THE VISION OF HELEN

The economic consequences of Faust’s intervention in the Emperor’s affairs do not make themselves apparent until later in the drama, when he once more has to bring his dubious influence to bear in order to end the civil war. The traditional legend, however, told of his calling up of Helen of Troy and Paris, and Goethe’s story, of which we are informed that the Helen episode was one of the oldest elements, now moves forward to this event and its effect upon Faust’s character.

Firmly established at Court by means of his magic tricks, which seem to be little more than valueless trivialities, ‘Spaß und Trug’ in Mephistopheles’ words, Faust is now ordered by the Emperor to raise the two famous figures of antiquity, and he agrees to do so.
 

he says, a statement which may sound hypocritical in view of his past conduct towards Gretchen but in fact indicates that he himself has no feeling other than that his effort is to be one more illustration of his magic routine. His vanity is involved. His position as a magician is at stake.
 

he says unknowingly. He has no conception of Helen’s nature. He has no thought of the great aesthetic power that she might exercise. Ideal beauty is an experience that has not yet come his way. When it does, it has decisive effects. At this moment, however, he is almost bored by his newly accepted duty.
 

It never occurs to Faust for a moment to resist the Emperor’s whims, however frivolous. There is no idea on his part of aiding his master in what really matters, the art of government.

Mephistopheles is angry. He does not say he cannot help Faust to produce the visions, but he is not anxious to do so:
 

Greek myth is something different from the sphere in which he operates. Its values are of another kind. It does not possess the reality with which he is familiar in everyday earthly life. He deals in illusions, but not in myths, and he has no power over the mythical creatures that haunt the human mind. It is not so much the Greek world as its unreality that repels him. He cannot enter it. It is also the case that he fears the power that it might exercise over Faust by taking away his attention from the present, and it is clear from what follows that it certainly will do. His words do not, of course, mean that evil has no place in Greece, for, in spite of his reluctance, Mephistopheles is able to accommodate himself to it, as we learn later. However, he falls in with Faust’s wishes. The Greek world is that which first begins to give the latter power over the devil and to make him his servant. Hellenism, it appears, may aid man to control evil.

Mephistopheles admits:
 

He will not, or cannot, himself conjure up Helen, but he can show Faust how he can do it. The way to Greece is thus opened, though unwillingly, by the power of evil. Faust’s conquest of his companion’s reluctance is therefore a turning point in the relationship of the two. Mephistopheles explains that it is necessary for Faust to approach the realm of the Mothers:
 

First Mephistopheles’ resistance and now his mention of these sublime, unheard-of figures arouse Faust’s curiosity. He shudders when the word ‘Mütter’ is mentioned, with its strange inscrutable meaning. Mephistopheles goes on:
 

The way to their dwelling is no mortal way. Its steps are in the lonely recesses of the spirit. Faust is not deterred. He has lived far too long in spiritual emptiness and desolation:
 

He cannot be made to be afraid of the eternal void which Mephistopheles describes:
 

He boldly declares:
 

The efforts to deflect Faust have merely strengthened his resolve. Mephistopheles gives him a key that grows and flashes as he holds it. It acts as a kind of divining-rod. As he descends, or rises, into the new sphere it will be his guide. He is to leave the world of what is for the world of what is no more, and he will be enveloped as by a cloud:
 

The key will draw him to the central mystery, helping him to move among the ghostly shades that surround his course without his falling victim to them, until he sees the Mothers themselves busy around a tripod. They will not see him for they see only phantoms. He will touch the tripod with his key, bring it back with him on his return and the objects of his search will be disengaged from the embers:
 

Goethe told Eckermann that the name Mothers is to be found in Plutarch. He warded off further inquiry. He used the name and created around it a myth of his own to suit the purpose of his drama. The Mothers are the guardians of the past, keepers of immortal images which once came forth into life and now exist as recollected ideals. They live in the contemplation of shadows, memories, dreams, among what was and is no longer. The present is unseen to them. Theirs is an endless realm of ghostly unreality. And unreality is dangerous. That is why Mephistopheles is anxious about Faust.

It is not necessary to probe into the recesses of primitive myth, or into Goethe’s nature philosophy, or into Platonic or other thought, in order to explain the function of these creatures. When Faust addresses the Mothers afterwards, he says:
 

And that is all we need to know. Death is not the end. Great figures, after their transitory existence, live on as ideals, dreams, visions and myths, charged with immense possibilities. These visions are preserved until they gain new life or are, as here, conjured up. Faust goes on to say:
 

These visions are energies that can determine and control life. In a sense they are more real than life itself.

It follows that Faust is setting out to bring forth not the real Helen but her image, a phantom Helen, without life and without any of the environment of Greek antiquity that she would have had to have around her if she were real. The historical Helen must be sought, as she is sought later, elsewhere than from the Mothers and by other means.

The way to the Mothers is beset with dangers. It passes beyond the realm of reason, involves a withdrawal from reality and demands spiritual isolation. It is accompanied by the allurements of other phantoms that such withdrawal and isolation will bring. The mind, living within itself and upon its own imaginings, may well, without guidance, find itself assailed by delusion. The key of illumination is thus a necessary safeguard against the mind’s breakdown, a protection against factors that would overwhelm and destroy. The whole life of Faust’s mind and body is at stake in this new adventure.

