The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Faust a Tragedy
• Faust First Part
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Dedication.
• Prologue For the Theatre.
• Prologue In Heaven.
• Walpurgis-night.
• Walpurgis-night’s Dream; Or, Oberon and Titania’s Golden Wedding Feast. Intermezzo.
• Faust. Second Part
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• Egmont
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: Soldiers and Citizens, With Cross-bows.
• Scene II.—: Palace of the Regent.
• Scene III.—: Citizen’s House.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Square In Brussels.
• Scene II.—: Egmont’s Residence.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: Palace of the Regent.
• Scene II.—: Clara’s Dwelling.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: A Street.
• Scene II.—: The Palace of Eulenberg, Residence of the Duke of Alva.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Street. Twilight.
• Scene II.: A Prison.
• Scene III.—: Clara’s House.
• Scene IV.—: A Prison.
• The Natural Daughter a Tragedy
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: Thick Wood.
• Scene II.—: The Same.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.—: The Same.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Eugenie’s Apartment In Gothic Style.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: The Antechamber of the Duke, Furnished In Magnificent Modern Style.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: Park At the Port. On One Side a Palace, On the Other a Church; In the Background a Row of Trees Through Which the Port Is Seen Below. Eugenie, Enveloped In a Veil, Seated On a Bench In the Background, With Face Turned to the Sea.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: Plaza At the Port.
• Scene II.—: The Same.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.—: The Same.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Scene VII.
• Scene VIII.
• Scene IX.
• The Sorrows of Young Werther
• Book I.
• Book II.
• The Editor to the Reader.
• Colma.
• Rhyno.
• Alpin.

PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN.

The Lord. The Heavenly Hosts.AfterwardsMephistopheles.

The three Archangels come forward.

Raphael.

Still quiring as in ancient time

With brother spheres in rival song,

The sun with thunder-march sublime

Moves his predestin’d course along.

Angels are strengthen’d by his sight,

Though fathom him no angel may;

Resplendent are the orbs of light,

As on creation’s primal day.

Gabriel.

And lightly spins earth’s gorgeous sphere,

Swifter than thought its rapid flight;

Alternates Eden-brightness clear,

With solemn, dread-inspiring night;

The foaming waves, with murmurs hoarse,

Against the rocks’ deep base are hurl’d;

And in the sphere’s eternal course

Are rocks and ocean swiftly whirl’d.

Michael.

And rival tempests rush amain

From sea to land, from land to sea,

And raging form a wondrous chain

Of deep mysterious agency;

Full in the thunder’s fierce career,

Flaming the swift destructions play;

But, Lord, thy messengers revere

The mild procession of thy day.

The Three.

Angels are strengthened by thy sight,

Though fathom thee no angel may;

Thy works still shine with splendor bright,

As on creation’s primal day.

Mephistopheles.

Since thou, O Lord, approachest us once more,

And how it fares with us, to ask art fain,

Since thou hast kindly welcom’d me of yore,

Thou seest me also now among thy train.

Excuse me, fine harangues I cannot make,

Though all the circle look on me with scorn;

My pathos soon thy laughter would awake,

Hadst thou the laughing mood not long forsworn.

Of suns and worlds I nothing have to say,

I see alone mankind’s self-torturing pains.

The little world-god still the self-same stamp retains,

And is as wondrous now as on the primal day.

Better he might have fared, poor wight,

Hadst thou not given him a gleam of heavenly light;

Reason he names it, and doth so

Use it, than brutes more brutish still to grow.

With deference to your grace, he seems to me

Like any long-legged grasshopper to be,

Which ever flies, and flying springs,

And in the grass its ancient ditty sings.

Would he but always in the grass repose

In every heap of dung he thrusts his nose.

The Lord.

Hast thou naught else to say? Is blame

In coming here, as ever, thy sole aim?

Does nothing on the earth to thee seem right?

Mephis.

No, Lord! I find things there in miserable plight.

Men’s wretchedness in sooth I so deplore,

Not even I would plague the sorry creatures more.

The Lord.

Know’st thou my servant, Faust?

Mephis.

The doctor?

The Lord.

Right.

Mephis.

He serves thee in strange fashion, as I think.

Poor fool! Not earthly is his food or drink.

An inward impulse hurries him afar,

Himself half conscious of his frenzied mood;

From heaven claimeth he its brightest star,

And from the earth craves every highest good,

And all that’s near, and all that’s far,

Fails to allay the tumult in his blood.

The Lord.

Though now he serves me with imperfect sight,

I will ere long conduct him to the light.

The gard’ner knoweth, when the green appears,

That flowers and fruit will crown the coming years.

Mephis.

What wilt thou wager? Him thou yet shalt lose,

If leave to me thou wilt but give,

Gently to lead him as I choose!

The Lord.

So long as he on earth doth live,

So long ’tis not forbidden thee.

Man still must err, while he doth strive.

Mephis.

I thank you; for not willingly

I traffic with the dead, and still aver

That youth’s plump blooming cheek I very much prefer.

I’m not at home to corpses; ’tis my way,

Like cats with captive mice to toy and play.

The Lord.

Enough! ’tis granted thee! Divert

This mortal spirit from his primal source;

Him, canst thou seize, thy power exert

And lead him on thy downward course,

Then stand abash’d, when thou perforce must own,

A good man, in the direful grasp of ill,

His consciousness of right retaineth still.

Mephis.

Agreed!—the wager will be quickly won.

For my success no fears I entertain;

And if my end I finally should gain,

Excuse my triumphing with all my soul.

Dust he shall eat, ay, and with relish take,

As did my cousin, the renowned snake.

The Lord.

Here too thou’rt free to act without control;

I ne’er have cherished hate for such as thee.

Of all the spirits who deny,

The scoffer is least wearisome to me.

Ever too prone is man activity to shirk,

In uncondition’d rest he fain would live;

Hence this companion purposely I give,

Who stirs, excites, and must, as devil, work.

But ye, the genuine sons of heaven, rejoice!

In the full living beauty still rejoice!

May that which works and lives, the ever-growing,

In bonds of love enfold you, mercy-fraught,

And Seeming’s changeful forms, around you flowing,

Do ye arrest, in ever-during thought!

[Heaven closes, the Archangels disperse.

Mephis.

(Alone.) The ancient one I like sometimes to see,

And not to break with him am always civil;

’Tis courteous in so great a lord as he,

To speak so kindly even to the devil.

Night.

A high vaulted narrow Gothic chamber.

Faust,restless, seated at his desk.

Faust.

ERE have I, alas! Philosophy,

Medicine, Jurisprudence too,

And to my cost Theology,

With ardent labor, studied through.

And yet I stand, with all my lore,

Poor fool, no wiser than before.

Magister, doctor styled, indeed,

Already these ten years I lead,

Up, down, across, and to and fro,

My pupils by the nose,—and learn,

That we in truth can nothing know!

This in my heart like fire doth burn.

’Tis true, I’ve more cunning than all your dull tribe,

Magister and doctor, priest, parson, and scribe;

Scruple or doubt comes not to enthrall me,

Neither can devil nor hell now appall me—

Hence also my heart must all pleasure forego!

I may not pretend, aught rightly to know,

I may not pretend, through teaching, to find

A means to improve or convert mankind.

Then I have neither goods nor treasure,

No worldly honor, rank, or pleasure;

No dog in such fashion would longer live!

Therefore myself to magic I give,

In hope, through spirit-voice and might,

Secrets now veiled to bring to light,

That I no more, with aching brow,

Need speak of what I nothing know;

That I the force may recognize

That binds creation’s inmost energies;

Her vital powers, her embryo seeds survey,

And fling the trade in empty words away.

O full-orb’d moon, did but thy rays

Their last upon mine anguish gaze!

Beside this desk, at dead of night,

artist: franz simm.

FAUST. FIRST PART.

the spirit appearing to faust.

Art hovering near!

Unveil thyself!

Ha! How my heart is riven now!

Each sense, with eager palpitation,

Is strain’d to catch some new sensation!

I feel my heart surrender’d unto thee!

Thou must! Thou must! Though life should be the fee!

[He seizes the book, and pronounces mysteriously the sign of the spirit. A ruddy flame flashes up; the spirit appears in the flame.

Spirit.

Who calls me?

Faust.

(Turning aside.) Dreadful shape!

Spirit.

With might,

Thou hast compell’d me to appear,

Long hast been sucking at my sphere,

And now—

Faust.

Woe’s me! I cannot bear thy sight.

Spirit.

To know me thou didst breathe thy prayer,

My voice to hear, to gaze upon my brow;

Me doth thy strong entreaty bow—

Lo! I am here!—What pitiful despair

Grasps thee, the demigod! Where’s now the soul’s deep cry?

Where is the breast which in its depths a world conceiv’d

And bore and cherish’d; which, with ecstasy,

To rank itself with us, the spirits, heav’d?

Where art thou, Faust? whose voice I heard resound,

Who towards me press’d with energy profound?

Art thou he? Thou—whom thus my breath can blight,

Whose inmost being with affright

Trembles, a crush’d and writhing worm!

Faust.

Shall I yield, thing of flame, to thee?

Faust, and thine equal, I am he!

Spirit.

In the currents of life, in action’s storm,

• I float and I wave
• With billowy motion!
• Birth and the grave,
• A limitless ocean,
• A constant weaving,
• With change still rife,
• A restless heaving,
• A glowing life—

Thus time’s whirring loom unceasing I ply,

And weave the life-garment of deity.

Faust.

Thou, restless spirit, dost from end to end

O’ersweep the world; how near I feel to thee!

Spirit.

Thou’rt like the spirit, thou dost comprehend,

Not me!

[Vanishes.

Faust.

(Deeply moved.) Not thee?

Whom then?

I, God’s own image!

And not rank with thee!

[A knock.

O death! I know it—’tis my famulus—

My fairest fortune now escapes!

That all these visionary shapes

A soulless groveller should banish thus!

[Wagnerin his dressing-gown and nightcap, a lamp in his hand.Faustturns round reluctantly.

Wagner.

Pardon! I heard you here declaim;

A Grecian tragedy you doubtless read?

Improvement in this art is now my aim,

For now-a-days it much avails. Indeed

An actor, oft I’ve heard it said at least,

May give instruction even to a priest.

Faust.

Ay, if your priest should be an actor too,

As not improbably may come to pass.

Wagner.

When in his study pent the whole year through,

Man views the world as through an optic glass,

On a chance holiday, and scarcely then,

How by persuasion can be govern men?

Faust.

If feeling prompt not, if it doth not flow

Fresh from the spirit’s depths, with strong control

Swaying to rapture every listener’s soul,

Idle your toil; the chase you may forego!

Brood o’er your task! Together glue,

Cook from another’s feast your own ragout,

Still prosecute your paltry game,

And fan your ash-heaps into flame!

