At the beginning of the Second Part Goethe does not reopen the book of crime and remorse with which the First Part closes.  He needs a new Faust for whom that is all past—­past, not in the sense of being lightly forgotten, but built into his character and remembered, say, as one remembers the ecstasy and the pain of twenty years ago.  So he ushers him directly into the new life over a bridge of symbolism.  The restoring process which in real life takes many years he concentrates into a single night and represents it as the work of kindly nocturnal fairies and the glorious Alpine sunrise.  Faust awakens healed and reinvigorated, and the majesty of Nature inspires in him a resolve to “strive ever onward toward the highest existence.”

But these fine words convey a promise which is not at once fulfilled.  Like the most of us, Faust does not long continue to abide on the Alpine heights of his own best insight and aspiration.  The comrade is at hand who interrupts his lonely communion with the spirit of the mountains and draws him away to the Emperor’s court, where the pair soon ingratiate themselves as wonder-workers.  They so please his Majesty with their marvelous illusions that they are regularly installed at court as purveyors of amusement.  The first demand that is made on them is that they produce, for the entertainment of the court, the shades of the supremely beautiful Paris and Helena.  To this end Mephistopheles devises the elaborate hocus-pocus of the Mothers.  He sends Faust away to the vasty and viewless realm of the Ideal, instructing him how to bring thence a certain wonderful tripod, from the incense of which the desired forms can be made to appear.  The show proceeds successfully, so far as the spectators are concerned, but an accident happens.  Faust has been cautioned by his partner not to touch the fantom forms.  But the moon-struck idealist falls in love with the beautiful Helena and, disregarding orders, attempts to hold her fast.  The consequence is an explosion; the spirits vanish, and Faust receives an electric shock which paralyzes all his bodily functions.  He is now in a trance; there is nothing left of him but a motionless body and a mute soul, dreaming of Helena.  Mephistopheles pretends to be very much disgusted, but he knows where to go for help.

At the beginning of the second act we return to the old study that was deserted years ago.  Faust’s former famulus, Dr. Wagner, has now become a world-renowned professor and is engaged in a great experiment, namely, in the production of a chemical man.  By the aid of Mephisto’s magic the experiment is quickly brought to a successful issue, and Homunculus—­one of Goethe’s whimsically delightful creations—­emerges into being as an incorporeal radiant man in a glass bottle.  The wonderful little fellow at once comprehends Faust’s malady and prescribes that he be taken to the land of his dreams.  So away they go, the three of them, to the Classical Walpurgis Night, which