words into things. In a similar spirit he says he
felt positive pain translating Cellini because he could not
obtain the immediate sight of the objects of art described or
alluded to, and accounts for this by remarking : " I have all my
life long been so much on my guard against nothing as against
empty words, and a phrase which did not express some real
thought or feeling appeared to me intolerable in others, im-
possible to myself ". 2 This distrust of words assumed in Goethe
different outcomes and consequences. One of them was a cordial
dislike of the technical terms and sensuous expressions by means
of which the Christian fathers and church councils had en-
deavoured to define the ineffable. 3 Another was his contempt
for mere verbal erudition, disputes about the genuineness of
ancient writings, etc. " Is it then," he asks on this point, " the
author or the writing which we admire or blame ? It is always
only the author whom we have before us. Why trouble ourselves
about names when we read a work of thought ? " 4 Other
outcomes of his word-skepticism might have been adduced, but
the subject will again recur when we come to the nominalism
which is so marked a feature of " Faust ".
5. There is one more trait of Goethe's mental affinity with
skeptical thought which seems to deserve a passing recognition
at our hands. We have already noticed his distaste for extreme
skeptical inquiry, and his impatience with the unlimited contro-
versy which was the delight of Lessing's finer mind and in a
lesser degree formed one great characteristic of his friend Wieland.
But no error would be greater than to conclude from these an-
tipathies that Goethe always measured the value of truth search
or science experiment by any decisive, palpable result, whether
of fact or theory. A mere utilitarian conception of research
was abhorrent to his nature. Not only did he himself delight
in his literary and scientific labours for their own sake, but he
1 Ersch und Gruber, ut supra, p. 284. Compare Riemer, Mittheilungen,
vol. i., p. 195. 2 Characteristics, vol. i., p. 241.
WerJte, vol. ix., p. 529. 4 Ibid., vol. viii., p. 407.
228 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
was fully convinced that a similarly unselfish sentiment animated
all genuine lovers of truth. Thus he says that man's delight is
great when he exercises faculties that have been given him, even
though nothing further came of it, 1 and more, he allows that our
interest in any enterprise is excited only by the effort which it
involves ; it ceases when the effort has resulted in some decisive
issue whether of success or failure. 2 With this appreciation of
unlimited research harmonises the remark already quoted of the
inscrutable being necessary for men, inasmuch as without it they
would cease to search. Goethe does not appear to have seen how
closely these sentiments, which were undoubtedly his own,
brought him to the standpoints of Lessing and Wieland. The
only discrimination possible between his position and the extreme
skepticism of Lessing seems to have been that what the latter
set before him as an openly avowed deliberate object, Goethe
was content to cherish as a half-conscious sentiment. He was
probably misled in this as well as in his general estimate of
skepticism by an undue stress on his own appreciation of mental
serenity, and by his ignorance of the fact that ataraxia has
frequently served both as the motive and natural outcome of
suspensive and inquiring skepticism.
The foregoing estimate of Goethe's intellectual character, though
somewhat extended, cannot be deemed too much so if it serves to
bring before us in all its fulness and importance the profound
truth that Faust is Goethe, that all those qualities, tendencies and
idiosyncrasies of skepticism which Goethe admits in his remain-
ing works are found in their greatest maturity and fullest
development in " Faust ". No doubt all critics have acknow-
ledged the partial truth of this proposition. They have admitted
that Goethe has infused into " Faust," as he has into " Werther,"
"Goetz," " Wilhelm Meister," "Tasso," etc., a portion of his own
individuality and personal experience. But this admission does
not meet the merits of the case. " Faust " seems to us to contain
not a portion of Goethe, but the whole. Taking the two parts
together there is no phase or aspect of its author's character
which " Faust " does not represent, no belief or aspiration which
he does not express, scarce a thought or opinion of which he does
1 Wilhelm Meister, Carlyle's translation, vol. ii., p. 183.
2 Ibid., vol. i., p. 64.
Goethes Faust. 229
not convey at least some approximate intimation. No critic to
our knowledge has expressed this truth so fully as Riemer. 1 He
tells us : " The totality of Goethe as man and as author expresses
itself in none of his works so decisively and completely as in
' Faust ' ; his inner and his outer life, his youthful efforts, his
manly powers, his grey-haired wisdom, what he felt and suffered,
what he thought and experienced. It is his own self -matter and
his own self-form, or :
Der Gehalt in seinem Busen
Und die Form in seinem Geist."
The significance of this truth in its bearing both on Goethe and
Faust can hardly be overstated ; the author and his work, the
reality and the fiction, either may be regarded as the text to
which the other is the best possible commentary. It is needless
to point out the bearing of this truth on the question of the
skepticism whether of Faust or of Goethe. If Faust be, as we
shall find reason to think him, a genuine illustration of inquiring
skepticism, that character can hardly be denied to Goethe. On
the other hand Goethe's intellectual conformation, his critical
method of research, his doubts and hesitations, his love of free-
dom, his distrust of words and forms, in a word, all those qualities
we have already enumerated, are found depicted in a concentrated
form and indelible colours in his masterpiece of " Faust ". This
is conclusively shown by a sketch of the drama, to which we now
turn our attention.
The legend of " Faust " is in its origin the child of the
Renaissance and Reformation, or rather of the disruptive forces
and tendencies which produced those great events. Like Pro-
metheus and Job it marks that stage in the growth of a particular
belief when it becomes self-conscious, inquiring, and to a certain
extent disintegrating. It represents the unrest of a period of
deep commotion and struggle, both intellectual and spiritual.
It signifies the gradual sundering of older beliefs and prescriptions,
the growing dissonance between faith and reason, the inevitable
strife between ecclesiasticism and nature-teaching, the insurrec-
tion of man, not so much against God as against the Moloch
conception of him which had obtained in the Church. Nor less
1 Mitiheilungen, vol. i., p. 231.
230 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
did it typify and give scope to the passionate yearning, by what-
ever means, for fuller knowledge, the struggle of the finite to
grasp the infinite, which must always characterise a period of
profound spiritual feeling. Besides which it ministered and
imparted a weird form to the Weltschmerz, which is the usual
reaction of great intellectual or spiritual commotion. Last of all,
it gave expression to the inordinate craving of men for the
supernatural and miraculous which is an inevitable result of
sacerdotalism and ignorance. Harmonising with these various
causes was the great diversity of forms which the original story
assumed. Few persons unconversant with Faust literature have
any idea of the multifarious issue of drama, ballad, story, parable,
etc., to which the old legend gave birth during the fourteenth
and two following centuries. Indeed the fecundity of the Faust
legend has been hardly less than that of the Prometheus myth.
Probably the popular interest of the former has been even greater
than that of the latter. The daring magician himself a kind
of Titan who, in his eagerness to obtain omniscience, was
willing to barter his soul to the devil, exercised a fascination
at once powerful and terrible on the popular imagination. 1 Nor
was this element of terror less because the generally received
result of the compact the final damnation of the too eager
inquirer betrays an ecclesiastical and obscurantist animus, just
as the extreme sufferings of Prometheus probably had a deterrent
tendency to the old-fashioned religious Hellene. This was no
doubt the salutary outcome of the legend which rendered it
acceptable to the mediaeval Church. By zealous Romanists it was
regarded as a modern version of the history of the Fall. At a
period when men's allegiance to Rome began to be sensibly
shaken, when the attractions of classical literature, nature studies
and other kinds of secular learning came into rivalry with
ecclesiastical dogma, the story of Faust in its common form was
an opportune warning against knowledge greed, a protest against
listening to the persuasions of the tempter, or looking at a tree
pleasant to the eyes, good for food, and a tree to be desired to
make one wise. Goethe accepted the mediaeval legend, especially
in the form it had received from Marlowe as the background of a
1 Compare Ersch und Gruber, Art. " Faust-Sage," sect, i., vol. xlii., p. 94.
Goethe s Faust. 231
twofold representation. First, as we have noticed, of his own
career in the pursuit of truth and happiness with its attendant
failure and disappointment, its manifold experiences, interests
and passions. Secondly, of the pursuits and destinies of the
race, for it should never be forgotten Faust in Goethe's drama,
especially in its latter part, symbolises humanity. He is the
universal man, sharing all the desires, partaking of all the
excellencies and defects of the race. In thus expanding his
hero's individuality Goethe, besides obeying his own cosmic or
universalist fancy, did no more than follow Faustian tradition.
One main idea of the old legend was to represent a being who
might exhaust all the pleasures and pains, the feelings and appe-
tites, the powers and attainments of collective humanity. No
doubt the idea is no more than an abstraction. Faust thus conceived
is like the typical plant-form which Goethe showed to Schiller,
and the latter poet's comment on the one might be extended to
the other. At any rate there is only one individual in all history
who full embodies and expresses the Faustian ideal, and that, as
we have seen, is Goethe himself.
Of the three introductory pieces, the dedication consists of the
poet's retrospect of the momentous sway Faustian thoughts and
yearnings have exercised over his own life. Addressing his
mature conceptions, he reminds them of their earlier form.
Memory re-awakens the pangs and feelings of his former
Faustian studies.
Der Schmerz wird neu, es wiederholt die Klag'
Des Lebens labyrinthisch Irren lang.
The last clause, " Life's labyrinthine mazy course," we may take
as a premonitory map, on a reduced scale, of Faust's devious
wanderings ; the pre-determined bearings of his erratic course.
The Prologue in the Theatre is only remarkable for our
purpose by containing what seems to be a reminiscence of the
simpler 'motif of the drama before it was complicated and per-
verted by the addition of the Second Part.
So schreitet in dem engen Bretterhaus
Der ganze Kreis der Schopfung aus,
Und wandelt mit bedacht'ger Schnelle
Vom Himmel durch die Welt zur Holle.
Whence it would appear that in its earlier form Goethe con-
232 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
templated such a catastrophe as Marlowe has employed for the
denouement of his drama. There cannot be a doubt that in
respect of unity, compactness and simplicity the plot would have
been much better in this form.
But the true commencement of our actual " Faust " is to be
found in the Prologue in Heaven. This is a poetical adaptation
and extension of the supernatural machinery and incidents of
the Book of Job. The influence of the old Hebrew drama on the
genesis of the Faust legend has often been pointed out, and is
too obvious to need special remark. To the powerful diabolism
of the dark ages it furnished the two foundation stones on which
every story of Faust has been built. 1. The conception of a
personal Satan with his employment of traversing the earth for
destructive, misanthropical purposes. 2. The notion of a com-
pact or bet between him and the Almighty concerning the
defectibility of a certain human personage. But independently
of the place of Job in the old Faustian legends, the book possessed
an especial interest for Goethe. As every student of his works is
aware, he greatly admired the Titanism the invincible inde-
pendence of the Hebrew patriarch, and was very fond of study-
ing its vivid dramatic presentation in the book which bears
his name. The Prologue in Heaven is an elaboration of its
diabolic elements. It is introduced by the well-known song of
the archangels glorifying the wisdom displayed in the creation.
This is at once followed by the appearance of Mephistopheles,
The common Faustian name of the evil one, who, in opposition to
the creative vivifying forces of the universe, represents the spirit
of denial, or of merely negative destructive skepticism. In con-
tradiction to the archangelic psean, he rails at creation, especially
that of earth, with its chief denizen, man. He ridicules more
particularly man's boasted possession of heaven's light the
Promethean torch, the gift of reason. This supposed gift, says
Mephistopheles, man has so misused that he is more bestial than
the beasts. God wishes to make Faust an exception to the
ordinary human herd, and calls him his own servant. Where-
upon Mephistopheles ridicules his service as interested, and
himself as utterly dissatisfied. Few passages of the drama are
more important for the full comprehension of Faust's character.
Goethe's Faust. 233
Fiirwahr ! er dient euch auf besondre Weise
Nicht irdisch ist des Thoren Frank noch Speise,
Ihn treibt die Gahrung in die Ferae
Er ist sich seiner Tollheit halb bewusst :
Vom Himmel fordert er die schonsten Sterne
Und von der Erde jede hochste Lust
Und alle Nah und alle Ferae
Befriedigt nicht die tiefbewegte Brust.
Goethe has here depicted not so much the genuine truth-seeker,
as the restless idealist who loses himself in the pursuit of fruition
of every kind, his chief characteristic being that he is for ever
impelled by desires he cannot satisfy, and agitated by passions he
cannot allay. Whatever may be said for the idea from the
standpoint of dramatic interest, or from that which regards Faust
as the type of humanity, it cannot be questioned that the union
in a single character of the searcher after all truth, and seeker after
all happiness, is so rare that it might almost be regarded as
unique among men. Certainly the history of the noblest truth-
seekers fully proves that the acquisition of happiness was not
regarded by them as more than a subordinate and incidental
result of their quest. But here, as elsewhere, Goethe drew from
his own peculiar experience more than from history. The
general principle of the twofold quest is " die Gahrung in die
Feme " precisely what Shelley termed " the desire for some-
thing afar from the sphere of our sorrow ". Its cause, as suggested
by Mephistopheles, is the perverted reason, the false, seductive
glare of the " Himmelslicht " which the Deity has conferred on
man. On the other hand, God points out that striving or effort
is necessarily attended with error, and expresses his confidence
that Faust, though now mistaken, will finally emerge into the
clear light of truth. Hence, like the Hebrew Jahve in the case
of Job, he is prepared to commit his servant to the snares of the
Evil One, and defies him to pervert his spirit from its own pure
source. We may notice in passing Goethe's firm, almost fatal-
istic, belief in the due inherent development of every genuine
man, or " Nature," as he termed him. Mephistopheles readily
accepts the challenge, and has no doubt of the result. He says
of Faust :
Staub soil er fressen, und mit Lust
Wie meine Muhme, die beriihmte Schlange.
234 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
The compact is thus concluded, and the prologue ends with a
justification of the questionable transaction by which God
delivers Faust into the power of Mephistopheles.
Des Menschen Thatigkeit kann allzuleicht erschlaffen,
Er liebt sich bald die unbedingte Rub.' ;
Drum geb'ich gern ihm den Gesellen zu,
Der reizt und wirkt, und muss, als Teufel, schaffen.
In other words, the spirit of denial or negation is needful for
man to goad him into activity. Goethe does not seem to have
discriminated clearly the skepticism of denial from that of mere
doubt and inquiry, or he would have acknowledged that it is
the latter which is most efficacious for this purpose. One great
quality of this spirit is its unlimited freedom. The negation is
infinite or endlessly destructive. As a contrast to this absolute
denial, the heavenly choir, the genuine sons of God, find their
allotted task in enjoying the living manifold beauty of " Das
Werdench " the ever- working and growing energy of creation
in its fullest aspect. Their activities are thus not unlimited,
but are bound by the noble confines of love, and are directed, not
in any wild discordant manner, but in order to spiritualise and
fix in ideal expression the perpetual truth underlying transitory
phenomena.
This explanatory introduction ended, the drama itself opens
with Faust's confession of unfaith. In his study at midnight,
with the moonbeams streaming through the narrow Gothic
window, Faust propounds the question of his actual truth attain-
ments. For many a year he has pursued the wearying round of
all human sciences. He has fully explored philosophy, juris-
prudence, medicine, and, unluckily for himself, theology. What
then, he asks, is the net result of all his efforts ? In reply, he is
forced to own more in the plaintive spirit of Cornelius Agrippa
than in the serenely acquiescent mood of Sokrates :
Da steh ich nur, ich armer Thor
Und bin so klug als wie zuvor.
Bitterly does he mock at his fame, his titles of " Master " and
" Doctor," his power to lead his pupils by the nose whithersoever
he lists. He cannot help contrasting his loud-voiced reputation
with his secret conviction that all knowledge is impossible. It
is this consciousness of human limitation that gives him intel-
Goethe s Faust. 235
lectual heart-burning. No doubt he is more advanced in know-
ledge than the common herd of doctors, masters, authors, and
parsons. He has achieved that height of negation in which
neither scruple nor doubt has power to plague him. He fears
neither hell nor devil. But he is not happier in consequence of
his exemption from these deterrents. On the contrary, all joy is
torn from his life. The negation which has destroyed his fear of
hell and devil has carried its desolating influences into other
articles of his former creed. No longer can he conceive himself to
know anything aright. He cannot even suppose himself capable
of teaching what will benefit and convert mankind. Withal he
possesses neither property nor gold, nor worldly distinction. No
dog would be satisfied with such a life. As a last resource, he
has resolved to appeal to magic in the desperate hope of attaining
that knowledge he cannot otherwise acquire. Thus he may
wrest from Nature her profoundest secrets, and no longer feign
to teach what he does not know. Especially does he wish to learn
what that hidden force is which in its most inward recesses joins
together the universe. He aspires to behold every will-power
and germ of life, and in the possession of this complete and
direct knowledge to cease from his petty traffic with empty
words.
It may be well to pause a moment at this soliloquy. We
have here the modern termination of that truth-search of which
the ancient starting-point is represented by the Prometheus the
final retrospect of what is in Aeschylus a distant but glowing
prospect. For it must never be forgotten the standpoint here
represented is not exclusively that of a mediaeval Faust. It is
Faust plus Goethe, the experience and aspirations of the latter
are grafted on the occult love of the former. Thus human
wisdom has reached the end of its tether. The whole circle of
rightfully available knowledge has been traversed with, as it
would seem, but pitiful results. The only recourse left is the
appeal from the natural to the supernatural from human power
to diabolical agency which constitutes the plot of Goethe's
drama. In the author's own conception this appeal might be
stated as one from experience to imagination, from actuality to
possibility, or from fact to aspiration, due allowance being made
for the weird and theoretically illegitimate character of the
236 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
transition. How far any such irregular extension of human
power is desirable, how far its employment is likely to benefit
mankind for this is the aim of the knowledge search both of
Faust and Prometheus on these points the drama leaves us
where it finds us in doubt.
Returning to Faust, we find that his mood changes somewhat
abruptly from skepticism to a kind of mysticism. Addressing
the moon, he expresses the wish that she were contemplating for
the last time that midnight restlessness on which she has so often
shone. Like Hamlet he would fain free himself from the
trammels of bodily existence. He wishes his disembodied spirit
were wandering with other spirits on mountain heights and in
mountain caves, where, freed from all anxiety of knowledge, it
might bathe in the moon's dew. So far is he carried away by
this vision of freedom that for a moment he loses himself. Soon,
however, a glance round his narrow study serves to recall him to
himself. " Woe is me," he exclaims ; " am I still penn'd up in this
dungeon ? Accursed, musty, inwall'd hole, where even the
precious light of heaven breaks dimly through painted panes."
With probably a double meaning he proceeds to lament that his
light is obstructed by heaps of worm-eaten, dust-covered books.
All his surroundings partake of the same darkening, limiting
tendency the wall-paper begrimed with smoke the glass cases
and boxes filled with ancient lumber that enclose him, this is
Faust's world, " and a fine world it is," is his bitter sarcasm.
After another pause, he asks himself, Is it a wonder that his
heart beats so, and that an inexplicable pain thwarts every fresh
impulse of vitality ? Instead of being encompassed by the living
Nature that God created for man, Faust is surrounded by
symbols of death, by skeletons of beasts and dead men's bones,
by smoke and corruption. Then bethinking him of one mode
of deliverance from the environment of darkness and limitation,
he addresses himself : " Up ! away into the boundless land,
and this mysterious look of Nostradamus is it not guide
sufficient for thee ? " In other words, Faust resolves to appeal to
magic. All ordinary sources of knowledge have failed. Nature
has been examined and found wanting. Reason has been ques-
tioned, but has returned no reliable reply. Human history has
been appealed to, but with small result. Ordinary science has
Goethe s Faust. 237
been consulted, but has yielded no trustworthy response. In his
despair he turns to occult science. He tells us what he expects
from his new oracle. " Then wilt thou know the course of the
stars, and with Nature for thy teacher the soul's essence will rise
to greet thee as one spirit speaks to another." In other words,
he hopes to learn the inmost secrets of Nature the kind and
degree of knowledge which all such inquirers as Faust have
summed up in the term " Absolute ".
Thus far Faust must be held to represent the mediaeval
inquirer, sharing the superstitions of his time, and employing its
methods in truth-search. Neither Goethe nor his commentators
seem to have thought the fact worth mention that the Fausts of
Greece and other nations of hoar antiquity had already tried the
invocations of Nostradamus, or at least magic charms of a similar
kind, and that they had long since admitted the impossibility of
attaining satisfactory science by such supernatural methods. This
fact may serve to indicate incidentally how much inferior in
respect of culture was the Christianity of the middle ages to Greek
philosophy, for instance, even in its supposed decay. At any rate,
Faust's skepticism ceases for the time at the door of the conjurer's
temple of mystery. He opens the book of Nostradamus and sees
the sign of the Makrokosmos, i.e., the Universe. The sight
ravishes him. A fresh glow of life-pleasure thrills through his
frame. Is it a god, he asks, who devised this sign ard caused
that marvellous excitation of feeling he has experienced by
looking at it ? The powers of Nature within and without him
seem to requicken with new life. He now experiences the truth
of the teaching of the wise man : " The world of spirits is not
closed, thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead. Up ! scholar, bathe
unweariedly thy earthly breast in the red beams of Aurora."
Again he contemplates the sign, and is now reminded of the
infinite manifoldness of the universe, and the complicated inter-
action of all its countless forces. The powers of heaven and
earth seem animated by reciprocal influences. They depend on
each other's activity like two golden buckets perpetually ascend-
ing and descending. Yet through all these forces which circulate
between heaven and earth a harmony of unity is perceptible to
the awakened ear. Continuing his gaze on the sign, Faust's
skeptical mood begins gradually to re-assert itself. After all the
238 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
show though wondrous is only a show. How can he with his
finite powers grasp infinite nature ? Where can he find her
breasts, where her sources of all life on which both heaven and
earth depend ? For these his thirsty soul pines with ardent
longing. They flow and satisfy other existences, while he is left
languishing in vain.
Like many another thinker whose aspiration exceeds the
utmost limits of his capacities, Faust is dispirited at this thought.
He turns over impatiently the leaves of his Nostradamus, and
presently comes to the sign of the Mikrokosm or Earth. The
spirit of earth seems nearer to him than those of the universe.
He feels a quickening of his powers. He glows as with new
wine. His rising courage prompts him to cast himself into the
world, to bear earth's sorrows and earth's joys, to wrestle with
storms and stand unshaken in the crash of the world's shipwreck
a kind of fever-fit of Titanism. He is also conscious of being
surrounded by what seem to him signs of the earth-spirit's
presence. This he determines to invoke at the cost, if necessary,
of his life. Seizing the book, he pronounces mysteriously the
sign of the spirit. In answer to his invocation it appears in a
red flame, and demands to know what Faust requires of it. The
conjurer himself is startled by the strange form he has invoked,
and the earth-spirit upbraids him for his cowardice. Resenting
this imputation, Faust proclaims himself the equal of the spirit.
The latter, to prove its superiority, declares its functions :
In the tides of life, in action's storm,
I float up and down,
Flitting hither and thither,
I am birth and the grave,
An eternal sea,
A changeful weaving,
A glowing life.
Thus I work at the swift-rushing loom of Time,
And weave the living mantle of God.
Faust rejoins that he feels himself near to the active spirit that
thus sweeps round the wide world, but the spirit answers that he
resembles the spirit he comprehends, not itself, which he has
failed to comprehend. Whereupon it vanishes, leaving Faust to
propound the question if he who is the image of the deity is not
the equal of the earth-spirit.
Goethe s Faust. 239
At this point Faust's incantations are disturbed. Wagner,
his familiar friend an embodiment of dogmatism and pedantry
is heard knocking at the door. The magician is angry that his
fulness of visions should be interrupted by a " sapless groveller,"
but the other, after apologising for his intrusion on the pretext
that he thought Faust had been declaiming a Greek tragedy,
opportunely begs for instruction on the subject of rhetoric.
Faust complies with his request by suggesting a few general
maxims as to the need of earnestness, and the non-importance of
mere words, but the dialogue thus begun soon turns to the
general subject of knowledge. Wagner complains that art
is long while life is short that his own critical studies often
make his head and heart weary ; that the requisite means for
thoroughly exploring the sciences are difficult to obtain ; and, after
all, before a man gets half way towards his goal, the poor devil
must die. In reply, Faust representing Goethe's contempt for
codex-hunting asks whether parchment is the holy well from
which a single draught assuages thirst for ever. He tells his
companion he has not attained a source of vitality till he has
drawn from the founts of his own mind. Wagner defends his
literary antiquarianism. He says it is a great pleasure to trans-
port oneself into the spirit of the times, to see how a wise man
has thought before us, and what a glorious height we are able to
reach at last. But his enthusiasm is ridiculed by Faust, who has
more profoundly estimated the reach of human knowledge. " Oh
yes," he exclaims, " up to the very stars." " Past time," says the
skeptic, " is a book with seven seals. What is called the spirit of
the times is in truth the spirit of its leading minds, in which the
time is mirrored. At any rate this knowledge of the past is often
a miserable affair. A single glance is enough to make one run
from it. It is a dirt tub, a lumber room, or at its best a puppet-
show play with rare pragmatical saws such as well become the
mouths of the puppets." His friend apparently has nothing to
object to this skeptical estimate of historical lore, he therefore
seeks certitude in another subject. " But the world-man's heart
and mind every one would fain acquire some knowledge of
that." But here again he is met by Faust's sarcasm. " Yes, what
is called knowing. Who dares give the child its true name ?
The few who have ever known anything about it, and wha
240 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
foolishly enough did not keep a guard over their full hearts, but
revealed what they had felt and seen to the multitude, have in
all times been crucified and burnt." Oft-quoted words, which
sum up with equal force and conciseness many fatal episodes in
the history of human enlightenment ! At this point the dialogue
breaks off at Faust's request, and Wagner departs, promising to
seek another interview on the morrow (Easter Day). He partly
apologises for his ardour in intellectual pursuits with the words :
Heart and soul have I given myself to study,
Much I know, it is true, but I would fain know all,
wherein we perceive that even the pedant and dogmatist may
share, though from a different standpoint, the aspiration of the
true skeptic for infinite knowledge. Faust comments sardonic-
ally on this extreme knowledge-greed : " Hope still cleaves to the
brain which clings persistently to trash, gropes with greedy
hands for treasures, and exults at finding earth-worms ". With
this reflection he relapses into the mystic frame of mind which
Wagner has disturbed. Recurring to the earth-spirit's denial of
his equality with itself, he soliloquises : " I, God's own image,
who already thought myself near to the mirror of eternal
truth, who revelled in the lustre and clearness of heaven with the
earthly part of me stripped off'; I, more than cherub, whose
emancipated spirit in its imaginative soarings had already aspired
to glide through Nature's veins, and in creative power to enjoy
the life of a God How must I atone for it ? One thunder- word
has swept me quite away." He endeavours by reflection to
reinstate himself in the condition of equality with the earth-
spirit from which the " thunder- word " has hurled him. Had he
not been, he reasons, the equal of the earth-spirit he would not
have had the power to invoke him. He complains that the spirit
has cruelly thrust him back on the incertitude of mere humanity.
He becomes skeptical of the value of his recently-boasted traffic
with spirits. " Who," he asks, " will teach me ? What shall I
avoid ? Must I obey that impulse ? Ah ! our very acts as well
as our sufferings narrow the course of our lives" a thought
which, as we shall see, might be regarded as the moral of
Hamlet.
Pursuing the same vein of skeptical despair, his doubt of the
advantages of spirit communication still increases. The most
Goethe's Faust. 241
glorious idea man's thought is able to conceive is clogged by
matter which is ever growing more and more foreign to it. Be-
sides, when we have gained the good of this world, what is better
is still called falsehood and vanity. Our noblest feelings which
gave us life grow torpid in the din of earthly strife. " Nor is
the lot of the aspiring imagination better, for whereas in times
gone by it has endeavoured on daring wing and full of hope to
attain infinity, she is now satisfied with little space when she
has found one venture after another wrecked in the whirlpool of
time. Care soon builds her nest in the depths of the heart,
hatches vague terrors there, rocks herself restlessly, and frightens
away joy and peace. Continually does she disguise herself with
new masks ; she may appear as house and land, as wife and child,
as fire, water, dagger, and poison. You tremble before all that
never assail you, and what you never lose, for that must you
always be grieving."
Here we find Faust gradually approaching the Werther
feeling of pessimism, which presently attains its climax in an
attempt at suicide. Reverting to his former boast of being like
God, he now renounces the vain thought. " Too deeply I feel it.
I am not equal with the gods. I am rather like the worm which
drags itself through the dust, and which, while it crawls in and
feeds upon dust, is crushed and buried beneath the wand'rer's
tread. Is it not dust," he continues, surveying the book-lined
walls of his study, " with which this high wall with its hundred
shelves confines me round the frippery which with its
thousand-fold trifling cramps me up in this moth- world ? Must
I," he asks impatiently, " find here what I lack ? Must I read
perhaps in a thousand books that men have made themselves
wretched in all ages, that here and there only has there been a
happy individual ? " His reflections are here arrested by the grin-
ning expression of a skull which meets his restless glance around
the study, and which he thus apostrophises : " Thou hollow skull,
what means that grin at me but that thy brain like mine was
once bewildered, sought the bright day, and with an ardent
longing after truth went miserably astray in the twilight ? " In
his gloomy humour even the scientific instruments piled round
him seem to join in the mockery of the skull. The vanity of
human science is shared by its tools wheel and cog, cylinder
16
242 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
and collar. " I stood at the gate (of knowledge). Ye were to be
the keys. True, your beards are shaggy, but ye raise not the
bolts. Full of darkness in broad day, Nature does not allow
herself to be robbed of her veil, and what she does not choose to
reveal to thy mind, thou wilt not force from her by levers and
screws. Antiquated apparatus which I have never used, you are
here only because my father employed you. Thou, old lamp-
pulley, 1 hast become befouled with smoke since the dim lamp first
smouldered on this desk. Far better had it been for me to have
squandered the little I have than to be sweating here under the
burden of that little. To possess the inheritance of thy sires
make it thine own. That which man does not use is an oppres-
sive burden. What the moment brings forth, that only can it
turn to profit."
Pursuing still further in his skeptical disquietude the inven-
tory of his study, Faust's eye is at last attracted by a small flask,
the sight of which produces in him a strange revulsion of feeling.
He asks why all things that just now were dark appear so
delightfully bright, as when moonlight suddenly gleams round
one benighted in the woods. The phial is an old friend newly
found. As such Faust addresses it : "I greet thee, thou match-
less phial, which I now take down with pious care. In thee I
honour the wit and art of man, thou essence of noble slumber
juices, thou extract of all kind, death-dealing powers. Prove on
thy master thy art. As I look on thee my pain subsides, I grasp
thee and the struggle abates. The spirit's flood-tide ebbs by
degrees. I am beckoned forth into the wide sea, the glassy wave
gleams at my feet. Another day invites to other shores."
In this ecstatic contemplation of the freedom death can
bestow, Faust seems to himself another Elijah. " A chariot of fire
waves downwards to me on light pinions. I feel prepared to pene-
trate ethereal realms by a new path towards new spheres of pure
activity. Ah, what a life sublime is this ! What godlike ecstasy !
And thou, who erst wert but a worm, dost thou merit it ? Aye,
only turn thy back with firm resolve on the bright sun of earth.
Dare to burst the portals past which every one tries to sneak.
1 This reading of the oft misinterpreted words
"Du alte Eolle, du wirst angeraucht "
is that given by Professor Selss in his useful and learned edition, p. 265.
Goethe s Faust. 243
Now is the time to prove by deeds that man's dignity yields not
to God's greatness to refuse to tremble before that dark cavern
in which phantasy dooms itself to its own torments to strive
onwards to that pass round whose narrow mouth all hell is
flaming to resolve calmly upon the step, even at the risk of
dropping into nothingness."
Faust next addresses himself to a goblet of pure crystal an
heir-loom of his ancestors, and dwelling upon the curious remin-
iscences of former drinking bouts, and the usages attending them
which it suggests, proceeds to pour into it the fatal contents
of the phial. Then his suicidal resolve fully taken he lifts
the draught to his mouth with the words : " Here is a juice
which soon intoxicates. It fills your cavity with its brown flood.
Let this last draught which I prepare and which I choose, be
quaffed with my whole soul as a solemn festal greeting to the
morn" when suddenly his resolve is arrested and his feelings
turned into quite another channel by the sound of the bells usher-
ing in the morn of Easter Day, while he hears voices singing the
Easter anthem :
Christ 1st erstanden
Freude dem Sterblichen
Den die verderblichen
Schleichenden, erblichen
Mangel umwanden.
The scene and its striking termination are well known. We
have adduced it at length because it reveals the extreme depth of
Faust's skepticism, and indicates also the amount and kind of
knowledge which Goethe possessed of its methods. With the
exception of his transactions with the spirit world, there is little
in Faust's meditations on the vanity of truth search, the thwart-
ing of noble aims by ignoble conditions, etc., which is not common
to pessimists. Nor can it be said that Goethe's representation of
an ideal skeptic as a compound of Werther and Faust the
extreme pessimist and the truth searcher is borne out by the
history of pre-eminent skeptics. All Faust's reflections, for
example, on the futility of human knowledge, may be found in
the works of Greek thinkers, but no distinction can be greater
than that which exists between the serenity of the ancient
skeptics and the maudlin sentimentality of modern Fausts.
244 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Goethe was probably not aware that skeptical suspense, combined
with continuous search, was regarded by the Greeks as a prelim-
inary to ataraxia, not as a preparation for any such " bowl and
dagger business " as we have in Faust. Indeed, his ignorance on
the point is incidentally disclosed by his expression in " Werther,"
that the followers of Pyrrhon were miserable. Nothing could be
further from the truth. As a philosophical sect they were re-
markable for their mental tranquillity, for their high standard of
morals, and for their longevity. No doubt Goethe might have
had in view only the portraiture of mediaeval skeptics regarded
from the standpoint of ecclesiasticism, but there is nothing to
show that he was conscious of any disparity between his creation
of Faust and the more normal type of skeptic such as it occurs,
for example, in Greek thought. The sole apology which can be
made for Faust's suicidal propensities is his mystic Neo-Platonic
belief that death is a freedom from bondage.
Leaving, however, Goethe's imperfect conception of skepticism,
to which we shall again have to recur, we may observe that
nothing can be truer to nature than the effect of the Easter bell-
ringing and anthem on the despairing mood of Faust. Not that he
himself believes " the greatest miracle of the New Testament,"
for he says :
The news I gladly hear I only want belief,
For wonder is the darling child of faith,
but that old associations connected with the day the familiar
strains of Easter hymns re-awaken the feelings of childhood,
together with the unquestioning and awe-struck faith he then
possessed, but which has long disappeared under the corroding
influence of further knowledge and more doubt. Overpowered
by these recollections and by the contrast they suggest to his
recent despair, Faust bursts into tears, and for the present
relinquishes all attempt to sunder violently the ties that bind him
to earth, and which have unexpectedly proved stronger than he
was aware.
The next scene introduces us to the same Easter morn outside
Faust's study. In contradistinction to the gloomy student's cell
we have troops of citizens of all classes hurrying out at the
town gates, intent on enjoying their Easter festivities, and the
bright sunshine of the spring morning. Instead of solitude we
Goethe's Faust. 245
here find full, free, bustling existence. Instead of despair we
have unrestrained enjoyment of life. Instead of recondite
thought, researches into occult or profound wisdom, we have here
animal spirits in all their natural exuberance. In a word, we
pass from the living sepulchre in which Faust has for the time
buried his noblest hopes and aspirations into the resurrection
morn, wherein, in common with new vivified life everywhere, he
himself also experiences the requickening power of his own early
spring-time of youth. It is in harmony with Goethe's own pre-
dilections, as well as with the larger aspects of human existence,
which form the greatest possible contrast to the narrowness of
Faust's student life, that the pleasure-seekers who hurry out at
the city gates seem concerned, not with the religious, but with the
social, pleasurable and natural aspect of Easter. To them Easter-
tide is chiefly a secular holiday a time for enjoyment, for rural
pastimes, for contemplation of the new fresh life of spring.
Among these holiday-makers presently come forth Faust and
Wagner, intending to take a walk into the country. The former
takes note of the phenomena of spring- time, the reluctant departure
of winter. The sun, he remarks, will not endure what is colourless
(" die Sonne duldet nichts Weisses "). Creative energies and efforts
are everywhere stirring. All things are renewing their lives
with fresh colours, only that as flowers are yet wanting to the
atmosphere, the sun takes gaily dressed holiday-makers instead.
But especially does Faust recognise the symbolical teaching of
Easter in the delight of the crowds in the fair spring weather
and the sunshine. " They celebrate the rising of the Lord, for
they themselves have risen. From the sordid rooms of mean
houses, from the bonds of factories and trades, from the confine-
ment of gables and roofs, from the stifling narrowness of streets,
from the venerable gloom of churches are they raised up to the
open light of day." Inspired by the gaiety and freedom of the
scene, Faust once more feels himself to be a man. Amidst the
gay crowd keeping their spring festival he thinks he may claim
the sympathetic consciousness of common humanity.
Wagner, on the other hand, whose studies have not had the
expansive tendency which the larger speculations of Faust have
produced on his own mental culture, is repelled by the bustle, the
noise, the boisterous mirth, the occasionally vulgar behaviour of
246 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
the Easter crowd. He enjoys walking with Faust, but declares
himself in pedantic fashion an enemy to all kinds of coarseness.
The crowd seems to him as if animated by an evil spirit, and yet
they call it " pleasure and music ".
Pursuing their walk, Faust is presently accosted by some of
the holiday-makers, who thankfully recognise his condescension
in coming among them. They recount the skill and courage he
evinced some years before in curing them of a pestilential fever.
He modestly disclaims any merit for his own share in the matter,
describes in a tone of contempt his father's alchymical method,
and attributes the few cures their joint efforts seemed to effect to
accident, since in reality their magical potions killed more than the
pestilence. He himself has administered the poison to thousands.
They pined away no one asked why. Yet such is the irony of
existence or what seems so to Faust's skeptical mood he now
must endure to hear the bojd murderer praised. Wagner refuses
to credit these self-accusations. Men can only practise what they
know, and a few victims to science need not disturb Faust's
mind. He honoured his father in youth by receiving his teaching ;
inasmuch as he has since increased his knowledge, he will leave
a still greater hoard as a legacy to his son. Faust, however, is not
deceived by Wagner's theory of the increase of knowledge in
successive generations. He only aspires to deliverance from
error. "Happy is the man," he exclaims, " who can still hope to
emerge from this sea of error. What man does not know he is
anxious to learn, and what he knows he cannot make use of."
But in the quiet happiness of the evening Faust will not pursue
the mournful theme. His eyes are directed to the setting sun.
He wishes he were able to accompany the orb of day in its cease-
less progress.
Ihr nach und immer nach zu streben.
In imagination he seems to pursue it as it gradually recedes
beyond his vision. Fain would he rush forward to drink its
everlasting light the day before him, behind him the night,
above him the heavens, and beneath him the waves. But alas !
man's spiritual desires, with all their forward and upward
impulses, have no material pinions to aid them.
