Nevertheless, those are not wanting who praise eyes which are
of the color of the sky, and that Venus had them so is to be
found written in certain trustworthy authors.
of the color of the sky, and that Venus had them so is to be
found written in certain trustworthy authors.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v10 - Emp to Fro
5749 (#333) ###########################################
FIRDAUSI
5749
THE WARRIOR SĀM DESCRIBES HIS VICTORY OVER A DRAGON
From the Shāh Nāmah'
AM thy servant, and twice sixty years
I
Have seen thy prowess. Mounted on my steed,
Wielding my battle-axe, o'erthrowing heroes,
Who equals Sām, the warrior? I destroyed
The mighty monster, whose devouring jaws
Unpeopled half the land, and spread dismay
From town to town. The world was full of horror;
No bird was seen in air, no beast of prey
In plain or forest; from the stream he drew
The crocodile; the eagle from the sky.
The country had no habitant alive,
And when I found no human being left,
I cast away all fear, and girt my loins,
And in the name of God went boldly forth,
Armed for the strife. I saw him towering rise,
Huge as a mountain, with his hideous hair
Dragging upon the ground; his long black tongue
Shut up the path; his eyes two lakes of blood;
And seeing me, so horrible his roar,
The earth shook with affright, and from his mouth
A flood of poison issued. Like a lion
Forward I sprang, and in a moment drove
A diamond-pointed arrow through his tongue,
Fixing him to the ground. Another went
Down his deep throat, and dreadfully he writhed.
A third passed through his middle. Then I raised
My battle-axe, cow-headed; and with one
Tremendous blow dislodged his venomous brain,
And deluged all around with blood and poison.
There lay the monster dead, and soon the world
Regained its peace and comfort. Now I'm old;
The vigor of my youth is past and gone;
And it becomes me to resign my station
To Zal, my gallant son.
Version by J. Atkinson.
## p. 5750 (#334) ###########################################
FIRDAUSI
5750
FIRDAUSI'S SATIRE ON MÁHMÚD
From the Shah Namah'
Κ
NOW, tyrant as thou art, this earthly state
Is not eternal, but of transient date;
Fear God, then, and afflict not humankind;
To merit Heaven, be thou to Heaven resigned.
Afflict not even the ant: though weak and small,
It breathes and lives, and life is sweet to all.
Knowing my temper, firm and stern and bold,
Didst thou not, tyrant, tremble to behold
My sword blood-dropping? Hadst thou not the sense
To shrink from giving man like me offense?
What could impel thee to an act so base?
What, but to earn and prove thy own disgrace?
Why was I sentenced to be trod upon
And crushed to death by elephants, by one
Whose power I scorn? Couldst thou presume that I
Would be appalled by thee, whom I defy?
I am the lion, I, inured to blood,
And make the impious and the base my food;
And I could grind thy limbs, and spread them far
As Nile's dark waters their rich treasures bear.
Fear thee! I fear not man, but God alone;
I only bow to his Almighty throne.
Inspired by him, my ready numbers flow;
Guarded by him, I dread no earthly foe.
Thus in the pride of song I pass my days,
Offering to Heaven my gratitude and praise.
From every trace of sense and feeling free,
When thou art dead, what will become of thee?
If thou shouldst tear me limb from limb, and cast
My dust and ashes to the angry blast,
Firdausī still would live, since on thy name,
Máhmúd, I did not rest my hopes of fame
In the bright page of my heroic song,
But on the God of heaven, to whom belong
Boundless thanksgivings, and on him whose love
Supports the faithful in the realms above,
The mighty Prophet! None who e'er reposed
On him, existence without hope has closed.
And thou wouldst hurl me underneath the tread
Of the wild elephant, till I were dead!
## p. 5751 (#335) ###########################################
FIRDAUSI
Dead! by that insult roused I should become
An elephant in power, and seal thy doom—
Máhmúd! if fear of man hath never awed
Thy heart, at least fear thy creator God.
Full many a warrior of illustrious worth,
Full many of humble, of imperial birth,—
Túr, Selím, Jemshíd, Minúchihr the brave,
Have died; for nothing had the power to save
These mighty monarchs from the common doom;
They died, but blest in memory still they bloom.
Thus kings too perish,-none on earth remain,
Since all things human see the dust again.
Oh, had thy father graced a kingly throne,
Thy mother been for royal virtues known,
A different fate the poet then had shared,—
Honors and wealth had been his just reward;
But how remote from thee a glorious line!
No high, ennobling ancestry is thine;
From a vile stock thy bold career began,—
A blacksmith was thy sire, of Isfahán.
Alas! from vice can goodness ever spring?
Is mercy hoped for in a tyrant king?
Can water wash the Ethiopian white?
Can we remove the darkness from the night?
The tree to which a bitter fruit is given
Would still be bitter in the bowers of heaven;
And a bad heart keeps on its vicious course,-
Or if it changes, changes for the worse;
Whilst streams of milk, where Eden's flow'rets blow,
Acquire more honeyed sweetness as they flow.
The reckless king who grinds the poor like thee
Must ever be consigned to infamy!
-
Now mark Firdausī's strain; his Book of Kings
Will ever soar upon triumphant wings.
All who have listened to its various lore
Rejoice; the wise grow wiser than before;
Heroes of other times, of ancient days,
Forever flourish in my sounding lays:
Have I not sung of Káús, Tús and Giw;
Of matchless Rustem, faithful still and true.
Of the great Demon-binder, who could throw
His kamund to the heavens, and seize his foe!
Of Húsheng, Feridún, and Sám Suwár,
Lohurásp, Kai-khosráu, and Isfendiyár;
5751
## p. 5752 (#336) ###########################################
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5752
Gushtásp, Arjásp, and him of mighty name,-
Gúdarz, with eighty sons of martial fame!
-
The toil of thirty years is now complete,
Record sublime of many a warlike feat,
Written 'midst toil and trouble; but the strain
Awakens every heart, and will remain
A lasting stimulus to glorious deeds;
For even the bashful maid, who kindling reads,
Becomes a warrior. Thirty years of care,
Urged on by royal promise, did I bear,
And now, deceived and scorned, the aged bard
Is basely cheated of his pledged reward!
Version by J. Atkinson.
PRINCE SOHRÁB LEARNS OF HIS BIRTH, AND RESOLVES TO
FIND RUSTEM
From the Shāh Nāmah›
W
HEN nine slow-circling months had rolled away,
Sweet-smiling pleasure hailed the brightening day,
A wondrous boy Tahmineh's tears suppressed,
And lulled the sorrows of her heart to rest;
To him, predestined to be great and brave,
The name Sohráb his tender mother gave;
And as he grew, amazed the gathering throng
Viewed his large limbs, his sinews firm and strong.
His infant years no soft endearment claimed;
Athletic sports his eager soul inflamed;
Broad at the chest and taper round the loins,
Where to the rising hip the body joins;
Hunter and wrestler; and so great his speed,
He could o'ertake and hold the swiftest steed.
His noble aspect and majestic grace
Betrayed the offspring of a glorious race.
How, with a mother's ever-anxious love,
Still to retain him near her heart she strove!
For when the father's fond inquiry came,
Cautious she still concealed his birth and name,
And feigned a daughter born, the evil fraught
With misery to avert-but vain the thought:
Not many years had passed with downy flight,
Ere he, Tahmineh's wonder and delight,
## p. 5753 (#337) ###########################################
FIRDAUSI
5753
1
With glistening eye, and youthful ardor warm,
Filled her foreboding bosom with alarm.
"Oh, now relieve my heart! " he said; "declare
From whom I sprang, and breathe the vital air,
Since from my childhood I have ever been,
Amidst my playmates, of superior mien.
Should friend or foe demand my father's name,
Let not my silence testify my shame!
If still concealed, you falter, still delay,
A mother's blood shall wash the crime away. "
"This wrath forego," the mother answering cried,
"And joyful hear to whom thou art allied.
A glorious line precedes thy destined birth,-
The mightiest heroes of the sons of earth.
The deeds of Sám remotest realms admire,
And Zál, and Rustem thy illustrious sire! "
In private, then, she Rustem's letter placed
Before his view, and brought with eager haste
Three sparkling rubies, wedges three of gold,
From Persia sent. "Behold," she said, "behold
Thy father's gifts-will these thy doubts remove?
The costly pledges of paternal love!
Behold this bracelet charm, of sovereign power
To baffle fate in danger's awful hour:
But thou must still the perilous secret keep,
Nor ask the harvest of renown to reap;
For when, by this peculiar signet known,
Thy glorious father shall demand his son,
Doomed from her only joy in life to part,
O think what pangs will rend thy mother's heart!
Seek not the fame which only teems with woe:
Afrásiyáb is Rustem's deadliest foe!
And if by him discovered, him I dread,
Revenge will fall upon thy guiltless head. "
The youth replied:-"In vain thy sighs and tears;
The secret breathes, and mocks thy idle fears.
No human power can fate's decrees control,
Or check the kindled ardor of my soul.
Then why from me the bursting truth conceal?
My father's foes even now my vengeance feel;
Even now in wrath my native legions rise,
And sounds of desolation strike the skies;
i
## p. 5754 (#338) ###########################################
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5754
Káús himself, hurled from his ivory throne,
Shall yield to Rustem the imperial crown,
And thou my mother, still in triumph seen,
Of lovely Persia hailed the honored queen!
Then shall Túrán unite beneath my band,
And drive this proud oppressor from the land!
Father and son in virtuous league combined,
No savage despot shall enslave mankind;
When sun and moon o'er heaven refulgent blaze,
Shall little stars obtrude their feeble rays? "
He paused, and then: -"O mother, I must now
My father seek, and see his lofty brow;
Be mine a horse, such as a prince demands,
Fit for the dusty field, a warrior's hands;
Strong as an elephant his form should be,
And chested like the stag, in motion free,
And swift as bird, or fish; it would disgrace
A warrior bold on foot to show his face. "
The mother, seeing how his heart was bent,
His day-star rising in the firmament,
Commands the stables to be searched to find
Among the steeds one suited to his mind;
Pressing their backs, he tries their strength and nerve:
Bent double to the ground their bellies curve:
Not one, from neighboring plain and mountain brought,
Equals the wish with which his soul is fraught;
Fruitless on every side he anxious turns,
Fruitless, his brain with wild impatience burns:
But when at length they bring the destined steed,
From Rakush bred, of lightning's winged speed,
Fleet as the arrow from the bowstring flies,
Fleet as the eagle darting through the skies,
Rejoiced he springs, and with a nimble bound
Vaults in his seat and wheels the courser round:
"With such a horse, thus mounted, what remains?
Káús the Persian King no longer reigns! "
High-flushed he speaks, with youthful pride elate,
Eager to crush the monarch's glittering state;
He grasps his javelin with a hero's might,
And pants with ardor for the field of fight.
Soon o'er the realm his fame expanding spread,
And gathering thousands hastened to his aid.
Version by J. Atkinson.
## p. 5755 (#339) ###########################################
5755
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
(1493-1545)
HIS Italian poet and littérateur was born in Florence, Septem-
ber 28th, 1493.
He received his name from the town of
Firenzuola among the Apennines, where his family origi-
nated. Agnolo spent his youth in Siena and Perugia, studying law
and living a gay and wild life of pleasure. For a short time he
practiced his profession in Rome, but abandoned it to become a monk
at Vallombrosa. After the death of Clement VII. he went to Flor-
ence, and finally settled at Prato as abbot of San Salvatore. Some
authorities have disputed that he ever became an abbot, for the
records of his dissolute career do not accord with a monastic life.
But whether abbot or gentleman of leisure, a severe illness took him
to Prato, where he spent many happy years. He died here or at
Rome, about 1545.
When in Rome he formed a friendship with many eminent men of
letters, and his own writings attracted much attention. His adaptation
of 'The Golden Ass' of Apuleius became a favorite book, and passed
through many editions, and his original works were esteemed for
their diction and brilliancy. Firenzuola wrote satirical and burlesque
poems; two comedies, 'I Lucidi' and 'La Trinuzia'; 'Discorsi degli
Animali,' imitations of Oriental fables of animals; Ragionamenti
Amorosi,' novelettes or tales after the fashion of Boccaccio; 'Dialogo
della Bellezza delle Donne,' and other works. He also wrote a few
love poems and ballads, one of the most admired of which is 'Orozza
Pastorella. The first edition of Firenzuola's works appeared in 1548,
and they have been frequently republished. The best editions of this
century are in 5 vols. , Milan, 1802; and in 2 vols. , Florence, 1848.
