Poetry, warned by the fatherly love of Plutus, withdraws from the tumult which arises for the possession of the golden treasures. Gnomes, Giants, Satyrs, Nymphs, press on with bacchantic frenzy; earthly desire glows through the company, and it celebrates great Pan, Nature, as its God, as the Giver of powerful Wealth and fierce Lust. A whirling tumult threatens to seize hold of everybody—a huge tongue of flame darts over all; but the majesty of the Emperor, the self-conscious dignity of man, puts an end to the juggling game of the half-unchained Earth-spirit, and restores spiritual self-possession. Still Mephistopheles keeps the promise which he has made. He succeeds in revivifying the company by fresh sums of money, obtained in conformity with his nature, not by unearthing buried treasures from the heart of the mountains by means of the wishing-rod, but by making paper-money! It is not, indeed, real coin, but the effect is the same, for in society everything rests upon the caprice of acceptance; its own life and preservation are thereby guaranteed by itself, and its authority, here represented by the Emperor, has infinite power. The paper notes, this money stamped by the airy imagination, spread everywhere confidence and lively enjoyment. It is evident that the means of prosperity have not been wanting, nor stores of eatables and drinkables, but a form was needed to set the accumulated materials in motion, and to weave them into the changes of circulation. With delight, the Chancellor, Steward, Commander-in-Chief, Treasurer, report the flourishing condition of the army and the citizens; presents without stint give rise to the wildest luxury, which extends from the nobles of the realm down to the page and fool, and in such joyfulness everybody can unhesitatingly look about him for new means of pleasure. Because the company has its essence in the production of the notes, its internal must strive for the artistic; every one feels best when he, though known, remains unrecognized, and thus a theatrical tendency developes itself. For here the matter has nothing to do with the dramatic as real art, in reference to the egotism which binds the company together. The theatre collects the idle multitude, and it has nothing to do but to see, to hear, to compare, and to judge. Theatrical enjoyment surpasses all other kinds in comfort, and is at the same time the most varied. The Emperor wishes that the great magician, Faust, should play a drama before himself and the court, and show Paris and Helen. To this design Mephistopheles can give no direct aid; in a dark gallery he declares, in conversation with Faust, that the latter himself must create the shapes, and therefore must go to the Mothers. Faust shudders at their names. Mephistopheles gives him a small but important key, with which he must enter the shadowy realm of the Mothers for a glowing tripod, and bring back the same; by burning incense upon it, he would be able to create whatever shape he wished.