Wagner listens docilely to what he evidently regards as a
Goethe s Faust. 247
philosophic rhapsody. He himself has had, he admits, strange
fancies, but they have never taken this form. One soon gets
tired, he thinks, of looking at woods and fields, and for his part
he envies not the wings of a bird. His sole idea of intellectual
progress is to pass from one book or page to another, and his
highest rapture which appears to him celestial is to unroll some
precious MS. or parchment. In this confession Faust recognises
the distinction between Wagner and himself. " Of one impulse
only thou art conscious, never seek to know the other. Two
souls, alas, dwell in my breast, and one will sunder itself from the
other. One cleaves with vehement ardour and clinging organs
to the world. The other with all its might lifts itself from the
mist to the realms of an exalted ancestry." Excited by his con-
templation of the spirit world towards which one of his twin
souls is ever aspiring, Faust invokes the spirits of the air which
dominate in the regions between earth and heaven. He wishes
they would take him away into a new and more varied existence,
or that he were possessed of a magic cloak which had the power of
transporting him to distant lands. He would not barter it for a
royal mantle. Wagner, who appears to share to some extent his
friend's belief in occult lore, is alarmed at this invocation of the
spirits of the air. He suggests as the twilight is increasing that
they had better return homewards. This advice, however, Faust
scarcely seems to hear. His attention is now taken up by a strange
black dog, which courses round them in ever-narrowing circles.
Presently he calls Wagner's attention to the beast, but though
the pedant has noticed it for some time he sees nothing remark-
able about it. To him it is only a dog like any other. Faust's
keener vision, however, discerns supernatural qualities in the
beast, its tracks seem to give forth flames of fire. This poodle
accompanies the friends home, and is admitted into his study by
Faust.
Here again Faust is alone and according to his wont beguiles
his solitude with soliloquising. The soothing influences of the
day his pleasant walk among fields and meadows still assert
their power. For the time his better soul is awake, while his
wayward impulses are put to rest. He is conscious only of good-
will to man, whence he infers that the love of God is stirring
within him. His soliloquy is here disturbed by the restlessness
248 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
of the poodle. The beast rushes with a continuous growl to and
fro in the study, while Faust endeavours vainly to coax it into
quietness by placing his best cushion at its service. He next
lights his study lamp. The well-known homely gleam seems to
harmonise with his recently acquired mental repose. The lamp
is a symbol of mental clearness in the heart which knows itself.
Reason begins to speak and hope to bloom once more. Instead
of courting despair and death, he longs for the streams and
fountains of life. Again his peaceful meditations are disturbed
by the poodle's growl. The harsh noise seems to exercise a
peculiarly disquieting effect on Faust. He begins to experience
a return of his cynical and misanthropic mood. Every one
knows, he bitterly remarks, that men despise what they cannot
understand that they snarl at the good and beautiful for which
they have often no sympathy. Does the poodle imitate them by
growling at the same objects ?
The question is significant, as we learn by the words imme-
diately following. Faust's peaceful mood is disappearing not-
withstanding his best wishes to retain it. No longer does he feel
content welling from his bosom. His perception of the change
re-awakens his disquietude and dissatisfaction. Why must the
stream so soon disappear and again leave him to the thirst of
which he has had so bitter experience ? And yet this felt want
may possibly have its uses, at least we may learn from it to
cherish what is above earth. We hence long for revelation,
which nowhere more worthily and beautifully glows than in the
New Testament. Following the prompting of his thoughts
Faust is impelled to translate the sacred text into his own
beloved German tongue. Accordingly he opens his Greek Testa-
ment, and, as it happens, at the first chapter of St. John's
Gospel, whereupon he thus meditates :
Tis writ : "In the beginning was the word,"
But here I halt, and who will help me further ?
So high I can the word by no means value,
I must translate it otherwise.
If by the spirit I am well enlightened,
It stands : " In the beginning was the thought "
Yet well consider this first line,
That so thy pen may not with haste be marr'd.
Goethe s Faust. 249
Is it the thought which all things works and forms ?
It should stand : " In the beginning was the power ".
Yet even while I write this down
There's something warns me I should not stop there ;
The spirit helps me, I see as once his lead,
And write assured : "In the beginning was the deed ".
In its twofold relation to Faust and Goethe the full significance
of this passage is generally overlooked. The careful analysis of
the text, the shifting from one interpretation to another, the
concentration of the supersensuous aspects of creation to the
actual fact which is all that is given us in experience, are signifi-
cant of Faust's general moods and methods. They indicate his
tendency to analysis, his restless striving (Streben), and in part
his theological skepticism. Similarly the contempt for words
and verbal abstractions, the insistence on the positive visible
deed as the principle of creation, the realistic basis of the
universe, are favourite modes of thought with Goethe. Recent
commentators have shown that the selection of the first chapter
of St. John as the subject of Faust's Hermeneutics was not
quite accidental, for in one of the old Faustian histories the
Gospel of St. John is one of the Biblical books which Faust is
especially forbidden to study.
Whether the poodle, as a four-footed Mephistopheles, is dis-
satisfied with Faust's exegesis of a forbidden text, or whether he
dislikes his method of contemplating the creative energy, or
whether he is offended with the subject-matter of creation, being,
as he admits himself, the spirit of annihilation, at any rate the
growling of the poodle now becomes transformed into a violent
howling and barking which quite puts a stop to Faust's Biblical
speculations. Becoming angry, he threatens his guest with instant
expulsion, when a marvellous metamorphosis reveals itself before
his very eyes. The form of the poodle grows larger until it
assumes the likeness of a hippopotamus with fiery eyes and
terrible teeth. This monster does not, however, succeed in
alarming Faust, who boasts that he knows a charm for such half-
hell brood in " Solomon's Key ". Meanwhile a chorus of infernal
spirits is heard in the passage lamenting that one of their number
is trapped. Faust hastily performs his incantation, but without
avail. He resorts to other conjurations, but their sole effect is to
250 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
increase still more the size of the beast, which, now like an
elephant, or some indistinctly defined body of mist, appears to fill
the study. He is afraid that it will escape as a mist. To prevent
this he threatens it with his very strongest spell, when from out
of the seeming mist comes forward Mephistopheles, disguised as a
travelling scholar. He salutes Faust :
M. What's all this row? What may be your pleasure ?
F. This, then, was the kernel of the poodle a travelling scholar.
The casus makes me laugh.
The colloquy proceeds :
M. I salute you, learned sir. You have made me sweat grievously.
F. What art thou called ?
3f. The question seems to me trifling for one who so much despises
the word, who far removed from all seeming regards only the essence of
things.
F. With gentlemen of your sort one may commonly infer the
essence from the name, since this appears but all too plainly when men
call you God of Flies, Destroyer, Liar. Now then, who art thou ?
M. A part of that power which is ever willing evil and ever pro-
ducing good.
F. What am I to understand by this riddle ?
M. I am the spirit which for ever denies, and that rightly, since
everything that comes into being deserves to be annihilated. Better
were it, therefore, that nothing should exist. Hence all that you call
sin, destruction, in a word, evil, is my proper element.
F. Thou callest thyself a part, yet standest before me as a whole.
M. The modest truth I tell thee. Although man that mikrokosm
of folly commonly thinks himself a whole. I am part of that part
which in the beginning was the whole a part of darkness that gave
birth to light that proud light which now contests her ancient rank
and space with Mother Night. Nevertheless, it succeeds not because,
hard as it tries, it cleaves as if wedded to material bodies. It streams
from bodies. It gives beauty to bodies. By a body is it broken in its
course, and hence I hope it will not last long but will perish with bodies.
F. Now I know thy worthy functions. Thou canst not destroy on
a great scale and so art trying to do so on a small one.
M. And to speak truth. There is not much to be done that way.
The something that is opposed to nothing. I mean this clumsy world
I could not manage as often as I have tried already to get at it. Not-
withstanding waves, storms, earthquakes, fire, sea and land remain after
all just as they were, and there's that damned stuff, the brood of brutes
and men, which one can nohow get the better of. How many have I
already buried, and still ever circulates a new fresh blood ! Things go
Goethe s Faust. 251
on so enough to make one mad. From air, water, earth, in dry, wet,
warm, cold, germs by thousands evolve themselves. Had I not reserved
fire I should have had nothing apart for myself.
F. So thou opposest thy cold devil's fist, clenched in impotent
malice, to the ever-stirring, the beneficently creative power. Better try
thy hand at something else, thou wondrous son of Chaos.
This passage serves to reveal the character of the unconditional
denial symbolised by Mephistopheles. Not only is it negative and
destructive of all truth, but of existence, which, according to
Goethe, was the outward and visible sign of truth. The skepti-
cism of Mephistopheles is in point of fact that of Buddhists, who
similarly regard existence as an evil. It differs altogether from
the purely suspensive inquiring Streben of Faust. This dis-
tinction is of prime importance for comprehending the true
significance of the drama, which in part consists of the relation
of the spirit of inquiry to that of denial the antagonism of the
creative and energising impulse to that which is persistently
destructive.
But to resume. The next scene describes a second interview
of Faust and Mephistopheles. Habited as a fashionable youth,
the latter urges his new friend to dress himself in a similar style,
and to accompany him in order to see " life ". The tempter seems
to have timed his visit opportunely. Faust is suffering from
another attack of the Weltschmerz from which the Easter bells
had but recently aroused him. To the solicitations of Mephis-
topheles he moodily replies : " In every dress, no doubt, I shall
feel the anguish of earth's contracted life. I am too old to indulge
in child's play, too young to be without a wish. What gain can
the world have for me ? ' Thou must renounce, thou must re-
nounce.' That is the eternal song which rings in every one's
ears, which every hour during our whole life is hoarsely singing
to us. It is with terror that I wake up every morning. I could
fain weep bitter tears to see the day which in its course will not
fulfil a single wish for me, no, not one ; which lessens even the
anticipation of every pleasure with its selfish captiousness, and
thwarts the creative energy of my busy breast by a thousand
trifles of life. Then, again, with the fall of night must I stretch
myself in anguish on my bed. Here, too, no rest is granted me.
Wild dreams are certain to terrify me. The God who dwells in
252 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
my bosom can deeply stir my inwardness ; (but the same being)
who reigns supreme over all my powers has no control over things
without, and thus existence is to me a burden. Death I ardently
desire and life I abhor."
" And yet," replies Mephistopheles, " death is never an alto-
gether welcome guest." But Faust reiterates still more strongly
his eulogium of it : " O happy is he round whose brow he wreathes
the blood-stained laurel in the dazzling moment of victory, whom
after the maddening dance he finds in a maid's arms. Would that
I had sank away hence enraptured, exanimate before the lofty
spirit's power."
We have considered this passage in its relation to Werther,
but it possesses further implications. It is more than a mere
echo of the similar aspirations of Prometheus, of Job, and of
Hamlet. The bitter mockery of renunciation, coupled with a
recognition of its over-mastering might. The contrast between
the self-contained indomitable personality of Faust and its power-
lessness in respect of outward things are exact reproductions of
Prometheus with his disdain of submission even to the inevitable,
and his lament for his impotence in respect of fate. Altogether
Job-like is his wail over the woes, disappointments and per-
versities of each successive day and the terrifying dreams of every
night. The estimate of life as a sore burden, and the longing to
be delivered from it. While the lament over circumscribed powers,
over an existence "weary, flat, stale and unprofitable," is dis-
tinctly Hamletic. Indeed, the final aspiration to dissolve away in
some ecstatic state seems to recall Hamlet's own wish :
Would that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw and dissolve itself into a dew.
Mephistopheles sneers at Faust's enthusiasm on behalf of
death, and reminds him that " a certain brown juice was not
drunk up by some one on a certain night ". Faust retorts that
Mephistopheles is sometimes guilty of playing the spy. In
reply, the latter, with a sarcastic modesty, disclaims omniscience
but confesses that he knows a good deal. But the recollection of
that episode, together perhaps with the covert charge of cowardice
with which it is accompanied, seems to irritate Faust. On
reflection he becomes indignant that his deliberate attempt on
Goethes Faust. 253
that occasion should have been thwarted by no higher influences
than some childish associations. Accordingly he bursts forth into
a dire fulmination against whatever is most precious, beautiful,
cheering and amiable in human life. In another sense it might
be taken as a disclaimer of a philosophic and human creed, a
denial of all possible constructive bases of human thought, of
speculative or social truth. The passage is of the highest interest,
whether considered in relation to Goethe or to Faust. In the
former case it clearly indicates what were the foundations in
Goethe's mind of his philosophy ; what were in his estimate the
supremest pleasures of his life. As to Faust it may be held to
signify a temporary transition into Wertherism, into the temper
of gloomy all-comprehending negation which most particularly
belongs to Mephistopheles.
" Since then a sweet familiar voice drew me out from the
terrible maze of thought, and betrayed the remnant of my child-
hood feelings with the echo of earlier times, I vent my curse on
everything that winds its coil of alluring and juggling snares
round the soul, and chains it to this den of wretchedness with
blinding and flattering powers. Accursed before all be the lofty
opinion (self -consciousness) with which the mind girds itself round.
Accursed the blinding (or dazzling) of appearances that forces
itself upon our senses. Accursed the treacherous wiles of dreams,
the delusion of glory and of fame. Accursed whatever flatters
us, as property, as wife and child, as slave and plough. Accursed
be Mammon, whether when he incites us with his treasure to
daring deeds or when he smooths our couch for indolent pleasures.
Accursed be the balsamic juice of the grape. Accursed that highest
grace of Love. Accursed be Hope. Accursed be Faith. Accursed
above all the rest be Patience."
Could mortal malediction annihilate all human excellencies,
powers and entities, there would be little left worth living for
after the accomplishment of these terrible wishes. But it is
evident that they are not to be taken in their fullest amplitude of
meaning. Faust's, as a rule, is not a destroying, it is a conserving
spirit, and his utterances both before and after this terrible
execration justify us in concluding that his language is the
momentary outcome of an indignant, passionate despair, which is
not his ordinary mood. The object of the curse is, however, clear.
254 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Mephistopheles, we are taught to see, has driven him for the time
being to adopt his own destructive disposition in order to entrap
him. His proposed annihilation of the world, of human self-
consciousness, sensation and action, of love, joy, faith and hope,
and whatsoever else gives dignity to human existence, prepares
the way for his own proposal of a higher happiness than any
Faust has yet tasted. Meanwhile, and for the time being, Faust's
universe, the Kosmos of his noblest feelings, thoughts and
aspirations, is, so far as hasty wishes can accomplish it, a wreck,
and a chorus of spirits bewails the wholesale annihilation his
curses are supposed to have effected. Instructed by Mephisto-
pheles they exhort him to restore it by setting out in quest of new
pleasures. Mephistopheles himself seconds these exhortations
but the passage is so important that we must give a literal
translation.
M. Cease to trifle with thy grief, which, vulture-like, consumes the
sources of thy life. The worst company will make thee feel that thou
art still a man among men. Yet I do not mean to thrust thee amongst
the pack. I am none of your great men. Yet if thou wilt in company
with me take thy path through life, I will readily adapt myself to be
thine upon the spot. I am thy companion, and if thou art satisfied I
am thy servant, thy slave.
F. And what am I to do for thee in return ?
M. For that thou hast as yet a long day of grace.
F. No ! No ! The devil is an egotist and does not readily for
God's will what may advantage another. Speak out the condition
plainly. Such a servant brings peril into the house.
M. I will bind myself to thy service here so as at thy beck neither
te sleep nor rest. When we find ourselves on the other side thou must
do as much for me.
F. The " other side " gives me but small concern. If one shatter
this world to pieces the other may come into being as it will. Out of
this earth spring my joys, and this sun shines on my sorrows. Once I
can separate myself from these, what will and can may then happen, I
will hear nothing further about it whether man in a future state as
well, hates and loves, and whether there be an above or below in those
spheres as in our own.
M. In this mood thou mayest well venture. Bind thyself and
during that time thou shalt be delighted by my arts. I will give thee
what no man has hitherto seen.
F. What, poor devil, wilt thou give ? Was the mind of man in its
lofty effort (Streben) ever compassed by the like of thee ? Yet thou hast
food which satisfies not. Thou hast red gold which speedily like quick-
Goethe s Faust. 255
silver melts away in the hand a game at which man is never a winner
a maiden who on my breast is already with ogles binding herself to
my neighbour the bright god-like joy of honour which vanishes like a
meteor. Show me the fruit which rots before it is plucked and trees
which every day renew their verdure.
AT. Such a commission affrights me not. Such treasures have I at
my disposal. But, good friend, the time will come in its turn when we
may feast on what is really good in peace.
Faust resists an allurement which would destroy his essential
nature of Streben and replies :
F. If ever I lie down calmly on a bed of sloth, may there be at once
an end of me. If with thy flattery thou canst beguile me into self-
satisfaction, if thou canst deceive me with enjoyment, be that my last
day. The wager I offer.
M. Done.
F. My hand upon it. If ever I say to the passing moment " Stay,
thou art so fair," then mayest thou cast me into chains. Then will I
willingly perish. Then may the death-bell toll. Then art thou free
from thy service. The clock may stand still. The index hand may fall,
and time exist for me no more.
Briefly the compact thus proposed is eventually agreed to^
and Faust, after some expostulation with Mephistopheles for the
want of confidence in his spoken word implied in his require-
ment of a written pledge, signs it in the approved Faustian
manner, with his blood.
We must, however, remember that in this transaction the
character of Faust has already begun to undergo very marked
transformation. He is no longer the unselfish truth-seeker. No
longer the ardent thinker who must in virtue of impulses he can-
not resist energise for knowledge. He is here changed into the
pleasure-seeker. The end of his life is no longer mental labour
but sensual enjoyment. It is for this that he is content to barter
his soul to the evil one. We thus see what will appear more
clearly in the sequel. Goethe has failed to discriminate accurately
between truth-search and mere happiness or enjoyment. Content
with the passing moment for the pleasure it affords, nullifies the
persistent Streben which is never satisfied with attainment.
Indeed, Faust seems partly conscious of this change and
deterioration in his aims.
Ich habe mich zu hoch geblaht
In deinen Rang gehor' ich nur.
256 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
His proposed plunge into sensuous pleasure is no doubt
partly caused by his proved experience that he cannot acquire
satisfactory and complete knowledge. The world of nature is
closed to him, the threads of thought are snapped and knowledge
has become wearisome. Besides, he contrives to disguise the real
import of his proposed change of pursuit by alleging that his
desire is not primarily happiness, but the wish to experience in
his own person all human emotions of whatever kind. He in-
dulges in a rhapsody on this point, which is not altogether
ridiculous and unsuitable, because something of the kind is found
in the old Faustian legends. 1
" My breast, which is purged from the love of knowledge,
shall for the future bare itself to every human pang, and all that
is parcelled out among mankind, I will enjoy in my own heart's
core," etc.
But, setting aside the absurdity of this new desire, as well as
the psychological falsehood that it could ever have formed a
motive of energy to any sane man, it is in reality a transference
of infinity from knowledge to enjoyment. Omniscience failing
him, Faust would fain experience all feeling. Mephistopheles
ridicules his exorbitant wishes, alleging that they are only fit for
a God. There are, he says, uncombinable opposites in humanity,
which if they could be found harmoniously joined together in an
individual, he would style such a man " Mr. Mikrokosm ".
" If that be the case," asks Faust, " what am I ? "
Mephistopheles replies by stating the same philosophical truth
which he has already learnt in the " thunder- word " of the earth-
spirit. " Thou art, in fine, just what thou art. Put on wigs
with millions of curls, set thy foot on ell-high socks, thou still
remainest what thou art."
1 Mr. Filmore, for example, quotes from a Faustian poem the follow-
ing definition of "emotional omniscience," as the sum total of all
human feeling might perhaps be termed :
" So lang ein Kuss auf Erden gliiht
Der nicht durch meine Seele sprliht,
So lang ein Schmerz auf Erden klagt
Der nicht an meinem Herzen nagt,
So lang ich nicht allwaltend bin
War' Ich viel lieber ganz dahin."
Goethe 's Faust. 257
At last Faust is compelled to acknowledge the painful truth.
Notwithstanding his life-long efforts he is just as far from attain-
ing infinity as ever. Like all free aspiring thinkers he is inclined
to bewail his restricted powers, when Mephistopheles consoles him
by pointing out the real enjoyments which are within human
reach. " When I can buy six horses are not their powers mine ? "
he asks. " I gallop along, a proper man, as if I had four-
and-twenty legs." He exhorts him to let his senses have their
due swing, and adds the contemptuous estimate of the mere
theoriser : " A fellow who speculates is like a beast driven by an
evil spirit round and round in a circle on a barren heath, while
fair green pastures lie everywhere around ". These " green
pastures " of sensuous delights Faust agrees to explore. Mean-
while their conference is disturbed by a student " a freshman "
who has come to seek an interview with the famous doctor.
Faust refuses to see him, and Mephistopheles, disguising himself
in his gown and cap, proposes to represent him.
The scene which follows may well pair off with the dialogue
of Faust and Wagner in the earlier part of the drama, with,
however, some distinction. The former colloquy is between a
skeptical inquirer and a pedant who not only believes in know-
ledge, but is confident that he has obtained it. The latter is
between Mephistopheles the spirit of negation and an innocent
unformed student, equally credulous as to the existence and
excellency of human knowledge, though inexperienced in her
methods. Here, then, we have not so much the spirit of
questioning doubt which marks the converse of Faust and
Wagner, as the mocking cynicism which despises and ridicules all
truth-search of whatever kind. It is the spirit which Goethe
found in such thinkers as Hiisgen, Behrisch, Merck and Basedow ;
and of which Agrippa's work on the vanity of all human sciences
was to him the greatest literary exponent. In entire harmony
with his character as the spirit of lies, Mephistopheles takes his
professor's chair with a complacent reflection on the havoc he has
already made of the noblest faculties once possessed and believed
in by Faust. " Only despise reason and knowledge, man's
chiefest power, only let thyself be confirmed in delusions and
sorcery by the spirit of lies, and I have thee unconditionally."
He says that fate has given to Faust a spirit which presses ever
17
258 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
forwards irresistibly, and his too eager effort (Streben) overleaps
the joys of life. He threatens to drag him through a wild life,
through scenes of vapid unmeaningness. He shall sprawl, stand
amazed, stick fast, and for his insatiableness shall food and drink
wave before his craving lips. He will entreat for refreshment in
vain, and even if he had not given himself to the devil he must
in any case have gone to wreck important words, whether taken
as a forecast of the coming scenes in which Faust is constrained
to appear, or signifying the diabolical estimate of human Streben
when unlimited, so contrary to the value placed on that energy
by God.
The student now enters. He respectfully salutes, as he sup-
poses, the renowned Doctor Faust, and, after exchange of compli-
ments, gravely, but with the greatest naivete, recounts the causes
which have impelled him to come to the university. He says he
" would fain learn something worth learning in the world ". The
colloquy then proceeds :
M. You are here at the very place for it.
Stud. To say the truth I would gladly be out again. These walls,
these halls are by no means to my taste. The space is exceedingly con-
fined. There is not a tree nothing green to be seen, and in the halls,
on the benches, hearing, sight and thought fail me.
M. It is all a matter of habit. The child does not at first take
kindly to its mother's breast, but soon finds a pleasure in nourishing
itself. Just so will you daily experience a greater pleasure at the breasts
of Wisdom.
Stud. I shall hang delightedly upon her neck, do but tell me how
I am to attain to it.
M. Explain yourself before you further go. What faculty do you
select ?
Stud. I should wish to become truly learned, and would fain com-
prehend what is upon earth and in heaven Science and Nature.
M. You are on the right track. Yet must you not pursue your
studies in a desultory manner.
Stud. I am enlisted soul and body in the cause. Yet I should
certainly like a little freedom and relaxation on bright summer holi-
days.
M. Make most of time, it slips away so fast. Yet order teaches
you to gain time. For this reason, my dear friend, I advise you to
begin with a course of logic. Thereby is the mind well broken in
laced up in Spanish boots so that it creeps guardedly forward on the
thought-path, and does not, like an ignis faiuus, flicker here and
Goethes Faust. 259
there in all directions. Then many a day will you be taught that one,
two, three is necessary for that which you formerly hit off at a blow as
easy as eating and drinking. It is with thought-fabric, forsooth, as with
a weaver's master-piece when one treadle moves a thousand threads.
The shuttle shoots hither and thither, the threads move unseen, ties by
thousands are struck off at a blow. The philosopher, he steps in and
proves to you it must have been so. The first should be so, the second
so, and therefore the third and fourth so ; and if the first and second
were not, the third and fourth could never be. The scholars of all
countries prize this, but none have become weavers. He who will know
and describe anything living seeks first to drive the soul out of it. Then
has he the parts in his hand, only, unluckily, the spiritual bond is
lacking. Chemistry terms it Eucheiresis Naturse and mocks herself, she
knows not how.
Stud. I cannot quite understand you.
M. That will soon follow if you learn to reduce and classify all
things properly.
Stud. To me it all seems so bewildering as if a mill-wheel were
revolving in my head.
M. Next and before all other things must you apply yourself to
metaphysics. Then see that you profoundly grasp what was not meant
for human brain. For what enters therein and does not enter therein
a fine word will stand you in good stead. But take care for the first
half-year to adopt the strictest regularity. You will have five Lectures
every day. Be in your place as the clock strikes. Be well prepared
beforehand, with your paragraphs thoroughly conned, that you may see
the better that he says nothing but what is in the book, yet in your
writing be as zealous as if the Holy Ghost were dictating to you.
Stud. You need not tell me that a second time. I can perceive
how useful it is. For what one possesses in black and white he can
carry home in comfort.
M. But choose a faculty.
Stud. To jurisprudence I cannot reconcile myself.
M. I cannot find much fault with you, I know how it stands with
that science. Laws and rights descend like a perpetual disease. They
trail down from generation to generation and glide imperceptibly from
place to place. Reason becomes nonsense. Beneficence, a plague. Woe
to thee that thou art a grandson. Of the law that is born with us of
that, unfortunately, there is never any question.
Stud. You increase my distaste for it. Oh, happy is he whom you
teach. I think I should like to study theology.
M. I do not wish to mislead you. As for this science, it is so
difficult to avoid the wrong way. There is so much hidden poison in it,
and this is so hard to distinguish from medicine. Best is it also here
to listen only to one and swear by the master's words. On the whole
stick to words. Then will you pass by the safe gate into the temple of
certainty.
260 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Stud. But there must be some meaning in the words.
M. Very true, only one must not be too anxious about that. For
it is just where meanings fail that a word comes in most opportunely.
With words may controversies be admirably carried on. With words
may a system be erected. Words form a capital subject for belief.
From a word no iota dares to be stolen.
Stud. Pardon me. I detain you by my many questions, but I must
still trouble you. Would you kindly give me a little appropriate advice
about medicine ? Three years is a short time, and the field, God knows,
is far too wide. If one has but a hint, one can feel one's way along
further.
M. (aside). I am weary of this prosing style. I must play the devil
properly again. (Aloud.) The spirit of medicine is easy to be caught. You
study through the great and little world to let things go on in the end as it
pleases God. It is in vain that you wander scientifically in all directions.
Each man learns only what he can. Yet he who seizes the passing
moment, that is the true man. You are fairly well built, nor will you
be wanting in boldness. And if you only trust in yourself other souls
will trust in you. Especially learn to guide the women, to cure their
eternal ohs and ahs, manifold as they are, from a single point. For if
they only half believe in you, you have them all under your thumb. A
title must first convince them that your art surpasses many arts. You
may then welcomely touch boldly on many matters round which
another would fumble many years. Learn to press their little pulses
adroitly, and boldly clasp them about their taper waists with fiery
wanton glances, just to see how tightly they are laced.
Stud. There is some sense in that. One sees, at any rate, the
when and the how.
M. Grey, my dear friend, is all theory, and green the golden tree of
life.
Stud. I vow to you, all seems a dream to me. Might I trouble you
another time to hear your wisdom speak upon the grounds ?
M. What help I can give shall willingly be given.
Stud. I can by no means depart without placing my common-place
book in your hands. Grant me this token of your favour.
M. Willingly. (He writes and gives it back.)
Stud, (reads). Evites sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum.
M. Only follow the old saw, and my cousin the snake, and some
time or other you, with your likeness to God, will be sorry enough.
Regarded as a knowledge drama, this scene is one of the most
important in the whole compass of Goethe's Faust. It reminds
us of the opening soliloquy in which Faust admits his dissatis-
faction with all his knowledge attainments, due allowance being
made for the difference between the cynical negation of Mephis-
Goethes Faust. 261
topheles and the earnestness which marks the human inquirer.
Both alike express what we know from other sources to have
been Goethe's own profound impatience with the subjects and
methods of the popular science of his time. His condemnation
of human knowledge, taking it as a whole, is as complete and
unsparing as Agrippa's Vanity of the Arts and Sciences. Not
a single science is exempt from his cynical mockery. Logic,
chemistry, metaphysics, jurisprudence, theology, human language,
medicine are condemned seriatim, and with the most perfect im-
partiality. Not less Goethean, also, is the conclusion of the sere
and withered condition of theory and the greenness of the tree
of life.
It is now conceded by the best Faustian critics that the next
two scenes, the orgies in Auerbach's cellar and the witch's cave,
can have no part in that conception of Faust which regards him
as a truth-searcher. Nor can they be said to form a promising
starting-point for the notion which substitutes sensuous pleasure
for truth as the object of Faust's inquiry. Notwithstanding his
compact with Mephistopheles and his desire for some moment so
pleasurable as to prompt a wish for its continuance, Faust can
have no sympathy with the sottish delights of drunken revellers
assembled in a low pot-house. Indeed, he would seem to have
watched the whole proceedings with ill-concealed disgust. His
own reflections on the drinking goblet and the reminiscences it
conjured up are sufficient to show what small influence the
pleasures of wine had on Faust in his own natural youth.
Hardly less loathsome to the refined and poetic thinker though
somewhat falling in with his later devotion to magic are the
grotesquely obscene proceedings of the witch's cavern. Dramatic-
ally, however, this scene is important, for here Faust partakes of
the magic potion which puts back the current of his life some
thirty years. Such a transformation scene gives, no doubt, a
certain measure of probability to Faust's subsequent conduct, but
it is attended by the drawback that passions and sensibilities are
attributed to him which he does not seem to have felt in his own
true and unbewitched youth. From this point, then, we have
represented another Faust a man whose feelings, interests and
aspirations stand in the most violent contrast to those of a true
philosopher. The studious recluse is transformed into a fashion-
262 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
able gallant. His divine Streben for truth and knowledge is
converted into selfish lust. His doubt of ultimate certainty is
transmuted into a far more mischievous disbelief in virtue. The
drama of Faust, in a word, is like its hero, a centaur. Its earlier
portion represents the head and heart of a man, the noblest of
his species, while its latter half might be fittingly symbolised by
the baser parts and mere animal functions of a beast. This
momentous change in the character of Faust has often been
noticed by his commentators in terms of reprehension, and all the
more because the episode of Faust and Gretchen is not found in
the original Faust legends. Probably Goethe's reasons for com-
bining in a single impersonation the opposed characteristics of
the student and profligate were these : -
1. The conception contained in the mediaeval Faust legends
of a man who is anxious to drain the cup, not of one, but of all
pleasures, who strives after all attainments, and desires to share
every species of fruition.
2. The demands of popular dramatic interest.
3. Goethe's estimate of every man as a composite many-sided
" nature " a convergence, not only of varying, but opposed
powers and faculties.
4. His determination to embody in Faust (1) that peculiar
union of intellectual culture and sensuous passion which marked
his own eccentric nature ; (2) the divergent faculties and tenden-
cies which pertain to the race.
But how inadequate and inconsistent these reasons are when
regarded as a basis for the Gretchen episode in Faust, a little
reflection will serve to prove.
1. We must allow that the craving for infinite knowledge
may be, and has been, a passion of enormous power in
the greatest thinkers in the world's history ; but a similar
yearning in the region of passion and sensuous pleasure can
characterise only an extreme and unnatural sensualist. The first
passion, notwithstanding its possible extravagance, is noble,
elevating and generous, the latter is sordid and selfish to an
extreme degree. That the two should co-exist and co-operate
within the confines of any single human personality is a pro-
position refuted by the most elementary laws of psychology.
Such a union of incompatibles would deserve more than the
Goethe s Faust. 263
sarcastic name which Mephistopheles would bestow on it " Mr.
Mikrokosm " ; for the disorder inseparable from such a conjunction
of the material and spiritual would entitle its possessor to be
called " Mr. Makrochaos ". Besides, there is no more than a super-
ficial and utterly misleading analogy between fruition regarded
as a response to bodily and mental craving. No doubt both are
capable of being stated under the same head or general definition,
Streben, but there the analogy ends. The motives, methods and
aims of the searchers are not only diverse, but antagonistic. He
who determinedly sets forth on the quest of truth has not the
slightest impulse towards sensual gratification ; indeed, he is in-
stinctively aware that any such object would only divert him
from his true aim. On the other hand, the sensualist is the last
man to appreciate the purely spiritual pleasure which comes from
the exercise of the intellect independently of any ulterior object.
To the possible objection that the Faust thus represented is not
the true Faust, that he has been rejuvenated by the witch's
draught and regenerated by Satanic inspiration, that his whole
inward being, with its motives, tendencies, etc., has not only been
transformed, but absolutely inverted, the answer must be made
that Goethe himself never really intended such a violent trans-
mutation. No doubt it would have been better for the consistency
and probability of the latter half of his drama if he had done so
whatever violence he would thereby have offered to the unity
of his conception as a whole. Indeed, there are a few indications
which may possibly signify that he once contemplated some such
radical destruction of what we must regard as Faust's original
personality, but it is quite certain that if this was the case he
never carried out his idea. The general notion he evidently
meant his readers to cherish of Faust in his passion period is that
of an elderly, thoughtful scholar, on whose being have been
grafted, by diabolical intervention, certain vehement youthful
passions, and who thereby blends with an ardent love of truth
and philosophical speculation the propensities and pursuits of a
selfish roW. How much of the original element of the philo-
sopher is still left in Faust is shown by his occasional reasonings
with Mephistopheles, by his temporary withdrawal from the object
of his pursuit to indulge in solitary meditation, by the tone of
those meditations, by the kind of converse he sometimes holds
264 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
with Gretchen. But these characteristics merely serve to bring
into greater relief the dichotomy in his being and the irreconc-
ilable nature, judged from an ordinary human standpoint, of
its component qualities. The objection is only partly met by
remembering the source of Goethe's inspiration the Faust of
the old legends, conceived as a man arid of all pleasures, sensual
and intellectual, and reckless as to the means whereby they are
obtained. Regarded as a mythical personage, a being out of all
relation to human thought and action, such a personage is doubt-
less conceivable. But we must remember that however much he
had been struck with the idea when perusing the Faust legends,
Goethe virtually abandons it at the very starting-point of his
actual drama. Like all mythical creations, the original Faust of
the legends is a superhuman monster, gigantic in power, in
audacity and in desire. What Goethe aimed at constructing was
an actual man, guided by human propensities and feelings, and
professing to be bound, so far as he himself is concerned, by
ordinary moral and social restraints. Carrying out this project,
Goethe seems to have made the mistake of suffering himself to be
unconsciously biassed by mythic and extra-human ideas when
creating a human character.
2. The theory that the Gretchen episode is needed in
order to establish an interest in the character of Faust can
only be urged by those who have very imperfect or unworthy
ideas of the true sources of dramatic interest. In brief terms,
these may be defined as all human action, all human passion.
Among the rest, how great and absorbing an interest may be
created by truth-search, or by the effort to attain and diffuse
enlightenment, is shown by the fact that such an aim characterises
some of the greatest dramas of the world's literature. Nor as
long as men are what they are, gifted with the intellectual powers
and aspirations they possess, could it well be otherwise. To the
genuine thinker a narrative of truth-search has all the fascination,
and something of the excitement, that a story of hunting difficult
game in a difficult country has for the sportsman. Has not truth-
search man's perpetual conflict with the unknowable its own
difficulties and dangers, its doubts and fluctuations, its hopes and
fears, its apparent triumphs and real defeats ? Has it not had
its champions, its confessors, and its martyrs ? Is it not sufficient
Goethe 's Faust. 265
of itself to fill the life role of the greatest and most gifted among
men ? Do we need the attraction of sensual passion selfishly
pursued, to awaken our interest in the struggles and labours of
Prometheus or in the invincible self-reliance and sense of justice
of Job ? Has not Hamlet, with his immoderate indulgence in
many-sided ratiocination, a fascination for the thinker quite in-
dependent of his passion for Ophelia ? Nor can it be urged that
such a paroxysm of sensuality was needed to manifest the
malignity of hellish powers, since Faust's escapades under the
influence of his Satanic mentor might easily have taken a direction
just as mischievous and diabolical while preserving some con-
gruity with his original nature. They might have taken a
Titanic direction of defiance of Deity, inordinate ambition, grasp-
ing avarice, intolerant pride or selfishness, or some other vice
having a more or less intellectual origin. This is in point of fact
the idea of the old Faust legends, to which any such narrative as
that of Gretchen is unknown. These represent Faust's ill-doings
after his infernal compact as quite of another kind consisting of
mischievous manifestations of magical power, over-weening
ambition, insatiable greed, a proud disdain 'both of God and man
and we must allow that they have thus better preserved the
harmony of Faust's original nature than Goethe has done-
Besides, even allowing the customary exigencies which render
the presentation of the chiefest human passion necessary to every
great drama, it may safely be alleged that to most readers of this
portion of Faust, the interest centres, not in the hero, but in
Gretchen herself. The combination of grace, simplicity and
true womanly tenderness which she impersonates, proves irresist-
ibly attractive, while the cold, calculating lust, the libertine
selfishness, the fiendish cruelty of her paramour are only fitted
to excite feelings of horror and repugnance. Xo rightly consti-
tuted mind could possibly entertain any other sentiment for the
profligate wiles which have their literary home in the scrofulous
pages of French romance. In the terrible success which attends
those machinations the wholesale ruin of an innocent family
Goethe has even surpassed these productions. That he was not
actuated by any moral purpose in doing this, is proved by the
fact that no part of this ruin falls on Faust, nor does he exhibit
any adequate remorse for having caused it. The casual reproaches
266 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
he vents on Mephistopheles are fully met by the question of the
latter : " Wer war's, der sie in verderben stiirzte, Ich oder du ? "
Professor Vischer observes that Goethe has here forgotten his
own purpose, and that Faust has ceased to put forth any virtuous
Streben, it would not be too much to say that his original effort
for truth and virtue has here taken an opposite course and is
enlisted in the service of vice. Indeed, if the Gretchen episode
could be quite isolated from all the remainder of the drama, in-
cluding the second part, it would go far to prove the hypothesis
that there is no trace of any moral tendency in Faust. Some
critics have tried to justify Faust's cruelty to Gretchen by the
argument that Mephistopheles has induced him to accept and
follow his own destructive role, but this is at once refuted by the
fact that the disciple, notwithstanding his bargain, has by no
means surrendered himself absolutely to his infernal mentor's
guidance, but retains his own opinions, his own volition, and, to
a great extent, his own freedom of action.