In his 'Renaissance in Italy' (London, 1881), J. A. Symonds says:-
-
"The charm of Firenzuola's (Novelle' is due in a large measure to his
style, which has a wonderful transparency and ease, a wealth of the rarest
Tuscan phrases, and a freshness of humor that renders them delightful read-
ing. The storm at sea, in the first tale, and the night scene in the streets
in Florence, in the third, are described with Ariostean brilliancy.
In point
of subject-matter they do not greatly differ from the ordinary novels of the
day, and some of the tales reappear in the collections of other novelists.
Most of them turn upon the foibles and vices of the clergy.
"Firenzuola prefaced his novels with an elaborate introduction, describ-
ing the meeting of some friends at Celso's villa near Pazolatico and their
## p. 5756 (#340) ###########################################
5756
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
discourse on love. From discussion they pass to telling amorous stories,
under the guidance of a Queen selected by the company. The introductory
conversation is full of a dreamy, sensualized, disintegrated Platonism. It
parades conventional distinctions between earthly and heavenly love, between
the beauty of the soul and the beauty of the body; and then we pass with-
out modulation into the regions of what is here called accidenti amorosi.
"The same insincere Platonism gives color to Firenzuola's discourse on the
'Beauty of Women,' - one of the most important productions of the sixteenth
century in illustration of popular and artistic taste. The author imagines
himself to have interrupted a bevy of fair ladies from Prato in the midst of a
dispute about the beauty of Mona Amelia della Torre Nuova. Mona Amelia
herself was present; and so were Mona Lampiada, Mona Amororrisca, Mona
Selvaggia, and Mona Verdespina. Under these names it is clear that living
persons of the town of Prato are designated; and all the examples of beauty
given in the dialogue are chosen from well-known women of the district.
The composition must therefore be reckoned as an elaborate compliment from
Firenzuola to the fair sex of Prato. »
The scene of the famous dialogue is laid in the convent grounds
of Grignano, and Celso is supposed to be intended for Firenzuola.
He analyzes and criticizes the form, proportion, and colors of the
female type from the point of view of the artist, sculptor, and fas-
tidious gentleman of taste. The 'Dialogo della Bellezze delle Donne'
was first published in 1548, without the place of publication. It was
reprinted in Florence in the same year. Many editions appeared, and
a French translation, called 'Discours de la Beauté des Dames,' was
issued in Paris in 1578. It was translated into English by Clara Bell,
and printed with an introduction by Theodore Child (London, 1892),
under the title 'Of the Beauty of Women. ' Of it Mr. Child says:-
«Firenzuola's 'Dialogue on the Beauty of Women,' which is here presented
for the first time in the English tongue, seems to us worthy of the honors of
translation and of perusal for other reasons than those of mere antiquarian
curiosity. Our ideal of feminine beauty is doubtless different from that of
Botticelli, Perugino, Antonio Bazzi, Bellini, Leonardo, or Titian; and yet, by
the ardent and continual study of the masterpieces of these and other paint-
ers, we certainly influence our modern ideal in some subtle and unanalyzable
way. The life of great works of art is eternal. In each succeeding age they
acquire new eloquence and impart fresh lessons to those who study them.
They retain an inexhaustible power of suggestion and boundless capacity of
interpretation. It is in the interpretation of the painting of the Italian Renais-
sance that the Dialogue of Firenzuola seems to us to be of singular interest;
and above all in its suggestiveness to modern women, and in its implied doc-
trine that beauty is to be pursued, and within certain limits to be attained,
even by those whom nature has not lavishly favored. . . . The Florentine
was curious, perhaps, rather than sentimental; his analysis of the beauty of
women is strictly æsthetical; his admiration active and impressionist, so to
## p. 5757 (#341) ###########################################
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
5757
speak, rather than contemplative. Had he lived in our times, he would have
noted with incomparably delicate touch the familiar gestures which contempo-
rary costume involves, and all the pretty movements that accompany the
raising of a veil, the arrangement of the hair imperceptibly ruffled by the
indiscreet breeze, the coquettish effort made in taking off gloves and adjust-
ing rings and bracelets, the furtive application of the powder-puff and of the
precious unguent that imparts intensity to roseate lips. At the same time he
would have paid little attention to the naïveté of the eye and the gravity of
the heart. The beauty of women which Firenzuola admires and analyzes is
exterior, plastic, and material. . . Many of Firenzuola's remarks may
seem perhaps a little vague and general, but they become less so when we
read them in connection with the monuments of plastic art contemporaneous
with the life of the writer. In the figures of the frescoes of Ghirlandajo, of
Piero della Francesca, of Antonio Bazzi, and more particularly in the marvel-
ous women that we admire in the frescoes and pictures of the Florentine
Botticelli, we recognize those refinements of bearing and expression of which
Firenzuola speaks; we divine an ideal of feminine beauty corresponding with
his; and we realize the charm of those high and pure foreheads shining
almost like a mirror. >>
IN THE GARDEN
From Of the Beauty of Women›
ELSO SELVAGGIO is a great friend of mine, and so much at
my service that I make bold to say he is in truth as my
second self. Hence, when I now set forth these his dis-
courses, albeit indeed he hath forbidden it, he will have patience
with me, inasmuch as that the love he bears me constrains him
to make my will his own, and all the more, since that which
constraineth him constraineth me. Now he, besides being a man
skilled in learning, is of no small judgment, and great courtesy
and highly accommodating to the desires of his friends; and for
all these reasons, being assured that he will make no difficulties,
I have set them forth as you see.
He found himself last summer in the garden of the Abbey of
Grignano, kept at that time by Vanazzo de Rochi, whither sev-
eral youths and maidens had betaken themselves for air, ladies
distinguished no less for their beauty and high degree than for
their many virtues; among them Madonna Lampiada, Madonnas
Amororrisca, Selvaggia, and Verdespina. They had withdrawn
to the summit of the hillock in the midst of that garden, over-
grown with cypress and laurel, where they tarried, disputing of
Madonna Amelia della Torrenuova, who likewise was in the
## p. 5758 (#342) ###########################################
• 5758
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
pleasaunce; and this one would have it that she was of the
greatest beauty, and that other that she was not even well fa-
vored, when Celso came up the mount with certain other youths
of Prato, the kindred of these ladies. And they, being thus
taken by surprise, were silent on a sudden. Then Celso making
excuse for having done them such discourtesy, the ladies gra-
ciously replied that their coming hither was most pleasing to
them, and they bid these gentlemen be seated on a bank over
against them; yet were they again silent.
Whereupon Celso spoke, saying:- "Fair ladies, either proceed
in your discourse, or dismiss us from your company, to the end
that we may not disturb your sport, but hit the ball as it
bounds. "
Then said Madonna Lampiada:-"Messer Celso, our discourse
was of women, wherefore it did not appear to us to be seemly
to continue it in your presence. This one said that Amelia was
not comely; I say that she is: thus we were disputing, after the
manner of ladies. "
To whom Celso replied:-"Madonna Selvaggia is in error, but
indeed she loves her not. In truth, that lady must ever be
accounted fair by all, nay, and most beautiful; and if she is not
to be deemed beautiful, I cannot see one in Prato who may be
called fair. ”
On this Selvaggia, somewhat wroth
replied: "Small judgment is needed in
each is of a different mind, and a brown skin is pleasing to one
and a white skin to another; and it is with us women as in a
draper's shop, where cloth from the Romagnuola finds a pur-
chaser no less than satin from Banello. "
-
as
rather
rather than pleased,
such a matter, since
"Well and good," quoth Celso; "but when we speak of a
beautiful woman we mean one whom all alike admire, and not
this one or that one only: thus Nora, so ill-favored as she is,
appears most pleasing in the sight of her Tomaso, albeit she is
uncomely as she possibly can be; and my gossip, who was
passing fair, her husband could not suffer. Peradventure it is
that certain complexions suit or suit not: but a lady fair in all
points, like yourself, must necessarily be pleasing to all, as you
are; albeit few are pleasing to you, as I know full well. It is
indeed the truth, that to be of perfect beauty many things are
needed, so that one is rarely found who possesseth the half of
them. "
## p. 5759 (#343) ###########################################
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
5759
Selvaggia then said: There are some among you men
whom the world itself would not satisfy. And I once heard it
said that one Momus, unable to find any fault in the beauty of
Venus, blamed some trifle in the fashion of her sandals. ”
Then said Verdespina: "Thus you see how he beheld her. "
And Celso, laughing, went on:-"Again, Stesichoros, a most
noble poet of Sicily, spoke evil of that Helen who by her
exceeding great beauty moved a thousand Greek ships to go
forth against the great kingdom of Troy. "
Then said Madonna Lampiada in haste:-"Ay, truly; but you
know that he thereupon lost his sight, and had it not again till
he denied his words. "
-
<<
-
"And so had his desert," added Celso, "inasmuch as that
beauty and fair women, and fair women and beauty, ought to be
lauded and held precious by all; seeing that a fair woman is the
fairest object that may be seen, and beauty the highest gift
bestowed by God on mankind; since its virtue is to invite the
soul to contemplation, and through contemplation to the desire
of heavenly things. Hence it hath been given us as a foretaste
and as an earnest; and it is of such power and worth that it
hath been accounted by sages as the first and most excellent of
all things to be loved; nay, they have called it the very seat, the
nest, the abode of love; of love, I say, which is the source and
fount of all human joys. For it we see a man forget himself;
and on beholding a face graced with this celestial gift, his limbs
will quake, his hair stand on end, and he will sweat and shiver
at the same time; just as one who, seeing on a sudden some
heavenly vision, is possessed by the divine frenzy; and when he
is come to himself worships it in his heart, and acknowledging it
as it were god, gives himself up as a victim and a sacrifice on
the altar of that fair lady's heart. "
Whereupon said Madonna Lampiada:-"Ah, Messer Celso, if
it will not weary you, do us a pleasure: tell us somewhat of this
beauty, and what should be the form of such a fair woman;
whereas these damsels have for some time urged me to entreat
this of you, and I have delayed to do it. But since you of your
own motion have begun to discourse of it, having increased my
desire you likewise have raised my courage; all the more since it
hath been told me that during the evening assembly held by my
sister last Carnival season, you spoke of the matter with those
ladies at such length that Madonna Agnoletta could talk of
## p. 5760 (#344) ###########################################
5760
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
nothing else for many days. So we pray you do us this favor,
for we have naught else to be busy about; and in this light
wind the heat of the day will be more delightfully spent by us
than by those below who are sporting or walking in the pleas-
aunce. "
Then answered Celso:-"Ay! To the end that Selvaggia, if
she hear aught said which is not to her mind, or if I omit
aught, may cry out that I am speaking ill of women; in which
I never take so great pleasure as I do in praising them, as she
has often known by experience, and yet hath never thanked me
for it. "
Translation of Clara Bell.
OF THE FOREHEAD AND TEMPLES
From Of the Beauty of Women'
C
ELSO-To return to the person of our image, I say that you,
Madonna Amororrisca, have a shape between lean and fat,
round and juicy and of the right proportions, wherein
we see suppleness and dexterity, with somewhat that is right
queenly. Your hue is not of that whiteness which verges on
pallor, but tinted with blood, after the fashion which the ancients.
prized. The person of a lady of high degree should move with
gravity and after a certain gentle manner which keeps it upright,
yet not stiff, so that we find in it that majesty whereof I lately
spoke. And inasmuch as you have most of all these things, we
are bound to give you Verdespina's hair; and now will seek a
forehead.
The forehead must be spacious; that is, wide and high, fair
and serene. The height, which is understood to be from where
the hair ends down to the confines of the eyebrows and the
nose, according to many writers should be the third part of the
face; the second part being measured to the upper lip, and
the third part all the rest, including the chin; -the height, then,
I say, must be equal to half the width, and it will be twice as
wide as the height; so that from the width we estimate the
height, and the height from the width. And we have said it
must be fair, since it must not be of an over-dull whiteness
without any lustre, but should shine after the manner of a mir-
ror; not by wetness, or by painting, or by foul washes like that
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AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
5761
of Bovinetta, which, an it were fish to fry, might be worth a
farthing a pound more as not needing to be floured; howbeit, it
is not to be sold nor fried.
The line of the brow should not be all flat, but curved like
an arch toward the crown of the head, so gently that it is scarce
to be perceived; but from the boss of the temples it should
descend more straightly. Our poets speak of it as serene, and
with reason; since as the sky is serene when we see on it no
cloud nor any manner of spot, so the front, when it is clear and
open, without furrows or wrinkles or powders, is calm and tran-
quil, and may be rightly called serene; and whereas the sky
when it is serene engenders a certain contentment in the mind
of those who behold it, so the forehead which we call serene,
gives, through the eye, peace to the soul of those who gaze upon
it. As it is now with me, gazing on that of Madonna Lampiada,
which, having all the qualities I have enumerated, will do well.
to place beneath Verdespina's hair. And that serenity of which
I speak is the greater for the lustre of the eyes, they being
without the confines of the forehead indeed, and yet appearing.
as the two chief luminaries in the sky; and we will first speak of
the eyebrows.