Thus children’s wonder you’ll excite,

And apes’, if such your appetite:

But that which issues from the heart alone

Will bend the hearts of others to your own.

Wagner.

The speaker in delivery will find

Success alone; I still am far behind.

Faust.

A worthy object still pursue!

Be not a hollow tinkling fool!

Sound understanding, judgment true,

Find utterance without art or rule;

And when with earnestness you speak,

Then is it needful cunning words to seek?

Your fine harangues, so polish’d in their kind,

Wherein the shreds of human thought ye twist,

Are unrefreshing as the empty wind,

Whistling through wither’d leaves and autumn mist!

Wagner.

O Heavens! art is long and life is short!

Still as I prosecute with earnest zeal

The critic’s toil, I’m haunted by this thought,

And vague misgivings o’er my spirit steal.

The very means how hardly are they won

By which we to the fountains rise!

And, haply, ere one half the course is run,

Check’d in his progress, the poor devil lies.

Faust.

Parchment, is that the sacred fount whence roll

Waters, he thirsteth not who once hath quaffed?

Oh, if it gush not from thine inmost soul,

Thou hast not won the life-restoring draught.

Wagner.

Your pardon! ’tis delightful to transport

One’s self into the spirit of the past,

To see in times before us how a wise man thought,

And what a glorious height we have achiev’d at last.

Faust.

Ay truly! even to the loftiest star!

To us, my friend, the ages that are pass’d

A book with seven seals, close-fasten’d, are;

And what the spirit of the times men call,

Is merely their own spirit after all,

Wherein, distorted oft, the times are glass’d.

Then truly, ’tis a sight to grieve the soul!

At the first glance we fly it in dismay;

A very lumber-room, a rubbish-hole;

At best a sort of mock-heroic play,

With saws pragmatical, and maxims sage,

To suit the puppets and their mimic stage.

Wagner.

But then the world and man, his heart and brain!

Touching these things all men would something know.

Faust.

Ay! what ’mong men as knowledge doth obtain!

Who on the child its true name dares bestow?

The few who somewhat of these things have known,

Who their full hearts unguardedly reveal’d,

Nor thoughts nor feelings from the mob conceal’d,

Have died on crosses, or in flames been thrown.—

Excuse me, friend, far now the night is spent,

For this time we must say adieu.

Wagner.

Still to watch on I had been well content,

Thus to converse so learnedly with you.

But as to-morrow will be Easter-day,

Some further questions grant, I pray;

With diligence to study still I fondly cling;

Already I know much, but would know everything.

[Exit.

Faust.

(Alone.) How he alone is ne’er bereft of hope,

Who clings to tasteless trash with zeal untir’d,

Who doth, with greedy hand, for treasure grope,

And finding earth-worms, is with joy inspir’d!

And dare a voice of merely human birth,

E’en here, where shapes immortal throng’d, intrude?

Yet ah! thou poorest of the sons of earth,

For once, I e’en to thee feel gratitude.

Despair the power of sense did well-nigh blast,

And thou didst save me ere I sank dismay’d;

So giant-like the vision seem’d, so vast,

I felt myself shrink dwarf’d as I survey’d!

I, God’s own image, from this toil of clay

Already freed, with eager joy who hail’d

The mirror of eternal truth unveil’d,

Mid light effulgent and celestial day—

I, more than cherub, whose unfetter’d soul

With penetrative glance aspir’d to flow

Through nature’s veins, and, still creating, know

The life of gods,—how am I punish’d now!

One thunder-word hath hurl’d me from the goal!

Spirit! I dare not lift me to thy sphere.

What though my power compell’d thee to appear,

My art was powerless to detain thee here.

In that great moment, rapture-fraught,

I felt myself so small, so great;

Fiercely didst thrust me from the realm of thought

Back on humanity’s uncertain fate!

Who’ll teach me now? What ought I to forego?

Ought I that impulse to obey?

Alas! our every deed, as well as every woe,

Impedes the tenor of life’s onward way!

E’en to the noblest by the soul conceiv’d,

Some feelings cling of baser quality;

And when the goods of this world are achiev’d,

Each nobler aim is term’d a cheat, a lie.

Our aspirations, our soul’s genuine life,

Grow torpid in the din of earthly strife.

Though youthful phantasy, while hope inspires,

Stretch o’er the infinite her wing sublime,

A narrow compass limits her desires,

When wreck’d our fortunes in the gulf of time.

In the deep heart of man care builds her nest.

O’er secret woes she broodeth there,

Sleepless she rocks herself and scareth joy and rest;

Still is she wont some new disguise to wear;

She may as house and court, as wife and child appear,

As dagger, poison, fire and flood;

Imagin’d evils chill thy blood,

And what thou ne’er shall lose, o’er that dost shed the tear.

I am not like the gods! Feel it I must;

I’m like the earth-worm, writhing in the dust,

Which, as on dust it feeds, its native fare,

Crush’d ’neath the passer’s tread, lies buried there.

Is it not dust, wherewith this lofty wall,

With hundred shelves, confines me round,

Rubbish, in thousand shapes, may I not call

What in this moth-world doth my being bound?

Here, what doth fail me, shall I find?

Read in a thousand tomes that, everywhere,

Self-torture is the lot of human-kind,

With but one mortal happy, here and there?

Thou hollow skull, that grin, what should it say,

But that thy brain, like mine, of old perplex’d,

Still yearning for the truth, hath sought the light of day,

And in the twilight wander’d, sorely vex’d?

Ye instruments, forsooth, ye mock at me,—

With wheel, and cog, and ring, and cylinder;

To nature’s portals ye should be the key;

Cunning your wards, and yet the bolts ye fail to stir.

Inscrutable in broadest light,

To be unveil’d by force she doth refuse,

What she reveals not to thy mental sight,

Thou wilt not wrest from her with levers and with screws.

Old useless furnitures, yet stand ye here,

Because my sire ye serv’d, now dead and gone.

Old scroll, the smoke of years dost wear,

So long as o’er this desk the sorry lamp hath shone.

Better my little means have squander’d quite away,

Than burden’d by that little here to sweat and groan!

Wouldst thou possess thy heritage, essay,

By use to render it thine own!

What we employ not, but impedes our way,

That which the hour creates, that can it use alone!

But wherefore to yon spot is riveted my gaze?

Is yonder flasket there a magnet to my sight?

Whence this mild radiance that around me plays,

As when, ’mid forest gloom, reigneth the moon’s soft light?

Hail, precious phial! Thee, with reverent awe,

Down from thine old receptacle I draw!

Science in thee I hail and human art.

Essence of deadliest powers, refin’d and sure,

Of soothing anodynes abstraction pure,

Now in thy master’s need thy grace impart!

I gaze on thee, my pain is lull’d to rest;

I grasp thee, calm’d the tumult in my breast;

The flood-tide of my spirit ebbs away;

Onward I’m summon’d o’er a boundless main,

Calm at my feet expands the glassy plain,

To shores unknown allures a brighter day.

Lo, where a car of fire, on airy pinion,

Comes floating towards me! I’m prepar’d to fly

By a new track through ether’s wide dominion,

To distant spheres of pure activity.

This life intense, this godlike ecstasy—

Worm that thou art such rapture canst thou earn?

Only resolve with courage stern and high,

Thy visage from the radiant sun to turn;

Dare with determin’d will to burst the portals

Past which in terror others fain would steal!

Now is the time, through deeds, to show that mortals

The calm sublimity of gods can feel;

To shudder not at yonder dark abyss,

Where phantasy creates her own self-torturing brood,

Right onward to the yawning gulf to press,

Around whose narrow jaws rolleth hell’s fiery flood;

With glad resolve to take the fatal leap,

Though danger threaten thee, to sink in endless sleep!

Pure crystal goblet, forth I draw thee now,

From out thine antiquated case, where thou

Forgotten hast reposed for many a year!

Oft at my father’s revels thou didst shine,

To glad the earnest guests was thine,

As each to other pass’d the generous cheer.

The gorgeous brede of figures, quaintly wrought,

Which he who quaff’d must first in rhyme expound,

Then drain the goblet at one draught profound,

Hath nights of boyhood to fond memory brought.

I to my neighbor shall not reach thee now,

Nor on thy rich device shall I my cunning show.

Here is a juice, makes drunk without delay;

Its dark brown flood thy crystal round doth fill;

Let this last draught, the product of my skill,

My own free choice, be quaff’d with resolute will,

A solemn festive greeting, to the coming day!

[He places the goblet to his mouth.

[The ringing of bells, and choral voices.

Chorus of Angels.

Christ is arisen!

Mortal, all hail to thee,

Thou whom mortality,

Earth’s sad reality,

Held as in prison.

Faust.

What hum melodious, what clear silvery chime,

Thus draws the goblet from my lips away?

Ye deep-ton’d bells, do ye with voice sublime,

Announce the solemn dawn of Easter-day?

Sweet choir! are ye the hymn of comfort singing,

Which once around the darkness of the grave,

From seraph-voices, in glad triumph ringing,

Of a new covenant assurance gave?

Chorus of Women.

• We, his true-hearted,
• With spices and myrrh,
• Embalm’d the departed,
• And swath’d Him with care;
• Here we convey’d Him,
• Our Master, so dear;
• Alas! Where we laid Him,
• The Christ is not here.

Chorus of Angels.

• Christ is arisen!
• Perfect through earthly ruth,
• Radiant with love and truth,
• He to eternal youth
• Soars from earth’s prison.

Faust.

Wherefore, ye tones celestial, sweet and strong,

Come ye a dweller in the dust to seek?

Ring out your chimes believing crowds among,

The message well I hear, my faith alone is weak;

From faith her darling, miracle, hath sprung.

Aloft to yonder spheres I dare not soar,

Whence sound the tidings of great joy;

And yet, with this sweet strain familiar when a boy,

Back it recalleth me to life once more.

Then would celestial love, with holy kiss,

Come o’er me in the Sabbath’s stilly hour,

While, fraught with solemn meaning and mysterious power,

Chim’d the deep-sounding bell, and prayer was bliss;

A yearning impulse, undefin’d yet dear,

Drove me to wander on through wood and field;

With heaving breast and many a burning tear,

I felt with holy joy a world reveal’d.

Gay sports and festive hours proclaim’d with joyous pealing,

This Easter hymn in days of old;

And fond remembrance now doth me, with childlike feeling,

Back from the last, the solemn step, withhold.

O still sound on, thou sweet celestial strain!

The tear-drop flows—Earth, I am thine again!

Chorus of Disciples.