3. More may possibly be urged for the notion that Goethe
intended to embody in Faust his ideal man as a composite being
or " nature," made up not only of diversified, but even conflicting
qualities and tendencies, as the man of action as well as con-
templation, as the sensualist no less than the philosopher. But
even admitting the occasional, but rare, union of such incon-
gruities, Goethe should have allowed for and striven to imitate
nature's observance of due proportion, subordination and fitness
in these anomalous creations. Notwithstanding her fitful
partiality for diversity, she never created in any one living being
a combination of man and angel, beast and bird, such as we have
represented in the Bulls of Assyrian sculpture, in which opposite
qualities not only co-exist, but enjoy a co-equal degree of mani-
festation. Faust, for example, is so great a philosopher as to
render mere sensualism an impossibility, and as great a sensualist
as if the passion-cooling influence of philosophy and reason were
utterly foreign to his nature.
4. We have already granted that Faust is a dramatic repro-
duction of its author, and some apology for the inconsistencies in
his character may be found in that fact. But this cannot be
considered adequate. No man was more fully aware than Goethe
of the abnormal character of his individuality. It is true he did
Goethe s Faust, 267
not care to obtrude it on public attention, still less to exaggerate
its strange or excessive aspects. In this respect he forms a
complete contrast to Montaigne, who was always willing to pose
as a human monstrosity, not only in private but in public. Still
among the circle of his own private friends Goethe was quite
prepared to plead guilty to extreme eccentricity, and sometimes
in a playful mood was not averse to a little self-ridicule on that
account. Not that his own oral testimony was needed to establish
the fact, it was amply attested by almost every act of his life.
Still his undoubted consciousness of his peculiarity ought to have
prevented his representation of himself as a type of ordinary
humanity, especially in the caricature portrayed in Faust. For
we must acknowledge that Faust in his dealings with Gretchen
goes beyond Goethe in the non-human character of his lust. The
latter in his general relations with the sex betrays a coldly selfish
as well as a sensual nature, but he would hardly have gone to the
extent of Faust in his ruthless betrayal of maiden innocence
without manifesting more compunction for the dire consequences
of his wayward passion.
But the strongest argument of all others for Faust's incon-
sistencies is that in his later form, as conceived by Goethe, he
symbolises, not the individual, however large his nature or
diversiform his qualities, but the race. He represents human
effort and human shortcoming whatever men have done or
suffered, the perpetual Streben, and, consequently, the combined
advance and retrogression which constitute the progress of
humanity. We have already noticed how much this idea of an
all-mensch took hold of the early Faust legends. We have thus
in Goethe's work a development from the individual philosopher
and truth-seeker, with which the drama commences, to the half-
abstract ideal of struggling and falling, yet ever progressing
humanity with which it ends. Nor is this development limited
to Faust. Less distinctly marked, we find it also in Gretchen.
As the power becomes changed into an abstract all-mensch, the
latter is ultimately transformed into the ewig-weibliche. But in
this transformation Goethe has in effect destroyed his first idea.
The universal man absorbs and destroys the individual humanity
whence it originated. The eternally Womanly loses the Gretchen
personality which gave it birth. Besides, the process entails the
268 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
entire destruction of all genuine sources of human interest. With
Faust in his first presentation, with Gretchen in her original
portraiture, we can fully sympathise, but with the same personages
as embodiments of all humanity or all womanity we can no longer
feel any sympathetic interest. They are either abstract entities
removed as far as possible from our ordinary existence, or they
are monstrosities whose motives and feelings we are quite unable
to understand. There are few readers of Goethe's great work in
its entirety who have not experienced a gradual decrease of
interest in all his chief characters. Even Mephistopheles, whose
personality is at first so vividly, strikingly and clearly defined,
becomes in the second part a vague, shadowy, irresolute and
altogether uninteresting personage. No doubt the great in-
terval in time between the first conception and ultimate form
of Goethe's Faustian creations helps to account for these incon-
sistencies ; nothing can justify such imperfections in a work of
art.
But though Faust in the Gretchen episode seems to have
forgotten his original role of truth-search, and is content to de-
mean himself as a selfish profligate, it is fair to remember that
glimpses of his originally higher nature occasionally disclose them-
selves. Thus, in the very heat of his lustful pursuit, his first love
of nature and solitude returns, and for a time masters him. He
communes with the spirit of nature in the wood and mountain
cavern. He recognises its presence in calm and in storm.
What is yet more remarkable, he perceives in these scenes,
and in his own attitude to them of poetic reflection, a passing
glimpse of his former personality. He addresses the nature-
spirit :
Dann fiihrst du mich zur sichern Hohle, zeigst
Mich dann mir selbst, und meiner eignen Brust
Geheime tiefe Wunder offnen sich.
He confesses that he cannot now take the pure delight in nature
which he once did. His unholy passion for Gretchen the whirl
and stir of sensual excitement forms a counteracting element
which prevents his enjoyment of the purer pleasures of the
intellect and imagination. He describes this tumult of restless
passion in words which vividly recall Shelley's expression " Love's
sad satiety " :
Goethe s Faust. 269
So tauml' ich von Begierde zu Genuss
Und im Genuss verschmacht' ich nach Begierde.
He undergoes, in other words, the physical counterpart to the
restlessness of his intellectual life. More fully, however, the
return of his skeptical cynical mood is manifested in his con-
versations with Gretchen. Thus we are reminded of the old
student and his contempt for human wisdom by his bitter com-
ment on the term " verstandig," which she deems the sole attribute
of those who can worthily claim to be his friends.
Beste ! Glaube, was man so verstandig kennt
1st oft mehr Eitelkeit und Kurzsinn.
But the scene in which Faust's skepticism is suffered to transpire
most fully and earnestly in his intercourse with Gretchen is the
well-known one called his " Confession of Faith ". This title is,
however, a misnomer. The passage is a confession of unfaith
an eloquent and profound admission of doubt, not so much in
Deity as in the nature and attributes assigned to him by human
creeds and dogmas. As it bears so directly on our special subject
of Faust's skepticism, we must ask permission to quote it. To
Gretchen's expressed fear that her lover did not believe in God,
he replies :
Name him who dare ?
And who declare
In him belief ?
Feel him who can ?
And durst that man
Kefuse belief ?
The All-Embracer
The All-Sustainer
Doth he not embrace and sustain
Thee, me, himself ?
Is not the vault of heaven above us spread ?
Lies not the earth so firmly at our feet ?
And do not the eternal stars
Mount ever upwards with their kindly glance ?
Do I not gaze upon thee eye to eye ?
And all doth it not press
Upon thy head and heart ?
And in eternal secrecy enweave,
Unseen, yet visible, its web around thee ?
Therewith fill up thy heart though great it be ;
And when thus wholly feeling thou art blest
270 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Then call it what thou wilt,
Call it Bliss, Heart, Love, God,
No name for it have I,
Feeling is all ;
Name is but sound and smoke
O'er-clouding heaven's glow.
This famous passage is among the most interesting in the whole
drama, not only because it brings back to us Faust's earlier
speculations, but because it reveals incidentally Goethe's own con-
victions on the subject of Deity and his mode of arriving at them.
The consideration of its manifold import, however, lies beyond our
present scope. We can only refer to it as establishing Faust's
skepticism and the subjective, individual basis on which, like
Prometheus, Job and Hamlet, he places all truth.
In the remainder of the first part of Faust there is nothing
which deserves notice from our standpoint of regarding it as a
knowledge-drama. Faust finds himself enmeshed for a short
time in the sensual coils he has woven, only the punishment,
unluckily, does not fall upon him who is unquestionably the chief
criminal, but brings wholesale destruction and ruin on an innocent
household.
The question has often been asked why Goethe did not
terminate his tragedy with the first part and the death of
Gretchen. The answer may probably be found in his own ad-
mission to Zelter. 1 " I was not born for a tragic poet, my nature
is too conciliating. Hence no really tragic situation interests me,
for it is in its essence irreconcilable." Without disputing,
however, the truth whether of Goethe's self -diagnosis or his con-
ception of tragedy, it may be doubted whether he was justified in
making a knowledge-drama so extravagantly tragical. Is Faust's
knowledge or attainment of truth in any way advanced by the
ruin and death of Gretchen, or by the murder of her child, her
mother and her brother? No doubt intellectual inquiry and
truth-diffusion may entail suffering, as we have seen in the case
of Prometheus. The general fate of such a life-work Goethe has
himself described :
Hat man von je gekreuzigt und verbrannt.
1 Quoted by Lewes, ut supra, p. 302.
Goethe s Faust. 271
The effort may possibly make shipwreck of a man's dearest con-
victions, it may produce some measure of painful uncertainty in
the minds of others. In particular departments of science, for
example, experimental physiology, it may entail physical suffer-
ing. But all these are consequences of truth-search, with which
the seduction of Gretchen has absolute!} 7 nothing in common.
There was no conceivable gap in Faust's speculation which his
immoral success could be said to have filled as so much definitive
knowledge. With his profound knowledge of humanity he could
not have wanted an attestation of the strength and selfishness of
human passions, nor of the depth and tenderness of woman's love.
Supposing for a moment that this episode could be truly character-
ised as a legitimate tragical issue of knowledge-search, then the
sensual pursuits of the most debased of mankind could claim some
measure of justification a reductio ad absurdum than which
nothing could be more absurd.
While, however, we regard Gretchen's ruin and its tragical
circumstances as unnecessary to the development of Goethe's
original conception of Faust, we certainly find in the second part
some attempt at re-introducing the primary idea of Faust as a
truth-seeker. It is this which gives the second part the small
modicum of interest which from our standpoint it may be said
to possess ; it is, however, too vague and insignificant to modify
the general verdict as to this production of Goethe. The startling
inferiority of this in comparison with the first part has become an
axiom with the best Faustian critics. No language has been
thought too severe to reprehend its grotesque shapelessness of
form, its motley assemblage of bizarre and uncouth creations.
While styled a tragedy, it is in reality an ill-shaped, incongruous
combination of comedy, miracle-play, melodrama and pantomime.
But beneath this unwieldy mass of genius, imagination and
absurdity, a few traces of the genuine Faust are dimly discernible.
These relate (1) to the primary role of the hero, the Streben which
forms in theory the ground principle of all his action ; (2) to
Goethe's secondary and super-imposed conception of Faust as a
representative of collective humanity.
The former purpose is indicated in the opening scene, wherein
Faust describes himself moved by a powerful impulse
Zum nachsten Daseyn immerfort zu streben
272 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
in other words, to the original motive principle of his intellectual
course. But the Streben of the second part of Faust is not quite
the same as that manifested in the earlier half of the first part.
At the commencement of the latter his energy is directed towards
truth and knowledge, while towards the close it is perverted to
sensuous indulgence, but in the second part it seems mainly ex-
pended on culture, regarded as the property of the race, on the
elements of human civilisation and refinement, on the means and
conditions of social and political progress. We have, in other
words, lost Faust as a man, and instead, we have a mystical in-
carnation of powers and influences which tend to rule, at least
which ought, in Goethe's opinion, to rule the world. Thus he
represents vaguely humanity in its ideal perpetual effort to achieve
the highest stages of civilised culture, and more particularly he
symbolises Goethe's own personal aspirations in the various
directions of thought, progress and culture. For example, he ex-
presses in art Goethe's favourite ideal of the union of Teutonic
with Hellenic art-culture; in science, his preference for the
Neptunist to the Plutonist theory of the origin of the earth as well
as his opinions on other points of physical science ; in philosophy,
his preference of the concrete for the abstract and his dislike of
transcendentalism ; in politics, his opinion of the union of Church
and State and his denunciation of ecclesiastical greed ; in agri-
culture, his notions on the improvements of which he thought it
capable. In short, we have a kind of rambling prospective vision
of the general advance of humanity, conceived from the stand-
point of Goethe in his old age. The enthusiastic utterance of
these forecasts of the future of humanity brings about the
denouement of the drama, for Faust, whom Goethe has invested
for the time with his own sanguine temperament, is so far excited
with these prospects that he lets fall by chance the ominous
desire which he had long since defied Mephistopheles to compel
him to utter. Speaking of these anticipations, he says :
Soldi ein Gewimmel mocht ich sehn
Auf freiem Grund mit freiem Volke stehn.
Zum Augenblicke dlirft ich sagen
Verweile doch ! . du bist so schon.
Im Vorgefiihl von solchem nahen Gliick
Geniess' ich jetzt den nachsten Augenblick.
Goethe's Faust. 273
In this admission Faust pronounces his death-sentence, and, in
accordance with his compact with Mephistopheles, his deliverance
into his power. But Faust's exultant forecast of future bliss for
humanity is procured, not by any suggestion or agency of Mephis-
topheles, but by anticipations altogether opposed to his wishes.
Moreover, all Faust's lifelong impulses and energies, both good
and bad (we must except Gretchen's seduction), are comprised
under the saving definition of Streben. For this reason he has
deserved final deliverance. The angel who bears through the
higher atmosphere the immortal part of Faust thus announces
the final verdict on his persistent though wayward effort, and
proclaims at the same time the moral of the drama :
Gerettet 1st das edle Glied
Der Geisterwelt vom Bosen :
Wer immer strebend sich bemtiht
Den konnen wir erlosen.
The foregoing analysis of Goethe's greatest work will enable us
to adjudge its position among the other great knowledge dramas
of the world.
Its chief point of difference when contrasted with "Prometheus"
and " Job " is the incomparably greater breadth of its scope. If
" Prometheus " is like a choice bit of mountain scenery combining
majesty with graceful beauty if " Job " resembles a sylvan scene
an oak- forest, for example full of picturesque variety, yet not
admitting of any extensive outlook, nor altogether free from
gloom " Faust " is like a broad, diversified, many-hued landscape,
composed of wood, plain and water, lofty mountains alternating
with level champaign, deep rivers with rapid torrents, bare rocky
steeps with wooded ravines the whole intersected in countless
directions by a perpetually varying chequer of sunlight and
shadow. Or, regarding the comparison from the standpoint of
human history, if " Prometheus " represents that stage of Greek
thought in which mythology gives place to self-consciousness and
independent thought, if " Job " portrays Hebrew speculation at a
similar stage, Goethe's " Faust " gives us the extreme directions as
well as the many varieties of all modern European speculation
from the mediaeval ages to the present time. Or, once more
regarding them as stages in human freedom, the first says to
18
274 Five Great Skeptical Dramas,
humanity : " You may criticise mythological or traditional ideas
of God when they are inconsistent with justice". The second
says : " You may question religious conceptions of Deity as well
as of human duty when these conflict with man's freedom and
his moral consciousness ". The third, including and far extending
all prior permissions of the kind, says : " You may question all
supposed knowledge of a speculative kind, no matter what its
origin, extent or sanction ". For, as we have seen, there is really
no limit to the critical skepticism of " Faust". All objects of human
knowledge and study physical science no less than philosophy
and theology are involved in the same misty incertitude, and
the sole task of humanity, according to Goethe, is perpetual
Streben or search, accompanied though this be with continual
liability to error.
We must not, however, forget the twofold aspect of the
skepticism in "Faust". Side by side with his suspense, and contra-
distinguished from it both in aim and origin, is the destructive
tendency of Mephistopheles. Goethe seems to have recognised
the profound truth that inquiry is just as much opposed to
negation as to affirmation, though it is interesting to notice that
even in the role of Mephistopheles he discerns some kind of
utility, for in some of its phases destruction is the inevitable
counterpart of production in nature. Still, in its sense of annihila-
tion, in its effort to reduce the wondrous universe of vitality to a
mere Ewigleere (eternal vacuum), it represents that aspect which
was ever most repulsive to Goethe, and whatever justification can
be claimed for it is accordingly left to Mephistopheles himself.
No doubt the ultimate escape of Faust from the clutches of his
Satanic companion must be held to symbolise Goethe's conviction
of the preference of suspense to negation. As we have seen, the
drama begins with the maxim that error must accompany inquiry,
and ends with the verdict that inquiry is a condition of final
human redemption. Hence we might say that perpetual search
receives in " Faust " its benediction and apotheosis.
The reflex bearing of the drama on the intellectual character
deserves a brief concluding word. It is only by comparing, as we
have done, the sentiments and modes of thought found in "Faust"
with illustrations from his remaining works as well as from his
life, that we are able to estimate the full measure of Goethe's own
Goethe's Faust. 275
critical skepticism. While it is evident that he disliked negative
thought, and was suspicious of transcendental schemes of philo-
sophy, he never attempted anything like a scientific estimate of
pure skepticism and was especially ignorant of the results in that
direction of later Greek speculation. To him, with his perpetual
culture of serenity, inquiring suspense, as he interpreted it, meant
conflict, unrest and disturbance. Not improbably, he laid more
stress on the search than on the perpetual equipoising which was
its true philosophical basis. Hence he arrived at the Streben
ideal of Faust without being aware that he was on the track of
the Greek skeptics, and that his serenity was not dissimilar to
their boasted ataraxia. He must, therefore, be pronounced a
genuine but unconscious skeptic. While he dogmatised, not
always justly, on what seemed to him physical facts, he was
content to leave ulterior and final causes together with all matters
of pure speculation in their own formal obscurity. He recognised
incertitude on most subjects of human investigation as the normal
lot of humanity, and in all the researches of his life he breathed
the Streben aspiration of his dying moments vnehr Licht !
SHAKESPEARE'S HAMLET.
MOTTOES.
Sir NIGH. . . . J swim most exquisitely on land.
BRUCE. Do you intend to practise in the water, sir ?
Sir NIGH. Never, sir; I hate the water, I never come upon the water, sir*
LONG. Then there will be no use of swimming.
Sir NIGH. I content myself with the speculative part of swimming, I care
not for the practice. I seldom bring anything to use ; 'Ha-
noi my way. Knowledge is my ultimate end.
SHADWELL, The Virtuoso.
Die Hohe reizt uns, nicht die Stufen; den Gipfel im Auge wandeln wir
gerne auf der Ebene.
GOETHE, Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre, book ix.
. . . The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure ; but modest doubt is calVd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.
SHAKESPEARE, Troilus and Cressida, ii., 2.
Es sind nur wenige, die den Sinn haben und zugleich zur That fdhig sind~
Der Sinn erweitert, aber lahmt ; die That belebt, aber beschrankt.
GOETHE, Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre, book viii., ch. y.
SHAKESPEARE'S " Hamlet " may be said to possess a threefold con-
nection with the skeptical dramas we have already considered.
1. Like all the others, it represents man in relation to some
inevitable fact or circumstance, some coercive restriction or limita-
tion of his being. Hence just as " Prometheus " represents him
in relation on the one hand to Hellenic mythology, on the other,
to material progress and enlightenment, just as "Job" exhibits
him in reference to Hebrew ideas of providence and retribution,
just as " Faust " portrays him in relation to knowledge and the
insoluble problems of the universe, just as Calderon's " El Magico
Prodigioso" considers him in relation to theological dogma, so
does " Hamlet " describe him in relation to fate, human surround-
ings and human duty. Now it is evident that this, like every
other enforced relation, or inevitable environment pertaining to
humanity, may be just as productive of antagonism and conflict,
of indecision and suspense, of free-thought and speculation as any
other that could be named. A man, especially of a speculative,
reflecting cast of mind, may find his environment distasteful, his
social surroundings perverse and discordant, his duties, however
imperious, hateful and repulsive, and he may assume, with regard
to each and all, an attitude of meditative hesitation and suspense
which is, to all intents and purposes, skeptical.
2. The second point of connection between "Hamlet" and
other skeptical dramas partakes more of the nature of a dis-
tinction. The chief personages of the other dramas are at war
chiefly with doctrines and theories, with petrified traditions and
opinions, in short, with dogmas and convictions, whereas in
" Hamlet " the conflict, though not devoid of speculative aspects,
is chiefly with practical duties, moral requisitions, pre-determined
acts. The suspense or denial in the former refers mainly to the
creed or assured belief of those who share it, the doubt in the
latter case refers altogether to action. Nor does this change of
venue with regard to the object destroy the common character of
280 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
the skepticism pertaining to it. On the contrary, no fact relating
to humanity is more certain than that human action as well as
human speculation may possess its examples of indecision and sus-
pense, though for obvious reasons the practical skeptic will always
be in a minority compared with his theorising brethren. There
exists, in point of fact, between a dogma and an act a much closer
affinity than is commonly supposed, especially when both one and
the other represent the termination of a long and complex ratioci-
nation, though this condition is by no means essential. A dogma is
a definitive conviction, an act a definitive portion of human activity
or energy, but the property of finality belongs to both, though
not in equal proportions. To some thinkers a creed once formu-
lated and confessed seems an eternal enunciation of truth, not to
be modified or recalled. But this irretrievable character is still
more forcibly impressed upon every decisive act. This has a
specially dread, irrevocable quality of its own. Hence sensitive
minds largely endowed with ratiocinative and imaginative powers
are apt to shun important acts, more particularly when these are
based upon complex many-sided considerations and when they
entail consequences out of all proportion greater than the act
itself.
3. Even when the considerations and circumstances surround-
ing an act are naturally of the simplest and most obvious kind,
they may easily be rendered complicated and embarrassing by a
subtle and profound intellect. Thus " Hamlet " shares that
quality which in all the other cases establishes a prima facie
basis for skepticism. He is, in other words, a victim of infinity?
of thought and reflection so far enlarged that their sphere has
become illimitable. He falls a prey first to his own genius for
profound many-sided meditation, his subtilising and refining
instincts, his invincible preference for the ideal and abstract as
compared with the actual and concrete; and, secondly, to the
varied considerations, the manifold difficulties and perplexities
which he so readily detects in every object of thought and of
action. Hamlet's universe 1 his own subjective mikrokosm was
1 Coleridge remarks of Hamlet's cowardice that it proceeded
" merely from that aversion to action which prevails among such as
have a world in themselves " (note on Coleridge's Lectures, N. and Q., i.,
x., p. 119).
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 281
therefore just as full of uncertainties, antagonisms, unsolved and
insoluble problems as the universe of Prometheus, of Job, and of
Faust. To him every human motive and impulse, the scope and
result of every separate act, all the accompaniments and relations
of human conduct seem to present the appearance, not of
simplicity, but of complexity. Oftentimes, no doubt, questions
of practical duty, when closely investigated, are found to possess
difficulties of their own which defy disentanglement or removal.
But Hamlet's nature, like that of every genuine skeptic, is to
create them when they do not naturally or necessarily exist.
Aspects of duty which in themselves are simple and easy, manifest
and imperious, he so elaborates and refines that their primary
qualities are lost in a tangled web of casuistical and modifying
considerations. Hamlet is, in fact, Shakespeare's matured and
finished illustration of the truth expressed in " Love's Labour's
Lost," and which may be taken as a definition of skepticism in
practice :
So study evermore is overshot ;
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should.
COMPARISON OF HAMLET WITH GOETHE'S FAUST.
But of the dramatic heroes of free-thought already considered,
Faust is that which presents the greatest contrast to Hamlet.
Both alike are products of the mental unrest, the many-sided
speculation which were born of the Renaissance in Italy and
France, and which grew with its growth : but they represent its
activities as operating in divergent directions. Faust is the
general skeptic, the unbeliever in intellectual and scientific truth,
the unsatisfied inquirer into every department of human know-
ledge, and especially the searcher into the deep things of physical
science. He is also the studious recluse for whom humanity and
its concerns possess only a small amount of interest. Hamlet, on
the other hand, though full of brooding on all things, divine and
human, is especially the skeptic of humanity, the unbeliever in
existence not in its general sense of the universe, but in its
narrower sense of mankind. He has little interest in science or
282 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
its numberless problems, nor in abstract speculation for its own
sake, but he is profoundly interested in man and his mysteries-
His universe is that which contains human lives and words and
actions, and which is bounded by the dread limits of fate and the
iron law of circumstance. Though somewhat inclined to solitude,
as, indeed, every true thinker must always be, his destiny
necessitates a continued intercourse with a busy world which,
however, he contemplates with a mixture of skepticism and
contempt. His unbelief is chiefly manifested, not as Faust's, in
speculation, but in action. He reasons and meditates on the
obligations of human duty and conduct until his power of per-
formance is quite destroyed. It would, perhaps, be idle to ask
why, among Shakespeare's manifold creations, he has left no ex-
ample of complete speculative incertitude, such as we have in
Goethe's " Faust," and which might have served as a pendant
to " Hamlet," the practical skeptic in his dramatic picture-
gallery. One conceivable reason may have been his intimacy
with Marlowe and his reluctance to encroach on a theme
which that writer had made his own. Another reason, doubtless>
was that Shakespeare's interests in speculative learning and
science were not so powerful and acute as Goethe's. He could
never have lost himself as the great German did in the
contemplation of theories and the solution of problems, of which
the human utility, even if it could be said to exist, was only in-
direct and unimportant ; nor could the insolubility of the great
world-problems of science have impressed itself so forcibly on our
great dramatist as on his German compeer. To Shakespeare there
were quite enough incertitudes and impenetrable enigmas in his
own chosen universe of humanity without seeking for more in
the laws and phenomena of the material world. A third reason
for his neglect of the Faust legend was his antipathy to a subject
of which the supernatural elements possessed necessarily such a
repulsive and anti-human aspect. All Shakespeare's creations,
even when transcending the limits of nature and humanity, are
yet intensely human and terrestrial. His nearest approach to a
diabolical creation is Caliban. His ideal magician is not Faust
in his gloomy, Gothic stone-roofed study, surrounded with the
paraphernalia and implements of magic, but Prospero in his pic-
turesque island cave ; his magician's wand does not raise hellish
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 283
poodles and spirits, but lively pleasant sprites such as Ariel,
or ultra-human fairies like Oberon and Titania. His witches are
not the infernal obscene hags of Goethe's imagination, but only
intensifications of human depravity and ugliness. Hence much
of the machinery which constitutes an inseparable part of the
Faust legend, for example, the blood-stained compact with the
infernal powers, would, had it existed, have seemed an anomaly
among purely Shakespearian creations. But the most cogent
reason why Shakespeare did not appreciate the intellectual
skeptic, of which Faust is the great impersonation, was his feeble
interest in purely metaphysical and abstract thought, for its own
sake. 1 He was too realistic, too closely wedded to mundane
affairs, to the practical life of humanity, to pursue an ideal far
beyond the confines of the senses and the intellect. And this not
solely for the reason that he possessed an Englishman's character-
istic contempt for mere speculation for travelling on a road
perhaps leading no-whither but because he had himself explored
the road until he had arrived at a point where further exploration
seemed either impossible or useless. We must not, however, un-
duly restrict Shakespeare's metaphysical speculations. A man of
his profound thought and vivid imagination must occasionally
have made incursions or attempted surveys of that mysterious
and fathomless unknown by which our mundane existence is
metaphysically as well as physically environed. He undoubtedly
paid repeated visits to the shore of the ocean of transcendental
being, but he was indisposed to plunge into it at the risk of find-
ing himself out of his own depth, or to sail on its surface beyond
the reach of definite and well-ascertained landmarks. He pene-
trated to the visible horizon of the infinite, scaled some of the
lower and more accessible summits of metaphysical speculation,
threw a hasty plumb-line into the bottomless profundities of
Shakespeare's opinion of the different branches of philosophy
studied in his time is indicated in Tranio's advice to Lucentio in "The
Taming of the Shrew ". After enjoining Aristotle for philosophy, Ovid for
poetry, common conversation for logic and rhetoric, and music for
recreation, he proceeds :
" The mathematics and the metaphysics
Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you,
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en ".
284 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
mental science, but farther or deeper he did not care to penetrate,
He had already ascertained the chief est conditions and limitations
of truth-search. He had pursued his quarry so far as to learn
that the discovery of absolute truth was denied to human
faculties, and that man, if he were wise, must needs content him-
self with the relative and the practical. He ascertained, moreover,
that truth had an inherent splendour that dazzled the eyes of the
observer, that thought and imagination were allied with and
oftentimes induced an inappeasable discontent, that they took
the form of an infinite scope and aspiration that nothing could
satisfy, that truth-search was in its fullest measure connected
with suffering. But with these speculative ascertainments
Shakespeare was satisfied. He was too optimistic to sympathise
with a career of voluntary suffering undertaken in pursuit of airy
phantoms or indiscoverable truths ; too intensely human to follow
even the highest human aspiration beyond the limit and power of
humanity; too impatient of mere ideality to bestow attention
and sympathy on the endless torments in the cause of human
progress of a Prometheus, the ceaseless strivings of a Faust to
attain the infinite, or the efforts of any other skeptic in the
pursuit of search for search's sake.
SHAKESPEARE'S PARTIALLY SKEPTICAL CHARAC-
TERS E.G., TIMON.
How far the Shakespearian gallery must be deemed incom-
plete, by reason of its non-inclusion in respect of a single finished
homogeneous impersonation of the purely speculative doubter,
the persistent truth-seeker, is a question susceptible of more than
one answer. For if it be true that Shakespeare has created no
extreme skeptic it is also true, and the truth bears witness to his
profound acquaintance with human nature, that he has many
characters who approximate less or more to the complete in-
difference or suspense of pure skepticism, as well as a few forcible
representations of antagonism to the ordinary convictions and
usages of mankind. Of the latter Timon is the most striking
instance. In the ordinary meaning of the term which refers it to
denial and positive negation, Timon is a skeptic, especially a social
skeptic a passionate disbeliever in humanity. This phase of his
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 285
mental character assimilates him to Hamlet and Lear, but the
misanthropy of Timon and Lear is the result of headlong, un~
reasoning passion, while the social skepticism of Hamlet, though
not unfounded on experience, is accompanied by ratiocination and
reflection. But Timon is more than a misanthropist or social
skeptic. In his vehement negation he includes deity, providence,
virtue, goodness. No skeptical juxtaposition of mutually destruc-
tive entities could be more comprehensively defined than the
catalogue in Timon's mad invocation :
Piety and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night-rest and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs and laws
Decline to your confounding contraries,
And let confusion live !
On the other hand, Timon's skepticism is cherished in plain
contradiction to his conviction, and hence is insincere. In a
moment of candour he terms it " general and exceptless rashness,"
and says of himself :
For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure.
Hence Timon is far from being a philosophical skeptic or even a
profound thinker. His intellect is too unbalanced, his passions
too impetuous, his temperament too weak and sensitive. He
represents, with regard to humanity and social rights and duties>
that unrestrained forwardness which in the region of speculative
beliefs becomes dogmatic and bigoted. His denial is like the
extreme nihilism of those who would not only destroy all ordinary
faiths and objects of belief, but would enforce their destructive
dogmas with persecution and intolerance.
SHAKESPEARE'S CONTEMPLATIVE, PHILOSOPHICAL
AND HUMOROUS SKEPTICS.
But besides Shakespeare's representations of social or human
skepticism he has a whole class of characters of a more generally
skeptical or suspensive kind. He has a number of dramatic
286 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
creations whose common function is to moralise on the events and
persons passing before them. These are outsiders who take up
for themselves a position apart from the main stream of human
life and action, whence they watch with sympathetic, or caustic,
or humorous glance the curiously involved interplay of human
motives, wills or passions. With the conscious superiority of on-
lookers who are convinced they see most of the game of life, they
institute a judicial and mostly inconclusive estimate of the
human panorama before them. They thus exercise nearly the
same office with regard to humanity and social phenomena in
general, as a Greek chorus did with respect to the particular
characters and events of its own drama, except that the judgment
of the latter was apt to be more decisive. 1 Such a position,
however, is essentially skeptical. He who adopts it assumes in
the act that he is impartial, open to receive evidence from either
side, and, therefore, is indifferent. He is one of those thinkers
who were termed by the old Greeks " two-eyed " or " double-
sighted " men. Nor can we be surprised if in the infinite com-
plications of things mundane and human the outcome of their
investigations is either totally suspensive or only partially
decisive. Shakespeare has invested this contemplative moralist
with such a variety of manifestations, forms and temperaments as
sufficiently to show his own predilection for that philosophic type
of intellect. 2 Thus he is sometimes humorous, as in the case of
the first clown in the churchyard scene in " Hamlet " : sometimes
melancholic, as in the instance of Jaques ; sometimes cynical, as
1 The reader need hardly be reminded that Shakespeare has also
imitated the functions of a Greek chorus in his " Henry V.".
2 M. Phil. Charles has attempted a rationale of Shakespeare's moral-
ising characters. He says : " Le Theatre realise done et transforme en
action la pensee secrete des peuples. Shakspeare lui-meme offre
1'ideal de 1'observation, telle que la revait un peuple pratique et positif.
Quand cette observation est fatiguee de son travail, elle se change en
reverie triste; il y a dans les drames Shakspeariens plus d'un personnage
dont le seul emploi est de philosopher: tel le Jacques de Comme il vous
plaira, et le vieil ermite de Romeo et Juliette. Leur voix, c'est la voix
de Shakspeare, qui apres avoir analyse curieusement les ames humaines,
1'inanite de nos de"sirs et la terrible fin de nos passions consumees par
leur intensity pousse un long et sublime gemissement " (Etudes sur
VEspagne, p. 25).
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 287
Biron in "Love's Labour's Lost"; sometimes humanely pious, as in
the example of Friar Laurence ; sometimes severely philosophical,
as Hector in " Troilus and Cressida " ; while in " Hamlet " we have
combined with all these species of contemplative thought that
further development of skeptical or suspensive philosophy which
engenders an indisposition to action. But among these examples
of dispassionate, contemplative thinkers we must especially note
one as presenting us with Shakespeare's nearest approximation to
a purely speculative skeptic this is Biron in " Love's Labour's
Lost ". Indeed, the very plot of that play suggests the question
how far truth can be discovered, because it is founded on the
supposed withdrawal of the King of Navarre and three companion
princes from the world for purposes of study ; in other words,
of knowledge-acquisition. It is set forth in these lines :
Bir. What is the end of study ? let me know.
King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know.
Bir. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense?
King. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense.
Of this philosophic scheme Biron is the mocking Mephistopheles,
He reasons on the vanity of truth-search together with all other
human delights, partly with the Weltschmerz of the Hebrew
preacher, " Vanity of vanities, all is vanity " ; partly with the pro-
found apperception of a Greek skeptic.
Bir. Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain :
As, painfully to pore upon a book,
To seek the light of truth; while truth the while
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:
Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile :
So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
These lines are remarkable as a summary of skeptical argument
a felicitous rendering into poetry of the ancient and well-worn
plea for the impossibility of truth-discovery. From a pessimistic
standpoint, the last two lines might stand as an epitaph on the
grave-stone of many a weary seeker for truth, and though the
likeness of truth to the sun is as ancient as the first rudimentary
speculations of humanity, the lines which follow indicate, if not
the spirit of complete skepticism, at least the spirit of the inquirer
288 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
who has approached near enough to apprehend its lineaments and
characteristics :
Study (i.e., truth) is like the heaven's glorious sun,
That will not be deep search'd with saucy looks ;
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others' books.
A sentiment which, besides being skeptical, very nearly resembles
the argument of Mephistopheles in his well-known colloquy with
the student. A further likeness to Goethe's creation is contained
in Biron's skeptical estimate of language :
These earthly god-fathers of heaven's lights,
That give a name to every fixed star,
Have no more profit of their shining nights,
Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. ,
Too much to know, is to know naught but fame ;
And every god-father can give a name.
Nor is Biron unaware of the consequences of pursuing " to its
bitter end " this vein of skeptical thought. He knows that his
plea is made on behalf of virtual nescience :
Though I have for barbarism spoke more
Than for that angel knowledge you can say.
And, what is even more noteworthy still, he indicates the suicidal
effect or uncompromising skepticism or truth-search based upon
it. Sextos Empeirikos had compared the operation of skeptical
suspense to a purgative which, cleansing the body, eliminated
itself at the same time, and to fire which, while it devours the
material it preys on, consumes itself in the process. Montaigne
and other French free-thinkers reproduced the idea. Now,
Shakespeare seems not only to have recognised the same truth,
but to have employed the same imagery to express it. Biron
thus continues his skeptical invective against knowledge :
So study evermore is overshot ;
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should ;
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost.
Were this the place for the inquiry it would be interesting to
investigate the sources of Shakespeare's skeptical disquisitions
contained in this play and scattered throughout his other dramas.
Shakespeare 's Hamlet. 289
That he was well acquainted with the best products of the
Renaissance free-thought, both in Italy and France, has often been
proved, but his chief source so far as such a versatile and power-
ful thinker needed any extraneous suggestion on any point what-
soever was, in my opinion, Montaigne, of whose Essais, first
published in 1580, he was demonstrably a diligent and ap-
preciative student. At least the skepticism and genial cynicism
of the great essayist are fairly represented by Biron in " Love's
Labour's Lost," and are also reproduced in other Shakespearian
creations.
SHAKESPEARE'S CONTEMPLATIVE SKEPTICISM.
More important for our subject the skepticism of Hamlet is
the fact that the moralising contemplative indifferentism per-
taining to so many of Shakespeare's characters was indisputably
his own cherished standpoint. In the highest and noblest sense of
the term, he was, as M. Phil. Charles and other critics have called
him, a skeptic. 1 In other words, he was a judicial, equilibrating,
suspensive thinker. His intellectual character was tolerant and
critically dispassionate, his emotional sympathies were many-sided
and comprehensive ; in both, his position was indifference as op-
posed to dogmatism. He was another added to the many existing
examples of the innate love of liberty, the combined versatility
and profundity of feeling which are primary characteristics of
every great thinker. This was indeed the secret of what
Coleridge termed his myriad-mindedness, as well as of his intense
humanity. He saw truth, reason, as well as the springs of human
conduct, not solely from his own individual standpoint, but from
the thousand-fold positions, and with the variously endowed
visions and sympathies of their human possessors. There is,
therefore, hardly any opinion outside the limits of purely
speculative metaphysics of which the various sides, good, bad
and indifferent, do not find expression in different portions of his
works. Philosophy, theology, ethics, politics, science in short,
all subject matters of human concernment are discussed by his
characters, and that not in a perfunctory and superficial manner,
1 " II y a dans Shakspeare non pas un scepticisme sysWmatique, mais
une absence de parti pris sur toutes choses " (Etudes sur I'Espagne, p. 76).