Now, to speak of these, we will take as an example those of
Verdespina, who hath them in color like ebony; fine, and of
short, soft hairs, as though they were of the finest silk; and
from the middle to the ends they gently diminish, on one side.
towards the hollow or socket of the eye, by the nose, and on the
other toward that part which is near the ear, and where they end.
Next we come to the eye, which in every part of the visible
globe, or eyeball, excepting the pupil, must be white, slightly
tinged with the hue of flax, but so little as to be scarce per-
ceptible. The pupil, save only the circle which lies in the centre,
should not be perfectly black, albeit all the Greek and Latin
poets, and our own likewise, praise black eyes as with one
voice, and all are agreed that the goddess of beauty had them.
Nevertheless, those are not wanting who praise eyes which are
of the color of the sky, and that Venus had them so is to be
found written in certain trustworthy authors.
Among you there is a lady, reputed exceeding fair by me and
by many others, who, having such eyes, gains in grace thereby.
Nevertheless, common custom seems to have obtained that dark
tan or nut-brown eyes hold the first place among eyes of other
colors. Deep black is not much to be commended, since it tends
X-361
## p. 5762 (#346) ###########################################
5762
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
to a somewhat gloomy and cruel gaze; and nut brown, if dark,
gives a soft, bright, clear, and kindly gaze; and it lends to the
movement of the eyes I know not what alluring charm,- frank,
attractive, and keen, which I cannot better explain than by
pointing to those of Madonna Lampiada, to whom none of these
qualities are lacking. And besides this that has been said, and
again like Madonna Lampiada, the eyes must be large and full,
not concave nor hollow, for hollowness makes the gaze over-
proud, and fullness makes it sweet and modest. So Homer, de-
siring to praise the eyes of Juno, tells us that they were like
those of an ox, meaning thereby that they were round and full
and large. Many have said that they should be long, and others.
that they should be oval, which pleases me very well.
The eyelids, when they are white, with certain delicate rosy
veins, hardly to be seen, are a great aid to the general beauty of
the eye; and the lashes should be thin and not over-long and
not white, since, besides being ill-favored, they impair the sight.
Nor would I have them very black, which makes the gaze fierce.
The socket which surrounds the eye is not to be very deep, nor
too large, nor different in color from the cheek; and let ladies
who paint be on their guard, those, I would say, who are
brown,- since this part is very often unapt to take the paint or
the plastering by reason of its hollow shape, or to retain it by
reason of the motion of the eyelashes, and thus makes a division
which looks very ill. Madonna Theofila's neighbor often falls
into this error.
The ears, which should be tinted rather of the hue of pale
rubies than of red ones, and which we will paint like the balcony
rose, and not the damask, I will borrow from you, Selvaggia.
For their perfect beauty, as we see in yours, a middle size is to
be desired, with the shell finely turned, and of a livelier hue than
the flat part; and the roll which borders them all round must be
transparent and of a brilliant hue like the seed of a pomegranate.
Above all, if they be soft and thin their beauty is spoiled; hence,
as they are seen in her, they should be firm and well set on.
Of the temples there is little to be said save that they must
be white and flat, not hollow; not over-full and moist, nor so
narrow as to seem to press on the brain, which would signify a
weakness of the brain. And they are beautiful when they re-
semble those of Madonna Amororrisca. And the manner of lay-
ing the hair over them, higher or lower, curled or drawn smooth.
thicker or thinner, enlarges or diminishes the temples and makes
## p. 5763 (#347) ###########################################
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
5763
them wider or narrower, longer or shorter, as we may desire, or
as a little flower shall confine it.
Madonna Lampiada-When I was a girl we did not love to
dress our heads as many of our maidens do nowadays, putting
so many flowers and leaves that they often resemble a jar full
of gilliflowers or marjoram; nay, some might be a quarter of kid
on the spit, since they will even wear rosemary, which to me
seems the most graceless thing in the world. And you, Messer
Celso, how seems it to you?
Celso I like it not, if I am to tell the truth; and this mis-
take arises from their not knowing for what reason the ancients
would wear a flower above the ear. I speak of gentlewomen,
since the peasant women, having no other jewels nor pearls, load
themselves, as you know, with flowers, without order, fashion, or
number; and in them this excess becomes beauty.
Madonna Lampiada-Meseems that even gentle ladies may
have worn flowers for their more homely adornment, instead of
pearls and gold; inasmuch as not all our peers have wherewithal
to attire themselves with the gems of the Orient or the sands of
Tagus, and so it was needful to use the riches of the gardens of
our own land. But each one having tried to outdo the others,
they seem sometimes as if they had a garland or quintain about
the face. And waters and powders were in those days invented,
to remove pimples and moles and other such stains, but to-day
they are used to paint and whiten the whole face, just as lime
and plaster cover the face of a wall; and peradventure those
foolish maids believe that men, whom they seek to please, do not
discern this foulness, which I would have them to know wears
them out and makes them grow old before their time, and de-
stroys their teeth, while they seem to be wearing a mask all the
year through. Look now at Mona Bettola Gagliani; what do you
think of her? The more she paints and the more she dresses up
the older she seems; nay, she is like a gold ducat that hath lain
in aquafortis. And it would not be thus if she had not used
washes so much when she was young. I, for my part, if I am
still well preserved (which indeed I know not, but it shall suffice
that others say so) it is from no cause but that water from the
well has ever been my wash, and shall be that of my daughter
so long as she tarries with me; afterwards, it must be her hus-
band's care.
Translation of Clara Bell.
## p. 5764 (#348) ###########################################
5764
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
OF THE HAND
From Of the Beauty of Women'
HE hand, which all declare to be perfect in you (to you I say
it, Selvaggia, so hide it not), must likewise be white chiefly
on the outer side, large enough and somewhat fat, the palm
hollow and tinted with rose; the lines must be clear, few, distinct,
firmly drawn, not crossing nor entangled, the mounts of Jupiter,
Venus, and Mercury plainly to be seen, yet not over-high; the
line of the intellect and wit should be deep and clear and crossed
by no other. The hollow that lies between the thumb and mid-
dle finger must be shapely, without wrinkles, and brightly tinted.
The fingers are beautiful when they are long, fine, and slender,
tapering somewhat towards the tip, yet so little as to be scarce
perceptible. The nails transparent, like pale rubies among pink
roses and the leaves of the pomegranate flower; not long, not
round nor altogether square, but of a fair shape and with a very
little boss, uncovered, clean and well kept, so that at the base the
little white crescent is visible. Above, beyond the flesh of the
finger, an edge should be seen, as wide as a small knife is thick,
without the smallest suspicion of a rim of black at the tip. And
the whole hand must be of a tender, firm surface, as though it
were of fine silk or the softest cotton. And this is all it occurs
to me to say of the arms and hands. Now this image will no
longer be like that in the piazza; but behold the thing she was
compared with! You are indeed one of those sharp thorns which
get in between the nail and the flesh, and if green, of the harder
heart; and it is well for me that I have a good needle to with-
draw it withal.
Selvaggia-Now, meseems, your picture is like those which
are wrought by the hands of a good master; and to tell the truth,
it is a most beautiful thing, so that if I were a man, whereas I
am a woman, I should be constrained like a second Pygmalion to
fall in love with her. And do not think that I call her beautiful
only to signify that the parts which we have given her are the
occasion of it, seeing that the adornments and graces you have
bestowed on her might have made even the wife of Jacopo Caval-
laccio seem fair. Since I (to speak only of myself), if I had so
fair a bosom as you have described, should not yield to Helen
nor Venus for beauty.
## p. 5765 (#349) ###########################################
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
5765
Celso -You have it indeed, and you know it; there is no need
to make so many words about it. Good luck to you, and to him
who may some day be worthy to behold it. And of a truth when
that friend of mine composed a fine Elegy in its praise, having
so fine a thread, it was no great marvel that he filled so fair a
cloth. But to give our chimera the crowning perfection, that
nothing may be lacking to her, you, Madonna Lampiada, will give
her that witchery that sparkles in your eyes and that fine air
which pervades the perfect proportion of your person; you, Ma-
donna Amororrisca, will give her the queenly majesty of your
person and the cheerfulness of your honest and modest gaze, that
serious gait, that dignified countenance, and that gentle gracious-
ness which delight all who behold them. Selvaggia will lend her
a calm seemliness, an inviting charm, an honest yet bewitching,
a severe yet sweet attractiveness, with that pitying cruelty which
all are constrained to praise albeit none desire it. You, Verdes-
pina, shall bestow the grace which makes you so dear; that readi-
ness and sweetness of gay speech, subtle, honest, and gracious.
Wit and the other gifts and virtues of the mind we do not need,
inasmuch as we have described only the beauties of the body and
not those of the spirit, for which a better painter than I am is
needed, better colors and a better brush than those of my poor
wit, albeit your example is no less sufficient for that kind of
beauty than for the other.
And thus without more words their discourse ended, and each
one returned to his own home.
Translation of Clara Bell.
## p. 5766 (#350) ###########################################
5766
KUNO FISCHER
(1824-)
BY RICHARD JONES
UNO FISCHER of Heidelberg, one of the most brilliant and
stimulating of living university professors, the great his-
torian and interpreter of modern philosophy, is distinguished
likewise as an expositor and interpreter of some of the greater liter-
ature of the modern world. Indeed, his first published work, 'Dio-
tima, oder die Idee des Schönen,' was an excursion into the realm of
æsthetics; and his poetic sympathies, oratorical fervor and eloquence,
and the literary charm of his interpretations, have contributed no less
than his profound philosophic insight toward
drawing to him university students from all
parts of the world, from the beginning of his
distinguished university career.
KUNO FISCHER
The son of a country pastor, he was born
July 23d, 1824, at Sandewalde in the province
of Silesia. He attended the Gymnasium of
Posen, and began in 1844 his university stud-
ies, philology, theology, and philosophy; first
at Leipsic, then at Halle, where he received
the degree of doctor of philosophy in 1847. In
the Michaelmas semester of 1850 he began his
instruction in philosophy as privatdocent in the
University of Heidelberg. His lectures were
from the first exceptionally successful, but in 1853 he was forbidden
by a ministerial edict from continuing his university instruction. No
reason was assigned for this arbitrary act, which aroused deep indig-
nation in university circles throughout Germany as a serious infringe-
ment of the "Lehrfreiheit," the unrestricted freedom of thought and
of teaching so dear to the German university professor's heart. He
remained amid the beautiful surroundings of Heidelberg, enjoying the
friendship of Strauss and of Gervinus, improving his enforced leisure
by working on his history of philosophy, -the volume which appeared
in 1856, and which serves as an Introduction to the history proper;
viz. , Francis Bacon und seine Nachfolger' (Francis Bacon and his
Successors), receiving the compliment of an immediate translation
## p. 5767 (#351) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5767
into English.
In the autumn of 1855 Fischer requested permission to
lecture in the University of Berlin, but on account of the Heidelberg
proscription this request was refused by the Prussian Minister of Edu-
cation. However, in response to a petition of the faculty of the Uni-
versity of Berlin, an order was issued by the King in September 1856,
granting their request that Fischer be permitted to lecture. But in
the mean time he had received a call to the chair of philosophy at
Jena, made famous by Fichte and Schelling and Hegel. This call he
accepted. Here his lectures were again extraordinarily successful.
Students flocked to Jena as they had not done since the days of
Schiller, Schelling, and Fichte. He was made Privy Councilor of the
Duke, and was the recipient of many honors. In 1870 he declined a
call to the University of Vienna, but in 1872 he accepted a call to
the University of Heidelberg as Zeller's successor, where he has since
remained, the brightest ornament of the oldest university within the
present limits of Germany.
His literary work has been done in the two fields of philosophic
and literary exposition and interpretation. His 'Geschichte der Neu-
ern Philosophie' (History of Modern Philosophy) is now become, after
successive enlargements in several editions, a monumental work,
famous for the clearness and beauty of its literary style no less than
for its philosophic insight and sympathetic interpretation. Kuno
Fischer's method is not to give in brief the essence of a philosophic
system, the substance of Kant, for example. He gives, on the con-
trary, Kant amplified, interpreted, illustrated. He states lucidly that
which Kant himself stated obscurely, and illumines the Cimmerian
darkness of the Critique of Pure Reason' by a remarkably clear and
successful interpretation, which has influenced profoundly philosophic
thought during the closing decades of the nineteenth century.
