the particular developments centers; in these outlines it is our design to confine ourselves to tracing out the universal meaning. To exhibit by single verses and songs the wonderful beauty of the language, particularly in the lyrical portions, would seem to us as superfluous as the effort to prove the existence of a divine Providence by anecdotes of strange coincidences. The first act brings us into social life; a multitude of shapes pass by us—the most different wishes, opinions and humors are heard; still, a secret unity, which we shall note even more closely, pervades the confused tumult. In a delightful spot, lying upon the flowery sward, we see Faust alone, tormented by deep pangs, seeking rest and slumber. Out of pure pity, indifferent whether the unfortunate man is holy or wicked, elves hover around him and fan him to sleep, in order that the past may be sunk into the Lethe of forgetfulness; otherwise, a continuance of life and endeavor is impossible. The mind has the power to free itself from the past, and throw it behind itself, and treat it as if it had never been. The secret of renewing ourselves perpetually consists in this, that we can destroy ourselves within ourselves, and, as a veritable Phœnix, be resurrected from the ashes of self-immolation. Still, this negative action suffices not for our freedom; the Positive must be united to us; there must arise, with “tremendous quaking,” the sun of new activity and fresh endeavor, whereby the stillness of nightly repose, the evanishment of all thoughts and feelings which had become stable, passes away in refreshing slumber. Faust awakened, feels every pulse of nature beating with fresh life. The glare of the pure sunlight dazzles him—the fall of waters through the chasms of the rock depicts to him his own unrest; but from the sunlight and silvery vapor of the whirlpool there is created the richly colored rainbow, which is always quietly glistening, but is forever shifting: it is Life. After this solitary encouragement to new venture and endeavor, the court of the Emperor receives us, where a merry masquerade is about to take place. But first, from all sides, the prosaic complaints of the Chancellor, the Steward, the Commander-in-Chief, the Treasurer, fall upon the ear of the Emperor; money, the cement of all relations, is wanting to the State; for commerce, for pleasure, for luxury, money is the indispensable basis. At this point, Mephistopheles presses forward to the place of the old court-fool, who has just disappeared, and excites the hope of bringing to light concealed treasure. To the Chancellor this way seems not exactly Christian, the multitude raises a murmur of suspicion, the Astrologer discusses the possibility—and the proposition is adopted. After this hopeful prospect, the masquerade can come off without any secret anxieties disturbing their merriment. The nature of the company is represented in a lively manner. No one _is_ what he _seems_ to be;