• He whom we mourn’d as dead,
• Living and glorious,
• From the dark grave hath fled,
• O’er death victorious;
• Almost creative bliss
• Waits on his growing powers;
• Ah! Him on earth we miss;
• Sorrow and grief are ours.
• Yearning He left his own,
• Mid sore annoy;
• Ah! we must needs bemoan,
• Master, thy joy!

Chorus of Angels.

• Christ is arisen,
• Redeem’d from decay.
• The bonds which imprison
• Your souls, rend away!
• Praising the Lord with zeal,
• By deeds that love reveal,
• Like brethren true and leal
• Sharing the daily meal,
• To all that sorrow feel
• Whisp’ring of heaven’s weal,
• Still is the Master near,
• Still is He here!

Before the Gate.

Promenaders of all sorts pass out.

Artisans.

Why choose ye that direction, pray?

Others.

To the hunting-lodge we’re on our way.

The First.

We towards the mill are strolling on.

A Mechanic.

A walk to Wasserhof were best.

A Second.

The road is not a pleasant one.

The Others.

What will you do?

A Third.

I’ll join the rest.

A Fourth.

Let’s up to Burghof, there you’ll find good cheer,

The prettiest maidens and the best of beer,

And brawls of a prime sort.

A Fifth.

You scapegrace! How!

Your skin still itching for a row?

Thither I will not go, I loathe the place.

Servant Girl.

No, no! I to the town my steps retrace.

Another.

Near yonder poplars he is sure to be.

The First.

And if he is, what matters it to me!

With you he’ll walk, he’ll dance with none but you,

And with your pleasures what have I to do?

The Second.

To-day he will not be alone, he said

His friend would be with him, the curly-head.

Student.

Why how those buxom girls step on!

Come, brother, we will follow them anon.

Strong beer, a damsel smartly dress’d,

Stinging tobacco,—these I love the best.

Burgher’s Daughter.

Look at those handsome fellows there!

’Tis really shameful, I declare,

The very best society they shun,

After those servant-girls forsooth, to run.

Second Student.

(To the first) Not quite so fast! for in our rear,

Two girls, well-dress’d, are drawing near;

Not far from us the one doth dwell,

And sooth to say, I like her well.

They walk demurely, yet you’ll see,

That they will let us join them presently.

The First.

Not I! restraints of all kinds I detest.

Quick! let us catch the wild-game ere it flies,

The hand on Saturday the mop that plies

Will on the Sunday fondle you the best.

Burgher.

No, this new Burgomaster, I like him not; each hour

He grows more arrogant, now that he’s rais’d to power;

And for the town, what doth he do for it?

Are not things worse from day to day?

To more restraints we must submit;

And taxes more than ever pay.

Beggar.

(Sings.) Kind gentlemen and ladies fair,

• So rosy-cheek’d and trimly dress’d,
• Be pleas’d to listen to my prayer,
• Relieve and pity the distress’d.
• Let me not vainly sing my lay!
• His heart’s most glad whose hand is free.
• Now when all men keep holiday,
• Should be a harvest-day to me.

Another Burgher.

I know naught better on a holiday,

Than chatting about war and war’s alarms;

When folk in Turkey are all up in arms,

Fighting their deadly battles far away,

We at the window stand, our glasses drain,

And watch adown the stream the painted vessels glide,

Then, blessing peace and peaceful times, again

Homeward we turn our steps at eventide.

Third Burgher.

Ay, neighbor! So let matters stand for me!

There they may scatter one another’s brains,

And wild confusion round them see—

So here at home in quiet all remains!

Old Woman.

(To theBurghers’ Daughters.) Heyday! How smart! The fresh young blood!

Who would not fall in love with you?

Not quite so proud! ’Tis well and good!

And what you wish, that I could help you to.

Burgher’s Daughter.

Come, Agatha! I care not to be seen

Walking in public with these witches. True,

My future lover, last St. Andrew’s E’en,

In flesh and blood she brought before my view.

Another.

And mine she show’d me also in the glass,

A soldier’s figure, with companions bold:

I look around, I seek him as I pass,

In vain, his form I nowhere can behold.

Soldiers.

• • Fortress with turrets
  • Rising in air,
  • Damsel disdainful,
  • Haughty and fair,
  • These be my prey!
  • Bold is the venture,
  • Costly the pay!
• • Hark how the trumpet
  • Thither doth call us,
  • Where either pleasure
  • Or death may befall us.
  • Hail to the tumult!
  • Life’s in the field!
  • Damsel and fortress
  • To us must yield.
  • Bold is the venture,
  • Costly the pay!
  • Gayly the soldier
  • Marches away.

FaustandWagner.

Faust.

Loos’d from their fetters are streams and rills

Through the gracious spring-tide’s all-quickening glow;

Hope’s budding joy in the vale doth blow;

Old Winter back to the savage hills

Withdraweth his force, decrepit now.

Thence only impotent icy grains

Scatters he as he wings his flight,

Striping with sleet the verdant plains;

But the sun endureth no trace of white;

Everywhere growth and movement are rife,

All things investing with hues of life:

Though flowers are lacking, varied of dye,

Their colors the motley throng supply.

Turn thee around, and from this height,

Back to the town direct thy sight.

Forth from the hollow, gloomy gate,

Stream forth the masses, in bright array.

Gladly seek they the sun to-day;

The Resurrection they celebrate:

For they themselves have risen, with joy,

From tenement sordid, from cheerless room,

From bonds of toil, from care and annoy,

From gable and roof’s o’erhanging gloom,

From crowded alley and narrow street,

And from the churches’ awe-breathing night,

All now have issued into the light.

But look! how spreadeth on nimble feet

Through garden and field the joyous throng,

How o’er the river’s ample sheet,

Many a gay wherry glides along!

And see, deep sinking in the tide,

Pushes the last boat now away.

E’en from yon far hill’s path-worn side,

Flash the bright hues of garments gay.

Hark! Sounds of village mirth arise;

This is the people’s paradise.

Both great and small send up a cheer;

Here am I man, I feel it here.

Wagner.

Sir Doctor, in a walk with you

There’s honor and instruction too;

Yet here alone I care not to resort,

Because I coarseness hate of every sort.

This fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest;

I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng;

They roar as by the evil one possess’d,

And call it pleasure, call it song.

Peasants.

(Under the linden tree.)

• Dance and song.
• • The shepherd for the dance was dress’d,
  • With ribbon, wreath and colored vest,
  • A gallant show displaying.
  • And round about the linden tree,
  • They footed it right merrily.
  • Juchhe! Juchhe!
  • Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
  • So fiddle-bow was braying.
• • Our swain amidst the circle press’d,
  • He push’d a maiden trimly dress’d,
  • And jogg’d her with his elbow;
  • The buxom damsel turn’d her head,
  • “Now that’s a stupid trick!” she said,
  • Juchhe! Juchhe!
  • Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
  • Don’t be so rude, good fellow!
• • Swift in the circle they advance,
  • They dance to right, to left they dance,
  • The skirts abroad are swinging.
  • And they grow red, and they grow warm,
  • Elbow on hip, they arm in arm,
  • Juchhe! Juchhe!
  • Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
  • Rest, talking now or singing.
• • Don’t make so free! How many a maid
  • Has been betroth’d and then betray’d;
  • And has repented after!
  • Yet still he flatter’d her aside,
  • And from the linden, far and wide,
  • Juchhe! Juchhe!
  • Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
  • Sound fiddle-bow and laughter.

Old Peasant.

Doctor, ’tis really kind of you,

To condescend to come this way,

A highly learned man like you,

To join our mirthful throng to-day.

Our fairest cup I offer you,

Which we with sparkling drink have crown’d,

And pledging you, I pray aloud,

That every drop within its round,

While it your present thirst allays,

May swell the number of your days.

Faust.

I take the cup you kindly reach,

Thanks and prosperity to each!

[The crowd gather round in a circle.

Old Peasant.

Ay, truly! ’tis well done, that you

Our festive meeting thus attend;

You, who in evil days of yore,

So often show’d yourself our friend!

Full many a one stands living here,

Who from the fever’s deadly blast,

Your father rescued, when his skill

The fatal sickness stay’d at last.

A young man then, each house you sought,

Where reign’d the mortal pestilence.

Corpse after corpse was carried forth,

But still unscath’d you issued thence.

Sore then your trials and severe;

The Helper yonder aids the helper here.

All.

Heaven bless the trusty friend, and long

To help the poor his life prolong!

Faust.

To Him above in homage bend,

Who prompts the helper and Who help doth send.

[He proceeds withWagner.

Wagner.

With what emotions must your heart o’erflow,

Receiving thus the reverence of the crowd!

Great man! How happy, who like you doth know

Such use for gifts by heaven bestow’d!

You to the son the father shows;

They press around, inquire, advance,

Hush’d is the fiddle, check’d the dance.

Still where you pass they stand in rows,

And each aloft his bonnet throws,

They fall upon their knees, almost

As when there passeth by the Host.

Faust.

A few steps further, up to yonder stone!

Here rest we from our walk. In times long past,

Absorb’d in thought, here oft I sat alone,

And disciplin’d myself with prayer and fast.

Then rich in hope, with faith sincere,

With sighs, and hands in anguish press’d,

The end of that sore plague, with many a tear,

From heaven’s dread Lord, I sought to wrest.

These praises have to me a scornful tone.

Oh, could’st thou in my inner being read,

How little either sire or son,

Of such renown deserve the meed!

My sire, of good repute, and sombre mood,

O’er nature’s powers and every mystic zone,

With honest zeal, but methods of his own,

With toil fantastic loved to brood;

His time in dark alchemic cell,

With brother adepts he would spend,

And there antagonists compel,

Through numberless receipts to blend.

A ruddy lion there, a suitor bold,

In tepid bath was with the lily wed.

Thence both, while open flames around them roll’d,

Were tortur’d to another bridal bed.

Was then the youthful queen descri’d

With many a hue, to crown the task;—

This was our medicine; the patients died,

“Who were restor’d?” none car’d to ask.

With our infernal mixture thus, ere long,

These hills and peaceful vales among,

We rag’d more fiercely than the pest;

Myself the deadly poison did to thousands give;

They pined away, I yet must live,

To hear the reckless murderers blest.

Wagner.

Why let this thought your soul o’ercast?

Can man do more than with nice skill,

With firm and conscientious will,

Practise the art transmitted from the past?

If duly you revere your sire in youth,

His lore you gladly will receive;

In manhood, if you spread the bounds of truth,

Then may your son a higher goal achieve.

Faust.

O blest, whom still the hope inspires,

To lift himself from error’s turbid flood!

What a man knows not, he to use requires,

And what he knows, he cannot use for good.

But let not moody thoughts their shadow throw

O’er the calm beauty of this hour serene!

In the rich sunset see how brightly glow

Yon cottage homes, girt round with verdant green!

Slow sinks the orb, the day is now no more;

Yonder he hastens to diffuse new life.