His treatment of philosophic systems is colored with life by sympa-
thetic recitals of the lives and characters of the men who founded
these systems. As an introduction, for example, to the philosophy
of Leibnitz, there is given a full account of the life and times of
Leibnitz, closing with a description of his death, alone and friend-
less. This great many-sided genius, until Kant came the greatest
mind since Aristotle, world-renowned, who had served his king for
forty years, died neglected and solitary, practically imprisoned, set to
a task, yearning for the green fields, a change of scene, and liberty,
and no one knows to this day the spot where he lies buried,- a
striking theme for a philosopher-poet, who is by nature an orator,
"musical as is Apollo's lute. " To hearers or readers who have
learned thus to know the man Leibnitz, the system of thought of the
philosopher Leibnitz can never be thereafter a mere lifeless ab-
straction.
## p. 5768 (#352) ###########################################
5768
KUNO FISCHER
Even the distinctively philosophical works of Kuno Fischer are full
of literary charm. They are clear and lucid statements of moment-
ous truths, warm with emotion and glowing with life through his
vivid appreciation of the greatness of the theme. Since, as Disraeli
has said, "Philosophy becomes poetry, and science imagination, in
the enthusiasm of genius," so Kuno Fischer's readers, and especially
his hearers, yield ready assent to Milton's lines:-
"How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns. »
Kuno Fischer's expositions and interpretations of literature relate
largely to the works of Shakespeare, Lessing, Goethe, and Schiller.
His method has been described in detail by Hugo Falkenheim in his
volume 'Kuno Fischer und die Litterarhistorische Methode. ' As an
interpreter of literature, Fischer does not evolve his interpretations.
out of his inner consciousness; but as a philosopher and a historian
of thought, he is able to distinguish from unessential details the
ruling idea which is at the basis of a poem, and to illustrate the use
which has been made of this idea by other poets, elsewhere and in
other times.
The first volume of his Goethe's Faust' (Vol. i. , Faust Litera-
ture before Goethe'; Vol. ii. , Goethe's Faust, its Origin, Idea, and
Composition') has been translated into English by Harry Riggs Wol-
cott, of the University of Heidelberg. 'Die Erklärungsarten des
Goetheschen Faust' (Goethe's Faust; Methods of Exposition) has been
translated by Professor Richard Jones, of the University of the State
of New York, for the publications of the English Goethe Society. His
commentary on Kant's Critique of Pure Reason' was translated and
edited by Professor J. P. Mahaffy, of the University of Dublin, in 1866.
His 'Critique of Kant' has been translated by Professor W. S. Hough
for the Journal of Speculative Philosophy, edited by Dr. William T.
Harris. Professor J. P. Gordy of Ohio University has translated the
first two volumes of the History of Modern Philosophy,' including
Descartes and his school, and also the Introduction, which gives an
outline of Grecian philosophy and of the philosophy of the Middle
Ages, of the Renaissance, and of the Reformation. 'Francis Bacon
and his Successors' is a translation of his work on Bacon by John
Oxenford (London, 1857). Other translations are in preparation.
Richard Jones
## p. 5769 (#353) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5769
THE MOTIVE TO PHILOSOPHY
From the History of Modern Philosophy'
P
HILOSOPHY is a love for wisdom, a striving after truth.
this striving is philosophy. A progressive culture-process
can be comprehended only by a progressive knowledge-
process. The human spirit is this progressive culture-process; phi-
losophy is this progressive knowledge-process, the self-knowledge
of the human spirit. This self-knowledge of the human spirit
is the fundamental theme of all systems of philosophy. The
problem of philosophy is to see the meaning of the forms of
culture, to grasp their inner motives, and to make clear what
they are and what is their aim. The problem is the more diffi-
cult, the richer and more manifold the world of culture becomes.
The animating principles of men are so various that conflicting
systems of philosophy arise, each of which expresses one phase
of these animating principles. This phase must be co-ordinated,
in order to solve the philosophical problem of the age. But
there are ruling tendencies of the time; so there arise in philos-
ophy ruling systems.
Moreover, this explanation of the spirit of history, which is
the province of philosophy, is always more than a mere exposi-
tion.
Philosophy bears the same relation to the history of the
human spirit as does our self-knowledge to our life. In what
consists the act of self-observation? We withdraw from the outer
world which has occupied us, and busy ourselves with ourselves.
We make our own life a subject of observation, just as the artist
views the work arising under his hand. He lays down his tools
and steps back from his work, and from a suitable point of view
surveys the whole.
The eye of the critical artist sees otherwise
than the eye of the artist lost in his work. He now discovers
faults which were before unseen. He sees want of proportion in
the parts; there a limb is too prominent for a symmetrical whole.
By this opportune examination he sees now wherein one har-
monizes with all, and what destroys the harmony. What shall
the artist do? Abandon the work because many faults appear?
Shall he not rather again grasp the tools, and in accordance
with the right idea which he in a moment of criticism conceived,
now correctly and better labor?
Let us apply the illustration: The artists are ourselves; the
artistic work is our lives; the critical look which judges the work
Even
## p. 5770 (#354) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5770
is the self-observation which interrupts the process of living. We
withdraw from the life which we have until that moment lived;
and as the artist makes his work, we make our lives our subject
of observation and win thereby a better knowledge of ourselves.
We thereby separate ourselves from our past life-conditions, and
shall never again return to the same. So self-observation deter-
mines the moment when one life-period closes and a new one
begins. It makes a crisis in our development, a turning-point or
epoch in our lives. We free ourselves from our passions as soon
as we think. We cease to feel them so soon as we begin to ob-
serve them. In this lies the whole importance of self-knowledge,
the crisis which it works in our lives. We are no more ruled by
our previous life-conditions; we are no more what we were. So
an earnest observation of self is always a fundamental freeing
and renewal of our lives, a crisis which separates the present
from the past and prepares for the future. The act of self-
observation is in our own life what the monologue is in the
drama. The action withdraws from the confusing stage of the
outer world into the innermost soul, and here in silence, in delib-
eration with self, the problem is considered and solved.
Such moments are wanting in the life of no spiritually active
being, and every one finds them in his own experience. It is
impossible that we shall always continue in the conditions of life
and culture which have hitherto ruled us; our interest in them
ceases to satisfy us. A feeling of satiety, of dissatisfaction, makes
itself always more actively and painfully felt, and at last we re-
main alone with ourselves. We are estranged from our previous
life-conditions; we begin to reflect concerning ourselves, concern-
ing the problem of our being, concerning the problem of the
world; we begin to philosophize,- so far as we are able, so far
as our culture permits.
I have portrayed out of the experience and development of
a single life, the soul-condition in which the will is inclined to
reflection and self-observation, and which germinates the first
motive to philosophy. It is the moment when, in fervid souls, a
passionate longing awakens to know philosophy and to receive
from her the satisfaction which life, mere activity, no more pro-
vides.
To that important part which, in the development of the
individual, self-observation plays, there correspond in the life of
the race the dominant systems of philosophy. They not merely
## p. 5771 (#355) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5771
accompany the progress of the human spirit, they influence this
progress by making subjects of observation out of hitherto ruling
life-conditions. They free the world from this rule. They per-
fect the present form of culture and prepare for the new. They
work as world-historical factors, through which the great systems
of culture live out their life and great culture crises are brought
about.
We see the history of philosophy in its true light, when we
recognize in it the course of development in which the necessary
problems of humanity are with all distinctness defined, and so
solved that out of every solution there arise in progressive order
ever new and deeper problems.
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Professor
Richard Jones
FROM GOETHE'S FAUST: THE METHODS OF EXPOSITION>
I. THE AGE WHEN THE POEM WAS WRITTEN
IN
N 1813 Goethe, wishing to express anew and more compre-
hensively than ever before, his appreciation of the poet to
whom his highest admiration was ever devoted, took for his
theme the words "Shakespeare without end. " "So much has
already been said concerning Shakespeare that it might appear
as though there were nothing more to say, and yet it is the
nature of his mind that he always arouses mental activity in
others. " The same is also true of Goethe himself and of his
'Faust. ' The world will never cease to read Dante's world-poem,
for the subject of which it treats is a theme of eternal moment,—
the guilt, the purification, and the salvation of man.
The same
is true of the importance and abiding influence of Goethe's
'Faust. ' It would betray an ignorance of world-literature and of
its worth should one in a tone of irritation exclaim, "Goethe's
'Faust' without end. "
This poem roots itself deep in the past, and is not of less
worth because it grew out of the 'Volksbücher' and popular
plays; for in the realm of poetry the worth of a popular origin
is fully recognized. The age in which it was written, the stamp
of which the poem bears, was one of the richest in ideas and in
deeds which man has ever seen; and never before has such an
## p. 5772 (#356) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5772
age developed in so short a time. When the 'Fragment' of our
'Faust' appeared, the French Revolution had just begun; it had
run its course and had given birth to a Cæsar, who was already
the ruler of the world when the First Part of 'Faust' saw the
light of day. In the same year Napoleon appeared in Erfurt,
where he called to him the author of 'Werther' and advised him
to compose a Cæsar,' since the destiny of the world now lay in
politics.
When Goethe was asked which one among modern philoso-
phers he considered the greatest, he answered, "Kant, unquestion-
ably; for he is the one whose doctrine proves permanent and has
penetrated most deeply into our German culture. " Contempora-
neous with the origin of Kant's 'Critique of Pure Reason' was
the origin of Goethe's 'Faust. ' Contemporaneous with the 'Cri-
tique of the Judgment,' Kant's last great work, appeared the
'Fragment. ' The Königsberg philosopher stood at that time at
the summit of his mental activity. The philosophers Fichte,
Schelling, and Hegel had followed him and had filled the world
with their ideas, when Goethe published in 1808 the First Part
of his 'Faust. ' Some seventy poems have dared to vie with it,
but in the light of the great star have quickly paled. No one
of these had the power so to express and reveal the spiritual
fullness of this age, rich in thought and events, as did Goethe's
'Faust. ' All influential thinkers of the time compared their
ideas with this work, and endeavored to show their spiritual re-
lationship with the same, in order thereby to establish their own
worth and import.
•
It is impossible that a poem which rules so great a past and
present, and which has so great a following, should be so short-
lived that scarcely two generations after its completion it has
lived out its life, its fundamental thought exhausted. Indeed,
the vast and always growing number of expositions of Goethe's
'Faust' proves to us that the world desires an interpretation of
this work, and that the attempts hitherto made have either failed
in their purpose or have not solved the problem completely and
fundamentally enough. It may, I trust, be permitted me in the
present discourse, so far as the time permits, to examine into
the nature of these attempts and to pass judgment upon them.
## p. 5773 (#357) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5773
II. THE PHILOSOPHICAL METHOD OF INTERPRETATION
THE kernel of all Faust literature is a religious fable. A
nobly striving and highly gifted man, impelled by thirst for
truth and also for the pleasures of the world, becomes untrue to
the service of God, strives after the powers of magic, calls up
the Devil and subscribes to him his soul, which shall remain
forever in hell after he has enjoyed a proud and wanton world-
career. This fable contains, even in its rudest form, momentous
thoughts concerning the struggle between good and evil in the
heart of man, concerning the motives to guilt and destruction,-
clearly the profoundest themes both of religion and of philos-
ophy.
In the course of the sixteenth century, the age of the German
new birth of Christianity and of ancient art, there arose under
the influence of the religious and philosophical ideas of that time
the myth of Doctor Faust, whose religious tendency stamped it-
self clearly in the 'Volksbücher. ' In the years from 1771-1831,-
an age deeply moved by religious and philosophical ideas, the
greatest age of German philosophy, reaching from the beginning
of the epoch of Kant to the death of Hegel,-there arose, de-
veloped, and was completed, Goethe's 'Faust. ' The old fable of
the German magician of the sixteenth century, and the new ideas
of German philosophy which stirred the last generation of the
eighteenth century and the first generation of the nineteenth,—
these are the elements our poem must needs take up and unite;
for it could deny neither its inheritance nor its birth. Therefore
this work is by virtue of its origin a religious and philosophical
poem, which cannot be thoroughly comprehended without a
knowledge of the ideas contained therein. The meaning of this
poem was and still is, therefore, a philosophical problem.
Therefore the first attempts at interpretation, which followed
immediately upon the publication of the poem, took this direc-
tion. Their problem was to explain the fable of our 'Faust'
and to find its moral. This was considered as the fundamental
idea, which was intended to be allegorically portrayed in the
persons and events of the poem. So the philosophical interpre-
tation became allegorical interpretation, and then forced and
absurd interpretations. The entire poem appeared at last like a
magic sphere, wherein one could no more trust his senses, but
must look upon the most natural things as something entirely
## p. 5774 (#358) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5774
different from what they seemed to be.