19
290 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
but generally with the clearness and profundity of original
thinkers. All conceivable types of humanity Shakespeare has
vivisected and described, and has well-nigh exhausted the
attributes of each. He is especially conversant with the manifold
correlation of human thought to human conduct the subject of
" Hamlet ". He has investigated with equal subtlety and insight
the structure of the mind, regarded, not so much as an abstractive
intellectual faculty, as the power which originates and excogitates
action. He is profoundly versed in human motives, their manifold
kinds, their infinitely varied powers each with its own nature
and degree, or with its chameleon capacity for endless mutations
of colouring and modes of presentation. He investigates them
from the standpoints of those who share and those who observe
them, and notes the subtle disguises and rapid transformations in
respect of each. Moreover, he is profoundly versed in the deep-
sea soundings of human passions, he has investigated them in
calm and in storm. He has surveyed them at all times and in all
seasons, he has considered them in every relation, both of them-
selves and of their surroundings. He has piloted his way through
their labyrinthine intricacies again and again, he has marked and,
so to speak, " charted " their changeful depths, until there is no
direction or attribute pertaining to them of which he is not
cognisant. But with all this wide reach of positive knowledge,
both general and human, there is no dogmatism, no stress on
particular creeds as exhausting the sum total of speculative truth,
no attempt at systematisation, no endeavour to fix a string of
beliefs or to prescribe a course of action as suitable to every man
and every contingency. He is too well acquainted with the
intricate perplexity pertaining to all mundane things to attempt
any such segregation. He moralises in a genial, sympathetic
mood on these infinite complications. In short, his method is
flexible, varied and many-sided, and his standpoint equilibrating
and skeptical. Given the universe and humanity, the highest
objects of contemplation, as his life task, instead of some specific
practical duty, and Shakespeare himself is Hamlet. He revolves
in his mind's eye the shifting aspects of things just as persistently
as Hamlet views on every side the attendant circumstances of his
prescribed duty, and the general outcome of his consideration is no
more marked by speculative definiteness than is Hamlet's rumina-
Shake spear es Hamlet. 291
tion by practical resolution. This is the reason why Shakespeare
has been claimed by so many sectaries and dogmatists, philoso-
phical and religious, why all kinds of special studies and decisive
beliefs have been ascribed to him. Few of the world's great
thinkers have paid more fully for the eclecticism, the philosophical
indifference, the attitude of pure inquiry which most of them share
alike, than our great English dramatist. Happily the very
attempt to charge him with antagonistic creeds and conflicting
opinions is itself sufficient to demonstrate its falsity. In his
magnificent totality Shakespeare is infinitely greater than any
system, code, or methodical series of prescriptions of any kind,
whether speculative or regulative, religious or moral.
Nor is this all that can be said of the moralising, contemplative,
and so far skeptical character of Shakespeare, for, as has often
been pointed out, we have a distinctly traceable advance in his
works, from immature decisiveness to well-balanced contempla-
tion, from single to multiform aspects of existence, from simple to
composite estimates of thought and action, from prima facie and
ordinary conceptions of the universe to others more recondite and
philosophical in a word, from dogmatism to indeterminate
suspense. Any thoughtful reader who peruses his works in their
chronological order, so far as this can be fairly determined, will
have no difficulty in ascertaining this fact for himself. He will
find that all the dramas that belong to the mature period of Shake-
speare's productiveness are permeated by what Hallam termed his
"thoughtful philosophy". 1 They are marked by that cautious
moralising, that persistent equilibration, that dispassionate insight
into and genial appreciation of diverse aspects of truth, which is,
in the worthiest sense of the term, skeptical
A striking illustration of the philosophic growth of Shake-
speare's mind is supplied us by the different recensions and editions
of the very drama we are now considering. The best Shake-
spearian critics seem now agreed that the first quarto of 1603
contains the earliest form of the play indited by Shakespeare
himself ; and that this was probably written some years before,
possibly about 1585-7. 2 The text, as we now have it, is first
1 History of Literature, vol. ii., pp. 181-185.
2 Compare on this point (and every other relating to " Hamlet ")
Furness's admirable Variorum edition, vol. ii., p. 19.
292 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
contained in the second quarto, 1604, so that even allowing that
the latter may have been in existence, as some critics contend, in
1600, we have still some years left of Shakespeare's intellectual
prime, during which the theme of " Hamlet," and its final mature
form, as we possess it, were being slowly elaborated in the
"apprehensive, quick protective" intellect of its author. The
main differences between the two texts may be thus succinctly
summarised. The first quarto contains all the action and most
of the pure poetry of the drama, the second superadds the cautious
balancing philosophy which forms the most striking and admir-
able characteristic of the play as we know it. It reveals an
increase of introspective power on the part of Hamlet, a progress
in subtle, refined analysis, an advance in equilibration, both
intellectual and emotional, a more pronounced skeptical distrust
of himself and all his surroundings, an enlarged scope of misan-
thropic feeling. * It cannot be a rash inference from these facts
which might be easily paralleled from a comparison of earlier and
later states of his other works that Shakespeare's intellectual
development consisted largely of a growing respect for multi-
farious ratiocination, of a profounder insight into the mysteries
of human nature and the complicated relations of motives to
actions, of a fuller appreciation of speculative philosophy on all
subjects that admitted it. As to the practical skepticism of
" Hamlet," we may infer from the loving elaboration he expended
on the character, just as Goethe did on his " Faust," and especially
on those influences that originated and intensified its skepticism,
that Shakespeare must have arrived at the conclusion that there
were conceivable contingencies in which a practical epochd a
suspense of action between opposing balancements of pros and
cons was, if not commendable, at least pardonable. He must
have come to the conviction that in the complications of human
existence there were occasions in which the pronouncement of
energy we call action was as difficult as, in matters of abstruse
and many-sided speculation, the decisive affirmation we term a
creed.
1 See by all means Furness's remarkable list of the passages all of
them pertaining to Shakespeare's " thoughtful philosophy " which are
found in the " Hamlet " of 1604, but which do not exist in the earlier
form of the drama ("Hamlet," vol. ii., p. 18).
Shakespeare s Hamlet. 293
SHAKESPEARE AS A COMMENTATOR ON SKEPTICS:
FACULTIES OF DOUBT; NATURE, THE UNIVERSE
(PHYSICAL).
Passing now from Shakespeare's moralising characters in-
cluding also himself as altogether sympathising with such an
idiosyncrasy we next note his general description of and com-
ment on various kinds of skeptical personages and attributes,
reserving for the present the special skepticism in conduct which
he has illustrated in " Hamlet ".
1. That Shakespeare was fully convinced of the general ad-
vantages of knowledge over ignorance is a truth needing no
demonstration ; it is impressed on every page of his works. Biron
in " Love's Labour's Lost," even while declaiming against it and
urging the vanity of its pursuit, still terms it " the angel know-
ledge ". Ignorance, on the contrary, is a monster, and " barbarous,"
" dark," " barren," " unweighing," etc. Shakespeare juxtaposits
them in the well-known passage :
Ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.
He glorifies the knowledge-faculty, reason, with his usual copious
phraseology and superabundant metaphor. The sovereignty of
reason was the supremest power in the makrokosm of the uni-
verse as well as in the mikrokosm of man. The discourse of
reason was the supremest faculty of man that which discerned
him from beasts ; but he also recognised the truth that human
reason was purely a judicial faculty, that its functions were to
weigh, winnow and test before decisively asserting, and hence that
its judgments were negative as well as affirmative. Not that
Shakespeare, as we have already observed, seems to have paid
much attention to the purely speculative domain of man's reason, or
to the various phases, causes and conditions of knowledge-inquiry
for its own sake, nor had he investigated much the relation of
doubt to pure speculation. Both reason and doubt are interesting
to him solely from their relation to human conduct and action.
This is the sense in which he juxtaposits the respective attributes
of dogmatism and skepticism in the passage :
294 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.
But while Shakespeare, as we shall see more fully further on,
places a high value on the deliberative suspensive attributes of
reason, he also castigates unnecessary suspense, and in the very
act shows that he is fully aware of the characteristic methods of
skepticism. Thus we have Parolles resolving :
I'll about it this evening, and I will presently pen down my
dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal
preparation, and by midnight look to hear further from me ("All's Well
that ends Well").
But Shakespeare's favourite mode of contemplating incertitude
was not to consider it by itself or on its own merits, nor even to
regard it in relation to certitude. He rather permits its character
and attributes to appear of their own accord by collocating the
antitheticals that originate them. Surveying the universe with
his double vision he everywhere discerns contradictions and
antipathies. That nature is made up of such dissonances is a
conclusion common to the bitter misanthropy of Timon and to
the genial Christianity of Friar Laurence. The former, addressing
nature, calls her
Common mother thou,
Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast
Teems, and feeds all ; whose self-same mettle,
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,
Engenders the black toad and adder blue,
The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm,
With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine.
While the latter, regarding nature from an opposite standpoint,
says :
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb :
And from her womb children of divers kind
, We sucking on her natural bosom find ;
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
But Shakespeare also recognises that it is from these mutual
oppositions, these endless discords that the manifold utterance,
the magnificent harmony of nature is derived.
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 295
I this infer,
That many things having full reference
To one consent may work contrariously,
As many arrows loosed several ways
Come to one mark, etc.
Moreover, the universe at large seems to have presented to Shake-
speare the general aspect of multiplex, ever- varying phenomena
of which the real causes, origin and destiny were hid in im-
penetrable mystery. This fact necessarily imposed a limit to
man's unquiet investigations, as well as to the possibility of
attaining any large measure of knowledge by their instru-
mentality. The direction in which it pointed was clearly
acquiescent nescience, and, accordingly, Shakespeare takes occasion
to dwell upon this phase of existence. Thus he speaks of
" mysteries which heaven will not have earth to know " ; and
makes Lear, in his ironical determination to rival the vaunted
omniscience of Courtiers, propose to Cordelia.
And take upon's the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies.
In a similar mood he expresses his impatience of those philo-
sophers who claim to explicate all the marvels of the universe :
" They say miracles are past ; and we have our philosophical
persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and
causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing
ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit our-
selves to an unknown fear." This "seeming knowledge" of
nature he also castigates in the reply of the soothsayer to Charmian ;
when the latter asks him, " Is't you, sir, that know things ? " the
genuine soothsayer answers, " In nature's infinite book of secrecy
a little I can read ".
Elsewhere, he speaks of the unsatisfying nature of research
into the profundities, " eternities " and " divine silences " by which
human existence is environed. Whether Shakespeare pursued
this latter vein of moody reflection to the pessimistic extreme
with which some Continental critics have charged him, seems to
us questionable, as does also the ascribing to him the passionate
misanthropy and Weltschmerz of Timon the instance on which
this opinion is mostly based. Perhaps the more measured and
philosophic reflection of " Hamlet " and his opinion as to the dis-
296 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
crepancy between being and seeming may, with some grounds of
probability, be attributed to him but this will meet us further
on, when we come to consider the nature of Hamlet's philosophy.
SKEPTICISM IN THE HUMAN UNIVERSE.
2. It is, however, in humanity Shakespeare's real universe
that he chiefly perceives divergencies and antagonisms of every
kind and degree. These he delights in placing in every con-
ceivable relation of mutual contradiction. Sextos Empeirikos de-
fined skepticism as the antithesis in every possible manner of
phenomena and noumena ; similarly, Shakespeare's favourite con-
ception of humanity might be defined as a centre-point of contra-
dictions a seething mass of conflicting opinions, instincts, feelings
and attributes. Nothing, in his judgment, was more self -opposed
or mutually antithetical than the qualities pertaining to human
nature, while beneath its apparent truth was discernible the real
vanity of human existence. It were needless to quote the
different passages among the best known of all Shakespearian
excerpts in which he maintains in various strains of pathos and
picturesque beauty, " We are such stuff as dreams are made of,
and our little life is rounded with a sleep," or with imagery more
than once employed by him for the same purpose :
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more : it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
The dissonances in human nature so far harmonise with the
vain fugitive character of human existence, that both assert the
fallible fluctuating quality of whatever pertains to man. Thus
there is a perpetual conflict between the will and the reason, be-
tween reason and imagination, between the will and the act, or
between theory and practice, between " rude will " and grace,
between temptation and conscience, between desire and fruition,
etc., etc. The recognition of these varying antagonisms does not,
however, prevent Shakespeare's high estimate of the noblest
faculties of mankind when wisely and cautiously exercised. Of
his general opinion of the human reason we have already spoken
and shall have another opportunity of considering it when we
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 297
come to speak of Hamlet's philosophy. The creative power of
imagination he also admires, without forgetting its aptitude for
feigning unreal and fantastic entities, and so far its natural
antagonism to truth and actuality. The power which gives to
"airy nothing a local habitation and a name" is of doubtful
utility to the explorer in the realm of reality and phenomena,
whose sole conception of truth is that which is determined by
the senses. The antagonism which hence results between the
deliverances of the imagination and the reason Shakespeare
thus defines :
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
In connection with this creative and well-nigh omnipotent
force of imagination is the wonderful swiftness and unlimited
scope of thought. When Shakespeare speaks of the " infinite of
thought," he enunciates a principle which has ever been a most
prolific cause of skepticism, and it is clear by his various methods
of expressing it that this supremest property of thought was one
of the chief lessons he had derived from his own profound and
perpetual introspection. Of skeptical implication also are Shake-
speare's carefully guarded expressions as to human wisdom ; for
example, he puts into the mouth of Touchstone the old Sokratic
definition of wisdom and folly " The fool doth think he is wise,
but the wise man knows himself to be a fool " with which we
shall presently have to compare Hamlet's profession of ignorance,
as well as Shakespeare's general mode of considering the aims and
objects of man's intellectual faculties.
Another peculiar function of humanity which thinkers in all
ages have made a primary cause of skepticism is language and its
relation to the highest faculties, as, for example, reason, imagina-
tion, etc. Few readers of Shakespeare, unless they have compared
his different utterances on the point, are aware how skeptical this
greatest of English word-artists was in the instruments of his
craft, how fully conscious of the gulf that existed between " the
name and the thing," or between truth and its only mode of
expression. The hackneyed quotation.
298 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
What's in a name ? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet
is a poetic predication of nominalism, and capable, as every thinker
knows, of very far-reaching implications. What makes the
universal stress on words more mischievous to the cause of truth
is the facility with which they are imposed, as Biron, in " Love's
Labour's Lost," remarks :
And every god-father can give a name ;
words, like unverified knowledge from the mental garniture of
fools :
The fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words, and I do know
A many fools that stand in better place,
Garnished like him, that for a tricksy word
Defy the matter.
Words have, moreover, an unlimited capacity of transformation
" a sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit, how quickly the
wrong side may be turned outward". To the same purpose
speaks Brabantio in " Othello " :
These sentences to sugar or to gall,
Being strong on both sides are equivocal ;
But words are words, I never yet did hear
That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.
But it would take us too long to recount all the instances of
Shakespeare's distrust of words. As a general result we may
remark that he is careful to discriminate between name and
thing, between word and act, between profession and reality.
Like the ancient philosophers he makes verbosity a characteristic
of fools, and takes silence as a proof of supreme wisdom. He
puts in the mouth of Lear's clown a re-echo of Abelard's skeptical
advice to his son to be more eager to learn than to teach :
Speak less than thou knowest,
Learn more than thou trowest.
It may also be added that this musing on the skeptical duplicity
and consequent untrustworthiness of words, is so much more
marked in his later than in his earlier works, that we may take
it as an attendant upon the progress of his " Thoughtful Philo-
sophy ".
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 299
Nor is it only in human speculation, with its processes and
instruments, that Shakespeare discerns room for doubt. The
laws and principles of human action are also affected by incerti-
tude, the distinctions of virtue and vice being rather relative
than absolute. So Friar Laurence tells us :
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give ;
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse :
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ;
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
With which we may compare the Bishop of Ely's mode of
accounting for the good qualities of Henry V., notwithstanding
his wild youth :
The strawberry grows underneath the nettle ;
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best
Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality :
And so the prince obscured his contemplation
Under the veil of wildness ; which, no doubt,
Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night,
Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.
Still more decisively affirming the relativity of ethical pre-
scriptions is Hamlet's avowal : " There is nothing good or bad, but
thinking makes it so ". One result of this inter-complication of
virtue and vice is that they cannot be definitely separated. How
fully and beautifully this truth is exemplified in the greater
number of Shakespeare's creations is well known. Although his
reflection on the point is put into the mouth of one of the basest
of his characters, yet its truth is so self-evident as not to admit
of question :
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law.
And the guilty king goes on to contrast this terrestrial confusion
with the infallible discrimination of Heaven :
But 'tis not so above ;
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature.
300 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
SKEPTICISM IN HUMAN DESIRES AND EFFORTS.
3. But if man, his powers and activities, are thus involved in
error, so also are the ordinary objects of human desire and effort,
e.g., truth, knowledge, opinion, authority, friendship, love, fame,
reputation, honour, fortune. Not that Shakespeare is ignorant
that these and similar entities have their honourable, true and
praiseworthy aspects, but that with his double-sighted idiosyn-
crasy he must needs turn the medal and carefully scrutinise its
obverse. Truth, for example, when supreme is as unattainable to
man and as blinding to his vision as the sun. There is a per-
petual contradiction between truth and semblance, between
phenomena and the invisible reality underlying them. This
conception comes out with singular force and vividness, as we
shall presently have an opportunity of remarking, in Hamlet's
own representation of the world, and some critics have thought
that this antagonism of being and seeming constitutes the funda-
mental idea of most of Shakespeare's plays. At any rate he is
fully cognisant that truth, whether of men or of opinions, is
unreliable ; that falsehood oftentimes assumes the lineaments and
garb of truth, and conversely that truth is frequently vitiated by
adulteration with falsehood. He also recognises the fact that
truth and honesty are hated, while falsity and flattery 'are
regarded with favour. Of knowledge, we have already noticed
that Shakespeare has apprehended both the merits and disadvan-
tages. To its correlative opinion he assigns the criticism and
disdainful estimate of Montaigne : " A plague of opinion, a man
may wear it on both sides like a leather jerkin". It is a judge
whose decisions are based upon partial data :
Opinion's but a fool that makes us scan
The outward habit for the inward man. 1
1 An emendation of the ordinary text in this place is absolutely
necessary, as the proverb of Simonides, which Shakespeare here quotes,
implies the exact reverse of what it is made to express. A writer in
Notes and Queries mentions an emendation that has been suggested :
" The inward habit by the outward man ".
Perhaps, however, the same meaning might be attained by substituting
for for by in the received reading. Compare Notes and Queries, Series 3,
vol. viii., p. 42.
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 301
It is the semblance of wisdom embodied in opinion which
deceives the unthinking herd. It constitutes the dogmatism that
infects and vitiates learning. Nor is Shakespeare more favour-
able to authority when unfounded upon valid reasons, and unin-
vested by trustworthy sanctions. The unverified authority we
derive from books Biron stigmatises as base, while in certain
mental states it appears to exercise a twofold and so far self-
contradictory jurisdiction. Thus Troilus describes his divided
feelings on the discovery of Cressida's perfidy as bi-fold authority,
the equipoising faculty of reason being for the time employed
not in adjusting but opposing each to each the rival balances :
madness of discourse
That cause sets up with and against itself.
Hamlet, as we shall see, is an illustrious victim of such a dual
authority. Moreover, the well-known terms in which Shake-
speare describes " Man, proud man, dressed in a little brief autho-
rity," are noteworthy for the indication (mostly overlooked) of
self-ignorance that so often attends such a position. Such a man
is
Most ignorant of what he's most assured
His glassy essence.
He has also seen that some necessity of self-illusion pertains to
the exercise of authority :
Authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself
That skims the vice o' the top
a remark which is as true of authority in opinions, i.e. dogmatism
as in its exercise towards human subordinates. It is needless to
collect the almost countless proofs that Shakespeare has carefully
examined both sides of the medal in the common objects of human
ambition. The song of Amiens in " As You Like It " :
Most friendship is feigning,
Most loving mere folly ;
the proverb of Orleans in " Henry V.," " there is flattery in friend-
ship " ; Jaques's ridicule of the " bauble reputation," sought at
the cannon's mouth ; Hamlet's description of Fortinbras's object
of " divine ambition " as " an egg-shell " ; Falstaff 's catechism as
to the impotence of " honour " ; the frequent invectives against
302 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Fortune and her worshippers ; the disdain of power and popu-
larity contained in such extracts as these :
What is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust ?
And live we how we can, yet die we must.
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart
with other passages of the same kind all testify to the existence
in Shakespeare of a large amount of what may be termed social
skepticism, even omitting altogether such representatives of the
sentiment as we find in Timon, Lear, and Hamlet. It is the
number and occasional vigour of these passages that give what-
ever force they have to the opinion of those critics who have
painfully extracted from Shakespeare's writings some such mis-
anthropic and life-hating personality as that of Timon. With
every allowance for the strength of the arguments adduced to
support that opinion, it seems to me radically one-sided. What
the passages above quoted, together with others of the same kind,
really serve to prove is not Shakespeare's extreme pessimism, but
his habit of mental equilibration, his eclecticism, his appreciation
and employment of diverse and alien standpoints for the con-
templation of every truth ; in a word, his philosophical indiffer-
ence, and so far his skepticism.
SHAKESPEARE ON FRUITION.
4. We next come to consider a special feature pertaining to
the highest reaches of Shakespeare's speculation, which serves to
confirm still more forcibly the reasons here offered that the
general bent of his intellect was skeptical. I mean his strongly
marked distrust of the merits of attainment or fruition as con-
trasted with their precedent states of aspiration or endeavour.
We have already noticed his remark on the suicidal nature of
truth attainment. He extends the same ultimate fatality to other
objects of human quest. If truth when won is like a besieged
town destroyed by fire in the moment of victory, the same fate
befalls the triumph of human passion. In the words of Friar
Laurence
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 303
These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in its own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Nor is this only the consummation of love, it is the outcome of
human ambition. The toil of war is characterised as
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
I' the name of fame and honour which dies i' the search.
The same sequel attends on general appetite when moderation
or degree is lacking. Ulysses thus speculates on such a contin-
gency :
Then everything includes itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite,
And appetite an universal wolf,
So doubly seconded with will and power,
Must make perforce an universal prey,
And last eat up himself.
This conclusion may even follow the pursuit of goodness, though
the sentiment is put in the mouth of Hamlet's uncle :
For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,
Dies in his own too-much.
The real reason of this incongruity between human desire and
achievement, between hope and its realisation, is the conception
that gave birth to the Eros of the Greeks. The passion or yearn-
ing stimulated by imagination far transcends the bounds of
human possibility :
The ample proposition that hope makes
In all designs begun on earth below,
Fails in the promised largeness.
And again :
This is the monstrosity in love, that the will is infinite and the
execution confined, that the desire is boundless and the act a slave to
limit.
But the passage above all others which embodies Shake-
speare's opinion of the unsatisfying nature of fruition is doubt-
less his 129th Sonnet, where he describes " lust in action " :
304 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Enjoy'd no sooner, but despised straight ;
Past reason hunted ; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad :
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so ;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme ;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe ;
Before, a joy proposed ; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows ; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
That Shakespeare had obtained some knowledge of the best
means of shunning a heaven that might prove only a portal to hell
is shown by his occasional intimations that search is preferable to
attainment, desire to fruition, as well as by his frequent depreca-
tion of over-much retrospect, as, for example, Mark Antony's
. . . On:
Things that are past are done with me.
Or Troilus :
Reason and respect (i.e. retrospect)
Make livers pale and lustihood deject.
Or Cressida's well-known saying :
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
It is needless to point out the skeptical tendency of this esti-
mate of fruition. The preference of search for attainment has
been one distinguishing mark of the most illustrious skeptics
in the world's history. Shakespeare's opinion on the point is,
moreover, an indispensable preliminary to the consideration of
Hamlet, for he also represents, as we shall shortly see, the fascina-
tion for certain minds of speculation in comparison with action,
of a many-sided search that will never by its own consent result
in a definite find.
The preceding summary will suffice to give in the scattered
piecemeal form in which any Shakespearian generalisation is alone
possible the intimations of philosophical skepticism or indifference
found in Shakespeare's works. They serve to show that his
creation of Hamlet the skeptic of practice was not undertaken
without a very intimate insight into the modes of thought that
characterise skeptics in general. Few, indeed, are the speculations
pertaining to skepticism that may not in some form be found in
his writings.
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 305
"HAMLET" IN RELATION TO SHAKESPEARE'S
OTHER WORKS.
*
5. We pass on now from the general subject to consider the
frequent indications of Hamletic or practical skepticism which are
found in Shakespeare's other works. They clearly prove that the
idea of Hamlet as a man whose power of action was paralysed by
overmuch reflection had often been the subject of Shakespeare's
contemplation. Nothing, indeed, is more admirable in Shake-
speare's treatment of human nature than his subtle admixture of
the constituent qualities that go to the formation of an individual
character. For example, the faculty or aptitude that constitutes
the chief personality of Hamlet is found in fragmentary portions,
or in somewhat different forms and conditions in many other
Shakespearian creations whose general intellectual temperament
is totally unlike that of Hamlet.
For this reason it must be deemed a matter of regret that
among the many commentators on Shakespeare's masterpiece none
should have thought of elucidating its meaning from his other
works. Possibly, in the case of a thinker at once so full and
many-sided, the principle of always making him his own inter-
preter might be employed with advantage. Had this method
been adopted in the case before us, the world would never have
heard of not a few of the absurd theories and questions which
have been mooted concerning Hamlet, as, for example : " Whether
his insanity is real or feigned". Shakespearian critics would
long ago have seen that what he intended by his creation of
Hamlet was not an inhuman monstrosity an uniquely eccentric
product of human nature but merely the excessive development
of a faculty found in most men who have a right to the ennobling
designation of thinkers. This is at once seen when we examine
the remaining works of Shakespeare for indications of dis-
tinctively Hamletic qualities. Thus we find more than once the
union of keen thought with slow, cautious or imperfect volition
a psychological analogue to the weakening of some physical
power which comes from the redundant vigour or vitality of
another for example, the description of Longaville in "Love's
Labour's Lost " :
A sharp wit matched with too blunt a will.
20
306 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
This dilatoriness of the will is often an affection of great minds,
and is employed by them occasionally to oppose acknowledged
obligations. Such a contingency is marked in the following
words :
. . . If this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benumb'd wills, resist the same.
The want of harmony or co-equal power between desire and act
is thus described :
Art thou afear'd
To be the same in thine own act and valour
As thou art in desire ?
Letting " I dare not " wait upon " I would,"
Like the poor cat i' the adage.
The general effect of doubt upon action is indicated in the well-
known quotation :
Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt.
We have also marked the persistent vitality of doubt a property
which Montaigne compared to the Hydra's head :
For he hath found to end one doubt by death
Revives two greater in the heirs of life.
The relation of overmuch contemplation to action is marked in
the two excerpts from " Love's Labour's Lost " and " Macbeth " :
While it doth study to have what it would
It doth forget to do the thing it should.
Thoughts speculative their unseen hopes relate,
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate.
Similarly we have this account of the tardiness in act which
comes from a too persistent contemplation of it from every side ;
such a wistful regard being, however, caused not by dislike but
by admiration :
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mock it ! How in stripping it
You more invest it ! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run,
By their own fear or sloth.
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 307
Another kind of tardiness is that which dissembles or suppresses
the manifestation of what is still a settled purpose. How com-
pletely Hamletic this is need not be pointed out :
A tardiness in nature
Which often leaves the history unspoke
That it intends to do.
The ordinary reluctance to act, which comes from equilibration
when the opposing poles are nearly balanced, is described by
Hamlet's uncle :
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect.
Nothing is more certain, with regard to " Hamlet," than the
high estimation in which Shakespeare regarded this, the most
masterly of all his creations. This is sufficiently proved by his
careful and gradual elaboration of the character. He clearly
shared Ophelia's admiration of his " noble mind," notwithstanding
its infirmity of procrastination in action. Now it is remarkable
that Shakespeare has clearly indicated elsewhere his opinion that
this weakness is, as Milton designated ambition, a natural
" infirmity of noble minds ". He is well aware that much ratio-
cination is, with all its drawbacks, an outcome of much reason or
intellect, that a distaste to action is the inevitable product of great
speculative power. Some of the noblest characters of Shake-
speare share the characteristic. This is how Camillo in "The
Winter's Tale" excuses himself from the reproach of such
cowardice :
If ever fearful
To do a thing when I the issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wisest.
The same characteristic pertains to Brutus and Casca in
" Julius Caesar," to Ulysses and Hector in " Troilus and Cressida ".
Of Casca we are told :
Brutus. He was quick mettle when he went to school.
Cassius. So is he now in execution
Of any bold or noble enterprise,
However he puts on this tardy form.
308 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Speculation and contrivance in war, as distinct from action, are
thus commended by Ulysses :
They tax our policy, and call it cowardice ;
Count wisdom as no member of the war ;
Forestall prescience, and esteem no act
But that of hand: the still and mental parts,
That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitness calls them on ; and know, by measure
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight,
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
But, just as great minds are especially given to speculation, so
also is it true that acts invite and justify speculation in proportion
to their greatness :
Checks and disasters
Grow in the veins of actions highest reared,
As knots by the conflux of meeting sap
Infect the sound pine and divert his grain,
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
In this connection of speculation with action must also be
mentioned Shakespeare's recognition of the finality that neces-
sarily belongs to action :
To promise is most courtly and fashionable, performance is a kind
of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that
makes it.
But perhaps the most remarkable of these similarities to
Hamlet, and that which bears most particularly on his feigned
insanity, is the passage in which Brutus describes the internal
commotion induced by the conflict of will and act :
Since Cassius first did whet me against Csesar,
I have not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream :
The genius and the mortal instruments
Are there in council ; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection
a passage which might almost be taken as a summary of the plot
of "Hamlet". Not less significant is Brutus's apology for his
seeming suspicion of mankind, and his neglect of his friends :
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 309
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.
Brutus is indeed the character of all those sketched by
Shakespeare's master-hand that most resembles Hamlet, and the
many coincidences existing between them are rendered more
interesting by the probability that " Hamlet " in its final form is
nearly contemporaneous with " Julius Caesar ".
We have then in these quotations, which might be easily
increased, remarkable indications of Shakespeare's profound
study of practical skepticism the theme elaborated in "Hamlet".
There is indeed no feature or attribute fairly assignable to the
Prince of Denmark which is not mentioned in these extracts.
Hence they may be regarded in the light of preliminary sketches
or studies, or else reproductions in miniature of Shakespeare's
chief work. They are besides of especial import as showing that
Hamlet's peculiarities are only eccentric in this respect, that the
weaknesses and strangenesses of many ordinary men are con-
centrated in a single personality.
"HAMLET" AS A DRAMA OF SKEPTICAL FREE-
THOUGHT.
Turning now to the play, we find that the indisposition to
action which is Hamlet's main characteristic is represented as
an incidental outcome of his general intellectual idiosyncrasy.
Under any circumstances Hamlet must needs have been a thinker
and a philosopher. He must have regarded the world, humanity
and himself as interesting objects of speculation, and would have
been rather attracted than deterred by the fact of their being
insoluble. The primary requisite of men of this stamp is food
for thought and reflection. They desire antitheses and antagon-
isms, which they can posit in a ceaseless series of equipoises and
balancements. They want material for meditation of such a
nature as to be inexhaustible. They prefer deliberation to de-
cision, contrivance and policy to action, and indefinite search to
discovery. Shakespeare's sympathy with men of this type we
have already noticed, though it is probable that of the two he
himself preferred the man of action to the man of speculation.
310 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
That this was Hamlet's character is shown by almost every
thought and incident of his life. It is true that we only meet
with Hamlet after the great events that formed the turning point
in his career had taken place. What Hamlet was before the
death of his father we only know partially. He speaks of a
change in his life whereby he had lost all his mirth and foregone
all custom of exercises, and his uncle also bears witness to what
he terms his transformation. Some insight into his temper and
conduct during the earlier and unsaddened part of his life would
have been interesting. When he was as yet a student at Witten-
berg, when at home in Elsinore he enjoyed the society of his
beloved father, or snatched stolen moments of rapture in the
company of his adored Ophelia, when he indulged in the
student's thoughtful contemplation of " saws of books," and
stored up other "forms and pressures" dedicated by "youth
and observation "
Within the book and volume of his brain.
But whatever else may be doubtful of this happier period, we
may be certain of this : Hamlet must then have manifested in
some degree the intellectual propensities which became so de-
veloped in after life. He must then have indulged in his brooding
introspective habits, must have cherished his dreamy imagination,
and must have formed an indifferent or skeptical estimate of
much that the world around him had agreed to honour. 1 Thus
the great calamities that befell him in such rapid and Job-like
succession, served only to intensify and develop already existing
tendencies. The sudden and mysterious death of his father, the
succession of his hated uncle to the throne of Denmark, and worse
than all, the hasty marriage of his uncle and his mother were
matters of grave and sombre reflection to one whose instinctive
disposition was to reflect profoundly on everything. They were
so many imperative and personal problems added to what he had
not improbably already experienced
1 The best literary estimate of Hamlet, prior to the death of his
father, is no doubt the well-known one given by Goethe in Wilhelm
Meisters Lehrjahre, book iv., chap. iii. But the great critic does not seem
to lay sufficient stress on what we must take to be his profoundly
meditative disposition.
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 3 1 1
The heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world.
From this period all Hamlet's meditations take a pessimistic
turn. He reflects in something of the mood of a Greek skeptic
on the difference between being and seeming. Like Timon, only
more sedately and philosophically, he points out the gulf between
human appearances and their corresponding realities. One result
of his cogitation on his misfortunes is to awaken Job's wish in a
similar case for death. Still there was nothing in these events,
so far as Hamlet knew their causes, to evoke resolution or stimu-
late action. He was still only a dreamer, a passive and discon-
tented theoriser, a thinker whose reason was quite at the mercy
of a tender but vivacious many-sided imagination, when an event
happened calculated to rouse him from his philosophical brooding
and hurry him incontinently to the performance of " actions of
great pith and moment". In other words he had that memorable
interview with his father's ghost. We shall see further on the
practical effect of this impulse, when we come to examine the
course of conduct that followed. With reference to our present
subject the consideration of his general speculative opinions it
is only needful to remark that except as intensifying his gloomy
outlook on the universe, increasing his aversion towards his
uncle, and providing new material for ratiocination and skepti-
cism, it produced no effect on his philosophy. Already was the
world to him " flat, stale, and unprofitable " ; already had he sus-
pected his uncle of committing some foul crime, and all that the
Ghost did was to confirm for the time being his long-entertained
suspicions.
The consideration of Hamlet's mental character and opinions
before proceeding to investigate his skepticism in action is
necessary, inasmuch as the latter is the natural out-growth of the
former. Given a man with Hamlet's intellectual conformation,
his moody, contemplative habits, his exquisite and many-hued
sensibilities, his vivid and forceful imagination, and we should
expect him to dally indefinitely with any important action that
presented itself to him as a duty. We should anticipate the ex-
amination of the object from every conceivable standpoint, the
alternation usual in such cases of resolution and hesitation, the
investment of the issue in a motley array of conditions, circum-
312 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
stances and suppositions of all kinds, and eventually the pro-
crastination of the act, until, possibly by accident or by the course
of events, it accomplished itself. In other words, we should look
for precisely the phenomena which we find in Hamlet. Happily,
there is ample material for an exposition of what may be termed
the Hamletic philosophy. /Besides the occasional utterances of
his wayward moods, all or them, however, bearing the impression
of ingenuousness and intellectual honesty (for there is not only
method but meaning in his madness), we have his famous
soliloquies the elaborate and well-reasoned disclosures by his
own mouth of his thoughts and feelings. From these materials
we are able to gather the nature of his ratiocination from the
time when he began to think, and more especially from the date
of his father's death the event which coloured all his subsequent
speculations. Thus we have his opinions on the universe, on
providence, fate, fortune, suicide, death, the future world,
humanity, human reason and philosophy, human passion and
imagination, most of these being marked by the vivid fancy, the
rapid generalisation, the uncertain dual-sighted reflection which
distinguish all skeptical speculation.
1. We must, however, begin with his own personal qualities, and
especially with that attribute of all others which permeated and
coloured, and, to a certain extent, gave form to all the rest I
mean his imagination. This is the quality which, unrestrained,
gave to Hamlet whatever madness he may be said to have
possessed what Shakespeare elsewhere calls " great imagination
proper to madmen". It is also the faculty which in a great
measure gave birth to and sustained his skepticism in action.
His own consciousness of possessing this faculty in excess, and
being unduly subject to its sway, is proved by his own introspec-
tion. Thus he rates himself as a " John-a-dreams," i.e., an in-
dolent visionary in respect of action. He deplores his weakness
and his melancholy as likely to give evil spirits power over him.
He admits that his imaginative power so far surpasses its ordinary
scope that he could be " bounded in a nutshell and yet count him-
self a king of infinite space ". He confesses that his schemes and
cogitations are so many and varied as to transcend the possibilities
even of his thoughts. " I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious,
with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them
Shakespeare's Hamlet, 313
in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in." He
knows the froward nature of all mental processes, for he says he
will sweep to avenge his father's death,
, . . with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love.
He is aware of those speculations as to a future existence and
other kindred matters which surpass human thought, as well as
their effect on those who muse on them. The Ghost's presence is,
he thinks, calculated to cause men " fools of nature "
So horridly to shake our disposition
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls.
But still more remarkable are his unconscious manifestations
of a rapid, many-sided fancy. This is apparent in every utterance
that proceeds from him. We note it, for example, in his first
soliloquy; in his ready transmutation of a world of which he had
grown weary, to an unweeded garden grown to seed and produc-
ing only things rank and gross in nature ; in his perpetual dis-
tinctions between seeming and being ; in his speculations on the
future world; in his rapid pursuit of the body of Polonius and the
noble dust of Alexander through more than the usual con-
tingencies of mortality ; in the vehement physical disgust which
the skull of Yorick, contrasted with the familiar fondness with
which its owner had in former days treated him, imparted to his
sensitive feelings. We shall presently see how this quick and
pregnant fancy entered with especial force into his determinations,
how it served to colour all his contemplated action, and how it
thereby introduced a skeptical suspense into his conduct which he
is unable to overcome. It would be easy to show that imagination
exercises a similar effect in the formation of skepticism in opinion.
All the great skeptics as well as the great idealists of philosophy
have been men of copious and many-sided imagination. Truth,
posing as an ultimate dogma, has presented itself to them in the
light of a substratum for unlimited fancy as a body which in
its naked state is unpresentable and unrealisable until clothed
upon with the many-hued raiment of imagination. This is why
so many thinkers fly from phenomena to noumena, from the con-
crete to the abstract, from the relative to the absolute. This is
why they appeal from actualities to potentialities, from being to
314 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
becoming. In the former they find an irksome limitation to their
fancy, a painful circumscription of possibilities which they deem
conceivable. For them no truth is demonstrated and ultimate
until imagination has expended all its suppositions and theories
upon it until they have exhausted each and every aspect, both
real and ideal, pertaining to it, and in the complex and infinite
verities of the universe this consummation is not very readily
achieved. Hence they settle down in suspense or imperfect
certitude, for the two reasons that it leaves them the scope and
justification for infinite theorising, which is an imperative
necessity of their intellect, and, secondly, does not bind them in
any case to a final and fixed presentation of truth. Thus the
endless striving of Faust is the intellectual analogue to the in-
definite hesitation in action of Hamlet, both being alike deter-
mined by excess of imaginative power. Nor, we may add
parenthetically, does this similarity exhaust the parallelisms found
to exist between knowledge and conduct in respect of the doubt
pertaining to each. For, first, it holds good, both of one and the
other, that their more important aspects are at once recognised
and regarded as indisputable, while it is those further off or more
complicated that are liable to doubt. Second, the relation of
human will in any indemonstrable matter or doubtful issue is
found to be the same, both to conviction and to action. Hence
we have the notable fact that intellectual doubt has often no
other significance than that it is a procrastinated conviction, just
as the morbid hesitation of such thinkers as Hamlet implies a
postponement of act. No doubt there is a form of intellectual
skepticism which rejoices in the perpetual discharge of its
suspensive functions and neither expects or desires its termination.