Oh for a pinion from the earth to soar,

And after, ever after him to strive!

Then should I see the world below,

Bath’d in the deathless evening beams,

The vales reposing, every height a-glow,

The silver brooklets meeting golden streams.

The savage mountain, with its cavern’d side,

Bars not my godlike progress. Lo, the ocean,

Its warm bays heaving with a tranquil motion,

To my rapt vision opes its ample tide!

But now at length the god appears to sink!

A new-born impulse wings my flight,

Onward I press, his quenchless light to drink,

The day before me, and behind the night,

The pathless waves beneath, and over me the skies.

Fair dream, it vanish’d with the parting day!

Alas! that when on spirit-wing we rise,

No wing material lifts our mortal clay.

But ’tis our inborn impulse, deep and strong,

Upwards and onwards still to urge our flight,

When far above us pours its thrilling song

The sky-lark, lost in azure light,

When on extended wing amain

O’er pine-crown’d height the eagle soars,

And over moor and lake, the crane

Still striveth towards its native shores.

Wagner.

To strange conceits oft I myself must own,

But impulse such as this I ne’er have known:

Nor woods, nor fields, can long our thoughts engage,

Their wings I envy not the feather’d kind;

Far otherwise the pleasures of the mind,

Bear us from book to book, from page to page!

Then winter nights grow cheerful; keen delight

Warms every limb; and ah! when we unroll

Some old and precious parchment, at the sight

All heaven itself descends upon the soul.

Faust.

Your heart by one sole impulse is possess’d;

Unconscious of the other still remain!

Two souls, alas! are lodg’d within my breast,

Which struggle there for undivided reign:

One to the world, with obstinate desire,

And closely-cleaving organs, still adheres;

Above the mist, the other doth aspire,

With sacred vehemence, to purer spheres.

Oh, are there spirits in the air,

Who float ’twixt heaven and earth dominion wielding.

Stoop hither from your golden atmosphere,

Lead me to scenes, new life and fuller yielding!

A magic mantle did I but possess,

Abroad to waft me as on viewless wings,

I’d prize it far beyond the costliest dress,

Nor would I change it for the robe of kings.

Wagner.

Call not the spirits who on mischief wait!

Their troop familiar, streaming through the air,

From every quarter threaten man’s estate,

And danger in a thousand forms prepare!

They drive impetuous from the frozen north,

With fangs sharp-piercing, and keen arrowy tongues;

From the ungenial east they issue forth,

And prey, with parching breath, upon your lungs;

If, wafted on the desert’s flaming wing,

They from the south heap fire upon the brain,

Refreshment from the west at first they bring,

Anon to drown thyself and field and plain.

In wait for mischief, they are prompt to hear;

With guileful purpose our behests obey;

Like ministers of grace they oft appear,

And lisp like angels, to betray.

But let us hence! Gray eve doth all things blend,

The air grows chill, the mists descend!

’Tis in the evening first our home we prize—

Why stand you thus, and gaze with wondering eyes?

What in the gloom thus moves you?

Faust.

Yon black hound

Seest thou, through corn and stubble scampering round?

Wagner.

I’ve mark’d him long, naught strange in him I see!

Faust.

Note him! What takest thou the brute to be?

Wagner.

But for a poodle, whom his instinct serves

His master’s track to find once more.

Faust.

Dost mark how round us, with wide spiral curves,

He wheels, each circle closer than before?

And, if I err not, he appears to me

A fiery whirlpool in his track to leave.

Wagner.

Naught but a poodle black of hue I see;

’Tis some illusion doth your sight deceive.

Faust.

Methinks a magic coil our feet around,

He for a future snare doth lightly spread.

Wagner.

Around us as in doubt I see him shyly bound,

Since he two strangers seeth in his master’s stead.

Faust.

The circle narrows, he’s already near.

Wagner.

A dog dost see, no spectre have we here;

He growls, doubts, lays him on his belly too,

And wags his tail—as dogs are wont to do.

Faust.

Come hither, Sirrah! join our company!

Wagner.

A very poodle, he appears to be!

Thou standest still, for thee he’ll wait;

Thou speak’st to him, he fawns upon thee straight;

Aught you may lose, again he’ll bring,

And for your stick will into water spring.

Faust.

Thou’rt right indeed; no traces now I see

Whatever of a spirit’s agency.

’Tis training—nothing more.

Wagner.

A dog well taught

E’en by the wisest of us may be sought.

Ay, to your favor he’s entitled too,

Apt scholar of the students, ’tis his due!

[They enter the gate of the town.

Study.

Faust.

(Entering with the poodle.)

Behind me now lie field and plain,

As night her veil doth o’er them draw,

Our better soul resumes her reign

With feelings of foreboding awe.

Lull’d is each stormy deed to rest,

And tranquilliz’d each wild desire;

Pure charity doth warm the breast,

And love to God the soul inspire.

Peace, poodle, peace! Scamper not thus; obey me!

Why at the threshold snuffest thou so?

Behind the stove now quietly lay thee,

My softest cushion to thee I’ll throw.

As thou, without, didst please and amuse me,

Running and frisking about on the hill,

Neither shelter will I refuse thee;

A welcome guest, if thou’lt be still.

• Ah! when within our narrow room
• The friendly lamp again doth glow,
• An inward light dispels the gloom
• In hearts that strive themselves to know.
• Reason begins again to speak,
• Again the bloom of hope returns,
• The streams of life we fain would seek,
• Ah, for life’s source our spirit yearns.

Cease, poodle, cease! with the tone that arises,

Hallow’d and peaceful, my soul within,

Accords not thy growl, thy bestial din.

We find it not strange, that man despises

What he conceives not;

The good and the fair he misprizes;

What lies beyond him he doth contemn;

Snarleth the poodle at it, like men?

But ah! E’en now I feel, howe’er I yearn for rest,

Contentment welleth up no longer in my breast.

Yet wherefore must the stream, alas, so soon be dry,

That we once more athirst should lie?

This sad experience oft I’ve approv’d!

The want admitteth of compensation;

We learn to prize what from sense is remov’d,

Our spirits yearn for revelation,

Which nowhere burneth with beauty blent,

More pure than in the New Testament.

To the ancient text an impulse strong

Moves me the volume to explore,

And to translate its sacred lore,

Into the tones beloved of the German tongue.

[He opens a volume and applies himself to it.

’Tis writ, “In the beginning was the Word!”

I pause, perplex’d! Who now will help afford?

I cannot the mere Word so highly prize;

I must translate it otherwise,

If by the spirit guided as I read.

“In the beginning was the Sense!” Take heed,

The import of this primal sentence weigh,

Lest thy too hasty pen be led astray!

Is force creative then of Sense the dower?

“In the beginning was the Power!”

Thus should it stand: yet, while the line I trace,

A something warns me, once more to efface.

The spirit aids! from anxious scruples freed,

I write, “In the beginning was the Deed!”

Am I with thee my room to share,

Poodle, thy barking now forbear,

Forbear thy howling!

Comrade so noisy, ever growling,

I cannot suffer here to dwell.

One or the other, mark me well,

Forthwith must leave the cell.

I’m loath the guest-right to withhold;

The door’s ajar, the passage clear;

But what must now mine eyes behold!

Are nature’s laws suspended here?

Real is it, or a phantom show?

In length and breadth how doth my poodle grow!

He lifts himself with threat’ning mien,

In likeness of a dog no longer seen!

What spectre have I harbor’d thus!

Huge as a hippopotamus,

With fiery eye, terrific tooth!

Ah! now I know thee, sure enough!

For such a base, half-hellish brood,

The key of Solomon is good.

Spirits.

(Without.)

• Captur’d there within is one!
• Stay without and follow none!
• Like a fox in iron snare,
• Hell’s old lynx is quaking there,
• But take heed!
• Hover round, above, below,
• To and fro,
• Then from durance is he freed!
• Can ye aid him, spirits all,
• Leave him not in mortal thrall!
• Many a time and oft hath he
• Served us, when at liberty.

Faust.

The monster to confront, at first,

The spell of Four must be rehears’d;

• Salamander shall kindle,
• Writhe nymph of the wave,
• In air sylph shall dwindle,
• And Kobold shall slave.

Who doth ignore

The primal Four,

Nor knows aright

Their use and might,

O’er spirits will he

Ne’er master be!

• Vanish in the fiery glow,
• Salamander!
• Rushingly together flow,
• Undine!
• Shimmer in the meteor’s gleam,
• Sylphide!
• Hither bring thine homely aid,
• Incubus! Incubus!
• Step forth! I do adjure thee thus!

None of the Four

Lurks in the beast:

He grins at me, untroubled as before;

I have not hurt him in the least.

A spell of fear

Thou now shalt hear.

• Art thou, comrade fell,
• Fugitive from Hell?
• See then this sign,
• Before which incline
• The murky troops of Hell!

With bristling hair now doth the creature swell.

• Canst thou, reprobate,
• Read the uncreate,
• Unspeakable, diffused
• Throughout the heavenly sphere,
• Shamefully abused,
• Transpierc’d with nail and spear!

Behind the stove, tam’d by my spells,

Like an elephant he swells;

Wholly now he fills the room,

He into mist will melt away.

Ascend not to the ceiling! Come,

Thyself at the master’s feet now lay!

Thou seest that mine is no idle threat.

With holy fire I will scorch thee yet!

Wait not the might

That lies in the triple-glowing light!

Wait not the might

Of all my arts in fullest measure!

Mephis.

(As the mist sinks, comes forward from behind the stove, in the dress of a travelling scholar.)

Why all this uproar? What’s the master’s pleasure?

Faust.

This then the kernel of the brute!

A travelling scholar? Why I needs must smile.

Mephis.

Your learned reverence humbly I salute!

You’ve made me swelter in a pretty style.

Faust.

Thy name?

Mephis.

The question trifling seems from one,

Who it appears the Word doth rate so low;

Who, undeluded by mere outward show,

To Being’s depths would penetrate alone.

Faust.

With gentlemen like you indeed

The inward essence from the name we read,

As all too plainly it doth appear,

When Beelzebub, Destroyer, Liar, meets the ear.

Who then art thou!

Mephis.

Part of that power which still

Produceth good, whilst ever scheming ill.

Faust.

What hidden mystery in this riddle lies?

Mephis.

The spirit I, which evermore denies!

And justly; for whate’er to light is brought

Deserves again to be reduc’d to naught;

Then better ’twere that naught should be.

Thus all the elements which ye

Destruction, Sin, or briefly, Evil, name,

As my peculiar element I claim.

Faust.

Thou nam’st thyself a part, and yet a whole I see.

Mephis.

The modest truth I speak to thee.

Though folly’s microcosm, man, it seems,

Himself to be a perfect whole esteems,

Part of the part am I, which at the first was all.