All the more notable, therefore, is Faust’s resolve to make the journey. It is a journey that must be made, however perilous it may be, if greatness is to be called forth; a journey of the mind into the things of the mind, beyond the boundaries of reason, space and time, a lonely and mystical journey of which the devil can only be a spectator. This is how Goethe transforms the story of those supernatural visits into the firmament which the Faust of popular legend undertook. The human spirit must face solitude and terror when it goes in search of the shadows of the past, whose summoning into the world is fraught with peril. Goethe’s hero is equal to the risk. His mighty urge to know all the mysteries and the experiences of life is unimpaired.

As we have remarked, Faust knows nothing yet of Helen. He determines to discharge the task imposed by the Emperor and to dare unknown dangers in so doing, not for a mighty ideal of which he has no knowledge, but simply because it is yet another of those adventures of the human spirit which he has not yet experienced. It may be also that for one brief moment he puts aside his own personal desires in favour of satisfying the Emperor’s. But any sinking of his ego that this may mean is at once extinguished as Mephistopheles utters his breath-taking warning, and curiosity takes command. A significant advance, however, should be noted, inasmuch as Mephistopheles’ attempt to restrict him to the sphere of actuality is here dealt a mortal blow. Faust cannot be turned away from the impalpable forces of the spirit, and he hopes to compel them to do his will. He has risen from the level of charlatanry to that of searching for timeless human ideals, even though in his quest for them he is still content to employ magic aid.

While Faust is away in the mysterious sphere of the Mothers, Mephistopheles, in an amusing scene, acts the part of a quack and dispenses remedies to various members of the Court who complain of such things as freckles, chilblains and unrequited love. The lights are then dimmed, and all the courtiers assemble in the ancient castle hall which is adorned with tapestries and suits of armour. The Emperor takes his seat facing the wall, which, to the accompaniment of a fanfare of trumpets, magically rolls apart to reveal a stage in the form of a Greek temple. Mephistopheles plays the role of prompter. Garbed as a priest, Faust rises from the depths bringing with him the tripod of the Mothers. As he touches it with his key, a vapour fills the hall and the whole temple seems to be filled with melody and the smell of incense. Despite all the hocus-pocus of magic there is a religious character, we are asked to suppose, about the service of Greece.

Faust reminds us that memories and visions of what has been can materialize from time to time as life itself calls them forth, or they can be conjured up by a magician’s power. In the latter case, however, as soon becomes clear, they do not possess the reality which they gain when they manifest themselves by normal means.

The figure of Paris appears, moving in time with the music. The spectators receive him without understanding. The women are attracted, the men criticize his uncourtly manners as he stretches himself out to sleep. The conventional reaction to Greek beauty, we see, is lacking in sympathy and reverence. That the standards by which it should be measured must be other than those of everyday life is the inference which we must no doubt draw. Helen next comes forth. Mephistopheles is the first to comment upon her appearance. She means nothing to him. He has nothing in common with beauty. She bears no resemblance to the lascivious image of the ‘Hexenküche’, the type to which Mephistopheles’ thoughts normally turn:
 

Faust, on the other hand, is enraptured. He who has never known what ideal beauty is feels that his priestly descent into history has opened up for him a new life that is highly desirable:
 

His existence hitherto has been valueless; now he feels that it has an aim, an objective. Life will be useless if ever he deserts this new transporting dream. The curse which he had once laid upon human pleasure is, we observe, in danger of being revoked. Faust is near to affirming what he declared he never would affirm. In the ‘Hexenküche’ and in Gretchen’s bedroom he had felt similar spiritual promptings, but none quite so positive as these. At the same time Helen is a vision, not a reality. There can be no question of his being satisfied, only of his being more powerfully, and this time more purposefully, stimulated. The desire she arouses is without measure. Mephistopheles sees the danger and remarks:
 

The Court reacts as it had done to Paris, but this time it is the women who criticize and the men who approve. Even the scholar, addicted as he is to textual evidence, understands why the grey beards of Troy were moved by her.
As Helen approaches Paris and is about to be carried off by him, Faust is unable to control himself any longer. He advances to rescue her, grasps her, touches Paris with his key, there is an explosion, he is knocked unconscious, the spirits disappear, and in the darkness and confusion Mephistopheles lifts him on to his shoulders and bears him away. Faust is unable to watch what is merely a spectacle. He wishes to turn what he sees into reality. The vision of beauty is not something which must remain outside real life. Contemplation is insufficient. He must grasp Helen and make her his own. He cries:
 

A mere image cannot, however, be imperiously turned into reality as Faust wishes, simply by his laying hold upon it. Other means are required if he is to gain Helen. Egotistic impetuosity will need to be replaced by devotion, reverence, discipline and understanding of her whole environment and historical context, from which she must not be disengaged, as she is disengaged here. Faust, in whom the phantom has opened a new sphere of desire, is the victim of illusion both in behaving as he does and in not understanding that he is henceforth the prisoner of myth, legend and history and is thus escaping into an unreal realm away from the problems of actuality. However, he cannot even hold on to his dream. It eludes him, yet henceforth he deserts all human commitments in order to pursue it, an ideal but still a dream. He fails to see that the past cannot in any case be retained as a complete reality. It is only fruitful when it becomes of value to actual life. Its unnatural evocation is bound to be disastrous, and even a more reverent approach to it is fraught with the danger of neglect of the present.

Faust is still spiritually blind. He has yet to learn that the human ego is not an adequate guide to the conduct of life and to the experiencing of its values at the highest level. He who irresponsibly produced the inflation equally irresponsibly allows himself to be captivated by his new desires. And yet, although he has forgotten his public duty, he has not even understood how he is to approach the new object of his interest. As far as he is concerned, the Empire and its problems can look after themselves until his own private yearnings are assuaged. It would at least have been something had he known how to assuage them.