But there are also many sensitive minds whose reputed skepticism
only implies a present incertitude in matters of grave concern-
ment wherein demonstration is for the time unattainable, but who
contemplate in some remote future the determination of their
doubts. Prometheus, for example, looked forward, though
vaguely, to a deliverer from the tyranny of Zeus, and Job pro-
spected a vindicator of his righteousness from the false accusations
of his friends. Examples of this kind are numerous in the sphere
both of religion and philosophy. Thus there are thinkers who
postpone the final form of their creed as Constantine the Great
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 315
did his baptism to a late period of their lives, hoping for a fuller
light than they now enjoy, while, as regards philosophy and
science, it need not be stated how many of their conclusions are
regarded as provisional only, even by their warmest advocates.
2. Returning to Hamlet's skepticism, we find another contri-
buting cause of it in the character of his ratiocination, and his
opinions on the subject matters of reason and philosophy.
Goethe in a memorable and beautiful image described the
Hamletic catastrophe as the result of planting an oak seedling
in a beautiful vase. To us the simile seems altogether mislead-
ing. Like every other genuine skeptic, Hamlet is not the victim
of limitation but of infinitude. His purposelessness arises in part
from the very obviousness of his task, as if it were a kind of
mental reaction against its supposed urgency. This is shown by
his perpetual complaint of its imperative character. But still
more is it prompted by the many-sided indefiniteness with which
his own minute and subtle reflection has invested it. It is not
that the task is too gigantic for his powers, but his powers as he
conceives them are out of all proportion beyond the requirements
of his task. The vase were the inversion of the simile possible
is too great for the seedling planted in it. The plant endeav-
ours to exhaust its environment and dies in the attempt. A
temper less meditative, a reason less many-sided and compre-
hensive, a conscience less casuistical and refining, a resolution less
cautious and timorous would have achieved the work without
difficulty or delay. The task required prompt action ; Hamlet
possessed neither promptness nor practical energy. It demanded
instant activity; Hamlet gave it consideration. It needed a
doer ; Hamlet was emphatically a thinker.
Nothing is more common than to account philosophy im-
practicable. The thinker's occupation is in popular opinion
theorising and contemplation. With the real concerns of life and
humanity he can have no direct and vivid interest. Occasionally
this popular prejudice takes the form of extreme injustice, as, for
example, when it is employed to exclude an illustrious thinker
from a legislative assembly ; but that something may be urged on
its behalf must be admitted. It was clearly the opinion of
Shakespeare. Put in one way, the argument of " Hamlet " might
be thus briefly given : Take a philosopher a meditative, studious
316 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
recluse place him in actual contact, not with a thought problem
to be reasoned on, but with a deed to be done, and he will comport
himself as does Hamlet. He will display a maximum of
speculation with a minimum of practical energy. His goal will
become the centre of a labyrinthine maze of ratiocinations, con-
siderations, doubts and vacillations, and thus be lost sight of for
ever unless it should be again revealed by chance. For Hamlet
is essentially a philosopher ; not only so, but his philosophy, like
his imagination, is ardent, fearless, independent and, so far as his
power is concerned, unlimited. This last trait of comprehensive
ratiocination is early manifested in the drama. To Horatio's
half-skeptical wonderment at the proceedings of the Ghost he
replies in the well-known protest against all dogma derived from
individual experience :
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
The words aptly express both the strength and weakness of
Hamlet's standpoint. The ascertainment of those occult things
in heaven and earth unkenned by man, was evidently one main
object and occupation of his life. This persistent employment of
reason Rerum cognoscere causas he justifies by the very
nature of the faculty :
"What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed ? A beast, no more.
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse.
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To fust in us unused ;
words which almost seem like an apology for that excessive ratio-
cination of which he is conscious and which he describes as
Thinking too precisely on the event.
He glorifies, in another well-known passage, the immense scope
and power of reason. " What a piece of work is a man ! how
noble in reason ! how infinite in faculty ! in form and moving,
how express and admirable ! in action, how like an angel ! in
apprehension, how like a god."
But while thus admitting the potency and infinite sweep of
reason, he is not less aware of its defects. Like Montaigne and
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 317
other skeptics, he both eulogises and vilifies this greatest of
human attributes. As regards its power it is not only the source
of intellectual but of moral discrimination, for " there is nothing
good or bad but thinking makes it so " a noteworthy observa-
tion which if we apply to his own task of avenging his father's
death will go far to explain his delay in accomplishing the act, as
well as suggest the numberless excuses, apologies, etc., which his
inventive imagination put forward on behalf of his continual pro-
crastination. But with the acknowledgment of the power is com-
bined Hamlet's recognition of the inherent impotence of reason as
the obverse of the medal He has applied it to the great problems
of the universe and of humanity, but without deriving satisfaction
from such application. It seems to posit every great question
in generalisations too large to be grasped, or in antithetical which
cannot be reconciled. It is unable to solve social problems, for it
cannot explain the mutabilities discernible in humanity. Thus
the popularity his uncle has acquired by his accession to the throne
is inexplicable by philosophy " Mine uncle is King of Denmark,
and those that would make mows at him while my father lived,
give twenty, forty, fifty ducats a -piece for his picture in little.
S'blood, there is something in this more than natural if philosophy
could find it out." Moved by this impotence of reason as well as
by that apparent infinitude which seems too great to grasp the
finite, Hamlet displays occasionally that weariness of speculation
which attends all skepticism when infected with pessimism. He
is, as we might expect, conscious of his own ignorance. Thus
when Osric, coming to invite him to the combat with Laertes,
addresses him, " I know you are not ignorant," Hamlet at once
interrupts him with the words, " I would you did, sir, yet in faith
if you did it would not much approve me," in other words, if you
were aware of my knowledge that would be small satisfaction to
me who am so conscious of my ignorance. In a similar spirit he
abruptly refuses to reason on a proposition of Rosencrantz re-
specting ambition : " Shall we to the court ? for, by my fay, I
cannot reason ".
Thus we have on the one hand a consciousness of reason as a
faculty of infinite grasp and comprehension, and on the other an
acknowledgment of its weakness and error, both of which
attributes are provocative of practical skepticism. For if human
318 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
conduct be the outcome of reason, and reason, both in its greatness
and littleness, allows scope for infirmity and error, it is evident
that procrastinated action may be the highest possible proof of
rationality.
3. Together with Hamlet's imagination and the character of
his philosophy, we must include his passion or emotional
susceptibility as a characteristic that throws light on his
skepticism. Here, as in his other qualities, we can depend upon
his keen and copious introspection for a faithful representation of
his genuine character. Now, the very power and vivacity of his
imagination point to one conspicuous attribute of his passion, viz.,
its extreme sensitiveness to external occasions, impulsions and
promptings of every kind. This peculiarity is manifested in every
important conjunction of his life, from the time when " waxing
desperate with imagination " he hurries after his father's ghost, to
the final scene when in the spur of the moment he stabs his uncle.
We must not, however, confound this hasty impulse, this sudden
prompting of the will, with determination to action, for it is clear
that these two species of resolution are not only unconnected, but
exist inversely one to the other. In one sense Hamlet is resolute,
for his passions are easily roused and his volition readily acted
on ; in another sense he is most irresolute, for he is tardy in action
except in sudden contingencies which allow no room whatever for
deliberation. 1 Indeed, we might say that all the actions of his
life are distinguished by a rapid, unthinking, impulsive character.
Except in very rare cases, this passionate mobility is not found in
conjunction with a contemplative, moody temperament, and in
Hamlet's own case the restraint of his philosophy undoubtedly
served in his own opinion to moderate his impetuosity. This
seems shown by his remark to Laertes, that although he is not
rash and splenitive, yet he has something dangerous in him.
Notwithstanding this^3Isclaimer and his general attitude of philo-
sophic self-restraint, he displays on occasions fits of ungovernable
passion, for example, in his struggle with Laertes in the grave of
Ophelia, though it is not impossible that this outburst was at
least in part the simulated vehemence of passion befitting the
" antic disposition " he had " put on ". What is, however, of special
1 Compare on this point Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps' Memoranda on the
Tragedy of Hamlet, p. 14.
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 319
importance to our subject is Hamlet's own account of the influence
of passion on his own cherished purpose the avenging his
father's death. This we have in the remarkable lines he himself
indited for the players which, as regards their bearing on
Hamlet's character, are among the most important in the whole
play :
Passion is but the slave to memory,
Of violent birth but poor validity.
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of either grief or joy
Their own enactures with themselves destroy.
That Hamlet is here alluding indirectly to his own purpose is
evident, while the reasons he assigns for its frustration are as
evidently derived from his own experience. To him passion
assumes the character of volition, it is the impelling cause of the
contemplated action '. But the intentions of passion are as short-
lived as the passion itself, and this when it is violent is not only
evanescent but self -destructive, just as all other human desires
and efforts are self-consumed by their own intensity. Thus the
passion-prompted purpose fails entirely of its achievement. How
true this self -diagnosis is of Hamlet himself we shall presently
have abundant opportunities of judging. It is quite in harmony
with his consciousness of being too much the victim of passion
that his reason for esteeming^ Horatio is his stoical indifference to _
passion. __ Suffering himself from
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
he naturally values
A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
Has ta'en with equal thanks. . . .
A man that is not passion's slave.
We_nmgt also bear in mind thfr*- TTftmlafr doea not
himself to be impelled solely by passion in Jlis vengeful (fosigna ou
his uncle. With.. his. abundant self-knowledge and his habits .of
continual introspection he could not have so far ignored tin-
Creamy imagination and many-sided reflection which formed so
great a proportion of his mental character. Accordingly he speaks
in more comprehensive phrase of
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
320 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
which he, in his apathetic indolence, has allowed to go to
sleep.
4. In addition to the foregoing characteristics, we must
mention another quality of Hamlet which in this particular
instance clearly contributed to cripple his power of action, and
was thus an element in his practical skepticism, though in ordinary
actions it might not have had such an effect. I mean his tender ;
affectionate disposition. Like most imaginative and sensitive
characters, he was more apt to take offence than to cherish re-
sentment. He partook of the emotional profundity, the intense
and comprehensive humanity, which commonly accompanies
intellectual eminence. As a result, he was possessed of an ardently
warm, sympathetic nature, though, like all sensitive people, he
was ever ready to suppress or disguise it. Such a temperament
was, indeed, necessary for the purposes of the play, for the primary
impulse the motive of the drama was his passionate affection
for his father. A similar feeling, though combined with more
reserve, is manifested by his love for Ophelia, his kindly regard
for Laertes and his friendship for Horatio. Nor is it altogether
wanting in the struggle of affection and indignation with which
he regards his mother. In short, notwithstanding his genuine
antipathy to his uncle and his determination to exact vengeance,
it is evident that Hamlet was not " a good hater ". He lacked
the concentrative force which denotes unconditional aversion.
Much of the passionate objurgation which he bestows on Claudius
is in truth a kind of safety-valve for his pent-up feelings a
compensating balance to weigh against his deferred purpose a
screen or veil behind which his reluctance to act may find shelter.
He pours forth his feeling in words that he may postpone the
deed without incurring, at least to the extent he otherwise might,
the imputation of irresolution. His nature was, in truth, too
broad, generous, many-sided and profound to cherish the mingled
narrowness and pettiness of spiteful, malicious characters. It is
noteworthy that his trustful, unsuspicious character is acknow-
ledged even by his uncle, who in his plot with Laertes describes
him as
being remiss,
Most generous and free from all contriving ;
and it is in complete accordance with this estimate that Shake-
Shakespeare s Hamlet. 321
speare represents him not as successfully contriving his uncle's
death, but as himself falling an accidental victim to his uncle's plot.
Turning now from Hamlet's personal characteristics to his
speculative opinions, we find that these also throw much light of
an indirect sort on his character and help to explain his practical
skepticism. The first of these in importance are his ideas on God,
providence, fate, fortune, life and death.
Shakespeare has been designated by one of his profoundest
critics, a pagan. While this judgment may be considered of
doubtful appropriateness, it is certain that Hamlet is a semi-
pagan. He has little more of the distinctive marks of Christianity
than an ancient Greek or Roman might have possessed. No
doubt he believes, in a vague sort of way, in the being of a God,
in the existence of heaven, purgatory and hell, in final retribution,
etc. But as to any over-ruling providence, any active concern-
ment of the gods in human affairs, he holds that the universe
both of nature and of man constitute alike a very chaos of dis-
order. Hamlet's ruling deity, that which exercises a direct
superintendence over himself and his affairs, is fate. In point of
fact, Hamlet is an unmitigated fatalist. This is at once shown
by a cursory examination of his sentiments. Thus he regards his
own birth as a predetermination of his destiny which he could
not help or avoid.
So, oft it chances in particular men
That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As in their birth wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin, etc., etc.
His first soliloquy shows us that he had long meditated on his
destiny and was satisfied of its general perverseness. When his
father's spirit appears, its especial import for him is that it is a
shadowy embodiment of his destiny. To the attempts of his
companions to restrain him from following the Ghost he
exclaims :
My fate cries out
And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
After the commission of vengeance which he receives from this
interview he considers himself partly the victim, partly the agent
of fate :
21
322 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
The time is out of joint : curs&d spite,
That ever I was born to set it right !
Ordinarily, this fatalistic conception of human destiny is allied
with determined volition and resolute action. Not a few of the
great deeds, good and bad, of history have been prompted solely
by such a persuasion. As a rule, the fatalist is more a man of
action than of speculation, and intellectual narrowness and
fanaticism have been the bases and concomitants of every scheme
of fatalism that has ever emerged in human history. Hence
although Hamlet starts with the theory that he is born to be his
father's avenger, other considerations soon intervene, and chiefest
of all, the fact that he is, in an especial sense, a thinker. With
this latter attribute so strongly marked, even the stern decrees of
fate become to him objects of speculation and inquiry, possibly
even of distrust and doubt. It is interesting to note how
Hamlet's idea of fate serves ultimately to thwart and delay his
purpose, how the impulse to act is transformed into a dissuasive
from action. For if fate is the supreme governing power in the
universe, it is necessarily superior to all human devices. Not only
is it a power which does not need man's feeble co-operation, but
which frequently even opposes human will. Hamlet describes
this conflict in his own lines :
Our wills and fates do so contrary run
That our devices still are overthrown,
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
With this altered estimate of the meaning of fate, we are not
surprised to find something like a resolution on the part of Hamlet
to let the tragedy which he foresaw solve itself as it will.
Hercules himself cannot alter the predestined course of events :
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
In fulfilling the decrees of fate, indiscretion is sometimes better
than profound contrivance :
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well
When our deep plots do pall : and that should teach us
There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them as we will.
In a similar mood of blind reliance on fate he enters upon his
contest. To Horatio's wish to defer the conflict he replies : " Not
Shakespeare s Hamlet. 323
a whit, we defy augury : there's a special providence in the fall of
a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it
will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come ; the readiness is
all." And thus the fateful catastrophe is, so far as he is concerned,
the purest accident. Here, also, we must notice that Hamlet dis-
criminates, as does Shakespeare himself throughout his works,
between fate and fortune. The former, like the Greek Moira, is
the fatal, onward-moving, all-accomplishing destiny which is
equally inevitable and invincible. The latter, though equally out
of human power, presides over the smaller mutations and varia-
tions of human existence. The first is the type of constancy and
continuity, the second of mobility and fluctuation. For the
former Hamlet manifests the profoundest respect and dread, for
the latter the greatest possible contempt, as may be seen from the
passages in which her attributes are discussed. Both fate and
fortune are, however, ideas which minister to Hamlet's indolence
and his skepticism in action, the former by its omnipotence, the
latter by its changeful, uncertain character. If fate accomplishes
its purpose, why need he interfere ? If fortune is mutable, why
try to direct her endless caprices to any definite end ?
Equally skeptical are Hamlet's opinions on the universe,
humanity, life and death, the spirit- world, etc. Here also emerges
his profound pessimism. Among his earliest utterances is his de-
scription of the world as " weary, flat, stale and unprofitable ".
It is an unweeded garden producing only noxious and unsightly
growths. Later on he shows still more fully how the ordinary
aspects of the universe have been transformed by his sombre
imagination " It goes so heavily with my disposition that this
goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory ; this
most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging
firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it
appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congrega-
tion of vapours ". In another vein of disaffection with mundane
attributes, he reasons on the vacillation of the world, especially as
being in some sort a warrant and justification of his felt changes
of purpose :
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
That even our lives should with our fortunes change.
No doubt Hamlet's universe was, in great part, an expansion of
324 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
that portion of the world with which he was acquainted. His
inborn tendency to infinitise, to transmute the particular into the
general, to merge the concrete in the abstract, is seen in every
phase and outcome of his thought. Hence his world is only an
enlarged Denmark, and manhood everywhere are Danes
characterised by those vices with which his misanthropic humour
has in part invested them. To Rosencrantz's remark that the
world is a prison if Denmark be one, Hamlet rejoins : " A goodly
one in which there are many confines, wards and dungeons, Den-
mark being one of the worst ". He takes a moody delight in
pointing out the faults of his countrymen. He lays stress, for
example, on the drunkenness for which Denmark was in the time
of Shakespeare notorious. Extending these feelings so as to in-
clude all men, Hamlet's skepticism with respect to humanity is
well-nigh unbounded. With the exception of his father and
Horatio, the rest of mankind are fools or knaves. Men are " fools
of nature," compelled to attempt the resolution of difficulties
which transcend their powers. Men are mere pipes for fortune's
fingers to play what tune she lists. The honest man is, in com-
parison with his knavish brethren, in the ratio of about one in
ten thousand. He recommends Ophelia not to marry, for all men
are arrant knaves. He inveighs against the frivolity and fashion
of women, as well as against the hollowness and hypocrisy of
men. Virtue cannot obtain its deserved recognition, for however
chaste a woman may be she cannot escape calumny. Whether
he considered it as the cause or the effect of these manifold im-
putations, Hamlet, like most pessimists, regarded the age as
peculiarly evil. The time was out of joint and went lamely, and
he bemoans the office forced on him of making it walk straight.
The age he characterises as pursy, drossy, etc., as if it were a
bloated mass of corruption :
For in the fatness of these pursy times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg.
From another aspect that of culture he despises it. The drossy
age dotes on men like Osric who have caught the " tune of the
time, and outward habit of encounter ; a kind of yesty collection
which carries them through and through the most fond and un-
winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the
bubbles are out". With all its hollowness and superficiality, men
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 325
of the time are like the first clown, so absolute and dogmatic that
it is needful to speak by the card or the speaker will be undone
by equivocation. That existence is, under the circumstances, an
unqualified evil need scarcely be added. Hamlet's judgment on
this point is seen in many of his utterances, especially in the
celebrated soliloquy " To be or not to be ". Almost his first words
in the play express his disgust with the world, while his latest
breath is spent in bidding Horatio
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story.
Much of Hamlet's skepticism is explained by the distinction he
instinctively made on all subjects between being and seeming, or
between appearance and reality. Here he is in harmony with the
greatest skeptics of the world's history. The common aim of all
these thinkers was to dig beneath the phenomenal to discover the
real or the true. Their skepticism consisted in their distrust of
what was outward and superficial. Similarly, Hamlet is keenly
alive to the discrimination of reality and appearance. The uni-
verse, humanity, existence, are all appearances behind which lie
dread realities. The former may be and are probably fictitious,
the latter only are infallibly true. Hence he endeavours in all
matters to penetrate the seeming and to attain to the genuine
truth. Thus when his mother attempts the customary condolence
on his father's death
Thou know'st 'tis common all that lives must die-
he answers bitterly, " Ay, madam, it is common," and to her re-
joinder
If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee ?
he immediately replies, " Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not
seems," followed by an indignant protest that his mourning for
his father is sincere, and is not to be denoted by the customary
semblance of grief :
For I have that within which passeth show ;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
All the events attending his father's death and his uncle's
accession and marriage were but ghastly and unreal semblances of
326 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
sorrow, of love and of loyalty. Not that all this mockery was
unique. On the contrary, false sorrow was as common as its
countless occasions. The tear of hypocrisy and the smile of
villainy were alike attributes of humanity. In a similar spirit he
contrasts the glorious appearance of earth, of heaven, of reasoning
humanity, with his own truer impressions of them. In short, he
rejects the seen for the unseen, the appearance for the reality, the
relative for the absolute. Nor is this antithetical habit limited to
seeming and being. Hamlet shares that aptitude for collocating
antagonisms which is a frequent mark of the skeptic, which must,
indeed, characterise every equipoising intellect. Thus he weighs
existence against non-existence the advantages against the draw-
backs of suicide. He recognises the doubleness that exists in
most mundane things. He notes the double property of custom,
as regards virtue and vice, the twofold relation of love and fortune.
He delights in dividing his personality into its constituent parts.
He discriminates, for example, between himself and his machine
(his body) and makes a division between himself and his madness.
In a similar manner he splits up the physical world and mankind
into their real and apparent aspects. In short, almost every
object with which he comes in contact presents itself to him in a
twofold light, and gives him opportunity for his favourite exercise
of ratiocinative equipoise. No reasoner ever took such elaborate
pains as did Hamlet to compare the pros and cons of suicide,
probably no man was ever less likely " to make his quietus with
a bare bodkin," or with anything else. Here, moreover, seems
the proper place for noting the curious indirect light which his
speculations on the spirit-world throw on his skepticism. No
man had ever received more convincing proofs of a future
existence in its most personal and generally received form. A
tithe of such evidence would have converted to firm believers
ninety-nine skeptics out of a hundred ; but it is remarkable that
when Hamlet, soon after that memorable interview with his
father's spirit, reasons on the state of the dead he makes no
allusion to the awful disclosures he received on that occasion.
He speculates on the dreams that may occur
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
but says nothing of the dread realities borne witness to by the
Shakespeare 's Hamlet. 327
Ghost. The state of Purgatory then so forcibly described dis-
appears from his mind as readily almost as the command of the
beloved parent who professed to suffer it. In the same soliloquy
he speaks of the dread of something after death as merely a
possible contingency, and of " the bourne from whence no traveller
returns," as if he had never held converse with his father's spirit.
Quite in harmony with this half-expressed feeling that death is
the end of all sentient existence, are his references to it as a final
and happy rest and as if no retribution pertained to it. This
seems the idea underlying his wish :
O that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew.
And it is also expressed in his dying request to Horatio :
Absent thee from felicity awhile ;
in which he undoubtedly refers to the character of the state he
himself expected to attain on his decease.
Besides these general opinions, all more or less of a skeptical
character, we have minor intimations of the existence, in other
directions, of a similar turn of thought. Hamlet, for example, is
a nominalist, he is always ready to separate the word, as the out-
ward sign, from the inward truth and reality which it betokens.
When Polonius asks him what he is reading, his reply is, " words,
words, words " an answer which could only have emanated from
one who instinctively recognised and despised externalities of all
kinds. He discriminates between the act and the word, and
laments the tendency of the former, in his own case, to evaporate
in the latter. On the other hand, in his colloquy with his mother
he declares his intention of speaking daggers, but using none.
With all these characteristics and opinions, Hamlet's practical
skepticism is a foregone conclusion. When every object without
and within presented itself in so many conflicting and diversiform
aspects ; when his views of God, fate, the world, humanity, were
so fully permeated with doubt; when meditation assumed within
him such tyrannous and overweening power, it was inevitable
that the faculty of practical energy should be fatally crippled, that
Hamlet should exemplify that peculiarity which we have termed
skepticism in action.
We must now trace this skepticism from its sudden commence-
328 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
ment to its abrupt termination in other words, we must pursue
the alternation of resolve and doubt which constitutes the main
plot of the drama.
The first outburst of Hamlet's purposefulness is occasioned by
the appearance and injunction of his father's ghost. He must
avenge his death. He at once accepts the imposed task as a
solemn and imperious duty. For the moment there is no question
of propriety, of prudence, of possible injustice. His father's blood,
like Abel's, seems to cry for vengeance from the ground. Only
the mention of murder fires him. He exclaims with vehemence :
Haste me to know it, that I with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love
May sweep to my revenge,
a determination which his father's spirit, with a possible refer-
ence to Hamlet's usually inactive temperament, thus commends :
I find thee apt,
And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed
That roots itself in ease on Lethe's bank,
Would'st thou not stir in this.
And to the Ghost's injunction to remember him Hamlet ex-
claims :
Remember thee ?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe (i.e., his head).
Here it is important to observe that Hamlet has in this inter-
view : 1. An explanation of his puzzles. 2. The strongest
possible inducement to action. That both are inadequate as
motives, we shall shortly discover. His position resembled that
of a truth-seeker desirous of certainty, who fully believes he has
attained it. He makes a discovery, for example, which all at once
throws a flood of light on his former uncertainties. He is on the
point of dogma pronouncement, just as Hamlet is on the verge of
action. He is about to avouch his ultimatum on the subjects
controverted, when he is held back by his inborn passion for
speculation. Impelled by this and by the gravity of a final de-
cision which always presents itself to such natures in an
exaggerated aspect he resolves not to decide before once more
considering the matter. This he does with the extreme caution
and carefulness befitting such an occasion. But the investigation,
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 329
protracted as it inevitably will be, serves to disclose new sources
of doubt, or at least new reasons for delay. The more the issue
is examined, the less simple and inevitable does its decision appear.
At least there is no imperative urgency. Decisive acts are irre-
vocable, and it is better, not to say more agreeable, to prolong the
preliminary consideration than to precipitate a conclusion which
might afford ground for unavailable regret. This standpoint,
transferred from conviction to action, is that of Hamlet. His
interview with the Ghost is a solution of the doubts he had
previously entertained as to his father's sudden death. He is
convinced by that mode of persuasion which has been regarded as
the strongest of all others the rising of one from the dead.
Nothing seems thenceforward plainer or more imperious than his
duty. At once he must kill his father's murderer. The time for
action has come, the time for dreamy speculation has gone by.
But immediately on this enthusiastic resolution follows the re-
action of renewed consideration, and, consequently, of hesitation
and perplexity. Hamlet is appalled by the plainness of his duty.
An action more surrounded by uncertainty would have better
accorded with his mental sympathies. He would have preferred
a course of conduct that permitted tentative or half measures.
He dislikes and distrusts the coercion which makes an act un-
avoidable the sense of narrowness and limitation which permits
no loophole of escape. In a word, like the skeptical truth-seeker,
Hamlet is the victim of his largeness of generalisation. He in-
stinctively invests the intended act with infinite complexities of
motives, circumstances and results, and loses himself in the
survey. He might have been ridiculed with the words which the
clown in " Twelfth Night " addresses to his melancholy, irresolute
master : " Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor
make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very
opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their
business might be everything and their intent everywhere, for
that's it that always makes a good voyage of nothing."
Hamlet's discontent with his task and his mode of contem-
plating it are hinted within a few minutes after he has so eagerly
accepted it.
The time is out of joint : O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!
330 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
that is, he begins to contemplate himself as partly a victim, partly
an agent of a perverse, incomprehensible fate, and characteristic-
ally expands his duty from the killing of his father's murderer to
the rectification of a crooked epoch. The remainder of the drama
is taken up with the varied phases of this practical irresolution
and Hamlet's futile attempts to overcome it. Here it is important
to distinguish between his resolution in thought and his resolution
in act, between his determination to adopt means and his intent
to consummate a given course of action. Notwithstanding his
doubts, he never really abandons his purpose of avenging his
father's death or of taking measures to accomplish it, any more
than he ever relinquishes his attitude of suspense with regard to
that act. In thought, therefore, and in contrivance, Hamlet is
always more or less determined. It is in the transformation of
intent into final action that his skepticism appears.
Among earlier illustrations of his resolution must be classed
his affecting farewell with Ophelia, though it is not impossible
that other motives and feelings play a part in that wonderful
scene. He clearly saw the enormous import of his contemplated
act. He recognised it as a tragedy in which he was probably
destined to fall a victim. The suffering arising from
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
could only be ended by taking arms and opposing a whole ocean
of troubles. He was therefore determined to sunder himself
from all affections and interests which might in the dread moment
of action have unnerved his will and paralysed his energy. With
what stupendous effort he accomplished this, is seen in Ophelia's
pathetic account of that farewell interview. That Hamlet herein
displays resolution in action must be admitted, but it is a resolu-
tion which is strong in contriving and adopting means, and which
may well be combined, as it was indeed in his case, with infirm
energy in prosecuting those means to a definite issue. This feature
of Hamlet's skepticism in action may be illustrated by the similar
behaviour of skeptics in the region of conviction. There are
many beliefs which in themselves are of difficult, it may be
impossible, ascertainment, but which are led up to by speculations
and conclusions of a more or less likely character; and these
partial beliefs, these half-way houses on the road to assured con-
Shakespeare s Hamlet, 331
viction, are recognised and utilised by those who never achieve
the real end of their journey, the final point of their ratiocination.
This is the true rationale of probability, which is often, perhaps
generally, more a means towards certitude than an ultimate end
in itself. That men therefore accept unreservedly a probability
is no proof that they will give their full assent to the doubtful
truth lying beyond it, any more than Hamlet's resignation of his
passion for Ophelia proves him to possess sufficient resolution to
achieve his great purpose of vengeance on his uncle. Nor does
this resemblance exhaust the parallelism hereby shown to exist
between Hamlet and the intellectual skeptic. The latter is self-
deluded by his willing adherence to probability, so as to persuade
himself that he has no insuperable objection to final truth.
Similarly, Hamlet's occasional manifestations of resolution, as in
this instance, no doubt tended to conceal from himself his reluc-
tance to prosecute his task to the bitter end. But while this
parting scene with Ophelia seems thus to have an important
bearing on Hamlet's practical skepticism, we are far from think-
ing that it may not also possess other implications. It is not
unlikely, for example, that Hamlet was partly influenced in this
despairing farewell by the pessimistic estimate of humanity,
which long entertained had been confirmed by the disclosures of
the Ghost. That he had reflected on the drawbacks of marriage
is manifest. Probably his love of generalisation here as else-
where might have caused him to extend to other married couples
the unhappy conditions of that alliance which existed between
his uncle and his mother. There seems also a genuine earnestness
in his opinion that, constituted as were men of that time, it was
not desirable to perpetuate such a " crooked and perverse genera-
tion ".
But side by side with the symptom of resolve which is shown
by his parting with Ophelia, are seen unequivocal signs of defec-
tion from his main purpose. This is betrayed by a gradually
waning confidence in his father's spirit, and as a matter of course
in all its horrible story and the injunction founded thereupon.
For suppose the Ghost, being itself a mere spectral appearance,
should be false. Suppose it should be not the " spirit of health "
he first took it for, but a " goblin damned ". Suppose its intents
were wicked and not charitable. Then Hamlet's purpose was
33 2 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
almost as fiendish and cruel as the black deed of which it had
impeached his uncle. Why should he deliberately slay in cold
blood his father's brother, his mother's husband detested though
he was on other grounds for a crime of which he was conceiv-
ably innocent ? Was it not a common trick of evil spirits to
assume the form of good, and to practise on such imaginative and
melancholic persons as himself ? Here, then, we see the under-
mining effects of skeptical retrospect. The great purpose of
Hamlet's life seems gradually to assume a different form. Its
truth is becoming transmuted to possible falsehood. Doubt and
uncertainty have again assumed that supremacy over his mind
of which the Ghost had for the time being deprived them.
His high filial resolve to avenge his dead father may, for any-
thing he knows, involve the greatest treachery to his name and
blood.
No doubt Shakespeare has so contrived his plot that Hamlet
shall have fair grounds for his vacillation and skepticism. He is
not represented either as a fool acting entirely without motive,
nor as a mere feather-pated prey of inconstancy. Hamlet is
before all things a thinker, a profoundly philosophic reasoner, apt
however as such persons are to let his " discourse of reason " over-
balance his will-power and faculty of action. It is this weakness
which has relegated the Ghost to the visionary world whence it
seemed to come. He has speculated it, or nearly so, out of
existence. In those days most men believed entirely in such
appearances, but with the qualification that they were supposed
to be due to diabolical origin. So far, Hamlet was not eccentric
in his distrust. How he. would have comported himself had the
evidence of his father's murder been of another and more un-
ghostly kind, we are left to guess. What would he have said, for
example, of an actual witness who, hidden in the orchard on that
memorable afternoon, saw his uncle perpetrate the dastardly act ?
In all probability his behaviour would not have been very
different. We should then have had passionate conviction followed
after no long interval by retrospective consideration and nascent
doubt stern determination to avenge succeeded by waning re-
solution. He would have been just as ready in devising excuses
and reasons for procrastination. He would have urged the
tendency of men to lie with as much good faith as he did the
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 333
probably diabolical origin of the Ghost. Perhaps his belief in
human evidence, capable as it was of repetition, cross-examination
and corroboration, might have lasted longer than his faith in a
supernatural apparition, but the doubt of the skeptical thinker
must in the long run have asserted itself. Leaving, however,
hypotheses, Hamlet demanded some verification of the Ghost's
story, otherwise his resolve was neither to credit it nor to consider
himself bound by resolutions based on such a belief.
How completely parallel Hamlet's doubt in its origin and
growth is to similar mental processes in the case of intellectual
skeptics, is sufficiently obvious. Their fever fits of conviction are
also succeeded, especially in matters indemonstrable, by the re-
actionary chills of doubt and mistrust. Nor does the parallelism
stop there. Hamlet's conviction of his father's murder is founded
on supernatural testimony without confirmation of any kind. But
it is this fact which awakens and seems to justify his doubt. The
very attribute which first of all imparted additional sanction to
the evidence of the apparition becomes, on its reconsideration by
Hamlet, its peculiar weakness. For similar reasons, intellectual
skepticism, taking it as a whole, commences its attack on human
convictions by calling in question those that claim to be based on
supernatural evidence. This is, indeed, the normal procedure of
human enlightenment and progress. Many are the ghost-attested
beliefs which have gradually disappeared, like Hamlet's faith in
his father's spirit, before the analysis of skepticism. Another
symbolic meaning might thus be added to a drama already over-
weighted with them. Shakespearian critics in their search for
hidden mysteries and abstruse analogies might have some ground
for asserting that the root-thought of the play was to show how
evanescent belief on purely supernatural evidence is. They might
hazard the surmise that Hamlet was intended to personify the
march of culture, or, still more rashly, they might define Shake-
speare's concealed intention as the inculcation of the lesson
gradually dawning on the men of his own time, that the teachings
of any supernatural system to be valid must be corroborated by
the witness of nature and reason. All we need assert is that
Shakespeare does make Hamlet's skepticism the effect in part of
the non-human and supernatural character of the ghost. Hamlet,
it is intimated, was entitled to discredit by degrees the wondrous
334 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
story, partly because the narrator was not of earth, partly because
in the belief of those days the Ghost might have been an emissary
of the evil one. This, however, is by no means the sole reason
of what we may from this point designate Hamlet's suspended
action. Excuses and apologies for the non-fulfilment of the
Ghost's commands are as readily conceived by him as reasons for
suspended belief in any given dogma are by the intellectual
skeptic.
Hamlet's belief in the Ghost being thus gradually undermined,
he looks about for some mode of testing it. This he finds in the
opportune arrival of the players. He will make them play a
dramatised version of his father's death before his uncle, and see
if he can thereby catch his conscience. The importance of this
players' interlude, as indicating Hamlet's genuine character, has
never in my judgment been sufficiently insisted on. It proves
conclusively how entirely occupied his mind was with its general
task of introspection, and especially with its then attitude of
suspended action. Thus in his first interview with the players he
makes them repeat a particular speech, the theme of which is
Pyrrhus's suspended action when about to slay Priam :
Lo ! his sword,
"Which was declining on the milky head
Of rev'rend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick,
So as a painted tyrant Pyrrhus stood,
And like a neutral to his will and matter
Did nothing.
Not impossibly he regarded this lull before a storm with some-
thing of a wistful hope that it would lead in his case, as in
Pyrrhus's, to determined action. So, also, he finds in the players'
emotion when speaking of Hecuba a reproof of his own cooled
passion in respect of his father's death, and an incentive to prompt
action. He asks indignantly :
What would he do
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have ?
Stimulated by the players' tears for Hecuba, he for a time relapses
into his first conviction of his father's murder ; he storms at him-
self for his cowardly forbearance and then vents his fury on his
wordy rage, as if he meant that his intended action should
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 335
evaporate in words. Ultimately he thinks it not unlikely that
the Ghost was the devil.
This scene, together with the lines he wrote for the players,
serves clearly to show that Hamlet shared one striking peculiarity
of intellectual skeptics, such as, for example, Montaigne. He was
not only addicted to introspection, but he loved to contemplate,
especially the fitful alternation of resolution and hesitation which
characterised his suspended purpose. Sometimes he does this
with much show of indignation at his infirm resolution, but this
is accompanied with keen insight into the mutations of his
thought, a lively sense of the force and direction of each thought-
wave as it passes through his consciousness, and an appreciation
of the variety in kind and power of every such emotional change.
Whoever reads in their sequence the soliloquies, will perceive
clearly Hamlet's sympathetic relation with the suspense he affects
to dislike. These remarkable utterances, which are only out-
spoken acts of introspection, possess all the same character.
1. They are outpourings of an overcharged feeling. 2. They are
excuses for suspended purpose. 3. They are meant to stimulate
and rouse him into activity. Their general character is seen by
the best known of all these self-addresses " To be or not to be,"
etc. In this he meditates, as in his first soliloquy, on the question
of suicide. The problem bears an interesting resemblance to his
own once cherished purpose and its result. Thus it is evident
that death to most human beings is preferable to the continued
endurance of the miseries of existence. (Here, again, his utter
forgetfulness of the " poor Ghost" and his story is clearly shown.)
Why, then, do mortals prefer life ? Because the condition of the
dead is uncertain. " The dread of something after death puzzles
the will,"
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
For this reason the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er by
the pale cast of thought. It is impossible not to recognise in this
reflection an indirect allusion to his halting purpose. That his
father was murdered by his uncle is at least as certain as that
death is better than life. Why cannot he then take his revenge ?
Because he is appalled by the probable results of such an event.
336 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
He knows his present misery, but cannot forecast the issue of its
enforced and abrupt termination. Thus :
Enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
Returning to the players' interlude, we find Hamlet still brooding
over his suspended purpose. In the lines he himself wrote for
the performance before his uncle he alleges more than one excuse
for the non-accomplishment of his task. 1. Purpose, being iden-
tical in his opinion with passion, is ever short-lived. 2. The
mutations of the world justify the fickleness of mankind. 3. Fate
or destiny has a purpose of her own, and needs not man's co-
operation. From all which we may gather that if Hamlet was
" unpregnant of his cause " he was pregnant enough of apologies
for refusing to carry it to effect.
At this point his doubt is once more transmuted to certainty.
The issue of the play before the King seems an ample confirmation
of his own suspicion and the Ghost's testimony. At the moment
he is willing to " take the Ghost's word for a thousand pounds ".
He experiences a return of his murderous intentions :
Now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on.
In a word, he is once more in the position of the truth-seeker who
seems to be in the immediate presence of the object of his quest.
With wonderful dramatic art, Shakespeare has contrived that
on this second and confirmed outburst of conviction Hamlet shall
have the opportunity for which he pretends to seek. The strength
of his determination is suddenly tested. Accidentally, while on
his way to an appointment with his mother, he discovers his uncle
in the act of prayer. But the result remains the same as before.