A part of darkness, which gave birth to light.

Proud light, who now his mother would enthrall,

Contesting space and ancient rank with night.

Yet he succeedeth not, for struggle as he will,

To forms material he adhereth still;

From them he streameth, them he maketh fair,

And still the progress of his beams they check;

And so, I trust, when comes the final wreck,

Light will, ere long, the doom of matter share.

Faust.

Thy worthy avocation now I guess!

Wholesale annihilation won’t prevail,

So thou’rt beginning on a smaller scale.

Mephis.

And, to say truth, as yet with small success.

Oppos’d to nothingness, the world,

This clumsy mass, subsisteth still;

Not yet is it to ruin hurl’d,

Despite the efforts of my will.

Tempests and earthquakes, fire and flood, I’ve tried;

Yet land and ocean still unchang’d abide!

And then of humankind and beasts, the accursed brood,—

Neither o’er them can I extend my sway.

What countless myriads have I swept away!

Yet ever circulates the fresh young blood.

artist: franz bimm.

FAUST. FIRST PART.

the vision of faust

It is enough to drive me to despair!

As in the earth, in water, and in air,

In moisture and in drought, in heat and cold,

Thousands of germs their energies unfold!

If fire I had not for myself retain’d,

No sphere whatever had for me remain’d.

Faust.

So thou with thy cold devil’s fist,

Still clench’d in malice impotent,

Dost the creative power resist,

The active, the beneficent!

Henceforth some other task essay,

Of Chaos thou the wondrous son!

Mephis.

We will consider what you say,

And talk about it more anon!

For this time have I leave to go?

Faust.

Why thou shouldst ask, I cannot see.

Since one another now we know,

At thy good pleasure, visit me.

Here is the window, here the door,

The chimney, too, may serve thy need.

Mephis.

I must confess, my stepping o’er

Thy threshold a slight hindrance doth impede;

The wizard-foot doth me retain.

Faust.

The pentagram thy peace doth mar?

To me, thou son of hell, explain,

How camest thou in, if this thine exit bar!

Could such a spirit aught ensnare?

Mephis.

Observe it well, it is not drawn with care,

One of the angles, that which points without,

Is, as thou seest, not quite closed.

Faust.

Chance hath the matter happily dispos’d!

So thou my captive art? No doubt!

By accident thou thus art caught!

Mephis.

In sprang the dog, indeed, observing naught;

Things now assume another shape,

The devil’s in the house and can’t escape.

Faust.

Why through the window not withdraw?

Mephis.

For ghosts and for the devil ’tis a law,

Where they stole in, there they must forth. We’re free

The first to choose; as to the second, slaves are we.

Faust.

E’en hell hath its peculiar laws, I see!

I’m glad of that! a pact may then be made,

The which, you gentlemen, will surely keep?

Mephis.

Whate’er therein is promis’d thou shalt reap,

No tittle shall remain unpaid.

But such arrangements time require;

We’ll speak of them when next we meet;

Most earnestly I now entreat,

This once permission to retire.

Faust.

Another moment prithee here remain,

Me with some happy word to pleasure.

Mephis.

Now let me go! ere long I’ll come again,

Then thou mayst question at thy leisure.

Faust.

To capture thee was not my will.

Thyself hast freely entered in the snare:

Let him who holds the devil, hold him still!

A second time so soon he will not catch him there.

Mephis.

If it so please thee, I’m at thy command;

Only on this condition, understand;

That worthily thy leisure to beguile,

I here may exercise my arts awhile.

Faust.

Thou’rt free to do so! Gladly I’ll attend;

But be thine art a pleasant one!

Mephis.

My friend,

This hour enjoyment more intense,

Shall captivate each ravish’d sense,

Than thou could’st compass in the bound

Of the whole year’s unvarying round;

And what the dainty spirits sing,

The lovely images they bring,

Are no fantastic sorcery.

Rich odors shall regale your smell,

On choicest sweets your palate dwell,

Your feelings thrill with ecstasy.

No preparation do we need,

Here we together are. Proceed!

Spirits.

• Hence overshadowing gloom
• Vanish from sight!
• O’er us thine azure dome,
• Bend, beauteous light!
• Dark clouds that o’er us spread,
• Melt in thin air!
• Stars, your soft radiance shed,
• Tender and fair.
• Girt with celestial might,
• Winging their airy flight,
• Spirits are thronging.
• Follows their forms of light
• Infinite longing!
• Flutter their vestures bright
• O’er field and grove!
• Where in their leafy bower
• Lovers the livelong hour
• Vow deathless love.
• Soft bloometh bud and bower!
• Bloometh the grove!
• Grapes from the spreading vine
• Crown the full measure;
• Fountains of foaming wine
• Gush from the pressure.
• Still where the currents wind,
• Gems brightly gleam.
• Leaving the hills behind
• On rolls the stream;
• Now into ample seas,
• Spreadeth the flood;
• Laving the sunny leas,
• Mantled with wood.
• Rapture the feather’d throng,
• Gayly careering,
• Sip as they float along;
• Sunward they’re steering;
• On towards the isles of light
• Winging their way,
• That on the waters bright
• Dancingly play.
• Hark to the choral strain,
• Joyfully ringing!
• While on the grassy plain
• Dancers are springing;
• Climbing the steep hill’s side,
• Skimming the glassy tide,
• Wander they there;
• Others on pinions wide
• Wing the blue air;
• On towards the living stream,
• Towards yonder stars that gleam,
• Far, far away;
• Seeking their tender beam
• Wing they their way.

Mephis.

Well done, my dainty spirits! now he slumbers;

Ye have entranc’d him fairly with your numbers;

This minstrelsy of yours I must repay.—

Thou art not yet the man to hold the devil fast!—

With fairest shapes your spells around him cast,

And plunge him in a sea of dreams!

But that this charm be rent, the threshold pass’d,

Tooth of rat the way must clear.

I need not conjure long it seems,

One rustles hitherward, and soon my voice will hear.

The master of the rats and mice,

Of flies and frogs, of bugs and lice,

Commands thy presence; without fear

Come forth and gnaw the threshold here,

Where he with oil has smear’d it.—Thou

Com’st hopping forth already! Now

To work! The point that holds me bound

Is in the outer angle found.

Another bite—so—now ’tis done—

Now, Faustus, till we meet again, dream on.

Faust.

(Awaking.) Am I once more deluded! must I deem

This troop of thronging spirits all ideal?

The devil’s presence, was it nothing real?

The poodle’s disappearance but a dream?

Study.

Faust. Mephistopheles.

Faust.

A knock? Come in! Who now would break my rest?

Mephis.

’Tis I!

Faust.

Come in!

Mephis.

Thrice be the words express’d.

Faust.

Then I repeat, Come in!

Mephis.

’Tis well,

I hope that we shall soon agree!

For now your fancies to expel,

Here, as a youth of high degree,

I come in gold-lac’d scarlet vest,

And stiff silk mantle richly dress’d,

A cock’s gay feather for a plume,

A long and pointed rapier, too;

And briefly I would counsel you

To don at once the same costume,

And, free from trammels, speed away,

That what life is you may essay.

Faust.

In every garb I needs must feel oppress’d,

My heart to earth’s low cares a prey.

Too old the trifler’s part to play,

Too young to live by no desire possess’d.

What can the world to me afford?

Renounce! renounce! is still the word;

This is the everlasting song

In every ear that ceaseless rings,

And which, alas, our whole life long,

Hoarsely each passing moment sings.

But to new horror I awake each morn,

And I could weep hot tears to see the sun

Dawn on another day, whose round forlorn

Accomplishes no wish of mine—not one;

Which still, with froward captiousness, impairs

E’en the presentiment of every joy,

While low realities and paltry cares

The spirit’s fond imaginings destroy.

And must I then, when falls the veil of night,

Stretch’d on my pallet languish in despair;

Appalling dreams my soul affright;

No rest vouchsaf’d me even there.

The god, who thron’d within my breast resides,

Deep in my soul can stir the springs;

With sovereign sway my energies he guides,

He cannot move external things;

And so existence is to me a weight,

Death fondly I desire, and life I hate.

Mephis.

And yet, methinks, by most ’twill be confess’d

That Death is never quite a welcome guest.

Faust.

Happy the man around whose brow he binds

The bloodstain’d wreath in conquest’s dazzling hour;

Or whom, excited by the dance, he finds

Dissolv’d in bliss, in love’s delicious bower!

Oh that before the lofty spirit’s might,

Enraptured, I had render’d up my soul!

Mephis.

Yet did a certain man refrain one night,

Of its brown juice to drain the crystal bowl.

Faust.

To play the spy diverts you then?

Mephis.

I own,

Though not omniscient, much to me is known.

Faust.

If o’er my soul the tone familiar, stealing,

Drew me from harrowing thought’s bewild’ring maze,

Touching the ling’ring chords of childlike feeling,

With the sweet harmonies of happier days:

So curse I all, around the soul that windeth

Its magic and alluring spell,

And with delusive flattery bindeth

Its victim to this dreary cell!

Curs’d before all things be the high opinion,

Wherewith the spirit girds itself around!

Of shows delusive curs’d be the dominion,

Within whose mocking sphere our sense is bound!

Accurs’d of dreams the treacherous wiles,

The cheat of glory, deathless fame!

Accurs’d what each as property beguiles,

Wife, child, slave, plough, whate’er its name!

Accurs’d be mammon, when with treasure

He doth to daring deeds incite:

Or when to steep the soul in pleasure,

He spreads the couch of soft delight!

Curs’d be the grape’s balsamic juice!

Accurs’d love’s dream, of joys the first!

Accurs’d be hope! accurs’d be faith!

And more than all, be patience curs’d!

Chorus of Spirits.

(Invisible.) Woe! woe!

Thou hast destroy’d

The beautiful world

With violent blow;

’Tis shiver’d! ’tis shatter’d!

The fragments abroad by a demigod scatter’d!

Now we sweep

The wrecks into nothingness!

Fondly we weep

The beauty that’s gone!

Thou, ’mongst the sons of earth,

Lofty and mighty one,

Build it once more!

In thine own bosom the lost world restore!

Now with unclouded sense

Enter a new career;

Songs shall salute thine ear,

Ne’er heard before!

Mephis.

My little ones these spirits be.

Hark! with shrewd intelligence,

How they recommend to thee,

Action, and the joys of sense!

In the busy world to dwell,

Fain they would allure thee hence:

For within this lonely cell,

Stagnates sap of life and sense.

Forbear to trifle longer with thy grief,

Which, vulture-like, consumes thee in this den.

The worst society is some relief,

Making thee feel thyself a man with men.

Nathless it is not meant, I trow,

To thrust thee ’mid the vulgar throng.