FIRDAUSI
5749
THE WARRIOR SĀM DESCRIBES HIS VICTORY OVER A DRAGON
From the Shāh Nāmah'
AM thy servant, and twice sixty years
I
Have seen thy prowess. Mounted on my steed,
Wielding my battle-axe, o'erthrowing heroes,
Who equals Sām, the warrior? I destroyed
The mighty monster, whose devouring jaws
Unpeopled half the land, and spread dismay
From town to town. The world was full of horror;
No bird was seen in air, no beast of prey
In plain or forest; from the stream he drew
The crocodile; the eagle from the sky.
The country had no habitant alive,
And when I found no human being left,
I cast away all fear, and girt my loins,
And in the name of God went boldly forth,
Armed for the strife. I saw him towering rise,
Huge as a mountain, with his hideous hair
Dragging upon the ground; his long black tongue
Shut up the path; his eyes two lakes of blood;
And seeing me, so horrible his roar,
The earth shook with affright, and from his mouth
A flood of poison issued. Like a lion
Forward I sprang, and in a moment drove
A diamond-pointed arrow through his tongue,
Fixing him to the ground. Another went
Down his deep throat, and dreadfully he writhed.
A third passed through his middle. Then I raised
My battle-axe, cow-headed; and with one
Tremendous blow dislodged his venomous brain,
And deluged all around with blood and poison.
There lay the monster dead, and soon the world
Regained its peace and comfort. Now I'm old;
The vigor of my youth is past and gone;
And it becomes me to resign my station
To Zal, my gallant son.
Version by J. Atkinson.
## p. 5750 (#334) ###########################################
FIRDAUSI
5750
FIRDAUSI'S SATIRE ON MÁHMÚD
From the Shah Namah'
Κ
NOW, tyrant as thou art, this earthly state
Is not eternal, but of transient date;
Fear God, then, and afflict not humankind;
To merit Heaven, be thou to Heaven resigned.
Afflict not even the ant: though weak and small,
It breathes and lives, and life is sweet to all.
Knowing my temper, firm and stern and bold,
Didst thou not, tyrant, tremble to behold
My sword blood-dropping? Hadst thou not the sense
To shrink from giving man like me offense?
What could impel thee to an act so base?
What, but to earn and prove thy own disgrace?
Why was I sentenced to be trod upon
And crushed to death by elephants, by one
Whose power I scorn? Couldst thou presume that I
Would be appalled by thee, whom I defy?
I am the lion, I, inured to blood,
And make the impious and the base my food;
And I could grind thy limbs, and spread them far
As Nile's dark waters their rich treasures bear.
Fear thee! I fear not man, but God alone;
I only bow to his Almighty throne.
Inspired by him, my ready numbers flow;
Guarded by him, I dread no earthly foe.
Thus in the pride of song I pass my days,
Offering to Heaven my gratitude and praise.
From every trace of sense and feeling free,
When thou art dead, what will become of thee?
If thou shouldst tear me limb from limb, and cast
My dust and ashes to the angry blast,
Firdausī still would live, since on thy name,
Máhmúd, I did not rest my hopes of fame
In the bright page of my heroic song,
But on the God of heaven, to whom belong
Boundless thanksgivings, and on him whose love
Supports the faithful in the realms above,
The mighty Prophet! None who e'er reposed
On him, existence without hope has closed.
And thou wouldst hurl me underneath the tread
Of the wild elephant, till I were dead!
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FIRDAUSI
Dead! by that insult roused I should become
An elephant in power, and seal thy doom—
Máhmúd! if fear of man hath never awed
Thy heart, at least fear thy creator God.
Full many a warrior of illustrious worth,
Full many of humble, of imperial birth,—
Túr, Selím, Jemshíd, Minúchihr the brave,
Have died; for nothing had the power to save
These mighty monarchs from the common doom;
They died, but blest in memory still they bloom.
Thus kings too perish,-none on earth remain,
Since all things human see the dust again.
Oh, had thy father graced a kingly throne,
Thy mother been for royal virtues known,
A different fate the poet then had shared,—
Honors and wealth had been his just reward;
But how remote from thee a glorious line!
No high, ennobling ancestry is thine;
From a vile stock thy bold career began,—
A blacksmith was thy sire, of Isfahán.
Alas! from vice can goodness ever spring?
Is mercy hoped for in a tyrant king?
Can water wash the Ethiopian white?
Can we remove the darkness from the night?
The tree to which a bitter fruit is given
Would still be bitter in the bowers of heaven;
And a bad heart keeps on its vicious course,-
Or if it changes, changes for the worse;
Whilst streams of milk, where Eden's flow'rets blow,
Acquire more honeyed sweetness as they flow.
The reckless king who grinds the poor like thee
Must ever be consigned to infamy!
-
Now mark Firdausī's strain; his Book of Kings
Will ever soar upon triumphant wings.
All who have listened to its various lore
Rejoice; the wise grow wiser than before;
Heroes of other times, of ancient days,
Forever flourish in my sounding lays:
Have I not sung of Káús, Tús and Giw;
Of matchless Rustem, faithful still and true.
Of the great Demon-binder, who could throw
His kamund to the heavens, and seize his foe!
Of Húsheng, Feridún, and Sám Suwár,
Lohurásp, Kai-khosráu, and Isfendiyár;
5751
## p. 5752 (#336) ###########################################
FIRDAUSI
5752
Gushtásp, Arjásp, and him of mighty name,-
Gúdarz, with eighty sons of martial fame!
-
The toil of thirty years is now complete,
Record sublime of many a warlike feat,
Written 'midst toil and trouble; but the strain
Awakens every heart, and will remain
A lasting stimulus to glorious deeds;
For even the bashful maid, who kindling reads,
Becomes a warrior. Thirty years of care,
Urged on by royal promise, did I bear,
And now, deceived and scorned, the aged bard
Is basely cheated of his pledged reward!
Version by J. Atkinson.
PRINCE SOHRÁB LEARNS OF HIS BIRTH, AND RESOLVES TO
FIND RUSTEM
From the Shāh Nāmah›
W
HEN nine slow-circling months had rolled away,
Sweet-smiling pleasure hailed the brightening day,
A wondrous boy Tahmineh's tears suppressed,
And lulled the sorrows of her heart to rest;
To him, predestined to be great and brave,
The name Sohráb his tender mother gave;
And as he grew, amazed the gathering throng
Viewed his large limbs, his sinews firm and strong.
His infant years no soft endearment claimed;
Athletic sports his eager soul inflamed;
Broad at the chest and taper round the loins,
Where to the rising hip the body joins;
Hunter and wrestler; and so great his speed,
He could o'ertake and hold the swiftest steed.
His noble aspect and majestic grace
Betrayed the offspring of a glorious race.
How, with a mother's ever-anxious love,
Still to retain him near her heart she strove!
For when the father's fond inquiry came,
Cautious she still concealed his birth and name,
And feigned a daughter born, the evil fraught
With misery to avert-but vain the thought:
Not many years had passed with downy flight,
Ere he, Tahmineh's wonder and delight,
## p. 5753 (#337) ###########################################
FIRDAUSI
5753
1
With glistening eye, and youthful ardor warm,
Filled her foreboding bosom with alarm.
"Oh, now relieve my heart! " he said; "declare
From whom I sprang, and breathe the vital air,
Since from my childhood I have ever been,
Amidst my playmates, of superior mien.
Should friend or foe demand my father's name,
Let not my silence testify my shame!
If still concealed, you falter, still delay,
A mother's blood shall wash the crime away. "
"This wrath forego," the mother answering cried,
"And joyful hear to whom thou art allied.
A glorious line precedes thy destined birth,-
The mightiest heroes of the sons of earth.
The deeds of Sám remotest realms admire,
And Zál, and Rustem thy illustrious sire! "
In private, then, she Rustem's letter placed
Before his view, and brought with eager haste
Three sparkling rubies, wedges three of gold,
From Persia sent. "Behold," she said, "behold
Thy father's gifts-will these thy doubts remove?
The costly pledges of paternal love!
Behold this bracelet charm, of sovereign power
To baffle fate in danger's awful hour:
But thou must still the perilous secret keep,
Nor ask the harvest of renown to reap;
For when, by this peculiar signet known,
Thy glorious father shall demand his son,
Doomed from her only joy in life to part,
O think what pangs will rend thy mother's heart!
Seek not the fame which only teems with woe:
Afrásiyáb is Rustem's deadliest foe!
And if by him discovered, him I dread,
Revenge will fall upon thy guiltless head. "
The youth replied:-"In vain thy sighs and tears;
The secret breathes, and mocks thy idle fears.
No human power can fate's decrees control,
Or check the kindled ardor of my soul.
Then why from me the bursting truth conceal?
My father's foes even now my vengeance feel;
Even now in wrath my native legions rise,
And sounds of desolation strike the skies;
i
## p. 5754 (#338) ###########################################
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5754
Káús himself, hurled from his ivory throne,
Shall yield to Rustem the imperial crown,
And thou my mother, still in triumph seen,
Of lovely Persia hailed the honored queen!
Then shall Túrán unite beneath my band,
And drive this proud oppressor from the land!
Father and son in virtuous league combined,
No savage despot shall enslave mankind;
When sun and moon o'er heaven refulgent blaze,
Shall little stars obtrude their feeble rays? "
He paused, and then: -"O mother, I must now
My father seek, and see his lofty brow;
Be mine a horse, such as a prince demands,
Fit for the dusty field, a warrior's hands;
Strong as an elephant his form should be,
And chested like the stag, in motion free,
And swift as bird, or fish; it would disgrace
A warrior bold on foot to show his face. "
The mother, seeing how his heart was bent,
His day-star rising in the firmament,
Commands the stables to be searched to find
Among the steeds one suited to his mind;
Pressing their backs, he tries their strength and nerve:
Bent double to the ground their bellies curve:
Not one, from neighboring plain and mountain brought,
Equals the wish with which his soul is fraught;
Fruitless on every side he anxious turns,
Fruitless, his brain with wild impatience burns:
But when at length they bring the destined steed,
From Rakush bred, of lightning's winged speed,
Fleet as the arrow from the bowstring flies,
Fleet as the eagle darting through the skies,
Rejoiced he springs, and with a nimble bound
Vaults in his seat and wheels the courser round:
"With such a horse, thus mounted, what remains?
Káús the Persian King no longer reigns! "
High-flushed he speaks, with youthful pride elate,
Eager to crush the monarch's glittering state;
He grasps his javelin with a hero's might,
And pants with ardor for the field of fight.
Soon o'er the realm his fame expanding spread,
And gathering thousands hastened to his aid.
Version by J. Atkinson.
## p. 5755 (#339) ###########################################
5755
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
(1493-1545)
HIS Italian poet and littérateur was born in Florence, Septem-
ber 28th, 1493.
He received his name from the town of
Firenzuola among the Apennines, where his family origi-
nated. Agnolo spent his youth in Siena and Perugia, studying law
and living a gay and wild life of pleasure. For a short time he
practiced his profession in Rome, but abandoned it to become a monk
at Vallombrosa. After the death of Clement VII. he went to Flor-
ence, and finally settled at Prato as abbot of San Salvatore. Some
authorities have disputed that he ever became an abbot, for the
records of his dissolute career do not accord with a monastic life.
But whether abbot or gentleman of leisure, a severe illness took him
to Prato, where he spent many happy years. He died here or at
Rome, about 1545.
When in Rome he formed a friendship with many eminent men of
letters, and his own writings attracted much attention. His adaptation
of 'The Golden Ass' of Apuleius became a favorite book, and passed
through many editions, and his original works were esteemed for
their diction and brilliancy. Firenzuola wrote satirical and burlesque
poems; two comedies, 'I Lucidi' and 'La Trinuzia'; 'Discorsi degli
Animali,' imitations of Oriental fables of animals; Ragionamenti
Amorosi,' novelettes or tales after the fashion of Boccaccio; 'Dialogo
della Bellezza delle Donne,' and other works. He also wrote a few
love poems and ballads, one of the most admired of which is 'Orozza
Pastorella. The first edition of Firenzuola's works appeared in 1548,
and they have been frequently republished. The best editions of this
century are in 5 vols. , Milan, 1802; and in 2 vols. , Florence, 1848.
In his 'Renaissance in Italy' (London, 1881), J. A. Symonds says:-
-
"The charm of Firenzuola's (Novelle' is due in a large measure to his
style, which has a wonderful transparency and ease, a wealth of the rarest
Tuscan phrases, and a freshness of humor that renders them delightful read-
ing. The storm at sea, in the first tale, and the night scene in the streets
in Florence, in the third, are described with Ariostean brilliancy.