With the opportunity comes the old infirmity. On the very heels
of his certitude treads doubt. In the very noteworthy soliloquy
of Hamlet on this occasion, Shakespeare appears to have had in
view the ready skill of dispositions like his to find excuses for
procrastinated action, as well as the occasionally extravagant or
even outrageous character of such pleas. Nothing could in my
opinion be a greater mistake than to charge Hamlet with really
Shakespeare s Hamlet. 337
entertaining the diabolical feelings to which he gives vent on this
occasion. They are inconsistent with humanity in its mast in-
human form, and are quite incompatible with a nature so tender,
manly, and sensitive as his. The loathsome excess of malignant
misanthropy which they disclose would disgrace even Timon in
his most fanatical mood. At this point, again, the parallel between
the intellectual skeptic and the skeptic in action is instructive.
Just as men of Hamlet's temperament are fertile in devising the
most unreasonable excuses for postponing action, so are skeptics
in belief equally ingenious in assigning reasons that are unreason-
able for the purpose of staving off an unwelcome conviction one
that fails to satisfy the utmost demands not only of reason, but of
imagination. The history of skepticism teems with examples of
thinkers who are as prompt in excusing their non-belief of any
given truth as Hamlet in the scene before us in declining to kill
his uncle. Nor, we may add, does Hamlet deceive himself on this
occasion. Notwithstanding all his vapouring and his pretensions
to more than fiendish purpose, he is fully aware that he is merely
deceiving himself. He has been engaged in his favourite occupa-
tion of " drawing a red herring across the trail ". As he finishes
his soliloquy the thought recurs to him that he is on his way to
see his mother. He stops suddenly short and says :
. . . My mother stays :
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
The last line is evidently addressed not, as commonly supposed,
to his uncle, but, sotto voce, to himself. It is a kind of introspec-
tive reaction his comment on the scene in which he knows he
has been playing a fictitious part. He recognises his old aptitude
for excuses, and justly regards that readiness as a physic which
helps to protract his sickly state of practical suspense.
The second (and last) appearance of the Ghost while he is in
conference with his mother, Hamlet immediately interprets as a
reproof to his tardiness, though it is observable that no fresh out-
burst of resolve follows upon it. It is clear that with increased
familiarity with the spectre he has himself fallen a prey to
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat.
Hamlet's next important act of introspection is prompted by the
expedition of Fortinbras
22
338 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
to gain a little patch of ground
That hath in it no profit but the name.
In this enterprise, undertaken, as he says, for the sake of a straw
or "an egg-shell" (so he terms ambition), he discerns a loud-
voiced reproof of his own tardiness.
How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep ? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That for a fantasy and trick of fame
Go to their graves like beds.
His unaccomplished purpose seems to ally him to reasonless
beasts. With characteristic indecisiveness he professes to be
ignorant whether the dulness of his projected revenge is caused
by too little or overmuch thought.
Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event ;
A thought which quarter'd hath but one part wisdom,
And ever three parts coward, I do not know
Why yet I live to say, "This thing's to do" ;
Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
To do't.
By these reflections he so bestirs his resolution that he deter-
mines :
0, from this time forth
My thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth !
though it must be added he afterwards displays no immediate de-
sire of prosecuting those murderous intentions beyond their
cogitative stage.
His partial voyage to England is only remarkable for our
purpose by showing how ready and fertile in resource a man like
Hamlet might be in the lesser contingencies of life, while stupefied
by any great critical emergency. The similarity of this character-
istic to corresponding qualities in the case of intellectual skeptics,
has already been noticed. No doubt the discovery which he
made on that occasion contributed in some degree to whet his
blunted purpose. There is a passionate eagerness for vengeance
Shakespeare s Hamlet. 339
manifested in his summary to Horatio of his uncle's many crimes.
He asks his friend
is't not perfect conscience
To quit him with this arm ? and is't not to be damn'd
To let this canker of our nature come
To further evil ?
a demand which, notwithstanding its fiery terms, still seems,
by its reference to perfect conscience and also by its appeal to
Horatio's opinion, to disclose a halting determination. He is,
however, fully conscious that no time is to be lost. His uncle
will soon learn the issue of his treacherous mission to England.
Though here again his infinitising aptitude extends the interval
to the totality of a human life
. . . the interim is mine,
And a man's life's no more than to say " one ".
But both the resolution and his sense of the velocity of time
appear to pass off. He relapses into his mood of indolent fatalism,
regards the object to be achieved as if it were only the work of
fate in which he himself was not immediately concerned. Even
his bitter indignation against his uncle seems to be mitigated, for
when he proceeds to his contest with Laertes there is even a re-
spectful deference conveyed by his reply to the king's question :
You know the wager ?
Very well, my lord ;
Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side.
Hamlet, it is evident, did not as yet intend to carry out his long-
delayed resolution.
The incidents of the combat and the final denouement of the
drama are quite in accord with Hamlet's character in the rest of
the play. He remains to the last undecided as to his great
purpose. His mother's death by drinking the poisoned goblet,
Laertes' dying confession of his uncle's treachery these are at
last the impelling causes that induced him to stab his uncle. But
it is clear they are purely accidental. The catastrophe would in
all probability have happened just as it did, had Claudius never
slain his brother, had the Ghost never appeared, and had Hamlet
never formed the resolution of avenging his father's murder. As
he himself designated it, the whole affair was but a " chance "an
34 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
event as devoid of any plan, plot or prearrangement as any fatality
could well be.
Not the least remarkable fact in this wonderful denouement of
Shakespeare's great skeptical drama is that Hamlet shows the
ruling passion strong even in death. His uncle has died by his
hand. So far, however accidentally, his great purpose has been
achieved. And yet, when with his dying eye he casts backward
a retrospective glance on the sudden event, he exhibits something
like compunction for being implicated, though only partially, in
such a tragedy. True, his uncle had plotted against his life in
three different ways. Unwittingly, he had slain his mother, and
in part caused the death of Laertes as well as himself. No less
than four murders lay at his door, yet Hamlet, with that rapid
conspectus of all conceivable contingencies which his habit of
generalisation had taught him, thinks that his assassination of
the murderer may need a kindly construction. He doubts what
survivors may say of it all, so he exhorts his friend to set his
character right with the world :
0, good Horatio, what a wounded name,
Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me,
words which throw a wonderful amount of reflected light on
the doubt and vacillation of his past life. Herein, however, we
have a signal proof of Shakespeare's dramatic skill. Hamlet re-
mains to his dying moment the skeptic in action he has ever
been. The consummation of the plot has been brought about by
a series of accidents, and entirely irrespective of his design or
volition, and he reflects on the issue with his accustomed vacilla-
tion and uncertainty. A feebler dramatist or one less profoundly
skilled in the mysteries of humanity would have connected the
denouement indissolubly with the original plot. He would have
made it the final link of an unbroken chain. But Shakespeare
was too well versed in the deeper love of human nature and the
subtle ties which bind its activities to the laws of the universe.
He had evidently as we have already seen in his other plays
studied profoundly the Hamletic type of intellect. He had
acquired his intimate knowledge of it, just as Goethe had learnt
Faust, from introspection. He was well aware that such dis-
positions were for the most part incorrigible that minds gifted
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 341
with many-sidedness, with keen sensibilities, with high imagina-
tive and ratiocinative powers were, as a rule, indisposed to follow
any straight path of conduct or to act when the action involved
large and important issues. He had also studied or intuitively
grasped the relation of such thinkers to their mundane environ-
ment. He knew that the complicated currents of the world do
not always accommodate themselves to their moody and uncertain
temperaments. On the contrary, events march onward with the
firm undeviating step of fate, and the contemplative thinker, not
caring to determine his purpose, finds it determined for him in
some haphazard and unexpected manner. Nor are similar
phenomena wanting in the allied case of intellectual skepticism.
The persistent searcher after absolute truth rarely finds the im-
perfect certitudes, which are the only ones in his power, of
precisely the kind he has anticipated. He speculates on his
premisses or his chain of sequences, and forecasts the final dis-
covery to which they seem to point, when, accidentally and
without his volition, the discovery is made in some unthought-of
manner the result, not of the chain of proof he has so painfully
elaborated, but of another, in the conception and formation of
which he has had not the least share.
It would seem, then, that the parallelism here attempted
between Hamlet, the skeptic in action, and those skeptics in
speculation that are dramatically represented by Faust, and
historically exemplified by such thinkers as Sokrates, Montaigne,
and Lessing, is as complete as we could reasonably have expected
it to be. The definite belief of the latter answers to the definitive
purpose of Hamlet. The dislike of one as well as the other is
prompted by correspondent motives and feelings. No doubt
practical skeptics are rare. The exigencies of the world are not
adapted to favour what Hamlet terms " thinking too precisely on
the event ". Men must act often in critical conjunctions by the
same iron law of necessity that compels them to live. Still some-
thing may, as I have already hinted, be urged on behalf of the
few Hamlets of humanity. 1. We must at least allow that great
actions or purposes, like great truths, are not always certainly
based. How far removed from infallibility were the grounds of
Hamlet's intended action we have already seen. His father's
murder, if an undoubted fact, cannot be said to be demonstrated
34 2 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
by any of the methods he employed for the purpose ; and his sus-
pended revenge was as justifiable in his case as the suspended
belief of a thinker like Lessing in truths incapable of absolute
proof. 2. We must concede, with whatever reluctance, that
there are minds so constituted as to be naturally impatient of
prescribed or coercive action, just as there are others who dislike
prescribed beliefs. A given course of conduct, however right, is
after all a fenced pathway permitting no deviation to right or
left. But it is precisely this limitation that is repugnant to way-
farers of the Hamlet type. They dislike the bounded view, the
impossibility of examining the landscape on either side. Besides >
a prescribed path of duty is, by its very name, defined by others ;
it absolves the traveller from any independent exercise of his own
choice or will ; it robs him of every opportunity for spontaneous-
ness, for self-determination, for leisurely reflection ; in a word,
for the unrestrained exercise of all those faculties in which
Hamletic thinkers find their very highest enjoyment. 3. Regarded
as decisive events, actions are final. Their performance implies
an exclusion of all further considerations of an effective kind, of
all discussion as to ways and means, times and opportunities.
Attentive students of Hamlet will readily see how anxiously he
debated every conceivable manner and befitting occasion of per-
forming his task. It is evident he found no small pleasure in this
perpetual survey of all the imaginable contingencies of the event,
a pleasure akin to the skeptic's endless pondering and equipoising
the divers aspects and conditions of any given truth. 4. Actions,
like definitive beliefs, are pregnant with large results. Hamlet
was evidently appalled by the stupendous effects which would
have followed his assassination of Claudius. To attempt to
justify such an event to his mother or the Danish nation on the
sole evidence of a supposed spectral appearance would have been
absurd. It would have been at once ascribed to his own ambition
an act of revenge on his uncle for anticipating his own accession
to the throne. That intellectual skeptics have been similarly
influenced by the supposed dire consequence of their reception of
some given dogma is well known.
Before leaving our consideration of this wonderful tragedy,
we may note the intellectual character of its other chief per-
sonages whom Shakespeare has intended to contrast with its
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 343
skeptical hero. Horatio, as the friend of Hamlet, shares hia
prominent qualities. He is also a thinker, an independent in-
vestigator of truth. He possesses a lively imagination, but keeps
it more under restraint than does Hamlet, as is readily seen in
the well-known churchyard scene. Something, too, he shares of
Hamlet's skepticism and his ready aptitude for generalisation.
His reply to Bernardo's question in the opening scene : " Is
Horatio there ? " i.e., " A piece of him," is quite Hamletic in the
ready dichotomy of his personality. We are reminded of Hamlet's
signature of his letter to Ophelia : " Thine while this machine is
to him ". Horatio's mode of merging the particular in some wide
generalisation is another aptitude of his friend. He says of the
appearance of the Ghost :
In what particular thought to work, I know not ;
But, in the gross and scope of my opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
Nor, again, is Claudius, who is ordinarily held to represent a
stern, pitiless determination, which is diametrically opposed to
Hamlet's sensitive conscience and his dreamy vacillation, devoid
of methods of thought which closely resemble his skepticism in
action. He comments, for example, on his marriage with Gertrude
in the antithetical manner which we have noted as a characteristic
of Hamlet :
In equal scale weighing delight and dole.
He admits his irresolution in presence of divergent duties :
And like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause when I shall first begin,
And both neglect.
He reasons on the impediments which follow human resolve in a
manner wholly indistinguishable from Hamlet's, excepting that he
makes (and the difference is noteworthy) the obstacles in such a
case external, whereas with Hamlet they are mostly internal :
That we would do
We should do when we would ; for this "would " change^
And hath abatements and delays as many
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents.
But it is Polonius who is Hamlet's real antagonist the super-
ficial, talkative, conceited dogmatist, who has not the least doubt
344 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
of his sagacity, his prudence, his transcendent wisdom. The
contrast as presented by Shakespeare is indeed instructive. While
Hamlet, the profound thinker, is perplexed by conflicting opinions,
by varied ratiocinations, this shallow prater does not even know
the meaning of uncertainty. Hamlet points to his head as a
" distracted globe ". Polonius is willing to pledge his head as a
proof of his infallibility. While Hamlet has always been the prey
of self-mistrust, Polonius can look back on a career of wise
insight into difficult conjunctions :
And I do think, or else this brain of mine
Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
As it hath used to do, that I have found
The very cause, etc.
Hamlet is inclined to question the existence of all truth. Polonius
declares that, given the circumstances, he would find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid, indeed,
Within the centre.
While Hamlet perpetually bemoans his ignorance and vacillation,
Polonius is persuaded that he was never guilty of erroneous
judgment :
Hath there been such a time, I'd fain know that,
When I have positively said, "Tis so,"
When it proved otherwise.
While Hamlet, like every true thinker, wishes to coin, stamp, and
test his knowledge in his own mint, Polonius is profuse with
scraps of borrowed wisdom, sententious maxims, and common
proverbs, cheaply acquired and as cheaply retailed. In a word,
while Hamlet has most of the qualities and merits of the compre-
hensive, much-meditating skeptic, Polonius has all the charac-
teristics, with most of the demerits, of the complacent self-satisfied
dogmatist. He thus takes his place, as observed in a previous
essay, with the antagonists of Prometheus, with the " comforters "
of -Job, with Wagner in " Faust," and with Justina in " El Magico
Prodigioso ". As far as dramatic consistency is concerned, it was
almost imperative that Hamlet should slay one who was more his
intellectual opponent than Claudius himself, though, as the father
of Ophelia, he could not do so otherwise than by mischance.
Shakespeare s Hamlet. 345
In conclusion, we must glance from the higher standpoint we
have now attained at Hamlet's relation to the other great dramas
of free-thought.
1. Like Prometheus and Job, he is at war with his sur-
roundings. He represents one aspect of the dissonance which
must inevitably emerge between the finite and the infinite.
He is the victim of a remorseless fate, which is none the less
harsh in that it assumes the form of imperious duty. No doubt
the Greek Titan and the Hebrew patriarch consider themselves
aggrieved primarily by their respective deities. Their quarrel is
for the most part with the theological dogmas and opinions of
their time. Hamlet, as we have seen, merges the idea of an over-
ruling Providence with the allied conception of an irreversible
fate, but with the government of the universe (signified alike by
" Zeus " and by " Fate ") he is, like Prometheus, at open feud. He
also resembles the great Titan in the fact that he represents,
though not always with equal resolution, justice against crime,
human right against arbitrary tyranny, truth against falsehood
and hypocrisy. He is further like him in that the motive of all
his effort, one main element of all his suffering, is his own dis-
interestedness, since it is clear that Hamlet was actuated in his
passion for revenge by filial affection for his excellent father, and
by a sense of the irreparable loss Denmark had sustained by his
untimely death. So far therefore his sufferings, like those of
Prometheus, are in their nature vicarious. That there are, how-
ever, points of contrast cannot be denied. The high estimate
which Prometheus had formed of humanity, its capability of
progress, etc., differs much from Hamlet's contempt for the men
of his time, though it is evident that his own relation to his fellow-
men had been so embittered by his misfortunes as to make him
incapable of pronouncing an impartial estimate on the .point.
2. The special affinity which Hamlet bears to Job is that he is
a vindicator of human rights against human falsities; he asserts the
claims of the individual consciousness against social proscriptions
and opinions. Like Job, Hamlet has been oppressed by the ruling
powers of the universe. He has been placed in a world with which
he is not in sympathy, and desires to be freed from an ungrateful
existence. In his human companions he can find no pleasure.
They are for the most part false and hypocritical. They obtrude
346 Five Great Skeptical Dramas,
on his sensitive feelings without reserve or pity their own anta-
gonistic judgments. They are anxious to reconcile him with
things as they are, to induce his submission to " the powers that
be ". Hamlet, like Job, refuses an unworthy compromise with
what he believes to be injustice, even though it may be seated on
a throne. In moody solitude, but with an invincible sense of
rectitude, he stands apart both from God and from men. He is
perpetually puzzled by world-problems and aspects of duty which
he cannot comprehend. Lastly, Hamlet both despises and refuses
confidence in the unconquerable fate which is his ordinary concep-
tion of deity ; treats it, in short, just as Job does the Hebrew Jahve.
3. Hamlet shares with Faust the irrepressible tendency to
infinitise. Just as Goethe's drama represents man in his earnest
struggle with the great problems of the universe, restlessly ex-
ploring every avenue to knowledge, and testing every pathway
that promises to lead to happiness, returning, however, from the
quest weary and dissatisfied, so Shakespeare's master character
investigates the minor universe of humanity and gathers from his
survey bitterness and unbelief. Faust represents the struggle
of the finite with the infinite in the domain of speculative and
intellectual research ; Hamlet represents the same struggle in
the arena of human life and social duty, for human conduct has,
no less than human belief, its infinite and eternal aspects. Faust
typifies freedom from tyrannical dogma and preconception, from
slavish literalism ; Hamlet, from social restraints and
hypocrisies, and from the coercion of duties imposed without due
warrant and authority. Faust longs for intellectual and scientific
truth ; Hamlet desires human and moral truth ; while both one and
the other partake alike of a despair of satisfying their sacra fames.
Faust dislikes the cramping and benumbing effects of false know-
ledge and pretentious dogma ; Hamlet directs his spleen against
social usages and opinions with their customary hollowness and
hypocrisy. Faust seeks eccentric paths of knowledge as a protest
against the ordinary methods of human science ; Hamlet affects
an " antic disposition " in order to proclaim in part his contempt
for the formal, strait-laced maxims of mere conventionality. The
analogy between them might be pursued a step further with the
effect of manifesting more contrast than similarity, viz., in com-
paring the catastrophes respectively of Gretchen and Ophelia.
Shakespeare s Hamlet. 347
In this particular the contrast is altogether in favour of our great
English dramatist. Ophelia is sacrificed, regretfully but
necessarily, to the exigencies of the drama. Hamlet's passion for
her comes into conflict with his prior and more important duty to
his father, his country and his age. He resigns her after a terrible
struggle on his own part, but with circumstances which to herself
more than justified such resignation. Partly in consequence of
that event, partly on account of her father's untimely death, she
becomes deranged and commits suicide. Gretchen, on the
contrary, is the innocent victim selected to illustrate the deep
tragical extent of Faust's sensuality, or of human passion in its
most inhuman character. Ophelia dies not only painlessly and
unconsciously but in unstained maiden purity, while poor
Gretchen adds to her own ruin and shame the murder of her child
and mother, and, indirectly, the assassination of her only brother.
4. With Cyprian, the hero of Calderon's " El Magico Pro-
digioso," Hamlet may be said to share (1) the procrastination
which delays as far as possible the decisive act in the one case,
the decisive belief in the other; and (2) the tragic catastrophe of
being themselves the victims of the course of events in which
they play a leading part.
The general outcome of Shakespeare's great drama is twofold.
1. It is a striking illustration of the remark so often found
in Shakespeare, that human passions, when great and over-
mastering, tend inevitably to consume themselves. They thus
share the fate of all human enterprises which can claim connec-
tion with the infinite, even with truth-search itself. This destiny
of theirs is, moreover, unaffected by the fact of their being
justified or not. The ardour of self-devotion, for example, may
consume itself as readily as the fervid impulse of hatred. That
Hamlet's purpose of vengeance was destined to be consummated
by some overwhelming tragedy which would prove fatal to him-
self is a foregone conclusion from the commencement of the drama.
The forces which he assailed were too mighty for him. Social
power, human laws, conventional usages, together constituted a
quasi-human infinite against which his own personal infinite was
incapable of successfully contending. And if for the moment he
overthrew his foes it was only, like another Samson, by sacrificing
himself in the effort.
348 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
2. Nor is it only as entertaining a deeply cherished passion
that Hamlet's fate was doomed to be tragical, but also as a man
who contemplated an act of supreme import. He was like a
general entering into conflict with an enemy possessing a force
greatly surpassing his own, or he might be likened to an
adventurous traveller bent on exploring an unknown and
dangerous country. Like so many other human heroes, he finds
the odds are against him, and it is to their superiority and
irresistible force that he is compelled to succumb. Thereby
Shakespeare might possibly have meant to teach us that human
acts, considered in all their bearings, conditions, circumstances and
results, are no less infinite than human passions or human con-
victions, while they evidently greatly excel these in importance.
Hence caution in the performance of any momentous act, or doubt
and hesitation as to its necessity, may be as justifiable as the
skepticism which fears to enounce a determined conclusion in an
indemonstrable matter. It seems doubtful, some might object,
whether Shakespeare regarded Hamlet's reluctance to act as a
virtue or as an infirmity. In my opinion he intended it to partake
of both characters ; it was a virtue somewhat in excess, and so
trenching on weakness. Undoubtedly, he intended Hamlet's
infirmity, so far as he deemed it such, to be considered as pardon-
able. No character in the whole Shakespearian gallery secures
more fully the sympathy and commiseration of hearers and
readers. We might go further and say that no play has ever
been so universally popular, not only among ordinary persons,
but among the cultured, thoughtful and intelligent. To what does
this general appreciation of " Hamlet " point unless to the tacit
conviction of mankind that as among the insoluble problems, the
complicated aspects and countless perplexities of the universe,
there is room for intellectual doubt; so, also, in view of the
practical difficulties, the conflicting duties, the varied entangle-
ments pertaining to human and social life, may there be found an
occasional justification for skepticism in action ?
"EL MAGICO PRODIGIOSO"
MOTTOES.
a C6mo un hombre te arguy6
Con razon, a que no sabes
Responderle con razon f
CALDERON, El Josef de las Mujeres, Jorn. I .
All the human products, whether of thought or action, given forth by
any creed or religious system will necessarily partake of the character of
such system, just as a child reproduces the weakness or robustness of its
parent. Hence the reasoned speculation or scientific inquiry educed by a
narrow, superstitious creed will, like the consumptive child of consumptive
parents, attest its parentage by its infirmity, even if it does not fully de-
monstrate it by premature death.
ANON.
Faith stands by itself and upon grounds of its own, nor can be removed
from them and placed on those of knowledge. Their grounds are so far
from being the same or having anything common, that when it is brought to
certainty faith is destroyed, it is knowledge then, and faith no longer. With
what assurance soever of believing, I assent to any article of faith, so that I
venture my all upon it, it is still but believing. Bring it to a certainty and
it ceases to be faith.
LOCKE, First Reply to Stillingfleet.
THE fifth of the dramas which we have classified as skeptical
comes to us from Spain, and bears indubitable marks of its origin.
As a drama of free-thought, having for its subject the perennial
conflict between doubt and faith, between human reason and
external authority, Calderon's " Wonder-working Magician " is by
far the feeblest production on our list. Still it is as powerful as
we have any reason to expect. Given the antecedents of Spanish
history long centuries of ecclesiasticism and despotism ; and the
chief characteristics of the Spanish temperament its blind
loyalty, its fervid and narrow piety ; and we might have
anticipated the mature out-growths of its chief dramatic produc-
tions. We might have expected some such expression of mistaken
religionism as Calderon's immoral "Devotion of the Cross," or
such an insufficient conception of doubt and belief as the same
author's " Wonder-working Magician ". In all other European
countries in which the human reason and intelligence have re-
calcitrated against the domination of dogma, the tendency has
been at once fostered and consecrated by means of its popularity.
The vox populi has pronounced, in unmistakable accents, in
favour of religious and civil liberty. Spain alone enjoys the
unenviable distinction of being the only country in the world,
making any pretension to civilisation, where despotic rule and
ecclesiastical tyranny have enjoyed the popular favour. Were
any proof of this needed, it might be found in the startling fact
that even that " foulest spawn of time," the Inquisition, with its
diabolical procedures and its holocausts of victims, was always a
popular institution in Spain; and probably to the ignorant
fanatics of rural Spain even at the present day an Auto da Fe
would not seem a greater anachronism than a bull-fight.
We need not attempt to investigate the manifold causes of
this strange phenomenon, or trace the horrible and benumbing
effects of Spanish intolerance on every department of its material,.
352 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
mental and artistic productiveness. 1 The task is moreover
needless, inasmuch as it has already occupied many worthy pens.
A brief glance will enable us to appreciate sufficiently the causes
why Spanish literature has no more thorough or effective drama
of free inquiry than the " Wonder-working Magician " of
Calderon.
It must not be supposed that the repugnance which Spain has
generally manifested to free culture belongs equally to the whole
of its history since it was first Christianised ; or that " the wild
spirits of superstition and excessive loyalty," as they are termed
by Buckle and Klein, 2 were indigenous to its earlier civilisation.
Taking as a test that form of literature in which Spain has pre-
eminently excelled, the dramatic, we find that its earliest products
were marked by some appreciation of freedom and independence
which were afterwards lost. The cause of this phenomenon is
seen in the twofold parentage which may be assigned to the
Spanish drama. 1. It was the issue of the interblending of
heathen feasts with the festivals of the Christian Church. 2.
And at a later period its further growth was partly determined
by the combination of heathen romances with the religious shows,
early mysteries, etc., of the Church. 3 That the preponderant
agency in both cases was religious rather than secular is shown
1 On the benumbing effect of Spanish Catholicism on Spanish art,
see, inter alia, Stirling's Velasquez and his Works, pp. 14-22.
2 Buckle, History of Civilisation, ii., p. 461; Klein, Geschichte, i., p. 70.
But a more analytical and profounder estimate of the Spanish character
is that given by M. Adolphe de Puibusque in his Histoire comparee des
Litteratures Espagnole et Frangais. " En France comme en Espagne, la
galanterie s'associait a Vhonneur et a la religion; ces trois mots r6unis
peuvent resumer 1'esprit du moyen ge. Plus ardent neaumoins que le
Fra^ais, 1'Espagnol laisse dej& d^border sur tous ses sentiments le feu
de la passion ; chez lui 1'hyperbole du langage est la mesure naturelle
de 1'exaltation de la pense ; devot pointilleux, romanesque, il exag&re
presque egalement les trois cultes auxquels il s'est-vou."
3 On the ecclesiastical origin of the Spanish drama, compare Von
Schack, Geschichte der Dram. Lit. und Kunst in Spanien, i., p. 34, etc.,
etc. F. Wolf, in his Studien zur Geschichte der Span, und Portugies.
Nationalliteratur, aptly discriminates the sacred and secular elements
in the Spanish drama by the terms "volksthumlich-komische" and
" kirchlich-tragische," see pp. 570, 571.
"El Magico Prodigioso" 353
by the after history of the Spanish drama. The religious and
sacerdotal elements that entered into its birth and growth domi-
nated over even when they did not entirely suppress the profaner
elements conjoined with them. Hence what is true of the drama
of every country in Europe is peculiarly true of the Spanish. Of
all it might be said that their origin is religious. Of the Spanish
alone it may be affirmed that not only its origin, but even more
its growth a-nd maturity, are ecclesiastical. Like all other depart-
ments of Spanish thought and art, it has no existence apart from
the Church. Klein in his great work finds the commencement of
the Spanish drama in the " Soliloquies " and " Conversations of
Vices and Virtues " of Isidore of Seville. 1 They may at least be
accepted as a landmark to distinguish the period when dialogue
and a dramatic presentation were first introduced into the religious
dumb shows already in use in the Church. Dramatic art was not
in itself greatly furthered by the incursion of the Arabs into
Spain in the eighth century, 2 though the proficiency of the invaders
in lyric poetry and music, and the germs of chivalry which they
introduced into a soil already well disposed for their reception,
indirectly contributed to foster the early growth and to mould
the later development of the Spanish drama. Other elements of
a free culture introduced by the Saracens consisted in their
generally progressive and enlightening influences. In commerce,
agriculture, art, science, they exercised a beneficial sway on the
land of their adoption, while their religious tolerance, in respect
of which they were infinitely more Christian than their Spanish
subjects, their stress on nature, etc., tended, within the circle of
their influence, to neutralise the excessive sacerdotalism which
had already taken possession of the Christianity of Spain. As a
set-off to these benefits, however, it may be feared that the bitter
animosities of rival races and religions operating for so many
centuries helped to engender the fanaticism and intolerance which
have always marked the Spanish character, and as a result the
national drama. The special dramatic product of this portion of
1 Geschichte, vol. i., p. 136.
2 Von Schack is almost alone in assigning to Arab culture a directly
fostering influence on the early Spanish drama. See Geschichte, etc.,
vol. i., p. 78. Compare on the other side Wolf, Studien, etc., pp. 674,
575.
23
354 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
the history of Spanish thought is the " Cid," which, in its diverse
forms and transformations, may be accepted as the barometer
which marks the growth of Spanish intolerance from the period
of its publication in the twelfth century up to the time of Cal-
deron. Originally a freedom-loving and rather republican hero, 1
the Cid partook of the religious development of his country, and
became transmuted into a most pious, austere, and narrow-minded
Christian knight. He is also the great national embodiment of
chivalry. In this respect the influence of the " Cid " and similar
productions was hardly salutary. Chivalry, excessive loyalty, a
punctilious and morbid sensitiveness on points of so-called honour,
have always been chief attributes of the Spanish character, and
consequently of the Spanish drama, but the operation of these
sentiments has been uniformly hurtful, at least in Spain, to
freedom of thought and enlightenment. For in addition to its
own stress on unworthy objects, as, e.g., pride of birth, or feudal
and anti-popular privileges, and on other advantages and duties
of a servile, narrowing, and mind-benumbing tendency, the
Church, with her usual astuteness, managed to concentrate no
small portion of the devotion of chivalry on her own dogmas.,
personages, and institutions, and permitted no chivalry towards
freedom and intelligence. As a result, there is no European
literature, dramatic and otherwise, that possesses so few indica-
tions of free-thought, so few evidences of anything like intellectual
independence, mental movement, or rational vitality, as that of
Spain. From the earliest romances of the Cid to the end of the
seventeenth century, there is no literary product that can claim
to be animated by a spirit of free inquiry, though Klein mentions
as a work of some enlightenment the " El Lucidario " of Sanchez
IV., which had for its subject the opposition between natural
science and theology. 2 Some few reformers and satirists in the
1 Prof. Dozy thus describes one of the transmutations undergone by
the Cid : " L'ancien Cid n'avait plus de raison d'etre; ses fiers sentiments
republicains convenaient bien peu au gout de 1'epoque ; les qualites qui
avaient fait de lui le heros cheri des chansons populaires s'effacerent, et
1'on oublia le Cid qui brava son roi, pour ne chanter que le tendre amant
de Chim^ne " (Dozy, quoted by Klein, Geschichte, i., p. 314, note). Compare
on the history of the Cid, Wolfs Studien, etc., p. 486.
2 Klein, Geschichte, etc., i., p. 487.
"El Magico Prodigioso" 355
fourteenth century subsequently set themselves against the
graver abuses of the clergy. They attacked their greed and
immorality, but did not dare to touch the doctrines on which the
clerical power was based, 1 and which justified to a certain extent
its abuses. There is no appeal from the Pope to Christ from
ecclesiastical creeds to the first principles of human reason and
humanity. In a word, while Spanish literature stands in the
foremost rank among those of civilised nations for imagination,
delicate sentiment, grace, refinement, tenderness and pathos, it is
absolutely devoid of intellectualism in the true sense of the term.
Spain has romancers, chroniclers, historians, dramatists, and poets
of the first order ; she has no original thinker or philosopher. She
has Cervantes, Lope de Vega, and Calderon, but no Descartes or
Bacon, Hume or Kant. Still less has she any example of that
rarest of rare unions, that amalgamation of poetry, dramatic art,
and profound philosophy seen in Dante, Shakespeare, and Goethe.
As religion administered the chief primary impulse to the
Spanish drama, so did it continue to sway its subsequent develop-
ment, and eventually gave the final form to its mature and most
characteristic productions. The Autos Sacramentales are by far
the most distinctive outcome not only of the Spanish, but of the
whole modern drama. At first the Auto and Farsa were two of
many species into which the Spanish dramatists divided their
works, but were afterwards employed exclusively to distinguish
religious representations. 2 Thus the birth or separate existence
1 Compare De Castro, Historia de los Protestantes Espanoles, p. 26,
where, comparing the invectives of Torres Nahavro against the Spanish
clergy with the Lutheran Reformation in Germany, he says : " El fraile
aleman solicitaba con la reformacion del clero de dal dogma; el religiose
EspaEol solo pedia la del estado eclesidstico ".
2 The distinction between the Auto and the Farsa is difficult to com-
prehend clearly, nor are writers on the Spanish drama at all agreed in
the matter. The Autos, as a rule, borrowed their subjects from holy
writ, while the Farsas were generally allegories with a spiritual meaning.
They have for this reason been compared respectively to the Mysteries
and Moralities, but the comparison, as Klein remarks, does not thoroughly
hold good. Compare Klein, Geschichte, ii., p. 121; and F. Wolf, Studien,
pp. 597-602. The English reader may be referred for some account of
the Autos Sacramentales to Abp. Trench's well-known Essay on the Life
and Genius of Calderon (chap, iii.), who, however, seems curiously blind
to the intellectual and ethical degradation which was the legitimate out-
come of the Spanish religious drama, and to Ticknor's History, vol. ii., p. 249.
356 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
of the Auto, which may be placed about the end of the fifteenth
or the beginning of the sixteenth century, 1 synchronises with
events full of disastrous consequences for Spanish free-thought,
or as much of it as may be said to have existed prior to the
expulsion of the Saracens. It marks the rage of the Church
against the secular drama. It signifies the establishment and
growth of the Inquisition. It denotes the exclusive possession
and perversion to its own interests of the stage by the Church.
Thus the history of dramatic development in Spain presents a
curious contrast to that which took place in all the other great
nations of Europe. In Italy, France, England, and Germany the
secular drama was the gradual outgrowth and issue of the re-
ligious, eventually transforming, absorbing, and annihilating its
parent form, and during the process subserving the best interests
of free-thought and enlightenment. In Spain we have a move-
ment of an opposite kind. There the religious drama swallowed
up the secular, and the process is found to be attended by a
deterioration of the dramatic art, and by the portentous increase
of ignorance, bigotry, and intellectual darkness. Klein has con-
vincingly shown how the growth and popularity of the Autos
Sacramentales are an infallible index to the increase of intoler-
ance, hatred of culture, and irreligion on the part of the Spanish
rulers and the Spanish people. 2 It is difficult to characterise, and
hence to appreciate, these eccentric specimens of the dramatic art.
Pedroso, an enthusiastic admirer of them, affirms that Spain, by
their possession, has become " a priestly kingdom and a holy
nation " (un reino sacerdotal y una nacion santa). The first
result may be allowed quantum valeat without conceding the
second in any large or praiseworthy signification of the term
1 By this is, of course, meant the definitive separation of the Auto in
its final and elaborated form from the ordinary religious drama of Spain.
The latter goes back to the fifth century, A.D. Compare Wolf, Studien,
p. 574.
2 Geschichte, vol. ii., p. 103. With his usual passionate vigour, Klein
thus describes the intellect-benumbing characteristics of the Spanish
Autos : " Das Auto Sacramental kennt keine andere Vernunft als die
freiwillig dem Glauben des Unbegreiflichen sich gefangengebende, d. h.
sich aufgebende Vernunft; keinen anderen Verstand als den sich
aufgebenden, d. h. an sich verzweifelnden Verstand ; die absolute
Unvernunft, also den absoluten Unverstand " (ibid., p. 450).
"El Magico Prodigioso" 357
" holy "- 1 He, moreover, defines them as " a mixture of merri-
ment and asceticism " (mezela, de jovialidad y ascetismo').
Perhaps the semi-religious usages to which they bear most resem-
blance are the festas and religious holidays now celebrated in
certain rural districts of South Italy, or the strange admixture of
Lent and Carnival which is said to characterise occasionally the
Scotch sacramental fasts. But in truth it requires not only the
religious training of a Spanish devotee, but that of a bygone era,
to enter with any fulness into the peculiarities of the Sacramental
Autos, but we can readily see and this is our sole concern with
them their disastrous influence in rendering impossible any
healthy growth in culture, liberty of thought, and intelligence, or
even in genuine religion itself. The Auto, and the religious drama
generally, was in point of fact the most powerful and popular
teacher of papal dogma to the Spain of the thirteenth and four
following centuries. It was a religious creed promulgated for
the first time in the history of humanity by means of theatrical
representations. It was set forth by the highest authorities, civil
and ecclesiastical, before a people pre-eminently impressionable of
histrionic exhibitions and sacerdotal pageantry. Its teachings
were further enforced by the dread and secret tribunal of the
Inquisition. Besides which the creed of the Autos, for so might
the popular belief of Spain from the fifteenth to the eighteenth
century be designated, embraced the whole circle of Romanist
dogma, and therefore the whole compass of infallible truth. It
left absolutely no scope for research or inquiry, no ground or
justification for mental independence, no room for the exercise of
the reason or intellect. It transformed men into the most abject
of slaves, political and religious, and changed the religion of
Christ into a horrible mixture of superstition and fanaticism,
impiety and blasphemy, terrorism and cruelty. We can perceive
1 Compare Klein, ii., p. 431. After quoting this remark of Pedroso,
Klein adds: "Als ob solche Beimischung von Phantastisch-absurden
Gebrau nicht den erbaulichsten Inhalt falschen, ja in Gift verwandeln,
miisste ! Als ob die Heiligkeit des Lehrbegriffs nicht eben durch solchen
hirnverbrannten Beischlag befleckt und entweiht wiirde ! Als ob die
Verblendung Verwirrung und Zerriittung des gemeinen Volksverstandes
durch solches Gaukelwesen des baarsten Unsinns Licht uber ein Dogmen-
mysterium verbreiten konnte!" See, on the character of the Autos,
Ticknor, ii., 358-365.
358 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
after studying the Autos one main reason of the utter prostration
of the Spanish intellect which is for many centuries the dis-
tinguishing mark of the national character. We can appre-
ciate the immoral training of which such dramas as Lope de
Vega's " San Nicolas de Tolentino " and Calderon's " La Devocion
de la Cruz " are the execrable fruits. We can discern the cause
of the intellectual feebleness of Calderon's " El Magico Prodigioso "
and of the non-existence in Spanish literature of any work bear-
ing on the dangerous topic of free-thought.
No doubt there is a standpoint from which the religious
drama of Spain may present a glorious and magnificent splendour.