I to the upper ranks do not belong;

Yet if, by me companion’d, thou

Thy steps through life forthwith wilt take,

Upon the spot myself I’ll make

Thy comrade;—

Should it suit thy need,

I am thy servant, and thy slave indeed!

Faust.

And how must I thy services repay?

Mephis.

Thereto thou lengthen’d respite hast!

Faust.

No! no!

The devil is an egotist I know:

And, for Heaven’s sake, ’tis not his way

Kindness to any one to show.

Let the condition plainly be express’d;

Such a domestic is a dangerous guest.

Mephis.

I’ll pledge myself to be thy servant here,

Still at thy back alert and prompt to be;

But when together yonder we appear,

Then shalt thou do the same for me.

Faust.

But small concern I feel for yonder world;

Hast thou this system into ruin hurl’d,

Another may arise the void to fill.

This earth the fountain whence my pleasures flow,

This sun doth daily shine upon my woe,

And if this world I must forego,

Let happen then,—what can and will.

I to this theme will close mine ears,

If men hereafter hate and love,

And if there be in yonder spheres

A depth below or height above.

Mephis.

In this mood thou mayst venture it. But make

The compact, and at once I’ll undertake

To charm thee with mine arts. I’ll give thee more

Than mortal eye hath e’er beheld before.

Faust.

What, sorry Devil, hast thou to bestow?

Was ever mortal spirit, in its high endeavor,

Fathom’d by Being such as thou?

Yet food thou hast which satisfieth never,

Hast ruddy gold, that still doth flow

Like restless quicksilver away,

A game thou hast, at which none win who play,

A girl who would, with amorous eyen,

E’en from my breast, a neighbor snare,

Lofty ambition’s joy divine,

That, meteor-like, dissolves in air.

Show me the fruit that, ere ’tis pluck’d, doth rot,

And trees, whose verdure daily buds anew.

Mephis.

Such a commission scares me not,

I can provide such treasures, it is true;

But, my good friend, a season will come round

When on what’s good we may regale in peace.

Faust.

If e’er upon my couch, stretch’d at my ease, I’m found,

Then may my life that instant cease;

Me canst thou cheat with glozing wile

Till self-reproach away I cast?—

Me with joy’s lure canst thou beguile?—

Let that day be for me the last!

Be this our wager!

Mephis.

Settl’d!

Faust.

Sure and fast!

When to the moment I shall say,

“Linger awhile, so fair thou art!”

Then mayst thou fetter me straightway,

Then to the abyss will I depart;

Then may the solemn death-bell sound,

Then from thy service thou art free,

The index then may cease its round,

And time be never more for me!

Mephis.

I shall remember: pause, ere ’tis too late.

Faust.

Thereto a perfect right hast thou.

My strength I do not rashly overrate.

Slave am I here, at any rate,

If thine, or whose, it matters not, I trow.

Mephis.

At thine inaugural feast I will this day

Attend, my duties to commence.—

But one thing!—Accidents may happen, hence

A line or two in writing grant, I pray.

Faust.

A writing, Pedant! dost demand from me?

Man, and man’s plighted word, are these unknown to thee?

Is’t not enough, that by the word I gave,

My doom for evermore is cast?

Doth not the world in all its currents rave,

And must a promise hold me fast?

Yet fixed is this delusion in our heart;

Who, of his own free will, therefrom would part?

How blest within whose breast truth reigneth pure!

No sacrifice will he repent when made!

A formal deed, with seal and signature,

A spectre this from which all shrink afraid.

The word its life resigneth in the pen,

Leather and wax usurp the mastery then.

Spirit of evil! what dost thou require?

Brass, marble, parchment, paper, dost desire?

Shall I with chisel, pen, or graver write?

Thy choice is free; to me ’tis all the same.

Mephis.

Wherefore thy passion so excite,

And thus thine eloquence inflame?

A scrap is for our compact good.

Thou undersignest merely with a drop of blood.

Faust.

If this will satisfy thy mind,

Thy whim I’ll gratify, howe’er absurd.

Mephis.

Blood is a juice of very special kind.

Faust.

Be not afraid that I shall break my word!

The scope of all my energy

Is in exact accordance with my vow.

Vainly I have aspir’d too high;

I’m on a level but with such as thou;

Me the great spirit scorn’d, defi’d;

Nature from me herself doth hide;

Rent is the web of thought; my mind

Doth knowledge loathe of every kind.

In depths of sensual pleasure drown’d,

Let us our fiery passions still!

Enwrapp’d in magic’s veil profound,

Let wondrous charms our senses thrill!

Plunge we in time’s tempestuous flow,

Stem we the rolling surge of chance!

There may alternate weal and woe,

Success and failure, as they can,

Mingle and shift in changeful dance!

Excitement is the sphere for man.

Mephis.

Nor goal, nor measure is prescrib’d to you.

If you desire to taste of everything,

To snatch at joy while on the wing,

May your career amuse and profit too!

Only fall to and don’t be over coy!

Faust.

Hearken! The end I aim at is not joy;

I crave excitement, agonizing bliss,

Enamour’d hatred, quickening vexation.

Purg’d from the love of knowledge, my vocation,

The scope of all my powers henceforth be this,

To bare my breast to every pang,—to know

In my heart’s core all human weal and woe,

To grasp in thought the lofty and the deep,

Men’s various fortunes on my breast to heap,

And thus to theirs dilate my individual mind,

And share at length with them the shipwreck of mankind.

Mephis.

Oh, credit me, who still as ages roll,

Have chew’d this bitter fare from year to year,

No mortal, from the cradle to the bier,

Digests the ancient leaven! Know, this Whole

Doth for the Deity alone subsist!

He in eternal brightness doth exist,

Us unto darkness he hath brought, and here

Where day and night alternate, is your sphere.

Faust.

But ’tis my will!

Mephis.

Well spoken, I admit!

But one thing puzzles me, my friend;

Time’s short, art long; methinks ’twere fit

That you to friendly counsel should attend.

A poet choose as your ally!

Let him thought’s wide dominion sweep,

Each good and noble quality,

Upon your honored brow to heap;

The lion’s magnanimity,

The fleetness of the hind,

The fiery blood of Italy,

The Northern’s steadfast mind!

Let him to you the mystery show

To blend high aims and cunning low;

And while youth’s passions are aflame

To fall in love by rule and plan!

I fain would meet with such a man;

Would him Sir Microcosmus name.

Faust.

What then am I, if I aspire in vain

The crown of our humanity to gain,

Towards which my every sense doth strain?

Mephis.

Thou’rt after all—just what thou art.

Put on thy head a wig with countless locks,

Raise to a cubit’s height thy learned socks,

Still thou remainest ever, what thou art.

Faust.

I feel it, I have heap’d upon my brain

The gather’d treasure of man’s thought in vain;

Fr. Pecht del.

published by george barrie

[Editor: illegible word]

Margaret.

And when at length from studious toil I rest,

No power, new-born, springs up within my breast;

A hair’s breadth is not added to my height,

I am no nearer to the infinite.

Mephis.

Good sir, these things you view indeed,

Just as by other men they’re view’d;

We must more cleverly proceed,

Before life’s joys our grasp elude.

The devil! thou hast hands and feet,

And head and heart are also thine;

What I enjoy with relish sweet,

Is it on that account less mine?

If for six stallions I can pay,

Do I not own their strength and speed?

A proper man I dash away,

As their two dozen legs were mine indeed.

Up then, from idle pondering free,

And forth into the world with me!

I tell you what:—your speculative churl

Is like a beast which some ill spirit leads,

On barren wilderness, in ceaseless whirl,

While all around lie fair and verdant meads.

Faust.

But how shall we begin?

Mephis.

We will go hence with speed,

A place of torment this indeed!

A precious life, thyself to bore,

And some few youngsters evermore!

Leave it to neighbor Paunch;—withdraw,

Why wilt thou plague thyself with thrashing straw?

The very best that thou dost know

Thou dar’st not to the striplings show.

One in the passage now doth wait!

Faust.

I’m in no mood to see him now.

Mephis.

Poor lad! He must be tired, I trow;

He must not go disconsolate.

Hand me thy cap and gown; the mask

Is for my purpose quite first rate.

[He changes his dress.

Now leave it to my wit! I ask

But quarter of an hour; meanwhile equip,

And make all ready for our pleasant trip!

[ExitFaust.

Mephis.

(InFaust’slong gown.) Mortal! the loftiest attributes of men,

Reason and Knowledge, only thus contemn,

Still let the Prince of lies, without control,

With shows, and mocking charms delude thy soul,

I have thee unconditionally then!—

Fate hath endow’d him with an ardent mind,

Which unrestrain’d still presses on for ever,

And whose precipitate endeavor

Earth’s joys o’erleaping, leaveth them behind.

Him will I drag through life’s wild waste,

Through scenes of vapid dulness, where at last

Bewilder’d, he shall falter, and stick fast;

And, still to mock his greedy haste,

Viands and drink shall float his craving lips beyond—

Vainly he’ll seek refreshment, anguish-toss’d,

And were he not the devil’s by his bond,

Yet must his soul infallibly be lost!

AStudententers.

Student.

But recently I’ve quitted home,

Full of devotion am I come

A man to know and hear, whose name

With reverence is known to fame.

Mephis.

Your courtesy much flatters me!

A man like other men you see;

Pray have you yet applied elsewhere?

Student.

I would entreat your friendly care!

I’ve youthful blood and courage high;

Of gold I’bring a fair supply;

To let me go my mother was not fain;

But here I long’d true knowledge to attain.

Mephis.

You’ve hit upon the very place.

Student.

And yet my steps I would retrace.

These walls, this melancholy room,

O’erpower me with a sense of gloom;

The space is narrow, nothing green,

No friendly tree is to be seen:

And in these halls, with benches lin’d,

Sight, hearing fail, fails too my mind.

Mephis.

It all depends on habit. Thus at first

The infant takes not kindly to the breast,

But before long, its eager thirst

Is fain to slake with hearty zest:

Thus at the breasts of wisdom day by day

With keener relish you’ll your thirst allay.

Student.

Upon her neck I fain would hang with joy;

To reach it, say, what means must I employ?

Mephis.

Explain, ere further time we lose,

What special faculty you choose?

Student.

Profoundly learned I would grow,

What heaven contains would comprehend,

O’er earth’s wide realm my gaze extend,

Nature and science I desire to know.

Mephis.

You are upon the proper track, I find,

Take heed, let nothing dissipate your mind.

Student.

My heart and soul are in the chase!

Though to be sure I fain would seize,

On pleasant summer holidays,

A little liberty and careless ease.

Mephis.

Use well your time, so rapidly it flies;

Method will teach you time to win;

Hence, my young friend, I would advise,

With college logic to begin!