In point
of subject-matter they do not greatly differ from the ordinary novels of the
day, and some of the tales reappear in the collections of other novelists.
Most of them turn upon the foibles and vices of the clergy.
"Firenzuola prefaced his novels with an elaborate introduction, describ-
ing the meeting of some friends at Celso's villa near Pazolatico and their
## p. 5756 (#340) ###########################################
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AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
discourse on love. From discussion they pass to telling amorous stories,
under the guidance of a Queen selected by the company. The introductory
conversation is full of a dreamy, sensualized, disintegrated Platonism. It
parades conventional distinctions between earthly and heavenly love, between
the beauty of the soul and the beauty of the body; and then we pass with-
out modulation into the regions of what is here called accidenti amorosi.
"The same insincere Platonism gives color to Firenzuola's discourse on the
'Beauty of Women,' - one of the most important productions of the sixteenth
century in illustration of popular and artistic taste. The author imagines
himself to have interrupted a bevy of fair ladies from Prato in the midst of a
dispute about the beauty of Mona Amelia della Torre Nuova. Mona Amelia
herself was present; and so were Mona Lampiada, Mona Amororrisca, Mona
Selvaggia, and Mona Verdespina. Under these names it is clear that living
persons of the town of Prato are designated; and all the examples of beauty
given in the dialogue are chosen from well-known women of the district.
The composition must therefore be reckoned as an elaborate compliment from
Firenzuola to the fair sex of Prato. »
The scene of the famous dialogue is laid in the convent grounds
of Grignano, and Celso is supposed to be intended for Firenzuola.
He analyzes and criticizes the form, proportion, and colors of the
female type from the point of view of the artist, sculptor, and fas-
tidious gentleman of taste. The 'Dialogo della Bellezze delle Donne'
was first published in 1548, without the place of publication. It was
reprinted in Florence in the same year. Many editions appeared, and
a French translation, called 'Discours de la Beauté des Dames,' was
issued in Paris in 1578. It was translated into English by Clara Bell,
and printed with an introduction by Theodore Child (London, 1892),
under the title 'Of the Beauty of Women. ' Of it Mr. Child says:-
«Firenzuola's 'Dialogue on the Beauty of Women,' which is here presented
for the first time in the English tongue, seems to us worthy of the honors of
translation and of perusal for other reasons than those of mere antiquarian
curiosity. Our ideal of feminine beauty is doubtless different from that of
Botticelli, Perugino, Antonio Bazzi, Bellini, Leonardo, or Titian; and yet, by
the ardent and continual study of the masterpieces of these and other paint-
ers, we certainly influence our modern ideal in some subtle and unanalyzable
way. The life of great works of art is eternal. In each succeeding age they
acquire new eloquence and impart fresh lessons to those who study them.
They retain an inexhaustible power of suggestion and boundless capacity of
interpretation. It is in the interpretation of the painting of the Italian Renais-
sance that the Dialogue of Firenzuola seems to us to be of singular interest;
and above all in its suggestiveness to modern women, and in its implied doc-
trine that beauty is to be pursued, and within certain limits to be attained,
even by those whom nature has not lavishly favored. . . . The Florentine
was curious, perhaps, rather than sentimental; his analysis of the beauty of
women is strictly æsthetical; his admiration active and impressionist, so to
## p. 5757 (#341) ###########################################
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
5757
speak, rather than contemplative. Had he lived in our times, he would have
noted with incomparably delicate touch the familiar gestures which contempo-
rary costume involves, and all the pretty movements that accompany the
raising of a veil, the arrangement of the hair imperceptibly ruffled by the
indiscreet breeze, the coquettish effort made in taking off gloves and adjust-
ing rings and bracelets, the furtive application of the powder-puff and of the
precious unguent that imparts intensity to roseate lips. At the same time he
would have paid little attention to the naïveté of the eye and the gravity of
the heart. The beauty of women which Firenzuola admires and analyzes is
exterior, plastic, and material. . . Many of Firenzuola's remarks may
seem perhaps a little vague and general, but they become less so when we
read them in connection with the monuments of plastic art contemporaneous
with the life of the writer. In the figures of the frescoes of Ghirlandajo, of
Piero della Francesca, of Antonio Bazzi, and more particularly in the marvel-
ous women that we admire in the frescoes and pictures of the Florentine
Botticelli, we recognize those refinements of bearing and expression of which
Firenzuola speaks; we divine an ideal of feminine beauty corresponding with
his; and we realize the charm of those high and pure foreheads shining
almost like a mirror. >>
IN THE GARDEN
From Of the Beauty of Women›
ELSO SELVAGGIO is a great friend of mine, and so much at
my service that I make bold to say he is in truth as my
second self. Hence, when I now set forth these his dis-
courses, albeit indeed he hath forbidden it, he will have patience
with me, inasmuch as that the love he bears me constrains him
to make my will his own, and all the more, since that which
constraineth him constraineth me. Now he, besides being a man
skilled in learning, is of no small judgment, and great courtesy
and highly accommodating to the desires of his friends; and for
all these reasons, being assured that he will make no difficulties,
I have set them forth as you see.
He found himself last summer in the garden of the Abbey of
Grignano, kept at that time by Vanazzo de Rochi, whither sev-
eral youths and maidens had betaken themselves for air, ladies
distinguished no less for their beauty and high degree than for
their many virtues; among them Madonna Lampiada, Madonnas
Amororrisca, Selvaggia, and Verdespina. They had withdrawn
to the summit of the hillock in the midst of that garden, over-
grown with cypress and laurel, where they tarried, disputing of
Madonna Amelia della Torrenuova, who likewise was in the
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AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
pleasaunce; and this one would have it that she was of the
greatest beauty, and that other that she was not even well fa-
vored, when Celso came up the mount with certain other youths
of Prato, the kindred of these ladies. And they, being thus
taken by surprise, were silent on a sudden. Then Celso making
excuse for having done them such discourtesy, the ladies gra-
ciously replied that their coming hither was most pleasing to
them, and they bid these gentlemen be seated on a bank over
against them; yet were they again silent.
Whereupon Celso spoke, saying:- "Fair ladies, either proceed
in your discourse, or dismiss us from your company, to the end
that we may not disturb your sport, but hit the ball as it
bounds. "
Then said Madonna Lampiada:-"Messer Celso, our discourse
was of women, wherefore it did not appear to us to be seemly
to continue it in your presence. This one said that Amelia was
not comely; I say that she is: thus we were disputing, after the
manner of ladies. "
To whom Celso replied:-"Madonna Selvaggia is in error, but
indeed she loves her not. In truth, that lady must ever be
accounted fair by all, nay, and most beautiful; and if she is not
to be deemed beautiful, I cannot see one in Prato who may be
called fair. ”
On this Selvaggia, somewhat wroth
replied: "Small judgment is needed in
each is of a different mind, and a brown skin is pleasing to one
and a white skin to another; and it is with us women as in a
draper's shop, where cloth from the Romagnuola finds a pur-
chaser no less than satin from Banello. "
-
as
rather
rather than pleased,
such a matter, since
"Well and good," quoth Celso; "but when we speak of a
beautiful woman we mean one whom all alike admire, and not
this one or that one only: thus Nora, so ill-favored as she is,
appears most pleasing in the sight of her Tomaso, albeit she is
uncomely as she possibly can be; and my gossip, who was
passing fair, her husband could not suffer. Peradventure it is
that certain complexions suit or suit not: but a lady fair in all
points, like yourself, must necessarily be pleasing to all, as you
are; albeit few are pleasing to you, as I know full well. It is
indeed the truth, that to be of perfect beauty many things are
needed, so that one is rarely found who possesseth the half of
them. "
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5759
Selvaggia then said: There are some among you men
whom the world itself would not satisfy. And I once heard it
said that one Momus, unable to find any fault in the beauty of
Venus, blamed some trifle in the fashion of her sandals. ”
Then said Verdespina: "Thus you see how he beheld her. "
And Celso, laughing, went on:-"Again, Stesichoros, a most
noble poet of Sicily, spoke evil of that Helen who by her
exceeding great beauty moved a thousand Greek ships to go
forth against the great kingdom of Troy. "
Then said Madonna Lampiada in haste:-"Ay, truly; but you
know that he thereupon lost his sight, and had it not again till
he denied his words. "
-
<<
-
"And so had his desert," added Celso, "inasmuch as that
beauty and fair women, and fair women and beauty, ought to be
lauded and held precious by all; seeing that a fair woman is the
fairest object that may be seen, and beauty the highest gift
bestowed by God on mankind; since its virtue is to invite the
soul to contemplation, and through contemplation to the desire
of heavenly things. Hence it hath been given us as a foretaste
and as an earnest; and it is of such power and worth that it
hath been accounted by sages as the first and most excellent of
all things to be loved; nay, they have called it the very seat, the
nest, the abode of love; of love, I say, which is the source and
fount of all human joys. For it we see a man forget himself;
and on beholding a face graced with this celestial gift, his limbs
will quake, his hair stand on end, and he will sweat and shiver
at the same time; just as one who, seeing on a sudden some
heavenly vision, is possessed by the divine frenzy; and when he
is come to himself worships it in his heart, and acknowledging it
as it were god, gives himself up as a victim and a sacrifice on
the altar of that fair lady's heart. "
Whereupon said Madonna Lampiada:-"Ah, Messer Celso, if
it will not weary you, do us a pleasure: tell us somewhat of this
beauty, and what should be the form of such a fair woman;
whereas these damsels have for some time urged me to entreat
this of you, and I have delayed to do it. But since you of your
own motion have begun to discourse of it, having increased my
desire you likewise have raised my courage; all the more since it
hath been told me that during the evening assembly held by my
sister last Carnival season, you spoke of the matter with those
ladies at such length that Madonna Agnoletta could talk of
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5760
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
nothing else for many days. So we pray you do us this favor,
for we have naught else to be busy about; and in this light
wind the heat of the day will be more delightfully spent by us
than by those below who are sporting or walking in the pleas-
aunce. "
Then answered Celso:-"Ay! To the end that Selvaggia, if
she hear aught said which is not to her mind, or if I omit
aught, may cry out that I am speaking ill of women; in which
I never take so great pleasure as I do in praising them, as she
has often known by experience, and yet hath never thanked me
for it. "
Translation of Clara Bell.
OF THE FOREHEAD AND TEMPLES
From Of the Beauty of Women'
C
ELSO-To return to the person of our image, I say that you,
Madonna Amororrisca, have a shape between lean and fat,
round and juicy and of the right proportions, wherein
we see suppleness and dexterity, with somewhat that is right
queenly. Your hue is not of that whiteness which verges on
pallor, but tinted with blood, after the fashion which the ancients.
prized. The person of a lady of high degree should move with
gravity and after a certain gentle manner which keeps it upright,
yet not stiff, so that we find in it that majesty whereof I lately
spoke. And inasmuch as you have most of all these things, we
are bound to give you Verdespina's hair; and now will seek a
forehead.
The forehead must be spacious; that is, wide and high, fair
and serene. The height, which is understood to be from where
the hair ends down to the confines of the eyebrows and the
nose, according to many writers should be the third part of the
face; the second part being measured to the upper lip, and
the third part all the rest, including the chin; -the height, then,
I say, must be equal to half the width, and it will be twice as
wide as the height; so that from the width we estimate the
height, and the height from the width. And we have said it
must be fair, since it must not be of an over-dull whiteness
without any lustre, but should shine after the manner of a mir-
ror; not by wetness, or by painting, or by foul washes like that
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5761
of Bovinetta, which, an it were fish to fry, might be worth a
farthing a pound more as not needing to be floured; howbeit, it
is not to be sold nor fried.
The line of the brow should not be all flat, but curved like
an arch toward the crown of the head, so gently that it is scarce
to be perceived; but from the boss of the temples it should
descend more straightly. Our poets speak of it as serene, and
with reason; since as the sky is serene when we see on it no
cloud nor any manner of spot, so the front, when it is clear and
open, without furrows or wrinkles or powders, is calm and tran-
quil, and may be rightly called serene; and whereas the sky
when it is serene engenders a certain contentment in the mind
of those who behold it, so the forehead which we call serene,
gives, through the eye, peace to the soul of those who gaze upon
it. As it is now with me, gazing on that of Madonna Lampiada,
which, having all the qualities I have enumerated, will do well.
to place beneath Verdespina's hair. And that serenity of which
I speak is the greater for the lustre of the eyes, they being
without the confines of the forehead indeed, and yet appearing.
as the two chief luminaries in the sky; and we will first speak of
the eyebrows.
