have said, that he will consider himself to have
accomplished a good work if his production of Faust should have the
effect of invigorating popular interest in Goethe's immortal poem and
bringing closer home to the mind of his public a true sense of its
sublime and far-reaching signification.

The full metaphysical drift of thought and meaning in Goethe's poem,
however, can be but faintly indicated in a play. It is more distinctly
indicated in Mr. Wills's play, which is used by Mr. Irving, than in any
other play upon this subject that has been presented. This result, an
approximate fidelity to the original, is due in part to the preservation
of the witch scenes, in part to Mr. Irving's subtle and significant
impersonation of Mephistopheles, and in part to a weird investiture of
spiritual mystery with which he has artfully environed the whole
production. The substance of the piece is the love story of Faust and
Margaret, yet beyond this is a background of infinity, and over and
around this is a poetic atmosphere charged with suggestiveness of
supernatural agency in the fate of man. If the gaze of the observer be
concentrated upon the mere structure of the piece, the love story is
what he will find; and that is all he will find. Faust makes his compact
with the Fiend. He is rejuvenated and he begins a new life. In "the
Witch's Kitchen" his passions are intensified, and then they are
ignited, so that he may be made the slave of desire and afterward if
possible imbruted by sensuality. He is artfully brought into contact
with Margaret, whom he instantly loves, who presently loves him, whom
he wins, and upon whom, since she becomes a mother out of wedlock, his
inordinate and reckless love imposes the burden of pious contrition and
worldly shame. Then, through the puissant wickedness and treachery of
Mephistopheles, he is made to predominate over her vengeful brother,
Valentine, whom he kills in a street fray. Thus his desire to experience
in his own person the most exquisite bliss that humanity can enjoy and
equally the most exquisite torture that it can suffer, becomes
fulfilled. He is now the agonised victim of love and of remorse. Orestes
pursued by the Furies was long ago selected as the typical image of
supreme anguish and immitigable suffering; but Orestes is less a
lamentable figure than Faust--fortified though he is, and because he is,
with the awful but malign, treacherous, and now impotent sovereignty of
hell. To d