Then will your mind be so well brac’d,

In Spanish boots so tightly lac’d,

That on ’twill circumspectly creep,

Thought’s beaten track securely keep,

Nor will it, ignis-fatuus like,

Into the path of error strike.

Then many a day they’ll teach you how

The mind’s spontaneous acts, till now

As eating and as drinking free,

Require a process;—one! two! three!

In truth the subtle web of thought

Is like the weaver’s fabric wrought:

One treadle moves a thousand lines,

Swift dart the shuttles to and fro,

Unseen the threads together flow,

A thousand knots one stroke combines.

Then forward steps your sage to show,

And prove to you, it must be so;

The first being so, and so the second,

The third and fourth deduc’d we see;

And if there were no first and second,

Nor third nor fourth would ever be.

This, scholars of all countries prize,—

Yet ’mong themselves no weavers rise.

He who would know and treat of aught alive,

Seeks first the living spirit thence to drive:

Then are the lifeless fragments in his hand,

There only fails, alas! the spirit-band.

This process, chemists name, in learned thesis,

Mocking themselves, Nature encheiresis.

Student.

Your words I cannot fully comprehend.

Mephis.

In a short time you will improve, my friend,

When of scholastic forms you learn the use;

And how by method all things to reduce.

Student.

So doth all this my brain confound.

As if a mill-wheel there were turning round.

Mephis.

And next, before aught else you learn,

You must with zeal to metaphysics turn!

There see that you profoundly comprehend,

What doth the limit of man’s brain transcend;

For that which is or is not in the head

A sounding phrase will serve you in good stead.

But before all strive this half year

From one fix’d order ne’er to swerve!

Five lectures daily you must hear;

The hour still punctually observe!

Yourself with studious zeal prepare,

And closely in your manual look,

Hereby may you be quite aware

That all he utters standeth in the book;

Yet write away without cessation,

As at the Holy Ghost’s dictation!

Student.

This, Sir, a second time you need not say!

Your counsel I appreciate quite;

What we possess in black and white,

We can in peace and comfort bear away.

Mephis.

A faculty I pray you name.

Student.

For jurisprudence some distaste I own.

Mephis.

To me this branch of science is well known,

And hence I cannot your repugnance blame.

Customs and laws in every place,

Like a disease, an heir-loom dread,

Still trail their curse from race to race,

And furtively abroad they spread.

To nonsense, reason’s self they turn;

Beneficence becomes a pest;

Woe unto thee, that thou’rt a grandson born!

As for the law born with us, unexpressed;—

That law, alas, none careth to discern.

Student.

You deepen my dislike. The youth

Whom you instruct, is blest in sooth.

To try theology I feel inclined.

Mephis.

I would not lead you willingly astray,

But as regards this science, you will find,

So hard it is to shun the erring way,

And so much hidden poison lies therein,

Which scarce can you discern from medicine.

Here too it is the best, to listen but to one,

And by the master’s words to swear alone.

To sum up all—To words hold fast!

Then the safe gate securely pass’d,

You’ll reach the fane of certainty at last.

Student.

But then some meaning must the words convey.

Mephis.

Right! But o’er-anxious thought, you’ll find of no avail,

For there precisely where ideas fail,

A word comes opportunely into play.

Most admirable weapons words are found,

On words a system we securely ground,

In words we can conveniently believe,

Nor of a single jot can we a word bereave.

Student.

Your pardon for my importunity;

Yet once more must I trouble you:

On medicine, I’ll thank you to supply

A pregnant utterance or two!

Three years! how brief the appointed tide!

The field, heaven knows, is all too wide!

If but a friendly hint be thrown,

’Tis easier then to feel one’s way.

Mephis.

(Aside.) I’m weary of the dry pedantic tone,

And must again the genuine devil play.

(Aloud.) Of medicine the spirit’s caught with ease,

The great and little world you study through,

That things may then their course pursue,

As heaven may please.

In vain abroad you range through science’ ample space,

Each man learns only that which learn he can;

Who knows the moment to embrace,

He is your proper man.

In person you are tolerably made,

Nor in assurance will you be deficient:

Self-confidence acquire, be not afraid,

Others will then esteem you a proficient.

Learn chiefly with the sex to deal!

Their thousand ahs and ohs,

These the sage doctor knows,

He only from one point can heal.

Assume a decent tone of courteous ease,

You have them then to humor as you please.

First a diploma must belief infuse,

That you in your profession take the lead:

You then at once those easy freedoms use

For which another many a year must plead;

Learn how to feel with nice address

The dainty wrist;—and how to press,

With ardent furtive glance, the slender waist,

To feel how tightly it is lac’d.

Student.

There is some sense in that one sees the how and why.

Mephis.

Gray is, young friend, all theory:

And green of life the golden tree.

Student.

I swear it seemeth like a dream to me,

May I some future time repeat my visit,

To hear on what your wisdom grounds your views?

Mephis.

Command my humble service when you choose.

Student.

Ere I retire, one boon I must solicit:

Here is my album, do not, Sir, deny

This token of your favor!

Mephis.

Willingly!

[He writes and returns the book.

Student.

(Reads.)Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum.

[He reverently closes the book and retires.

Mephis.

Let but this ancient proverb be your rule,

My cousin follow still, the wily snake,

And with your likeness to the gods, poor fool,

Ere long be sure your poor sick heart will quake!

Faust.

(Enters.) Whither away?

Mephis.

’Tis thine our course to steer.

The little world, and then the great we’ll view.

With what delight, what profit too,

Thou’lt revel through thy gay career!

Faust.

Despite my length of beard I need

The easy manners that insure success;

Th’ attempt I fear can ne’er succeed;

To mingle in the world I want address;

I still have an embarrass’d air, and then

I feel myself so small with other men.

Mephis.

Time, my good friend, with all that’s needful give;

Be only self-possess’d, and thou hast learn’d to live.

Faust.

But how are we to start, I pray?

Steeds, servants, carriage, where are they?

Mephis.

We’ve but to spread this mantle wide,

’Twill serve whereon through air to ride,

No heavy baggage need you take,

When we our bold excursion make,

A little gas, which I will soon prepare,

Lifts us from earth; aloft through air,

Light laden, we shall swiftly steer;—

I wish you joy of your new life-career.

UERBACH’S cellar in leipsic.

(A drinking party.)

Frosch.

No drinking? Naught a laugh to raise?

None of your gloomy looks, I pray!

You, who so bright were wont to blaze,

Are dull as wetted straw to-day.

Brander.

’Tis all your fault; your part you do not bear,

No beastliness, no folly.

Frosch.

(Pours a glass of wine over his head.) There,

You have them both!

Brander.

You double beast!

Frosch.

’Tis what you ask’d me for, at least!

Siebel.

Whoever quarrels, turn him out!

With open throat drink, roar and shout.

Hollo! Hollo! Ho!

Altmayer.

Zounds, fellow, cease your deaf’ning cheers!

Bring cotton-wool! He splits my ears.

Siebel.

’Tis when the roof rings back the tone,

Then first the full power of the bass is known.

Frosch.

Right! out with him who takes offence!

A tara lara la!

Altmayer.

A tara lara la!

Frosch.

Our throats are tun’d. Come, let’s commence.

(Sings.)

• The holy Roman empire now,
• How holds it still together?

Brander.

An ugly song! a song political!

A song offensive! Thank God, every morn

To rule the Roman empire, that you were not born!

I bless my stars at least that mine is not

Either a kaiser’s or a chancellor’s lot.

Yet ’mong ourselves should one still lord it o’er the rest;

That we elect a pope I now suggest.

Ye know, what quality ensures

A man’s success, his rise secures.

Frosch.

(Sings.)

• Bear, lady nightingale above
• Ten thousand greetings to my love.

Siebel.

No greetings to a sweetheart! No love-songs shall there be!

Frosch.

Love-greetings and love-kisses! Thou shalt not hinder me!

(Sings.)

• Undo the bolt! in stilly night.
• Undo the bolt! thy love’s awake!
• Shut to the bolt! with morning light—

Siebel.

Ay, sing away, sing on, her praises sound;—the snake!

My turn to laugh will come some day.

Me hath she jilted once, you the same trick she’ll play.

Some gnome her lover be! where cross-roads meet,

With her to play the fool; or old he-goat,

From Blocksberg coming in swift gallop, bleat

A good night to her, from his hairy throat!

A proper lad of genuine flesh and blood

Is for the damsel far too good;

The greeting she shall have from me,

To smash her window-panes will be!

Brander.

(Striking on the table.)

Silence! Attend! to me give ear!

Confess, sirs, I know how to live:

Some love-sick folk are sitting here!

Hence, ’tis but fit, their hearts to cheer,

That I a good-night strain to them should give.

Hark! of the newest fashion is my song!

Strike boldly in the chorus, clear and strong!

(He sings.)

• Once in a cellar lived a rat,
• He feasted there on butter,
• Until his paunch became as fat
• As that of Doctor Luther.
• The cook laid poison for the guest,
• Then was his heart with pangs oppress’d,
• As if his frame love wasted.

Chorus.

(Shouting.) As if his frame love wasted.

Brander.

He ran around, he ran abroad,

Of every puddle drinking.

The house with rage he scratch’d and gnaw’d,

In vain,—he fast was sinking;

Full many an anguish’d bound he gave,

Nothing the hapless brute could save,

As if his frame love wasted.

Chorus.

As if his frame love wasted.

Brander.

By torture driven, in open day,

The kitchen he invaded,

Convuls’d upon the hearth he lay,

With anguish sorely jaded;

The poisoner laugh’d, Ha! ha! quoth she,

His life is ebbing fast, I see,

As if his frame love wasted.

Chorus.

As if his frame love wasted.

Siebel.

How the dull boors exulting shout!

Poison for the poor rats to strew

A fine exploit it is no doubt.

Brander.

They, as it seems, stand well with you!

Altmayer.

Old bald-pate! with the paunch profound!

The rat’s mishap hath tam’d his nature;

For he his counterpart hath found

Depicted in the swollen creature.

FaustandMephistopheles.

Mephis.

I now must introduce to you

Before aught else, this jovial crew,

To show how lightly life may glide away;

With the folk here each day’s a holiday.

With little wit and much content,

Each on his own small round intent,

Like sportive kitten with its tail;

While no sick headache they bewail,

And while their host will credit give,

Joyous and free from care they live.

Brander.

They’re off a journey, that is clear,—

They look so strange; they’ve scarce been here

An hour.

Frosch.

You’re right! Leipsic’s the place for me!

’Tis quite a little Paris; people there

Acquire a certain easy finish’d air.

Siebel.

What take you now these travellers to be?

Frosch.