Now, to speak of these, we will take as an example those of
Verdespina, who hath them in color like ebony; fine, and of
short, soft hairs, as though they were of the finest silk; and
from the middle to the ends they gently diminish, on one side.
towards the hollow or socket of the eye, by the nose, and on the
other toward that part which is near the ear, and where they end.
Next we come to the eye, which in every part of the visible
globe, or eyeball, excepting the pupil, must be white, slightly
tinged with the hue of flax, but so little as to be scarce per-
ceptible. The pupil, save only the circle which lies in the centre,
should not be perfectly black, albeit all the Greek and Latin
poets, and our own likewise, praise black eyes as with one
voice, and all are agreed that the goddess of beauty had them.
Nevertheless, those are not wanting who praise eyes which are
of the color of the sky, and that Venus had them so is to be
found written in certain trustworthy authors.
Among you there is a lady, reputed exceeding fair by me and
by many others, who, having such eyes, gains in grace thereby.
Nevertheless, common custom seems to have obtained that dark
tan or nut-brown eyes hold the first place among eyes of other
colors. Deep black is not much to be commended, since it tends
X-361
## p. 5762 (#346) ###########################################
5762
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
to a somewhat gloomy and cruel gaze; and nut brown, if dark,
gives a soft, bright, clear, and kindly gaze; and it lends to the
movement of the eyes I know not what alluring charm,- frank,
attractive, and keen, which I cannot better explain than by
pointing to those of Madonna Lampiada, to whom none of these
qualities are lacking. And besides this that has been said, and
again like Madonna Lampiada, the eyes must be large and full,
not concave nor hollow, for hollowness makes the gaze over-
proud, and fullness makes it sweet and modest. So Homer, de-
siring to praise the eyes of Juno, tells us that they were like
those of an ox, meaning thereby that they were round and full
and large. Many have said that they should be long, and others.
that they should be oval, which pleases me very well.
The eyelids, when they are white, with certain delicate rosy
veins, hardly to be seen, are a great aid to the general beauty of
the eye; and the lashes should be thin and not over-long and
not white, since, besides being ill-favored, they impair the sight.
Nor would I have them very black, which makes the gaze fierce.
The socket which surrounds the eye is not to be very deep, nor
too large, nor different in color from the cheek; and let ladies
who paint be on their guard, those, I would say, who are
brown,- since this part is very often unapt to take the paint or
the plastering by reason of its hollow shape, or to retain it by
reason of the motion of the eyelashes, and thus makes a division
which looks very ill. Madonna Theofila's neighbor often falls
into this error.
The ears, which should be tinted rather of the hue of pale
rubies than of red ones, and which we will paint like the balcony
rose, and not the damask, I will borrow from you, Selvaggia.
For their perfect beauty, as we see in yours, a middle size is to
be desired, with the shell finely turned, and of a livelier hue than
the flat part; and the roll which borders them all round must be
transparent and of a brilliant hue like the seed of a pomegranate.
Above all, if they be soft and thin their beauty is spoiled; hence,
as they are seen in her, they should be firm and well set on.
Of the temples there is little to be said save that they must
be white and flat, not hollow; not over-full and moist, nor so
narrow as to seem to press on the brain, which would signify a
weakness of the brain. And they are beautiful when they re-
semble those of Madonna Amororrisca. And the manner of lay-
ing the hair over them, higher or lower, curled or drawn smooth.
thicker or thinner, enlarges or diminishes the temples and makes
## p. 5763 (#347) ###########################################
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
5763
them wider or narrower, longer or shorter, as we may desire, or
as a little flower shall confine it.
Madonna Lampiada-When I was a girl we did not love to
dress our heads as many of our maidens do nowadays, putting
so many flowers and leaves that they often resemble a jar full
of gilliflowers or marjoram; nay, some might be a quarter of kid
on the spit, since they will even wear rosemary, which to me
seems the most graceless thing in the world. And you, Messer
Celso, how seems it to you?
Celso I like it not, if I am to tell the truth; and this mis-
take arises from their not knowing for what reason the ancients
would wear a flower above the ear. I speak of gentlewomen,
since the peasant women, having no other jewels nor pearls, load
themselves, as you know, with flowers, without order, fashion, or
number; and in them this excess becomes beauty.
Madonna Lampiada-Meseems that even gentle ladies may
have worn flowers for their more homely adornment, instead of
pearls and gold; inasmuch as not all our peers have wherewithal
to attire themselves with the gems of the Orient or the sands of
Tagus, and so it was needful to use the riches of the gardens of
our own land. But each one having tried to outdo the others,
they seem sometimes as if they had a garland or quintain about
the face. And waters and powders were in those days invented,
to remove pimples and moles and other such stains, but to-day
they are used to paint and whiten the whole face, just as lime
and plaster cover the face of a wall; and peradventure those
foolish maids believe that men, whom they seek to please, do not
discern this foulness, which I would have them to know wears
them out and makes them grow old before their time, and de-
stroys their teeth, while they seem to be wearing a mask all the
year through. Look now at Mona Bettola Gagliani; what do you
think of her? The more she paints and the more she dresses up
the older she seems; nay, she is like a gold ducat that hath lain
in aquafortis. And it would not be thus if she had not used
washes so much when she was young. I, for my part, if I am
still well preserved (which indeed I know not, but it shall suffice
that others say so) it is from no cause but that water from the
well has ever been my wash, and shall be that of my daughter
so long as she tarries with me; afterwards, it must be her hus-
band's care.
Translation of Clara Bell.
## p. 5764 (#348) ###########################################
5764
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
OF THE HAND
From Of the Beauty of Women'
HE hand, which all declare to be perfect in you (to you I say
it, Selvaggia, so hide it not), must likewise be white chiefly
on the outer side, large enough and somewhat fat, the palm
hollow and tinted with rose; the lines must be clear, few, distinct,
firmly drawn, not crossing nor entangled, the mounts of Jupiter,
Venus, and Mercury plainly to be seen, yet not over-high; the
line of the intellect and wit should be deep and clear and crossed
by no other. The hollow that lies between the thumb and mid-
dle finger must be shapely, without wrinkles, and brightly tinted.
The fingers are beautiful when they are long, fine, and slender,
tapering somewhat towards the tip, yet so little as to be scarce
perceptible. The nails transparent, like pale rubies among pink
roses and the leaves of the pomegranate flower; not long, not
round nor altogether square, but of a fair shape and with a very
little boss, uncovered, clean and well kept, so that at the base the
little white crescent is visible. Above, beyond the flesh of the
finger, an edge should be seen, as wide as a small knife is thick,
without the smallest suspicion of a rim of black at the tip. And
the whole hand must be of a tender, firm surface, as though it
were of fine silk or the softest cotton. And this is all it occurs
to me to say of the arms and hands. Now this image will no
longer be like that in the piazza; but behold the thing she was
compared with! You are indeed one of those sharp thorns which
get in between the nail and the flesh, and if green, of the harder
heart; and it is well for me that I have a good needle to with-
draw it withal.
Selvaggia-Now, meseems, your picture is like those which
are wrought by the hands of a good master; and to tell the truth,
it is a most beautiful thing, so that if I were a man, whereas I
am a woman, I should be constrained like a second Pygmalion to
fall in love with her. And do not think that I call her beautiful
only to signify that the parts which we have given her are the
occasion of it, seeing that the adornments and graces you have
bestowed on her might have made even the wife of Jacopo Caval-
laccio seem fair. Since I (to speak only of myself), if I had so
fair a bosom as you have described, should not yield to Helen
nor Venus for beauty.
## p. 5765 (#349) ###########################################
AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA
5765
Celso -You have it indeed, and you know it; there is no need
to make so many words about it. Good luck to you, and to him
who may some day be worthy to behold it. And of a truth when
that friend of mine composed a fine Elegy in its praise, having
so fine a thread, it was no great marvel that he filled so fair a
cloth. But to give our chimera the crowning perfection, that
nothing may be lacking to her, you, Madonna Lampiada, will give
her that witchery that sparkles in your eyes and that fine air
which pervades the perfect proportion of your person; you, Ma-
donna Amororrisca, will give her the queenly majesty of your
person and the cheerfulness of your honest and modest gaze, that
serious gait, that dignified countenance, and that gentle gracious-
ness which delight all who behold them. Selvaggia will lend her
a calm seemliness, an inviting charm, an honest yet bewitching,
a severe yet sweet attractiveness, with that pitying cruelty which
all are constrained to praise albeit none desire it. You, Verdes-
pina, shall bestow the grace which makes you so dear; that readi-
ness and sweetness of gay speech, subtle, honest, and gracious.
Wit and the other gifts and virtues of the mind we do not need,
inasmuch as we have described only the beauties of the body and
not those of the spirit, for which a better painter than I am is
needed, better colors and a better brush than those of my poor
wit, albeit your example is no less sufficient for that kind of
beauty than for the other.
And thus without more words their discourse ended, and each
one returned to his own home.
Translation of Clara Bell.
## p. 5766 (#350) ###########################################
5766
KUNO FISCHER
(1824-)
BY RICHARD JONES
UNO FISCHER of Heidelberg, one of the most brilliant and
stimulating of living university professors, the great his-
torian and interpreter of modern philosophy, is distinguished
likewise as an expositor and interpreter of some of the greater liter-
ature of the modern world. Indeed, his first published work, 'Dio-
tima, oder die Idee des Schönen,' was an excursion into the realm of
æsthetics; and his poetic sympathies, oratorical fervor and eloquence,
and the literary charm of his interpretations, have contributed no less
than his profound philosophic insight toward
drawing to him university students from all
parts of the world, from the beginning of his
distinguished university career.
KUNO FISCHER
The son of a country pastor, he was born
July 23d, 1824, at Sandewalde in the province
of Silesia. He attended the Gymnasium of
Posen, and began in 1844 his university stud-
ies, philology, theology, and philosophy; first
at Leipsic, then at Halle, where he received
the degree of doctor of philosophy in 1847. In
the Michaelmas semester of 1850 he began his
instruction in philosophy as privatdocent in the
University of Heidelberg. His lectures were
from the first exceptionally successful, but in 1853 he was forbidden
by a ministerial edict from continuing his university instruction. No
reason was assigned for this arbitrary act, which aroused deep indig-
nation in university circles throughout Germany as a serious infringe-
ment of the "Lehrfreiheit," the unrestricted freedom of thought and
of teaching so dear to the German university professor's heart. He
remained amid the beautiful surroundings of Heidelberg, enjoying the
friendship of Strauss and of Gervinus, improving his enforced leisure
by working on his history of philosophy, -the volume which appeared
in 1856, and which serves as an Introduction to the history proper;
viz. , Francis Bacon und seine Nachfolger' (Francis Bacon and his
Successors), receiving the compliment of an immediate translation
## p. 5767 (#351) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5767
into English.
In the autumn of 1855 Fischer requested permission to
lecture in the University of Berlin, but on account of the Heidelberg
proscription this request was refused by the Prussian Minister of Edu-
cation. However, in response to a petition of the faculty of the Uni-
versity of Berlin, an order was issued by the King in September 1856,
granting their request that Fischer be permitted to lecture. But in
the mean time he had received a call to the chair of philosophy at
Jena, made famous by Fichte and Schelling and Hegel. This call he
accepted. Here his lectures were again extraordinarily successful.
Students flocked to Jena as they had not done since the days of
Schiller, Schelling, and Fichte. He was made Privy Councilor of the
Duke, and was the recipient of many honors. In 1870 he declined a
call to the University of Vienna, but in 1872 he accepted a call to
the University of Heidelberg as Zeller's successor, where he has since
remained, the brightest ornament of the oldest university within the
present limits of Germany.
His literary work has been done in the two fields of philosophic
and literary exposition and interpretation. His 'Geschichte der Neu-
ern Philosophie' (History of Modern Philosophy) is now become, after
successive enlargements in several editions, a monumental work,
famous for the clearness and beauty of its literary style no less than
for its philosophic insight and sympathetic interpretation. Kuno
Fischer's method is not to give in brief the essence of a philosophic
system, the substance of Kant, for example. He gives, on the con-
trary, Kant amplified, interpreted, illustrated. He states lucidly that
which Kant himself stated obscurely, and illumines the Cimmerian
darkness of the Critique of Pure Reason' by a remarkably clear and
successful interpretation, which has influenced profoundly philosophic
thought during the closing decades of the nineteenth century.