Conceive Romanism as the only true embodiment of Christianity ;
ignore the first simple significance of the life and work of Christ ;
shut out of sight the primary needs and instincts of mankind ;
leave out of consideration such watchwords as reason, intellect,
freedom, conscience ; take no thought of the profound, unfathom-
able mysteries that underlie existence ; overlook the moral and
political degradation of Spain; forget the butcheries of an
Alva and the cells of the Inquisition, with their thousands of
tortured wretches, and, on the other hand, give full scope to a
sensual devoteeism, to a meretricious ritual, to a gaudy ceremonial,
invested, however, with the seductive glamour of popular enthu-
siasm, and we might have no insuperable difficulty in inducing
something like a warm admiration for the Auto pageant. But
regarded from the point of view of Christianity and genuine pro-
gress, and from the conviction that there are objects in the lives
of individuals and of a nation compared with which the sublimest
poetry, the most splendid presentation of ritual, are of infinitesi-
mally small importance, and it seems impossible to view the
tendencies and outcome of the Spanish religious drama with any
other feelings than those of reprobation. As Klein and others
have pointed out, the Autos of Lope de Vega and of Calderon
grew into importance pari passu with the increase of despotism
and intolerance on the part of Spanish rulers, and of bigotry
and obscurantism on the part of the Spanish nation. Hence,
whatever might be the splendour of the pageant, or the
truth of the dogma-germ whose excessive development it was
intended to express, or the sublimity of the poetry employed for
such expression, to the philosophic thinker the display was only
"El Magic o Prodigioso" 359
like the music of the battlefield, employed to hide the groans of
the wounded and dying, or the adornment with gay festoons of
flowers and wreaths of evergreen of a ghastly and livid corpse.
Some Protestant admirers of the religious drama of Spain,
especially of its highest product, the Autos of Calderon, appear
to have forgotten the significant fact that the legitimate outcome
of the Auto Sacramentale was the Auto da Fe, sometimes indeed
its actual attendant ; and that the mistaken superstitious devo-
tion kindled by the former found its own appropriate and
fanatical outlet in the horrible cruelty of the latter. We must
therefore conclude, taking as the basis of our estimate such things
as national prosperity, religious freedom, intellectual vigour and
independence, and genuine Christianity, that the effects of the
religious drama of Spain were altogether mischievous. Among
the more striking of the evils which followed in its wake might
be enumerated these: 1. It was a powerful ally to an omni-
potent, unscrupulous, and persecuting ecclesiasticism. 2. It tended
to invest immoral or superstitious dogmas with a fictitious glamour
of poetic idealism and imaginative beauty. 3. By making religion
consist only of externality and ritual usage it helped to widen
and perpetuate the existing divorce between morality and re-
ligion. 1 4. By the buffoonery, indecency, and blasphemy which
accompanied the Auto shows, it imported irreverence into solemn
religious acts, and continued the grossness of which the old secular
drama had been justly accused. 2 5. By ministering to the popular
passion for religious pageants it helped to divert the attention of
the Spanish people from their political and religious servitude.
The Autos thus served the same purpose as the gladiatorial shows
subsidised by Julius Caesar, or, as the foreign wars of certain
European despots, they performed the degrading function of dis-
guising from the nation its own increasing degeneracy and its
abjectly servile condition.
But how great soever the extent of these mischiefs, now of
many centuries' duration (for the earliest Autos date from the
twelfth century), it is clear that the labours of Calderon added to
them. In part this was the result of his superiority. His Autos
1 Compare on this point Ticknor, ii., p. 263.
2 Ticknor, ut supra, p. 250.
360 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
were much more elaborate and finished productions than those of
Lope de Vega and his other predecessors. They made accordingly
far greater demands on the royal purse. In point both of scenic
ingenuity and cost they might be compared to Ben Jonson's
Masques. But this only added to their influence, and to what-
ever consequences that influence was likely to entail. The
pageantry which attended them, being more magnificent, was for
that reason more attractive to the spectators. Moreover, Calderon's
poetry had an inexpressible charm for ears attuned to its rhythm
and for hearts accustomed to respond to its awakening influence.
It scaled heights of idealism and sounded depths of mysticism
which no prior Auto writer had attempted, and in this par-
ticular was altogether in harmony with the highest Spanish
religious culture. It was generally recognised as superior to all
other dramatic poetry in respect of imagination and versatility,
grace and delicacy, tenderness and pathos, and for this reason
exercised a more widely diffused sway. But of all his poetry
that which stands highest in all these characteristics is that of
the Autos. 1 The tone of these compositions is also increasingly
dogmatic and ecclesiastical, as might indeed have been expected
from their subjects. This dogma-growth may, moreover, be
extended to the whole Auto literature of Spain, for whether insti-
gated by the feeble echoes which were all the hearing Spain was
privileged to enjoy of the Reformation, or whether animated by
the national spirits of intolerance and exclusiveness, of which the
Inquisition itself was only a symptom, it is certain that the
religious drama seems to increase in dogmatic insistence and per-
secuting zeal throughout the fifteenth and the next two centuries.
The highest point of this dogmatic evolution is attained by
Calderon, whom Klein calls " der grosse Dogmatiker der spanis-
chen Comedia ". 2 So fanatical are his sentiments on the authority
of the Church, so completely does he identify dissent from it with
1 It will be remembered that in his old age Calderon " declared " to
be judged only by his Autos, and professed indifference to his secular
comedies. Compare Keil's art. "Calderon " in Ersch und Gruber, Sec. i.,
xiv ; Bouterwek's Geschichte d. Poesie, vol. iii., 503. Calderon's own
testimony on the subject may be found in La Huerta's Theatro Hespanol,
part ii., torn. iii.
2 Geschichte, etc., ii., p. 291.
"El Magico Prodigioso" 361
the grossest forms of criminality, so thoroughly in accord is he
with the ferocious intolerance of his nation, that other writers
have bestowed on him the ignominious title of " the poet of the
Inquisition ". 1 A greater indignity than that conferred by such
designation is inconceivable, but it is fully merited. Instead of
employing his brilliant genius, his rare poetic powers, in the
service of progress, enlightenment, and general human utility, or,
where the evil propensities of his countrymen were concerned, for
purposes of moderation and restraint, Calderon enhances and
intensifies the worst characteristics, the most degrading vices of
his nation. Spain had long been passionately dogmatic ; Cal-
deron's labours left her more so. To her eternal reprobation, she
had long since pushed religious intolerance to an extreme of
cruelty which the world had never before seen. Calderon's
dramas added fuel to this infernal fire of fanaticism. Spanish
religionism had long been the opprobrium of the rest of Europe ;
Calderon's representation of it justified and increased its ill-fame.
Whether consciously or not, he prostituted his rare gifts, his
versatile imagination, his poetic art, in order to invest with a
fictitious glow of beauty the most detestable principles and rules
of conduct that had ever disgraced humanity. How little scope
he was inclined to give to free-thought, the exercise of reason or
independent judgment, is apparent in every page of his works.
The duty of unquestioning faith and obedience followed, in his
judgment, as a corollary from the supreme sovereignty of the
Church. No virtue or excellence was possible but those begotten
of ecclesiasticism ; no expressed truth was admissible excepting
that on which the Church had placed its imprimatur ; no tacit
opinion ever was justifiable except such as had already obtained
her sanction. Uninquiring faith thereby became the highest
virtue of the Christian character, abject submissiveness the chief
merit of the Christian life. The extent to which Calderon carries
this fanaticism can only be adequately appreciated by those who
have studied with some amount of closeness his works. Some-
times he employs for the defence of the faith the most grotesquely
mediaeval and scholastic ratiocination. In his exuberant zeal he
1 Compare the authorities collected by Buckle, History of Civilisation,
vol. ii., p. 481.
362 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
not unfrequently goes even beyond the standpoint of the Church
itself. Thus, in the Auto " Los Encantos de la Culpa," the senses
are convicted of falsehood because they refuse to bear witness to
the dogma of Transubstantiation, the poet disregarding the fact
that the change, as described by the Church, was^ not held to
extend beyond the invisible essence of the bread, the sensible
qualities being left altogether intact. 1 The passage is further
interesting as indicating Calderon's solution of the discrepancy
between the testimony of the senses and the declarations of the
Church. This is how " Hearing " justifies its preference for
dogma as being superior to its own deliverance. Speaking of the
sound of the broken bread, it says :
Aungue la fraccion se escucha
Euido de Pan, cosa es clara
Que en fe de la Penitencia
A quien digo que la llaman
Carne, por Came la creo
Pues que ella lo diga basta ;
an easy method, which Calderon has no difficulty in extending to
all conceivable antagonisms to ecclesiasticism, for example, those
arising from reason, experience, scripture, etc. He also transcends
the ordinary standpoint of Romanism when he makes purely
intellectual faculties, such as the understanding, the mere minis-
ters of dogma, thereby ignoring, or at least diminishing, the
perennial antagonism of faith and reason ; or again, when he
imputes an immoral or even criminal taint to the minutest devia-
tion from Romanist belief. In this excessive religionism the
Autos of Calderon are far in advance of his other dramas. They
represent his fervid imagination taken at the point of its greatest
heat, and its products deliberately cooled down into dogmas.
They portray his most airy and fantastical rhetoric transmuted
into logic. It is needless to point out the effect of such a method
and such a creed upon questions of truth, knowledge, inquiry,
reason, and morality. The domain of truth and conduct was
identical with the limits of the Church, or even with the ideal
amplitude he gave to these by means of his powerful imagination.
1 It is true this argument is put forward by " Culpa " Sui, but its
validity is clearly sanctioned by Sui's opponents. Compare the drama,
Fitzgerald's edition, pp. 200, 201.
"El Magico Prodigioso" 363
To question a dogma, even for mere purposes of criticism, consti-
tuted a deadly crime for which no punishment was deemed too
severe ; and, conversely, the performance of ritual, however
mechanical, was held to outweigh any amount of ethical turpitude.
A striking example of Calderon's fanaticism and of the debasing
effects of Spanish Romanism when carried to its legitimate con-
sequences is afforded by his well-known play, " La Devocion de
la Cruz ". The subject of this, the most irreligious and immoral
drama that was ever composed, is thus succinctly and impartially
described by Mr. Ticknor, whom we prefer to quote on the ques-
tion, inasmuch as no language of ours would adequately convey
the repulsiveness the horrible moral nausea which the play
invariably excites in us. " It is founded on the adventures of a
man who, though his life is a tissue of gross and atrocious crimes,
is yet made an object of the especial favour of God because he
shows a uniform external reverence for whatever has the form of
a cross ; and who dying in a drunken brawl as a robber is yet,
in consequence of this devotion to the cross, miraculously restored
to life that he may confess his sins, be absolved, and then be
transported directly to heaven." x Nor is this religious fanaticism
this unqualified antinomianism this apotheosis of immorality
the sole instance of Calderon's excess (for here, it must be
remembered, we have not only the speculative exaggeration of
the Romanist standpoint attained by the passion and glow of
religious imagination, but a most pernicious, albeit not unique,
perversion of its most authoritative teachings), but his exuberant
sentiment contrives to discharge itself in other ill-considered
directions. His loyalty is just as extreme, and almost just as
mischievous, as his excessive religionism. Although the rulers of
Spain with whom he was acquainted were not only human, but
unmistakably and even degradingly so, yet all Calderon's kings
are superhuman. They are represented as free from the laws and
restrictions which bind ordinary men. 2 The power inherent in
1 Ticknor adds : " The whole seems to be absolutely an invention of
Calderon, and from the fervent poetical turn of its devotional passages
it has always been a favourite in Spain, and, what is yet more remark-
able, has found ardent admirers in Protestant Christendom " (vol. ii., p.
369).
2 Compare von Schack, Geschichte, iii., p. 148.
364 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
their office is regarded as absolute and unlimited, excepting in the
case of Christian kings by that of the Church. Their right
to the obedience as to the lives and property of their subjects
is equally indefeasible and unbounded. Never has the poet's
sarcasm
The right divine of kings to govern wrong
been so deliberately and persistently affirmed as by the great
court poet of Spain. A similar intensification of the worst
passions and prejudices of his countrymen is also manifested in
his treatment of the Spanish code of honour, and his exaggeration
of the senseless and unchristian punctiliousness that took cogni-
sance of minute and even imaginary infringements of that code. 1
Thus his works may justly be charged with adding fuel to the
insane jealousies, the petty and undignified susceptibilities, the
unworthy animosities, the ceaseless feuds, which occupy so large
a place both in the history of Spain and in the private records of
its principal families. 2 Other unworthy concessions to the puerile
vanities and mischievous prepossessions of Spaniards might easily
be enumerated. Our object, however, is not a general estimate
of Calderon's genius and his works, as much as the influence they
were calculated to exercise on free-thought, and as serving to
explain the merits and defects of " El Magico Prodigioso ". His
genius, considered in itself and apart from all questions of re-
ligion, morality, national progress, and human utility, no candid
critic would for a moment dream of denying. In the realm of
pure religious imagination he reigns supreme, not only among
the poets of his own country, but also among the poets of all
countries and times, excepting a few of the very first order. In
versatile fancy, artistic contrivance, emotional tenderness, he is
second to none. His greatest want, as we have already remarked,
is intellectuality. His compositions are well formed, but they
are wholly destitute of bone, muscle, and fibre. They contain
little that is calculated to appeal to men as reasoning, progressive,
and enlightened beings. The poet rarely rises above the vitiated
atmosphere, the perverted ideals, of convents and nunneries. His
works really belong to those distant ages which are designated
with equal truth as " dark " and as " full of faith ". No doubt
1 Von Schack, loc. cit., pp. 149, 150. 2 Compare Ticknor, ii., p. 402.
" El Magico Prodigioso" 365
Calderon represents with the greatest possible fidelity his country
and his times. What Spain was in the seventeenth century and
under the dominion of the house of Austria may be seen with the
greatest vividness and truth of detail in his works. His men and
women are precisely those that thronged the streets of Madrid,
that frequented the courts of the third and fourth Philips. This
meed of praise must be fully awarded him ; and if a dramatist's
sole function is to represent faithfully the times, persons, and
manners among whom and which he lives, then unquestionably
Calderon must be held to occupy a very high position ; but if a
dramatist is regarded in a higher light, 1 if he is essentially the
teacher of his age, if the test of his labours consists in their
capacity to elevate, enlighten, and strengthen those who come
under their influence, if he is indissolubly associated with the
true intellectual and spiritual progress of his country, then
Calderon cannot be held to occupy a high position, for his re-
ligion is either sentimental, superstitious, or immoral ; his morality
is weak, emasculate, and unchristian ; his social and political
philosophy vicious and contemptible.
That his general attitude to free-thought was one of intense
hostility need not be reasserted. In point of fact we may doubt
whether the baleful abstraction ever came within the limits of his
earnest thought. If it did, it was as much out of the scope of his
smallest sympathy as a heretic in the Church or a rebel in the
1 This, it may be remarked, is the standpoint whence Klein in his
Geschichte regards Calderon, and which supplies the key to his virulent
and sometimes unjustifiable hostility to everything pertaining to the
great dramatist. Archbishop Trench, who takes the lower ground of
estimating Calderon solely on his own merits as a poet and dramatist,
and apart from the influence he was calculated to exercise on the welfare
of his country, has thought fit to stigmatise Klein's criticism in these
terms : " His book is penetrated with the wildest, most fanatical hatred
of this poet, his art, his morality, his religion, so wild that it reads often
like the work of a madman " (Essay on Genius, etc., of Calderon, p. 75).
But the archbishop has clearly failed to see, or else to appreciate Klein's
position. If we imagine some Carlyle (with whom, in mental
idiosyncrasy and style, Klein has considerable affinity) contemplating
the benighted, priest-ridden condition of Spain for so many centuries,
and, with fiery indignation, tracing those loathsome products to their
source, we should find no difficulty in explaining or justifying his ethical
exasperation.
366 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
state. And yet, by the mere combined influences of imagination
and emotional profundity, we find that occasionally his humanity
gets the better for the time of his sacerdotalism and religious
bigotry. Thus in a few of his comedies he represents the Moors
with much sympathetic feeling. In " La Vida es Sueno " (Sigis-
mund's Soliloquy, act i., scene 2), he describes with genuine
enthusiasm and in a strain of the loftiest poetry the natural
rights of man to freedom. In his " La Aurora en Copacabana "
he allows that a certain amount of dim religious feeling and
aspiration is traceable in the sun-worship of the Peruvians.
Sometimes, too, he enlists the sympathies of his audience for
characters such as Eugenice in " El Josef de las Mujeres," of
more or less questionable orthodoxy, and commends the high
morality of the ancient Greeks and Romans. A still more decisive
example of the same unwonted generosity is his glorification
of freedom in the noble character of the Alcalde (Mayor) of
Talamca, though Klein attributes this concession to free-thought
to Lope de Vega, from whom Calderon borrowed the character. 1
But much stress cannot be placed on these occasional and tran-
sitory modifications of his usual intolerant and sacerdotal stand-
point. They seem the effects of a sudden wayward access of
human sympathy or the chance workings of a tender and wide-
reaching imagination rather than the decisions of reason and
deliberate conviction.
Passing on now to the " Wonder-working Magician," we find
its character to be precisely that which our summary investiga-
tion of the religious drama of Spain would have led us to expect.
It also manifests the distinctive qualities of Spain's greatest
dramatist. It reveals in a striking manner Calderon's -wealth and
versatility of imagination. It shows us his luxuriant power of
invention. It manifests his profound depth of sentiment, especially
in connection with religion and ecclesiasticism. It proves his
possession of that power, for which Goethe especially commended
him, of dramatic contrivance the adaptation to one main end of
all the incidents and subordinate parts of the drama. It demon-
1 Klein, after ranking this among the highest examples of Spanish
dramatic art, adds : " dessen Grundmotiv, blitzend von kiihner Geistes-
freiheit, der feudalhofische Dichter Calderon dem Genie des Lope
entlehnte " (Geschichte, i., p. 313); so also Ticknor, ii., p. 236.
"El Magito Prodigioso" 367
strates his mastery over the Spanish language the noble Castilian
tongue whose numberless beauties and capacities he has con-
tributed more than any other writer to disclose. But with all
these artistic and dramatic merits, there is an evident lack of
intellectual power, a deficiency in the full and thorough conception
of his subject. Setting out with the intention of painting the
spirit that denies and doubts, Calderon has only succeeded in
limning a feeble and ineffective caricature of it. His theme is that
of philosophy and free-thought, his treatment of it such as might
become a Romanist divine to whom freedom of any kind bears a
perilous resemblance to the dreaded bugbear of heterodoxy. He
essays to paint a great historical, at least powerful, subject with
only half-tints on his palette, and his brush wielded by a timid
and wavering hand. Excuses in abundance and possessing no
small force might no doubt be alleged for him, and their validity
we have already allowed. It is only great writers that rise above
the level of their surroundings, and Calderon in this sense was
not great. He has nothing of that Promethean fire, that glorious
eccentricity, that soars above contemporaries and their works, and
thinks in advance of his time. He merely represents, though with
marvellous fidelity, his own environment. He is a looking-glass,
not a telescope. His ideals are confined by the emasculate and
tardy speculation of Spain in the seventeenth century, not by the
conceivable or probable thought of advanced Europeans in the
twentieth century. Hence, compared with the Prometheus of
Aeschylus, the Job of the Hebrew Scriptures, the Faust of
Goethe, the conception of Calderon takes a very inferior place.
It has nothing of the sublimity, the moral grandeur, and the mag-
nificent self-assertion which elevate the opposition of Prometheus
to Zeus, and of Job to Jahve, to a religious and ethical duty. It
has nothing of the profound restlessness, the searching investigation
after truth, the defiant spirit of a Faust. We become conscious
on reading it how inferior an arena for the exercise of the highest
human faculties was supplied by Spanish Romanism compared
with the old Hellenic mythology, within which moved the thought
and fancy of Aeschylus, or the primitive cult which afforded
aliment to the intellect of Job, not to mention the free Pro-
testantism which lives in the pages of Goethe's " Faust ". We
are also made aware of the enfeebling, one-sided culture which
368 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
must inevitably result from every system of excessive sacerdotal-
ism. Within his own province of narrow ecclesiasticism, Calderon
is supreme and unapproachable. Religion supplies the framework
and the nurture of his imagination. Religion constitutes the
warp and woof of his morality. He has no other standard for
estimating historical events, political movements, or any other
among the multifarious elements of human and mundane interests.
His universe is the interior of some Gothic cathedral, lofty and
imposing, but withal dim and artificial. It is not Nature's
diversified expanse of land and sea, broad plains and narrow
ravines, rocks and woods, grassy meads and glowing streams. It
may be granted that his imagination thrives on its ecclesiastical
diet. This is at once seen by those who compare the Autos of
his later days with the comedies that for the most part preceded
them. But this upwardness is attained at the cost of breadth and
vigour, like the exceptional growth of some young people who
attain a lofty stature at the expense of shapeliness and robust-
ness. Compared with Goethe and Shakespeare, Calderon is like
a poplar, tall, graceful, and slender, shooting its pointed spire to
heaven, and looking down from this sublime elevation with
haughty and austere glance on things of earth ; while his poetical
brethren resemble the full-grown flourishing oak, with its massive
and gnarled trunk, its branches extending far in every direction,
exposing much surface of greenery heavenward, but at the same
time benignantly shading the landscape it adorns. If it be con-
tended that each has its own special beauty, that each follows its
nature-implanted tendency, this may be allowed, but there can be
little comparison between them in point of strength, majesty, and
genuine utility to mankind.
The plot of " El Magico Prodigioso " resembles that of the
book of Job and the " Faust " of Goethe. It consists in the
efforts of the evil one to pervert a young scholar who is dis-
satisfied with paganism and is tempted to embrace Christianity.
The story in its main features is taken from early Christian
legends, 1 and its events are represented as having taken place in
1 On the sources of the legend compare von Schack, ii., 119, note 41 ;
Klein, iv., part ii., p. 404, note 1 ; and see especially M. Morel-Fatio's
edition of " El Magico Prodigioso," Intro., p. xxviii., etc. This author points
out that there are three different versions or stages of the legend. That
"El Magic o Prodigioso" 369
the time of the Emperor Decius. It presents Christianity in its
primary conflict with heathendom, though it is far from proving
that Calderon had a profound or critical sense of the antagonism.
Indeed, it is noteworthy that while Calderon, the poet, has brought
before him the relation of Papal Christianity to Judaism,
Mahometanism, and Protestantism, all of them being forces
operating more or less vigorously around him, he seeks his type
of anti-Christianity in the extinct Paganism of the later Roman
Empire. Few facts reveal more clearly his defective intellectual-
ism and his mental aloofness from the deeper problems relating
to Christianity. His sole conception of free-thought and of the
adverse influences that assailed the Church was fifteen centuries
old, for it is not only in " El Magico Prodigioso " that we find
this representation of anti-Christianity ; we have the same con-
trast of Pagan and Christian beliefs in others of his dramas, and
especially in " El Josef de las Mujeres ". That the position of
Christianity and its Papal development had become changed by
history and by the onward march of events was a thought that
never seems to have occurred to him. That free speculation
might in the seventeenth century have a larger scope and a more
important role than in the third was an idea foreign to his mind.
That doubt, suspense, inquiry of a much profounder kind than
that of his hero were operative and effective influences in his
own time was a truth which, if it occurred to him, exercised no
real power over himself or his works. Incidentally, he seems to
admit that mental growth might induce changes in human belief,
that increase of knowledge might result in increase of doubt ; he
is at least aware of that as a mental condition of restless thinkers.
which Calderon seems to have followed is that of Simeon Metaphrastus,
which pertains to the tenth century, but which was translated into Latin
in the sixteenth century, by Lipomanus, Bishop of Verona. The chief
points of contact between the old legend and Calderon's play are thus
given in this Latin version : "Cyprianus quidem versabatur Antiochise
quo tempore Imperii sceptra tenebat Decius . . . parentes autem
genere clari et divites; dabat vero operam philosophise et arti magicse.
Cum in eas ab incunte aetate studium posuisset, ad summum pervenit
utriusque, cum simul et diligentiam et acutissimum attulisset ingenium
insignem quoque Antiochiam voluit habere testem suae
sapientiae, et in raagicis rebus eruditionis, forsan fore quoque exspectans,
ut ibi aliquid disceret quod non ad hoc usque tempus didicerat."
24
370 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Similarly, in his " La Estatua de Promoteo " he appears to imply
that discord may follow human reason as an unavoidable conse-
quent, but these admissions are no more than the commonplaces
of a theologian who regards uninquiring credulity as a cure for
all mental ailments. Certainly there is nothing in his writings to
warrant the supposition that he regarded inquiry and suspense
as in any case justifiable conditions of the human intellect; for
when he treats of dissent from Romanism, under the names of
heresy, doubt, etc., in his Autos, it is always regarded from the
Inquisition standpoint of a deadly crime, placed on an equality
with extreme forms of vice, and evidently considered as a wilful
and malignant perversity deserving extremest punishment. 1
In respect, then, of scope and profundity Calderon's skeptic
is far inferior even to Job, while he is removed by an immeasur-
able interval from the creation of Goethe. He is discovered in
the opening scene seated in a romantic wood in the neighbour-
hood of Antioch, and surrounded by books. Contrasted with the
student's cell of Faust, with its Gothic architecture, its stone-
arched roof, narrow windows, and gloomy interior, the difference
of locality seems typical of corresponding distinctions in the
general intellectual reach and depth of research on the part of
the two students. Cyprian's doubts are hardly more than the
artificial darkness of some bosky thicket, or the transient obscura-
1 The drama of all others which illustrates the position of doubt or
mistrust in relation to the depraved religionism of Spain is Tirso de
Molina's " El Condenado por desconfiado," a work which von Schack
pronounces the most important among all the religious plays of Spain,
and says that it bears impressed upon it in flaming characters the
monstrous, and by us scarcely comprehensible, spirit of the religionism
of that period. Compare his analysis of the play, Geschichle, etc., ii.,
602-604. The plot is thus summarised by Ticknor, vol. ii., p. 369, note
49, who compares it with the " Devocion de la Cruz," which "it pre-
ceded in time and, perhaps, surpasses in poetical merit ". He says " It
represents a reverend hermit, Paulo, as losing the favour of God simply
from want of trust in it ; while Enrico, a robber and assassin, obtains
that favour by an exercise of faith and trust at the last moment of a
life which had been filled with the most revolting crimes ". A more
diabolical perversion of all that is noble and holy in religion it would be
utterly impossible to conceive. An Atheism which inculcated moral
duties would be infinitely preferable to a theology based on such horrible
principles.
"El Magic o Prodigioso" 371
tions of the sun by passing clouds. Faust's are penetrating and
profound, piercing far down into the elemental darkness and
chaos on which existence is based. Cyprian, who is attended,
after the manner of the students of Salamanca, by two famuli
or servitors, 1 the graciosi or buffoons of the play, explains his
object in coming to this spot for study. The citizens of the
neighbouring town of Antioch have just completed a temple to
Jupiter, and have appointed this day for its dedication and the
festivities customarily attending such an event. Animated by
the student's love of solitude, Cyprian seeks a retirement from the
bustle and confusion of such a scene. He therefore takes his
books and determines to spend the day in the green seclusion of
a wood, while his two servants are eagerly preparing to join the
festivities in Antioch. As we have already observed, Cyprian is
a heathen, with the ideas and culture of an intelligent Roman
about the middle of the third century A.D. Professedly he is a
believer in Jupiter, though it is probable that in making him
prefer a speculative inquiry into the nature of the gods to an
unquestioning participation in their feasts Calderon intended to
insinuate that doubt in respect to the being and attributes of God
had already taken possession of his mind. After Cyprian has
announced his intention of spending the festival day in study, his
two attendants engage in some quasi-humorous altercation which
calls forth their master's rebuke. He ascribes their confidence in
hostile discussion to their ignorance :
i Que siempre los dos
Habeis con vuestra ygnorancia
De estar porfiando y tornando
Uno de otro la contraria !
One incident of their antagonism, and that on which the humour
of the play often forced and misplaced is made to hinge, con-
sists in their being both enamoured of Livia, the servant of
Justicia, the heroine of the drama.
When his servants have started on their holiday Cyprian
opens his books and composes himself to their study. To use his
own words (we adopt Mr. Fitzgerald's translation) :
1 Compare M. Morel-Fatio's edition, p. 242.
372 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Now I am alone, and may,
If my mind can be so lifted,
Study the great problem which
Keeps my soul disturbed, bewildered,
Since I read in Pliny's page
The mysterious words there written,
Which define a god ; because
It doth seem beyond the limits
Of my intellect to find
One who all these signs exhibits.
This mysterious hidden truth
Must I seek for.
(Esta verdad escondida
E de apurar.)
We have here revealed the nature and extent of Cyprian's doubt
the extreme depth of his skepticism. His attention has been
arrested by a remarkable definition of Deity suggested by Pliny
in his Natural History? and his mind is exercised by the pal-
pable antagonism between that definition and the mythological
ideas of the gods in which he has been brought up. His resolu-
tion to explore the matter has the effect of conjuring up the
Devil, though why it should have produced that result is not
easy to determine except on the supposition that Calderon
deemed every kind of truth-search diabolical. The Demon, as he
is called, issues from a neighbouring thicket clad in a holiday
dress, and announces sotto voce that Cyprian's proposed search
will be unsuccessful since he purposes to hide its issue from him.
Hearing the rustle in the bushes near him, Cyprian asks, " Who
is there ? " Whereupon the Demon presents himself to his full
view and relates that he is a stranger who has lost his way in
the woods, being bound to Antioch on business of importance.
Cyprian expresses his natural surprise that he should have lost
himself within sight of the lofty towers of Antioch, and in a
neighbourhood where every road and every path converged on
that city, to which the Demon cynically replies that it is an
example of the ignorance which, in the very presence of know-
ledge, fails to apprehend it
1 Lib. ii., ch. vii. " Quapropter effigiem dei formamque quserere
imbecillitatis humanse reor. Quisquis est deus, si modo est alius (Le.^
quam Sol), et quacumque in parte, totus est sensus, totus visus totus
auditus, totus animse, totus animi, totus sui."
" El Magico Prodigioso" 373
. . . Esa es la ygnorancia
A la vista de las ciencias
No saber aprobecharlas
a description of a nescience or skepticism arising from too much
light which is certainly found to exist in minds peculiarly
trained and constituted, 1 but which Calderon probably intended
to refer to the nescience of dull apathetic ignorance; that, for
example, which Aeschylus attributes to men before they were
enlightened by Prometheus :
They first, indeed, though seeing, saw in vain,
Though hearing, still were deaf. 2
Proceeding in his self-explanation, the Demon suggests a post-
ponement of his arrival at Antioch, and expresses a wish to stay
and have some learned discussion with Cyprian. He avows that
his instincts always attract him " unto men to books addicted," so
that he shares the sympathies of the " f ahrender Scolast " whose
garb and bearing Mephistopheles assumes in Goethe's drama
The discussion thereupon commences:
Cypr. Have you been a student ?
Dem. No !
But I know what may suffice me
Not to be held ignorant. 3
Cypr. Then, what science know you ?
Dem. Many.
Cypr. We cannot, though studying one
Many years, e'er gain its knowledge.
And can you (O, portent rare I)
Without study know so many? 4
1 Compare the author's Evenings with the Skeptics, vol. ii., p. 36.
2 Compare preceding Essay on " Prometheus," p. 74. Shelley in his
paraphrase of the Demon's words, has well described this kind of
ignorance :
" And such is ignorance ! Even in the sight
Of knowledge, it can draw no profit from it."
3 ". . . No;
Pero s lo que me basta
Para no ser ygnorante."
Among the minor resemblances between Calderon's and Goethe's
drama may be noted the nearly ipsissima verba of Mephistopheles :
"Allwissend bin ich nicht; doch viel ist mir bewusst".
4 It may be observed that the text generally followed in these transla-
tions, except where Mr. Fitzgerald is quoted, is the more ancient one of
M. Morel-Fatio's work, above quoted.
374 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Dem. Yes, since I am of a country
Where the loftiest kinds of science
Without study may be known.
Cypr. Would I too were of that country.
Here, alas ! the more one studies
Still more does he doubt.
(Que aca, micutras mas se estudia
Mas se duda.)
Dem. So true
Is this, that without study
I had the superb ambition
For the first professor's chair
To compete, and meant to win it,
Having many votes on my side ;
And although I failed, sufficient
Glory is it to have tried,
For not always to the winner
Is the fame, etc., etc.
We have here one of those rare instances in which the Demon of
Calderon approaches the Mephistopheles of Faust. The repre-
sentation of the archangelic insurrection as a contest for the first
professor's chair, as if the event had recently occurred in a
Spanish university, is a genuine stroke of humour not unmixed
with the cynical raillery with which Mephistopheles adverts to
the same unfortunate episode in his career. The Demon then asks
Cyprian to propound (after the manner of mediaeval universities)
some scholastic theme for discussion, professing his readiness to
take the contrary side to Cyprian's whatever the question pro-
pounded might be. The young student is gratified with the
proposal, and forthwith mentions the definition (already alluded
to in his soliloquy) which Pliny gives of Deity, and on which his
mind has been sorely exercised. The Demon, by some occult
process, knows the passage:
Tis that passage which declares,
Well I recollect it, this :
God is our supremest good,
One sole cause and one pure essence,
Wholly sight and wholly action.
(Todo vista y todo manos.)
Cyprian confesses his inability to harmonise this ideal description
with the popular character of Jupiter, of which goodness and
"El Magico Prodigioso." 375
purity could scarcely be said to be conspicuous features. He
instances the stories of Danae and Europa as justifying his
puzzlement. 1 But the Demon, who, according to the argument,
has to defend Polytheism from the doubts of its hesitating
disciple, replies that these traditions are fabulous, and that under
the names of the heathen deities was veiled a secret system of moral
philosophy. The passage is interesting in its bearing on Calderon,
inasmuch as it gives the key to his invariable method of not only
Christianising but Romanising the old Pagan mythology.
Esas son falsas ystorias
En que las letras profanas,
Con los nombres de los dioses,
Entendieron disfra<;ada
La moral filosofia.
Cyprian does not think the answer sufficient, since such reverence
is due to God that no one ought to ascribe to him sins even
though they might be fictitious. Besides, if the gods are to will
always what is good, their wills should be in unison, whereas
nothing can be more contradictory than the oracular responses
the different deities give to their supplicants. The Demon's reply
is precisely that which an orthodox Christian theologian would
make to difficulties in the interpretation of Providence. He
suggests that these answers may be given
By the deities for ends
Which our intellectual insight
Cannot fathom.
Thus a defeat in battle might conceivably be more gainful than a
victory. This Cyprian grants, but adds that in such a case the
gods should not have promised victory to the defeated. They
might either have permitted the defeat tacitly or made the false
promise of victory by the medium of other agencies, such as genii,
etc. 2 The Demon, who appears for the time to be playing the
1 See the same argument in Calderon's "El Josef de las Mujeres"
(Hartzenbusch's edition, Hi., p. 358).
2 This permission to the deity of vicarious unveracity is evidently
intended by Calderon to be taken in a serious light, for it occurs in this
and similar forms in others of his works. It would, however, be unjust
to blame him for adopting a principle which is by no means yet extinct
in Protestant theology.
376 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
part of a divine of the evidential school, then proceeds to point
out other proofs of united action on the part of the gods. The
human frame, for example, reveals, notwithstanding its various
parts and functions, one single and uniform conception. Cyprian,
however, insists that various deities, each possessing distinct
personality but all being co-equal in power, must needs involve
diverse volitions and clashing activities. To which the Demon
answers that there can be no argument on false issues, and asks
what Cyprian's conclusion is, supposing him to concede his pre-
misses, which he seems inclined to do. It must be admitted that
Calderon's Demon is, notwithstanding his ill-sounding name,
rather an amiable personage, with no intellectual power or con-
troversial ability worth mentioning. The fight that he makes for
Polytheism is of the feeblest description ; and if the Polytheists
of the third century had not been more efficiently equipped than
their diabolic representative in the seventeenth, Christianity
would have achieved a much completer and speedier triumph
than that which actually fell to her lot. Cyprian replies to the
Demon's invitation by propounding the conception of Deity
which appears to him to come from Pliny's definition, and to
harmonise best with the facts of the universe. We must con-
clude, he says, that there must be (I again quote Mr. Fitzgerald)
One sole God, all hands, all vision,
Good supreme, supreme in grace,
One who cannot err, omniscient,
One the highest, none can equal,
Not beginning, yet beginner,
One pure essence, one sole substance,
One wise worker, one sole wilier.
And though he in one or two
Or more persons be distinguished,
Yet the sovereign Deity
Must be one sublime and single,
The first cause of every cause,
The first germ of all existence.
It would be difficult to devise, even from the standpoint of de-
veloped Christianity, a definition of Deity more complete or more
orthodox. Indeed, its harmony with ecclesiastical dogma is a little
too obtrusive, for it is quite impossible to conceive that Cyprian
with Pliny for his guide should have had any conception of the
"El Magico Prodigioso" 377
doctrine of the Trinity, or, assuming him to have had such a con-
ception, it hardly redounds to his perspicacity that he should
have failed to recognise the advantage which that dogma afforded
to those who attacked Christianity from the standpoint of
Polytheism. But this kind of incongruity is common with
Calderon, who readily sacrifices chronological probability and
dramatic fitness to his overpowering sense of ecclesiastical dogma.
The Demon here, as elsewhere, is confounded by the smallest
presentation of any portion of the Church's creed and inconti-
nently throws down his arms. Admitting Cyprian's wit to be
keener than his own, he says that though not lacking a reply to
his argument he is content for the time being to restrain it, be-
cause he hears approaching footsteps. He then parts from Cyprian
with the muttered resolution that as he cannot overcome him in
intellectual contention, he will try the effects of sensual passion.
He has already obtained leave to kindle his lustful fires in the
breast of Justina the Christian maiden of whom we now hear
for the first time. 1 So that by involving Cyprian in the same
storm of passion he hopes to achieve two conquests and attain a
twofold vengeance.
The approaching steps of which the Demon takes advantage
to close his discussion with Cyprian, are those of Lelius and
Floras, who come to this sequestered spot to fight a duel about
Justina, of whom both are deeply enamoured. Cyprian, with the
help of his servants, who have returned from their festivity, pre-
vents the encounter, and pledges himself to reconcile the lovers
by ascertaining from Justina herself which of the two she prefers.
We are shortly after (scene vii) introduced to Justina and
her supposed father, Lysander. She has witnessed the festivities
in connection with the new temple and image of Jupiter, and, as
becomes an enthusiastic Christian virgin, she is horrified. She
addresses her (supposed) father :
Consolation, sir, is vain
After what I've seen to-day
The whole city madly gay,
Error-blinded and insane,
1 The love of Cyprian for Justina forms a part of the old legends
whence Calderon drew his materials. Compare on this point M. Morel-
Fat io, op. cit., Intro., p. xxxv.
Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Consecrating shrine and fane
To an image which I know
Cannot be a God, although
Some demoniac power may pass,
Making breathe the silent brass
As a proof that it is so. 1
In the colloquy that follows, Lysander relates the history of
Justina's birth. She is not his daughter, though she has always
passed as such. She is the daughter of an unknown Christian
martyr who was murdered by her pagan lover in order to escape
the infamy of being put to death by the public executioner.
Lysander, happening to be near when the foul deed was per-
petrated, rescued her new-born child, and brought her up in the
Christian faith as his own. He also takes the opportunity of re-
counting his own history and how he was secretly ordained by
the then Pope a priest of the Christian Church. The narrative
of Justina's wondrous birth is still proceeding when it is inter-
rupted by Livia, Justina's servant, announcing the arrival of a
tradesman to whom Lysander, who is exceedingly poor, owes
money. During his absence to confer with his creditor, Cyprian
appears in order to fulfil his self-imposed mission of ascertaining
Justina's inclination with regard to her lovers. As might be
foreseen, while urging the claims of Lelius and Florus, he himself
falls a prey to the beauty of the Christian virgin, and the inter-
view ends by a decisive rejection of the claims both of Lelius and
Florus, and by a rejection, somewhat less decisive, of the new-
born love he himself has proffered for her acceptance.
Having thus brought the lovers together, the Demon in the
next stage of the tragedy attempts to destroy the fair fame of
Justina by presenting himself at her window by night, and while
descending from thence by a ladder contrives to be seen by both
Lelius and Florus, who, unseen of each other, are watching before
the house. Each thinks the other the favoured lover (for the
Demon disappears in the earth), and draws his sword in order to
discover his unknown and apparently successful rival, when
Cyprian again appears and separates the antagonists. He is also
somewhat moved by jealousy when he hears of the apparition
1 Fitzgerald's translation, p. 140. In the older text edited by M.
Morel-Fatio, Justina's address is more vehement and prolonged.
"El Magic o Prodigioso" 379
seen to descend from Justina's room, but is inclined to believe it
an ocular delusion. Recognising the probability of his rivals now
desisting from their pursuit of Justina, he determines to pro-
secute his own suit with additional ardour. Accordingly he bids
his servants provide for him a rich court suit with sword and
feathers, etc. Books and studies have, he adds, lost all their
former fascination for him :
Now no longer
Books or studies do I care for,
Since, they say, it is love's way
All one's intellect to slay. 1
(y ya
Ni libros ni estudios quiero
Porque digan que es amor
Omicida del ynjenio.)
Meeting Justina shortly after in the street, Cyprian takes the
opportunity of declaring his passion, but with no other result
than the ominous avowal that it is quite impossible she should
love him except in death :
Porque es mi rigor de suerte
De suerte mis males fieros
Que es ymposible quereros
Cipriano, hasta la muerte.
He is however satisfied, and says that death is welcome since it
is the condition of her love. But this acquiescence in his fate is
not very lasting. A little further on the drama represents him
1 Carl Immermann in his Memorabilien (part ii.), in order to account
for Cyprian's transmutation from a studious philosopher to a Don Juan,
has propounded the astounding thesis that "passionate search for truth
reduces its possessor to a moral condition which allows vague aspirations
and sensual desires to insinuate themselves with the greatest readiness
into his mind ". A more curious and ungrounded accusation against
" Divine Philosophy " was never formulated. Sooth to say, the trans-
mutation of Cyprian is a facile transition from one superficial condition
to another. A shallow enthusiast in speculation is metamorphosed into
an enthusiast in sensuality. The transmutation from profound thought
and earnest truth-search to inordinate and unscrupulous lust, which we
have in the case of Faust (and which possibly suggested to Immermann
his paradox), is so far from being a natural or easy transition, that it is
absolutely opposed to all human experience as well as to the elementary
principles of Psychology. Compare preceding Essay on "Faust," p. 262.
380 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
in a half -delirious access of passion, during which he declares in a
passionate soliloquy that to possess Justina he would willingly
barter his soul to the powers of hell. No sooner is the vow made
than it meets, as in all the Faustian legends, due diabolical
response. From behind the scenes comes immediately, though
unheard by Cyprian, the Demon's reply, "I accept it". The
infernal compact thus initiated is accompanied by terrible por-
tents. Cyprian beholds the sudden gathering and making of
what seems to him a terrific thunder-storm. Standing on the
seashore, he sees the waves (the sea being hid from the spectators)
violently agitated. The horizon glows like a gigantic volcano in
active eruption. The sun seems dead, the air is changed to smoke,
and the sky appears on fire. Presently on the storm-tossed
waves comes in sight a ship. She seems driven by degrees on a
rock. Then is heard the cry of drowning men, " We sink ! "
" We're lost ! " Out of all this commotion presently emerges, like
a shipwrecked sailor dripping with wet, the Demon, who now
enters, and in a stage whisper utters his intentions with respect
to Cyprian :
For the end I mean to gain
It behoved me thus to feign,
On the ocean's sapphire face
Portents horrible to trace,
And in form to that of yore
Quite unlike which I then wore,
When, with wonder here I found
His wit mine did quite confound,
(Quando en este monte yo
Mire mi ciencia vencida,)
Him again I come to try,
This time feeling sure that 1
Shall at length the victor prove
Of his intellect and his love.
In the course of the ensuing colloquy the Demon gives, at
Cyprian's request, an outline of his past history. He first repre-
sents himself as a cast-off favourite of a mighty king ; secondly,
as a pirate, in which capacity he has just suffered shipwreck ;
thirdly, as a magician who has power to chain up three out of
the four winds. He requests Cyprian's assistance, and promises
to reward it. (I here quote Mr. Fitzgerald, whose imitation of
the Spanish Asouantes is generally very successful.)
"El Magico Prodigioso" 381
And I wish the good I purchase
To repay thee with the product
Of unnumbered years of study,
Giving to your wildest wishes
(Aside, Here I touch his love) the fondest
Longings of your heart, whatever
Passion can desire or covet.
Cyprian is overjoyed at discovering a magician so powerful, and
without hesitation concludes with him a league of friendship. He
receives him into his house as an honoured guest notwithstanding
the strong sulphurous odour proceeding from him, for which
Cyprian's servants facetiously account by suggesting that he
either uses bad pastiles or else employs sulphur ointment for
the itch.
Meanwhile Lelius seeks an interview with Justina, which is,
however, disturbed by interruptions of various kinds ; first by
the Demon, who personates a stranger as if seen by Lelius in the
act of quitting the maiden's chamber; then by Lysander, who
arrives with terror-stricken face to announce the promulgation of
a decree of Decius commanding the persecution of the Christians ;
next by Florus, desiring an interview with Justina on his own
behalf ; lastly by the Governor of Antioch (and father of Lelius),
with his attendants. The einbroglio caused by all these per-
sonages terminates 1. In the committal to prison of Lelius and
Florus, who are discovered in the act of fighting. 2. In the
awakening of the Governor's suspicions respecting Lysander and
Justina as being secretly Christians. And 3. In exciting the
suspicion of Lysander himself that neither Justina's Christianity
nor her moral purity is what he had supposed. Being thus cast
off from the sympathy of her putative father and only friend,
Justina is rendered fitter for the Demon's subsequent machina-
tions.
The play now returns to Cyprian and his Demon guest. The
latter taking occasion to rally his host on his sad demeanour,
Cyprian accounts for and attempts to justify it by his hopeless
love for Justina and by her own transcendent merits. The con-
fession evokes some demoniac sneers, which are however feeble
compared with the asides of Goethe's Mephistopheles when he has
entangled Faust in a similar network of passion. Once more,
but this time more explicitly, Cyprian makes the offer :
382 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
I have said, and now I say,
Freely would I make away
To some hellish power my soul
(Love being hence my sole control)
Who would promise to assuage
With content fierce passion's rage.
But my challenge is in vain,
Priceless is what I would gain,
And my soul were but short measure
When exchanged for such a treasure.
The Demon accepts the offer, but not so much in his own infernal
personality as in his character of an all-powerful magician. At
first Cyprian is inclined to doubt the power of magic to compel
Justina to his will :
For never
Conjurings or divinations
Can free-will e'er overmaster.
(Pues hallo
Que para el libre albedrio
Ni ay conjuros, ni ay encantos.)
This scruple is, however, silenced by an exhibition, already pre-
pared by the Demon, of his magical power. The conversation
takes place in a hall in Cyprian's house. At the end of it is an
open gallery through which is seen the country beyond. The
Demon asks Cyprian what he considers the pleasantest feature of
the landscape before him. Cyprian replies :
The mountain, since it is, in fact,
Of my loved one the sweet likeness.
Whereupon the Demon by his incantations causes the mountain
to move to the other side of the scene, and from thence back to
its original position. He next exhibits another proof of his power
which forcibly resembles the manifestations of infernal skill on
the part of Mephistopheles in "Faust". The Demon causes a
rock to open, and within it Justina is seen, apparently asleep.
Cyprian is abundantly satisfied with such a demonstration of the
power of magic, and agrees to grant whatever the Demon may
ask. Then follows the usual dramatic sealing of the compact as
it is found in all the Faustian legends. l Cyprian says :
1 It has often been observed that this kind of diabolical compact is
quite an anachronism in the third century. There is no example of such
"El Magic o Prodigioso" 383
Pluma sera este puiial
Papel este lien^o bianco
Y tinta para escribirlo
La sangre ya de mis bragos.
He has sold his soul to the evil one for the possession of Justina,
and ratified the infernal transaction with his own blood. But the
bargain does not bind the Demon to hand over Justina to her
lover's will. It merely stipulates that he must teach Cyprian so
much of his magical power as will enable him to accomplish all he
wishes. To effect this, he proposes that Cyprian and himself are
to live together in a cave for twelve months, where they may
pursue their studies without interruption. Cyprian for his part
is eager to begin. He anticipates victory, not only for his love
but for his intellect :
Vamos
Que con tal maestro mi ynjenio
Mi amor con dueno tan alto
Eterno sera en el mundo
El Majico Cipriano.
The next act carries us onward to the day when the stipulated
twelve months are ended. Cyprian comes forth from the cave
and begins to practise his magical arts, which he boasts are now
equal to his teacher's, on the outer world. Satisfied with their
power in this direction, he wishes to employ them to force Justina
to his will. Preparations, with the same object, are also made by
the Demon, who invokes the infernal abyss (I here again avail
myself of Mr. Fitzgerald's masterly translation *) :
a legend before the middle of the thirteenth century. But this, after
all, is a small anachronism in comparison with others found in Calder-
on's dramas. Compare on this point, von Schack, ii., p. 102 ; Ticknor,
ii., p. 375.
1 Shelley's rendering of this Satanic incantation, though full of
poetic beauties expressed in his own inimitable language, is much more
a free paraphrase than an accurate translation. Indeed, we might say
of all his renderings from Calderon that he has not so much translated
his language as his conceptions. He has reinvested Calderon's person-
ages and ideas with a new and intellectual beauty, which in their
original form they are far from possessing. Those who compare Mr.
Fitzgerald's accurate translation with the following lines will be able to
see how the Spanish poet has been Shelley-ised by his English
admirer :
384 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
Abyss of hell, prepare 1
Thyself the region of thine own despair
From out each dungeon's dark recess
Let loose the spirits of voluptuousness
To ruin and o'erthrow
Justina's virgin fabric, pure as snow ;
A thousand filthy phantoms with thee brought,
So people her chaste thought
That all her maiden fancies may be filled
With their deceits. Let sweetest notes be trilled
From every tuneful grove,
And all birds, plants and flowers, provoke to love.
A scene of great tenderness and poetic beauty follows, in which
Justina is represented as contending with the varied magic
influences brought to bear upon her. The Demon-spell makes
the blood circulate more warmly through her veins. She notes
the various lessons of love indicated in nature, its suggestions in
the enamoured tones of the nightingale's song, in the warm clasp
of vine-tendrils, in the wistful sunward movement of the sun-
flower. She is alarmed at the rapidly growing power of the
new-born passion, whose intrusion she is the more inclined to
resent for the reason that she has hitherto prided herself on her
power to spurn it. The thought naturally recalls her lovers, and
the name of Cyprian seems to exercise a more potent influence
than it formerly used to do. She now admits a feeling, if not of
love, at least of pity for him :
Ah ! I know not what I feel,
Pity it must surely be,
That a man so widely known
Should through love of me be lost,
When he pays at such a cost
For the preference he has shown.
" Abyss of hell I I call on thee,
Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy 1
From thy prison house set free
The spirits of voluptuous death,
That with their mighty breath
They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts.
Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes
Be peopled from thy shadowy deep,
Till her guiltless phantasy
Full to overflowing be ! "
"El Magic o Prodigioso" 385
Animated by this sentiment, which exercises a gradually increas-
ing power over her, combined with the recognition of her deserted
and forlorn condition, she at last utters the hesitating but bodeful
wish for which the Demon has been lying in wait. Addressing
her rebellious thoughts, she says :
Still your promptings press me so
That I feel in my despair
Where he is if I could know
I to seek him now would go.
No sooner has the reluctant desire found utterance than the
Demon is present with his offer of advancing it and bringing her
to Cyprian. But Justina rejects his offer. He endeavours to move
her by reminding her of her own desire, and by the suggestion
that the sin meditated is not less than that accomplished. But
the sophism is powerless. As she rightly remarks, her thought
is not always in her power but her action is. Besides which she
boasts a spell against which his magical art and subtle tempta-
tions are powerless. That is none other than her own free-will. 1
The passage is worth quoting :
Justina. Sabiendome yo ayudr\r
Del libre alvedrio mio.
Demon. Fo^ar&le mi pesar.
Justina. No fuera libre alvedrio
Si se dexara forgar.
Thereupon the Demon attempts to drag her, but is utterly
vanquished by her persistent resistance and her Christian trust
in God.
A like failure attends the magical arts of Cyprian, which he
1 Calderon here, as always, takes on the subject of grace and free-
will the side of the Jesuits against the Protestants and Theorists. It
may be noted as an incidental point of connection between the "Wonder-
working Magician " and the " Prometheus," that in both the power of
self-consciousness, the inherent autonomy of the will, is asserted against
an over-mastering domination from without in the case of Prometheus
it is asserted against Zeus, the monopolist of all freedom (no one is free
excepting Zeus); in the case of Cyprian and Justina it is asserted against
a supposed omnipotence of evil, and as superior to a coercive fatalist
theory of grace. For once Calderon touches one main source of freedom,
though it is certain he had no idea of its extreme importance or of its
numberless applications.
25
386 Five Great Skeptical Dramas,
also discovers are powerless to bring Justina to his arms. Thus
the compact existing between them seems in danger of being
annulled. To prevent which failure the Demon adopts another
plan, with the execution of which he has already threatened
Justina, as tending to tarnish her fair fame. He prepares a
phantom Justina who appears responsive to his wishes. Cyprian
now believes himself in full possession of his long-coveted treasure.
He clasps what he supposes to be his fair mistress in his arms
and carries her into the recesses of a wood. Then, removing the
cloak with which she is closely veiled, he discovers to his horror
a skeleton. Its hollow eyes and fleshless visage grin a cold and
bitter mockery of his passion, while from its mouth seems to pro-
ceed the words :
Cyprian, such are all the glories
Of the world on which thy store is. 1
As might be supposed, Cyprian is by no means inclined to accept
this mocking phantom in lieu of the mistress whom he has
purchased at such a high price, and accordingly requests the
Demon to dissolve the bargain. The latter adopts every possible
means of avoiding such a contingency, but Cyprian holds him to
his pledge. At last, and partly by means of these very magical
arts he has himself taught Cyprian, the Demon is forced to admit
his defeat. Tremblingly, he confesses that Justina's God is superior
to himself and all his devices. The admission suggests to Cyprian
1 The personation of Justina by the devil forms one of the features
of the original legend as it is found in the " Legenda Aurea ". There it
is related that, unable to bear Cyprian's reiterated and jubilant invoca-
tion of Justina's name, the devil vanished in smoke. Compare M.
Morel-Fatio's Introduction, op. tit., p. 37. At the same time it must be
admitted that this sudden metamorphosis of a fair woman into a skeleton
forms a part of other ecclesiastical legends. M. Philar^te Charles has
observed of it: "Ce terrible enseignement du squelette, remplagant
tout-A-coup, dans un rendez-vous d'amour, une femme ador^e, est indiqu^
par plusieurs Mgendes chr^tiennes. On peut le consid^rer comme le
resume le plus complet de la thdorie spiritualiste que le catholicisme
professe ; Calderon 1'a employ^ plusieurs fois dans ses drames. La scdne
Espagiiole est la seule de 1'Europe, qui ait souffert et applaudi un
symbole aussi redoutable " (Etudes sur I'Espagne, p. 72). Klein has
humorously applied to the incident the proverbial phrase " tarde
venientibus ossa ".
"El Magico Prodigioso" 387
an answer to his former doubts on the subject of the Deity.
Unwittingly, the Demon has presented Cyprian with a satisfactory
illustration, as well as demonstration, of that very definition of
God given by Pliny which once formed the theme of their dis-
cussion. Justina's God, the God of the Christians, is triumphantly
shown to be superior to all other Gods and powers of whatever
kind. He is the supreme will to which all others are subordinate.
He must also be sovereign goodness as well as all sight, all hands.
Cyprian, having thus discovered the object of his long search,
purposes to transfer his allegiance from the Demon to Justina's
God. But his present master objects. He points out that
Cyprian has bartered his soul, and he has the blood-signed scroll
in his possession. In the struggle that ensues, the Demon
threatens Cyprian with physical violence and death, but he
escapes by invoking the God of the Christians.
The play, now approaching its conclusion, turns to the per-
secution of the Christians, in obedience to the rescript of Decius.
Lysander and Justina are both taken prisoners, and as the reward
of their capture, Lelius and Floras are delivered from prison.
Cyprian next appears in the guise of an enthusiast, and relating
how he has been converted, makes open profession of Christianity,
announces that he has been baptised, and expresses his readiness
to die a martyr's death. He is immediately seized by the pagan
persecutors and conveyed to prison. As it happens, he is placed
in the same cell with Justina. To her he recounts his whole
history, narrates his compact with the Demon, points out how he,
as well as herself, has been preserved from the malign operation
of his infernal arts. He lays especial stress on his ill-omened
bargain as the greatest sin of his life, and doubts whether heaven
will pardon such a heinous transgression. Justina consoles her
lover, tells Him that the divine love for the sincere penitent is in-
finite, and Cyprian yields his full assent to her gentle teaching.
She also reminds him of her promise to love him in death.
In the last scene of the play Cyprian and Justina are brought
forth to die a martyr's death. Their execution is accompanied
by a terrific storm of wind, with thunder and lightning. The
scene represents a scaffold, on which are visible the bodies and
severed heads of Cyprian and Justina, while hovering over it
appears the Demon mounted on a dragon. He expatiates in a
388 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
very undemoniac strain * on the catastrophe, points out the nature
of his machinations against Cyprian and Justina, and ingenuously
admits them to have been altogether defeated by the constancy
of the martyr-lovers. He ends by avowing that this final act of
justice to his would-be victims has been extorted from him by
the superior power of God, his own practice in telling the truth
not being great,
Esta es la verdad, y yo
La digo, porque Dio mesmo
Me fuerza & que yo la diga
Tan poco ensenado d ha9erlo.
With the main plot and incidents of the " Wonder-working
Magician " now before us, we are able to arrive at something like
a definitive judgment both as to its own merits and its relation
to our remaining dramas of free-thought. With regard to the
former, the play manifests all the characteristic merits of Cal-
deron's dramatic works. It attests his poetic and many-sided
imagination, his marvellous fertility of invention, his masterly
plot-arrangement, the incomparable ease, grace, and other redun-
dant beauties of his facile composition. But compared with its
kindred dramas, it displays no less forcibly the defects we have
already indicated. First and foremost is its deficiency in intel-
lectual power and largeness of mental grasp. Next, and as a
result of this primary and most fatal shortcoming, it suffers
from general narrowness, religious one-sidedness, excessive other-
worldliness, and a perverted and contracted view of human
sympathies and interests. Taking the drama, as we very pro-
perly may, as a fair test of its author's characteristics, Cal-
deron is seen to be no more than a religious let us rather
say, a papal-dogma playwright. He has no idea of truth, of
justice, of freedom, of humanity, of civilisation, of progress,
beyond the circumscribed and mistaken notions of them which he
derives from his breviary, no sympathy with them other than the
scanty amount permitted by his Church. Indeed, Calderon's
feeling with respect to those abstractions and the causes for
which they stand would rather be intensely hostile. No doubt
1 " Als Advocaten," remarks Klein, "nicht Diaboli sondern Dei," op.
cit., p. 439.
" El Magic o Prodigioso." 389
if we assume that the universe and humanity possessed no other
interests or concernments than those with which mediaeval
Romanism had invested them, that men could have no higher
ideas of progress and liberty than those sanctioned by the
Inquisition, that the world could attain to no worthier conception
of civilisation than that of Spaniards in the seventeenth century,
then the " Wonder-working Magician " might stand as a fair
representative of that amount of free-thought which would be
engendered under such circumstances. But assuming that the
universe is greater than the bounds of a Church, however great,
that humanity and civilisation are entities inherently gifted with
vitality, and with an indomitable determination to employ it in
the direction of further light and knowledge, more progress and
freedom, then the standpoint of Calderon's drama must be pro-
nounced painfully inadequate and inferior. It may possibly be
objected that this stunted development is all we have a right to
expect ; but while it is all we obtain from Calderon, it is by no
means all which we derive from the other free-thought dramas.
They are not content with the stature and outlook of their con-
temporaries and surroundings. They do not regard their own
times in the light of a moral atmosphere a belt of circum-
ambient air whose limits they cannot hope to transcend. Aeschy-
lus, the author of the Book of Job, Goethe, Shakespeare, all have
an immeasurably wider range of vision than that of their own
age, or than any institution pertaining to their time could have
supplied. They and not Calderon are the true Catholics, the
genuine world-seers. They look round the universe through the
medium of its own pure air and sunlight, not through the dis-
torting vehicle of stained-glass windows and by the dim religious
light of a church ; they contemplate humanity not by the
dwarfish standard of narrow creeds and dogmas and arrested
developments, but by its own highest instincts and feelings, and
its indefinite capacity for further progress. For them, truth,
virtue, and freedom are self-existent and autonomous, to be tested
and determined, contemplated and reverenced each for itself and
independently of all preconceived ideas of whatever kind.
As a result of this intellectual feebleness and petty narrow-
ness of scope, all the chief characters of the " Wonder-working
Magician " are essentially weak. Cyprian, the Faust of Calderon,
3QO Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
whom we first meet in a suspensive attitude, as halting between
the popular mythology and a half-Pantheistic definition of Deity,
nowhere approves himself a bold, thorough, or even consistent
reasoner. Like Calderon himself, he is utterly defective in intel-
lectual power. Although standing ostensibly on the boundary
line between the ancient pagan culture and the early develop-
ment of Christianity, his ideas are as narrow, his mental outlook
and sympathies are as circumscribed, as if he had been brought
up in the Spanish Romanism of the seventeenth century. We
may indeed take Cyprian as Calderon's embodiment of the
extremest latitudinarianism and speculative irreligion conceivable,
and this fact reveals to us in their fullest measure the feeble
powers and superficial mental character of the greatest of Spanish
dramatists. Cyprian's ratiocinations on the subject of Deity are
as puny in substance as limited in scope. They consist merely
of the more obvious grounds of difference that emerged between
paganism and Christianity in the early history of the latter.
They are far surpassed in depth and comprehensiveness by the
highest speculation, Pagan as well as Christian, of the third
century A.D. Indeed, in profundity and boldness the researches
of Cyprian do not approach the long-anterior speculations of Job.
He stands only at the threshold of religious inquiry, and has no
conception of the insoluble mysteries that lie within. Compared
with the speculations of Faust, his desires, efforts, and energies
are mere child's play. He has but little of Faust's intellectual
hunger, his passionate yearning to attain omniscience. His
utmost wishes are limited to the reconciliation of Pliny's defini-
tion of God with the rest of his pagan creed. Of truth or
truth-search in any broad, rich sense of the terms he has no
conception. This imperfectly intellectual conformation finds an
appropriate accompaniment first in a somewhat superficial and
limited imagination. Cyprian, it is clear, has never sounded the
depths of human passion and feeling. Even his love for Justina,
the great dominating principle of the drama, is brought about by
accident and sustained by shallow and unworthy considerations.
His occasional attempts at introspection and self -analysis are
crude and superficial. No doubt imagination of a certain kind
cannot be denied to him. It would be impossible for Calderon to
represent any character altogether unadorned by his brilliant and
"El Magico Prodigioso" 391
exuberant fancy, but the imagination of Cyprian, like that of his
creator's, is of a limited kind. It is graceful and delicate rather
than massive and robust. When the distinction is insisted on it
might be said to be nearer akin to fancy than to imagination,
meaning that it is deficient in the intellectual element. Another
outcome of defective intellect is the general weakness and vacilla-
tion of the will. If we except the restlessness which will not
remain satisfied with Polytheism, all his subsequent changes are
prompted by feeble and insufficient motives. His devotion to
magic is due, not, as in the case of Faust, to an invincible devo-
tion to truth and a determination to wrest it from the universe
at whatever cost, but only to the desire to gain possession of
Justina. His belief in the " Wonder-working Magician," which
led to his year's apprenticeship to him and the subsequent blood-
signed compact, is based insufficiently on a mere conjurer's
exhibition of power over the physical operations of nature. His
final acceptance of Christianity, though not altogether devoid of
intellectual grounds of conviction, is for the most part influenced
by his passion for Justina. His reasons for embracing martyrdom
are neither more nor less than the fanatic enthusiasm of a new
convert who gains at the same moment a creed and a mistress.
Of any intellectual perception of the truth of Christianity, of any
worthy appreciation of its ethics, of any insight into its spiritual
qualities we have no indication. In a word, Cyprian's character
is that of a generous-minded, impulsive, susceptible man, who in
passing from Paganism to Christianity is capable of experiencing
no enlargement of his mental horizon, no worthy dispassionate
expansion of the noblest human sympathies. He starts with
being a dilettante pagan and ends with being, so far as intellec-
tual conviction is concerned, a dilettante Christian. A devoted
searcher for truth, a clear-sighted lover of truth for its own sake,
independently of all unworthy motives and selfish gratifications,
Cyprian is not. Perhaps, however, we have no right to expect
those attributes in him, for they infinitely transcend the narrow
vision-range and limited sympathies of Calderon himself.
But if Cyprian is a puny and feeble representative of free-
thought or intellectual unrest, his master, the " Wonder-working
Magician," is a no less impotent illustration of the powers of evil :
and the weakness in the latter case is the more marked, inasmuch
392 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
as the Demon is the Protagonist of Calderon's play. Indeed, of
all the literary devils Calderon's demon is indubitably the most
infirm, vacillating and insignificant. Although descended, like
the Mephistopheles of "Faust" and the Satan of Milton, from
their common ancestor of the book of Job, he altogether belies
his ancient and high-born parentage. Even his innate malign
propensities are rendered more ignoble by the effeminacy and
cringing obsequiousness which accompany them. He does not
possess the desolating skepticism, the imperturbable sang-froid,
the unscrupulous ruthlessness of the Satan of Job. He has little
of the regal spirit, the stern haughtiness, the defiant pride of
Milton's fallen archangel, still less has he the cynical mockery,
the spirit of determined, unconditional antagonism to God and
goodness of Goethe's Mephistopheles 1 the spirit that persists
in denial for the reason that "all that exists deserves not to
be".
We first come in contact with this most humble and amiable
of fiends in his self -suggested controversy with Cyprian, when he
undertakes the advocacy of Polytheism against the doubts of its
wavering disciple. He discusses the topic in the gentlest and
most apologetic of tones, and seems more eager to strengthen the
nascent inclinations of Cyprian towards Christianity than to
counteract them. As Immermann rightly remarks: "The
intellectual content of the Spanish Faust is not of striking
importance, he reaches no further than the Catechism, and the
highest matters of the intellect are handled by him in a rather
1 M. P. Charles in his Etudes sur I'Espagne, p. 79, has instituted a
comparison, in some respects rather fanciful, between the Spanish and
the German devil : " Le diable Espagnol, le Demonic, ne rit pas ; le
diable allemand. Mephistopheles, rit toujours. Le diable Espagnol
tremble de peur touts les fois que Ton prononce le nom de Jehovah ; le
Teufel de Goethe raille assez lestement son maitre. L'un confesse en
murmurant 1'unite divine, la toute-puissance du monarque supreme
centre laquelle il a ose" se reVolter ; 1'autre a fait des progres ; mondain,
paradoxal, e"pigrammatique, il a lu Bayle et ne manque pas de bonnes
raisons contre Dieu. Couvrez-le d'un habit paillete, donnez-lui une
tabatiere d'or, ce sera le marquis d'Argens. . . . Le diable Espagnol
resemble au cardinal de Richelieu et le diable allemand & M. de
Maurepas. Le premier est un roi de te'nebres, le second un Figaro ; le
premier est un despote le second un intrigant."
"El Magico Prodigioso." 393
superficial manner V His limited intellectual scope and power,
his timid, half-hearted defence of Polytheism, the ease with which
he permits Cyprian to obtain the victory, manifested in this
scene, afford an insight into his mental ability and resolution
which is fully confirmed by the remainder of the drama. Every-
where is he the same contemptible, pettifogging mischief-maker,
totally destitute of the courage of his natural viciousness, as well
as of the pride and dignity properly pertaining to his supreme
position. Although possessing a certain power over the physical
operations of nature, his real empire, his sphere of independent
sovereignty is so limited that he is little more than a discontented
servitor of the Deity. As Klein has pointed out, he has, not-
withstanding his pretended sovereignty, much less free-will than
that by which Justina overcame his machinations. He never
hears the name of God but he shudders with fear. Not only does
he admit his inferiority to the Deity, but he proclaims it forcibly
and effusively. He is compelled to perform still more self-
humiliating acts of recounting, with the submissive air of a con-
fessional Peccavi, his malign machinations against Cyprian and
Justina. His attitude towards Church dogmas is so deferential
and his involuntary homage to the God of the Christians is so
marked, as to amount to open confession of Christianity, which in
the early history of the Church would probably have sufficed to
procure him admission into its fold. Nor is Calderon's Demon
weak only in relation to the supreme Being and the dogmas of
Komanism ; his feeble character is equally apparent hi his dealings
with his intended victims, Cyprian and Justina. We have already
alluded to the readiness with which he succumbs to the reasonings
of the former on the subject of Polytheism, but he is no less ready
to throw down his arms at Justina's defiant appeal to her free-
will and her expression of trust in God. The magical art which
he teaches Cyprian is capable of being employed by his disciple
in extorting from him humiliating confessions. His device of the
phantom Justina is itself a grotesque admission of impotence,
while his devices to shut Cyprian's eyes to the non-fulfilment of
his part of their compact are in the last degree mean, pitiful and
absurd. In a word, Calderon has so far limited the sovereignty
and intellect of his Demon, and stultified his methods of action,
1 Quoted by Klein, iv., ii., p. 408.
394 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
that he has virtually deprived him of his traditional origin, for
it is quite inconceivable that the pitiful craven who seeks to tempt
Cyprian and Justina should ever have had sufficient boldness and
intelligence to lead the angelic insurrection, or that he could ever
have been a formidable opponent to Omnipotence.
Justina is ostensibly the representative in the drama of dogma
or fixed belief, in opposition to the wavering convictions and
tentative Christianity of Cyprian, but in truth there is little real
difference between the doubter and believer. Cyprian vacillates
between Polytheism and Monotheism, but exhibits even in his
doubts more than a nascent perception of Christian doctrine.
Justina never wavers in her speculative belief, but she is inclined
for a time to dally with the insidious assaults of temptation.
Hence we have in Calderon's play nothing like the sharp contrasts
presented by the other skeptical dramas, between the exponents
of dogma and free-thought. We have nothing like the antagonisms
that exist between Prometheus and his enemies, between Job and
his friends, between Faust and Wagner, between Hamlet and
Claudius or Polonius, between Manfred and his associates. Nor
can it be said that Justina's creed, so far as it is manifested by
her own confessions, is an attractive one, or that it evinces a pro-
found insight into the distinctive character or strength of
Christianity. Neither on its speculative or ethical side does
Justina display an adequate appreciation of Christ's teaching.
Her religion is too much tainted with gloomy fanaticism. It is
leavened with the perverse austerity that regarded martyrdom as
the sole object of a Christian's ambition, and an all-sufficing
expiation for a life of the most depraved character. It is true
Calderon has made the ground-principles of Cyprian's conversion :
(1) The difficulties of Polytheism ; (2) a lustful passion for
Justina; and these would not have entailed necessarily an ex-
amination of the Christian faith or of the best methods of
presenting its truths to intelligent and inquiring pagans, still
some distinct enunciation of the grounds of superiority which
Christianity boasted over paganism might have been expected in
a drama which is partially founded upon a juxtaposition of their
respective attributes and merits. Those who are conversant with
the apologetics of Christianity during the second and third
centuries will not need to be told that the defence of Christianity
"El Magic o Prodigioso." 395
as against paganism was based on far stronger and broader
grounds than those which approved themselves to Calderon's
heroine.
In estimating the character of Justina it seems impossible to
avoid the oft-mentioned contrast between her and the Gretchen
of " Faust ". That their roles are alike need hardly be pointed
out. Both maidens, the Romanist and Protestant, are em-
ployed as snares to divert truth -searchers from the object of
their quest. But this is the only bond of union between them.
In all other respects they present the most violent contrasts.
Justina is related to Gretchen as theological grace is to nature.
They may stand as embodiments of different and rival eras, for
while Calderon's heroine symbolises mediaeval Romanism, Goethe's
expresses the naturalism of the Renaissance. The first is the
outcome of centuries of dogmatic growth and morbid asceticism,
the second, of the reactionary movement of an unrestrained and
too ardent voluptuousness. As becomes their origin, Justina is
the instructress of her lover, although he has spent many years
in the pursuit of knowledge, while Gretchen under similar
circumstances instinctively recognises the superiority of Faust,
and with a charming feminine naivete is only too ready to be
instructed by him. In the former case the mastery is accorded
to theological, in the latter to secular, wisdom. Among the many
detailed contrasts that might be shown to exist between them,
perhaps the most significant is their attitude on theological
subjects. Justina expounds the doctrines of the Romish Church
with the dogmatic tone and grave didactic air of Dante's Beatrice
or a divinity professor. Gretchen, when she hears her lover's
half-Pantheistic confession of faith, admits with a graceful, con-
fiding readiness that it sounds like the creed to which she has
been accustomed. There is a growing contrast between the
maidens which attains a climax in their tragical fates. Calderon's
nun-like heroine, as if she had taken a vow of perpetual chastity,
will only submit to a union with her lover in the " purple
nuptials " of a martyr's death, thereby proving how far below
her creed she places her love. Gretchen, to her misery, sacrifices
everything to her eager, irrepressible affection. Both attain a
sublime fanaticism, the one of Divine, the other of human
passion.
396 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
The whole action of the drama turns upon its chief per-
sonages, Cyprian, the Demon, and Justina, hence nothing need be
said of its remaining characters.
For sufficiently valid reasons we have classified the " Wonder-
working Magician " as a drama of free-thought as manifesting to
a certain extent the perennial dissonance between truth -search
and dogma ; but we have also observed that the scope which
Calderon allowed to his treatment of the subject is feeble and
limited. We have nothing here of the generous appreciation of
all human knowledge which we find in others of our dramas in
the " Prometheus," for instance ; nothing of the free movement of
human instincts and feelings presented to us by the Book of Job,
and less even than nothing of the profundity of truth-search and
many-sided speculation that pertain to " Faust ". Here knowledge
is only regarded under one aspect it is that amount of truth
which exists in the dogmas of Romanism. Of general, secular,
mundane knowledge, Calderon is invariably suspicious, as indeed
becomes an official of the Holy Office and an ardent Romanist
priest. We see this temper manifested on different occasions
throughout the progress of the play. Thus he makes the Demon
have a special power over knowledge attainment, as if it were of
an infernal nature, for when Cyprian declares his determination
to solve his doubt the Demon replies that he will hide its solution
from him. So when he describes the angelic insurrection, know-
ledge is put forward as the qualification that entitled him to
attempt the usurpation of celestial supremacy. Again, know-
ledge is connected with magic, as if the latter art, with all its
infernal connotations, were only the highest attainment; The
same spirit is manifested in Cyprian's confession, after he had
become a Christian, of the unsatisfactory results of his studies :
I am Cyprian, I am he
Once so studious and so learned,
I, the wonder of the schools,
Of the sciences the centre ;
What I gained from all my studies
Was one doubt, a doubt that never
Left my wildered mind a moment,
Ever troubling and perplexing. 1
1 Fitzgerald's translation, p. 224.
"El Magico Prodigioso" 397
No doubt this confession pertains to all the dramas of free-
thought. That study engenders doubt is a skeptical common-
place, and its recognition as a profound truth is not incompatible
with the most untiring and determined search ; but Calderon, as
we need hardly point out, employs the maxim not as an incite-
ment to knowledge, but as a plea for obscurantism. In short, his
standpoint is that of ecclesiasticism, that all truth being com-
prehended in the creed of the Church, secular knowledge of
every kind was a useless if not profane acquisition a standpoint
which may be said to have much to say for itself on grounds of
antiquity, as it is, mutatis mutandis, the ground of Adam's
prohibition with reference to " the tree in the midst of the
garden ".
But with all its shortcomings, dramatic, philosophical, and
otherwise, Calderon's play will always excite and sustain a high
degree of interest. In respect of Spanish free-thought it has a
special significance. It may be characterised as the high- water
mark of religious and philosophical inquiry within the limits of
Spanish Romanism. That Calderon represents all that is most
distinctive in the religion, the general culture, the manners and
usages of his countrymen, it would be absurd to deny. He is a
veracious exponent not only of the Spain of Philip IV., but, with
slight modifications, of the Spain of the present day. To a
philosophical outsider nothing in the recent celebration of the
bi-centenary of the poet's death was more striking than the
avidity with which his countrymen seized upon those natural
attributes which have made him the great poet of his country,
together with their sublime unconsciousness of imperfections and
shortcomings compared with which the highest altitude of poetic
sentiment and imagination is devoid of any durable worth. No
greater proof could be advanced than that which Spaniards have
themselves proffered by means of their undiscriminating eulogies
of Calderon, of the real narrowness, obscurantism, deficiency of
broad and liberal culture, which continue to characterise that
most benighted corner of modern Europe.
When the regeneration of Spain, of which some maintain the
premonitory symptoms are already discernible, has made un-
deniable progress, we may be sure that the movement will be
accompanied by an increasing depreciation of Calderon as the
398 Five Great Skeptical Dramas.
highest intellect of his country. Not that his real merits will
ever be questioned that is impossible. But Spaniards, emerging
from the dark prison cells of the twin giants Ecclesiasticism and
civil Despotism, will soon begin to perceive that no amount of
poetic imagination, no dramatic versatility or excellence, no
degree of grace, tenderness and pathos, no power of versification,
can be held to compensate for teachings which, prompted by,
have helped to sustain and intensify, bigotry, intolerance, and
religious and political servitude.
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