His treatment of philosophic systems is colored with life by sympa-
thetic recitals of the lives and characters of the men who founded
these systems. As an introduction, for example, to the philosophy
of Leibnitz, there is given a full account of the life and times of
Leibnitz, closing with a description of his death, alone and friend-
less. This great many-sided genius, until Kant came the greatest
mind since Aristotle, world-renowned, who had served his king for
forty years, died neglected and solitary, practically imprisoned, set to
a task, yearning for the green fields, a change of scene, and liberty,
and no one knows to this day the spot where he lies buried,- a
striking theme for a philosopher-poet, who is by nature an orator,
"musical as is Apollo's lute. " To hearers or readers who have
learned thus to know the man Leibnitz, the system of thought of the
philosopher Leibnitz can never be thereafter a mere lifeless ab-
straction.
## p. 5768 (#352) ###########################################
5768
KUNO FISCHER
Even the distinctively philosophical works of Kuno Fischer are full
of literary charm. They are clear and lucid statements of moment-
ous truths, warm with emotion and glowing with life through his
vivid appreciation of the greatness of the theme. Since, as Disraeli
has said, "Philosophy becomes poetry, and science imagination, in
the enthusiasm of genius," so Kuno Fischer's readers, and especially
his hearers, yield ready assent to Milton's lines:-
"How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns. »
Kuno Fischer's expositions and interpretations of literature relate
largely to the works of Shakespeare, Lessing, Goethe, and Schiller.
His method has been described in detail by Hugo Falkenheim in his
volume 'Kuno Fischer und die Litterarhistorische Methode. ' As an
interpreter of literature, Fischer does not evolve his interpretations.
out of his inner consciousness; but as a philosopher and a historian
of thought, he is able to distinguish from unessential details the
ruling idea which is at the basis of a poem, and to illustrate the use
which has been made of this idea by other poets, elsewhere and in
other times.
The first volume of his Goethe's Faust' (Vol. i. , Faust Litera-
ture before Goethe'; Vol. ii. , Goethe's Faust, its Origin, Idea, and
Composition') has been translated into English by Harry Riggs Wol-
cott, of the University of Heidelberg. 'Die Erklärungsarten des
Goetheschen Faust' (Goethe's Faust; Methods of Exposition) has been
translated by Professor Richard Jones, of the University of the State
of New York, for the publications of the English Goethe Society. His
commentary on Kant's Critique of Pure Reason' was translated and
edited by Professor J. P. Mahaffy, of the University of Dublin, in 1866.
His 'Critique of Kant' has been translated by Professor W. S. Hough
for the Journal of Speculative Philosophy, edited by Dr. William T.
Harris. Professor J. P. Gordy of Ohio University has translated the
first two volumes of the History of Modern Philosophy,' including
Descartes and his school, and also the Introduction, which gives an
outline of Grecian philosophy and of the philosophy of the Middle
Ages, of the Renaissance, and of the Reformation. 'Francis Bacon
and his Successors' is a translation of his work on Bacon by John
Oxenford (London, 1857). Other translations are in preparation.
Richard Jones
## p. 5769 (#353) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5769
THE MOTIVE TO PHILOSOPHY
From the History of Modern Philosophy'
P
HILOSOPHY is a love for wisdom, a striving after truth.
this striving is philosophy. A progressive culture-process
can be comprehended only by a progressive knowledge-
process. The human spirit is this progressive culture-process; phi-
losophy is this progressive knowledge-process, the self-knowledge
of the human spirit. This self-knowledge of the human spirit
is the fundamental theme of all systems of philosophy. The
problem of philosophy is to see the meaning of the forms of
culture, to grasp their inner motives, and to make clear what
they are and what is their aim. The problem is the more diffi-
cult, the richer and more manifold the world of culture becomes.
The animating principles of men are so various that conflicting
systems of philosophy arise, each of which expresses one phase
of these animating principles. This phase must be co-ordinated,
in order to solve the philosophical problem of the age. But
there are ruling tendencies of the time; so there arise in philos-
ophy ruling systems.
Moreover, this explanation of the spirit of history, which is
the province of philosophy, is always more than a mere exposi-
tion.
Philosophy bears the same relation to the history of the
human spirit as does our self-knowledge to our life. In what
consists the act of self-observation? We withdraw from the outer
world which has occupied us, and busy ourselves with ourselves.
We make our own life a subject of observation, just as the artist
views the work arising under his hand. He lays down his tools
and steps back from his work, and from a suitable point of view
surveys the whole.
The eye of the critical artist sees otherwise
than the eye of the artist lost in his work. He now discovers
faults which were before unseen. He sees want of proportion in
the parts; there a limb is too prominent for a symmetrical whole.
By this opportune examination he sees now wherein one har-
monizes with all, and what destroys the harmony. What shall
the artist do? Abandon the work because many faults appear?
Shall he not rather again grasp the tools, and in accordance
with the right idea which he in a moment of criticism conceived,
now correctly and better labor?
Let us apply the illustration: The artists are ourselves; the
artistic work is our lives; the critical look which judges the work
Even
## p. 5770 (#354) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5770
is the self-observation which interrupts the process of living. We
withdraw from the life which we have until that moment lived;
and as the artist makes his work, we make our lives our subject
of observation and win thereby a better knowledge of ourselves.
We thereby separate ourselves from our past life-conditions, and
shall never again return to the same. So self-observation deter-
mines the moment when one life-period closes and a new one
begins. It makes a crisis in our development, a turning-point or
epoch in our lives. We free ourselves from our passions as soon
as we think. We cease to feel them so soon as we begin to ob-
serve them. In this lies the whole importance of self-knowledge,
the crisis which it works in our lives. We are no more ruled by
our previous life-conditions; we are no more what we were. So
an earnest observation of self is always a fundamental freeing
and renewal of our lives, a crisis which separates the present
from the past and prepares for the future. The act of self-
observation is in our own life what the monologue is in the
drama. The action withdraws from the confusing stage of the
outer world into the innermost soul, and here in silence, in delib-
eration with self, the problem is considered and solved.
Such moments are wanting in the life of no spiritually active
being, and every one finds them in his own experience. It is
impossible that we shall always continue in the conditions of life
and culture which have hitherto ruled us; our interest in them
ceases to satisfy us. A feeling of satiety, of dissatisfaction, makes
itself always more actively and painfully felt, and at last we re-
main alone with ourselves. We are estranged from our previous
life-conditions; we begin to reflect concerning ourselves, concern-
ing the problem of our being, concerning the problem of the
world; we begin to philosophize,- so far as we are able, so far
as our culture permits.
I have portrayed out of the experience and development of
a single life, the soul-condition in which the will is inclined to
reflection and self-observation, and which germinates the first
motive to philosophy. It is the moment when, in fervid souls, a
passionate longing awakens to know philosophy and to receive
from her the satisfaction which life, mere activity, no more pro-
vides.
To that important part which, in the development of the
individual, self-observation plays, there correspond in the life of
the race the dominant systems of philosophy. They not merely
## p. 5771 (#355) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5771
accompany the progress of the human spirit, they influence this
progress by making subjects of observation out of hitherto ruling
life-conditions. They free the world from this rule. They per-
fect the present form of culture and prepare for the new. They
work as world-historical factors, through which the great systems
of culture live out their life and great culture crises are brought
about.
We see the history of philosophy in its true light, when we
recognize in it the course of development in which the necessary
problems of humanity are with all distinctness defined, and so
solved that out of every solution there arise in progressive order
ever new and deeper problems.
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Professor
Richard Jones
FROM GOETHE'S FAUST: THE METHODS OF EXPOSITION>
I. THE AGE WHEN THE POEM WAS WRITTEN
IN
N 1813 Goethe, wishing to express anew and more compre-
hensively than ever before, his appreciation of the poet to
whom his highest admiration was ever devoted, took for his
theme the words "Shakespeare without end. " "So much has
already been said concerning Shakespeare that it might appear
as though there were nothing more to say, and yet it is the
nature of his mind that he always arouses mental activity in
others. " The same is also true of Goethe himself and of his
'Faust. ' The world will never cease to read Dante's world-poem,
for the subject of which it treats is a theme of eternal moment,—
the guilt, the purification, and the salvation of man.
The same
is true of the importance and abiding influence of Goethe's
'Faust. ' It would betray an ignorance of world-literature and of
its worth should one in a tone of irritation exclaim, "Goethe's
'Faust' without end. "
This poem roots itself deep in the past, and is not of less
worth because it grew out of the 'Volksbücher' and popular
plays; for in the realm of poetry the worth of a popular origin
is fully recognized. The age in which it was written, the stamp
of which the poem bears, was one of the richest in ideas and in
deeds which man has ever seen; and never before has such an
## p. 5772 (#356) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5772
age developed in so short a time. When the 'Fragment' of our
'Faust' appeared, the French Revolution had just begun; it had
run its course and had given birth to a Cæsar, who was already
the ruler of the world when the First Part of 'Faust' saw the
light of day. In the same year Napoleon appeared in Erfurt,
where he called to him the author of 'Werther' and advised him
to compose a Cæsar,' since the destiny of the world now lay in
politics.
When Goethe was asked which one among modern philoso-
phers he considered the greatest, he answered, "Kant, unquestion-
ably; for he is the one whose doctrine proves permanent and has
penetrated most deeply into our German culture. " Contempora-
neous with the origin of Kant's 'Critique of Pure Reason' was
the origin of Goethe's 'Faust. ' Contemporaneous with the 'Cri-
tique of the Judgment,' Kant's last great work, appeared the
'Fragment. ' The Königsberg philosopher stood at that time at
the summit of his mental activity. The philosophers Fichte,
Schelling, and Hegel had followed him and had filled the world
with their ideas, when Goethe published in 1808 the First Part
of his 'Faust. ' Some seventy poems have dared to vie with it,
but in the light of the great star have quickly paled. No one
of these had the power so to express and reveal the spiritual
fullness of this age, rich in thought and events, as did Goethe's
'Faust. ' All influential thinkers of the time compared their
ideas with this work, and endeavored to show their spiritual re-
lationship with the same, in order thereby to establish their own
worth and import.
•
It is impossible that a poem which rules so great a past and
present, and which has so great a following, should be so short-
lived that scarcely two generations after its completion it has
lived out its life, its fundamental thought exhausted. Indeed,
the vast and always growing number of expositions of Goethe's
'Faust' proves to us that the world desires an interpretation of
this work, and that the attempts hitherto made have either failed
in their purpose or have not solved the problem completely and
fundamentally enough. It may, I trust, be permitted me in the
present discourse, so far as the time permits, to examine into
the nature of these attempts and to pass judgment upon them.
## p. 5773 (#357) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5773
II. THE PHILOSOPHICAL METHOD OF INTERPRETATION
THE kernel of all Faust literature is a religious fable. A
nobly striving and highly gifted man, impelled by thirst for
truth and also for the pleasures of the world, becomes untrue to
the service of God, strives after the powers of magic, calls up
the Devil and subscribes to him his soul, which shall remain
forever in hell after he has enjoyed a proud and wanton world-
career. This fable contains, even in its rudest form, momentous
thoughts concerning the struggle between good and evil in the
heart of man, concerning the motives to guilt and destruction,-
clearly the profoundest themes both of religion and of philos-
ophy.
In the course of the sixteenth century, the age of the German
new birth of Christianity and of ancient art, there arose under
the influence of the religious and philosophical ideas of that time
the myth of Doctor Faust, whose religious tendency stamped it-
self clearly in the 'Volksbücher. ' In the years from 1771-1831,-
an age deeply moved by religious and philosophical ideas, the
greatest age of German philosophy, reaching from the beginning
of the epoch of Kant to the death of Hegel,-there arose, de-
veloped, and was completed, Goethe's 'Faust. ' The old fable of
the German magician of the sixteenth century, and the new ideas
of German philosophy which stirred the last generation of the
eighteenth century and the first generation of the nineteenth,—
these are the elements our poem must needs take up and unite;
for it could deny neither its inheritance nor its birth. Therefore
this work is by virtue of its origin a religious and philosophical
poem, which cannot be thoroughly comprehended without a
knowledge of the ideas contained therein. The meaning of this
poem was and still is, therefore, a philosophical problem.
Therefore the first attempts at interpretation, which followed
immediately upon the publication of the poem, took this direc-
tion. Their problem was to explain the fable of our 'Faust'
and to find its moral. This was considered as the fundamental
idea, which was intended to be allegorically portrayed in the
persons and events of the poem. So the philosophical interpre-
tation became allegorical interpretation, and then forced and
absurd interpretations. The entire poem appeared at last like a
magic sphere, wherein one could no more trust his senses, but
must look upon the most natural things as something entirely
## p. 5774 (#358) ###########################################
KUNO FISCHER
5774
different from what they seemed to be.