Let me alone! O’er a full glass you’ll see,

As easily I’ll worm their secret out

As draw an infant’s tooth. I’ve not a doubt

That my two gentlemen are nobly born,

They look dissatisfied and full of scorn.

Brander.

They are but mountebanks, I’ll lay a bet!

Altmayer.

Most like.

Frosch.

Mark me, I’ll screw it from them yet!

Mephis.

(ToFaust.) These fellows would not scent the devil out,

E’en though he had them by the very throat!

Faust.

Good-morrow, gentlemen!

Siebel.

Thanks for your fair salute.

[Aside, glancing atMephistopheles.

How! goes the fellow on a halting foot?

Mephis.

Is it permitted here with you to sit?

Then though good wine is not forthcoming here,

Good company at least our hearts will cheer.

Altmayer.

A dainty gentleman, no doubt of it.

Frosch.

You’re doubtless recently from Rippach? Pray,

Did you with Master Hans there chance to sup?

Mephis.

To-day we pass’d him, but we did not stop!

When last we met him he had much to say

Touching his cousins, and to each he sent

Full many a greeting and kind compliment.

[With an inclination towardsFrosch.

Altmayer.

(Aside toFrosch.) You have it there!

Siebel.

Faith! he’s a knowing one!

Frosch.

Have patience! I will show him up anon!

Mephis.

Unless I err, as we drew near

We heard some practis’d voices pealing.

A song must admirably here

Re-echo from this vaulted ceiling!

Frosch.

That you’re an amateur one plainly sees!

Mephis.

Oh no, though strong the love, I cannot boast much skill.

Altmayer.

Give us a song!

Mephis.

As many as you will.

Siebel.

But be it a brand new one, if you please!

Mephis.

But recently returned from Spain are we,

The pleasant land of wine and minstrelsy.

(Sings.)

• A king there was once reigning,
• Who had a goodly flea—

Frosch.

Hark! did you rightly catch the words? a flea!

An odd sort of a guest he needs must be.

Mephis.

(Sings.)

• A king there was once reigning,
• Who had a goodly flea,
• Him lov’d he without feigning,
• As his own son were he!
• His tailor then he summon’d,
• The tailor to him goes:
• Now measure me the youngster
• For jerkin and for hose!

Brander.

Take proper heed, the tailor strictly charge,

The nicest measurement to take,

And as he loves his head, to make

The hose quite smooth and not too large!

Mephis.

In satin and in velvet,

Behold the younker dressed;

Bedizen’d o’er with ribbons,

A cross upon his breast.

Prime minister they made him,

He wore a star of state!

And all his poor relations

Were courtiers, rich and great.

The gentlemen and ladies

At court were sore distress’d;

The queen and all her maidens

Were bitten by the pest,

And yet they dared not scratch them,

Or chase the fleas away.

If we are bit, we catch them,

And crack without delay.

Chorus.

(Shouting.) If we are bit, etc.

Frosch.

Bravo! That’s the song for me.

Siebel.

Such be the fate of every flea!

Brander.

With clever finger catch and kill.

Altmayer.

Hurrah for wine and freedom still!

Mephis.

Were but your wine a trifle better, friend,

A glass to freedom I would gladly drain.

Siebel.

You’d better not repeat those words again!

Mephis.

I am afraid the landlord to offend!

Else freely would I treat each worthy guest

From our own cellar to the very best.

Siebel.

Out with it then! Your doings I’ll defend.

Frosch.

Give a good glass, and straight we’ll praise you, one and all.

Only let not your samples be too small;

For if my judgment you desire,

Certes, an ample mouthful I require.

Altmayer.

(Aside.) I guess, they’re from the Rhenish land.

Mephis.

Fetch me a gimlet here!

Brander.

Say, what therewith to bore?

You cannot have the wine-casks at the door.

Altmayer.

Our landlord’s tool-basket behind doth yonder stand.

Mephis.

(Takes the gimlet.)(ToFrosch.)

Now only say! what liquor will you take?

Frosch.

How mean you that? have you of every sort?

Mephis.

Each may his own selection make.

Altmayer.

(ToFrosch.) Ha! ha! You lick your lips already at the thought.

Frosch.

Good, if I have my choice, the Rhenish I propose;

For still the fairest gifts the fatherland bestows.

Mephis.

(Boring a hole in the edge of the table opposite to whereFroschis sitting.)

Get me a little wax—and make some stoppers—quick!

Altmayer.

Why, this is nothing but a juggler’s trick!

Mephis.

(ToBrander.) And you?

Brander.

Champagne’s the wine for me;

Right brisk and sparkling let it be!

[Mephistophelesbores; one of the party has in the meantime prepared the wax stoppers and stopped the holes.

Brander.

What foreign is one always can’t decline,

What’s good is often scatter’d far apart.

The French your genuine German hates with all his heart,

Yet has a relish for their wine.

Siebel.

(AsMephistophelesapproaches him.) I like not acid wine, I must allow,

Give me a glass of genuine sweet!

Mephis.

(Bores.)

Tokay

Shall, if you wish it, flow without delay.

Altmayer.

Come! look me in the face! no fooling now!

You are but making fun of us, I trow.

Mephis.

Ah! ah! that would indeed be making free

With such distinguish’d guests. Come, no delay;

What liquor can I serve you with, I pray?

Altmayer.

Only be quick, it matters not to me.

[After the holes are all bored and stopped.

Mephis.

(With strange gestures.)

• Grapes the vine-stock bears,
• Horns the buck-goat wears!
• Wine is sap, the vine is wood,
• The wooden board yields wine as good.
• With a deeper glance and true
• The mysteries of nature view!
• Have faith and here’s a miracle!
• Your stoppers draw and drink your fill!

All.

(As they draw the stoppers, and the wine chosen by each runs into his glass.)

Oh beauteous spring, which flows so fair!

Mephis.

Spill not a single drop, of this beware!

[They drink repeatedly.

All.

(Sing.) Happy as cannibals are we,

Or as five hundred swine.

Mephis.

They’re in their glory, mark their elevation!

Faust.

Let’s hence, nor here our stay prolong.

Mephis.

Attend, of brutishness ere long

You’ll see a glorious revelation.

Siebel.

(Drinks carelessly; the wine is spilt upon the ground, and turns to flame.)

Help! fire! help! Hell is burning!

Mephis.

(Addressing the flames.) Stop,

Kind element, be still, I say!

(To the company.)

Of purgatorial fire as yet ’tis but a drop.

Siebel.

What means the knave! For this you’ll dearly pay!

Us, it appears, you do not know.

Frosch.

Such tricks a second time he’d better show!

Altmayer.

Methinks ’twere well we pack’d him quietly away.

Siebel.

What, sir! with us your hocus-pocus play!

Mephis.

Silence! old wine-cask!

Siebel.

How! add insult too!

Vile broomstick!

Brander.

Hold! or blows shall rain on you!

Altmayer.

(Draws a stopper out of the table: fire springs out against him.)

I burn! I burn!

Siebel.

’Tis sorcery, I vow!

Strike home! The fellow is fair game, I trow!

[Draw knives and attackMephistopheles.

Mephis.

(With solemn gestures.)

• Visionary scenes appear!
• Words delusive cheat the ear!
• Be ye there, and be ye here!

[They stand amazed and gaze on each other.

Altmayer.

Where am I? What a beauteous land!

Frosch.

Vineyards! unless my sight deceives?

Siebel.

And clust’ring grapes too, close at hand!

Brander.

And underneath the spreading leaves,

What stems there be! What grapes I see!

[He seizesSiebelby the nose. The others reciprocally do the same, raising their knives.

Mephis.

(As above.) Delusion, from their eyes the bandage take!

Note how the devil loves a jest to break!

[He disappears withFaust;the fellows draw back from one another.

Siebel.

What was it?

Altmayer.

How?

Frosch.

Was that your nose?

Brander.

(ToSiebel.) And look, my hand doth thine enclose!

Altmayer.

I felt a shock, it went through every limb!

A chair! I’m fainting! All things swim!

Frosch.

Say what has happen’d, what’s it all about?

Siebel.

Where is the fellow? Could I scent him out,

His body from his soul I’d soon divide!

Alt.

With my own eyes, upon a cask astride,

Forth through the cellar-door I saw him ride—

Heavy as lead my feet are growing.

[Turning to the table.

Would that the wine again were flowing!

Siebel.

’Twas all delusion, cheat and lie.

Frosch.

’Twas wine I drank, most certainly.

Brander.

What of the grapes too,—where are they?

Altmayer.

Who now will miracles gainsay?

Witches’ Kitchen.

[A large caldron hangs over the fire on a low hearth; various figures appear in the vapor rising from it. Afemale Monkeysits beside the caldron to skim it, and watch that it does not boil over. Themale Monkeywith the young ones is seated near, warming himself. The walls and ceiling are adorned with the strangest articles of witch-furniture.

Faust, Mephistopheles.

Faust.

This senseless, juggling witchcraft I detest!

Dost promise that in this foul nest

Of madness, I shall be restor’d?

Must I seek counsel from an ancient dame?

And can she, by these rites abhorr’d,

Take thirty winters from my frame?

Woe’s me, if thou naught better canst suggest!

Hope has already fled my breast.

Has neither nature nor a noble mind

A balsam yet devis’d of any kind?

Mephis.

My friend, you now speak sensibly. In truth,

Nature a method giveth to renew thy youth;

But in another book the lesson’s writ;—

It forms a curious chapter, I admit.

Faust.

I fain would know it.

Mephis.

Good! A remedy

Without physician, gold, or sorcery:

Away forthwith, and to the fields repair,

Begin to delve, to cultivate the ground,

Thy senses and thyself confine

Within the very narrowest round,

Support thyself upon the simplest fare,

Live like a very brute the brutes among,

Neither esteem it robbery

The acre thou dost reap, thyself to dung—

This the best method, credit me,

Again at eighty to grow hale and young.

Faust.

I am not used to it, nor can myself degrade

So far as in my hand to take the spade.

For this mean life my spirit soars too high.

Mephis.

Then must we to the witch apply!

Faust.

Will none but this old beldame do?

Canst not thyself the potion brew?

Mephis.

A pretty play our leisure to beguile!

A thousand bridges I could build meanwhile.

Not science only and consummate art,

Patience must also bear her part.

A quiet spirit worketh whole years long;

Time only makes the subtle ferment strong.

And all things that belong thereto

Are wondrous and exceeding rare!

The devil taught her, it is true;

But yet the draught the devil can’t prepare.

[Perceiving the beasts.

Look yonder, what a dainty pair!

Here is the maid! the knave is there!

[To the beasts.

It seems your dame is not at home?

The Monkeys.

Gone to carouse,

• Out of the house,
• Through the chimney and away!

Mephis.

How long is it her wont to roam?

The Monkeys.

While we can warm our paws she’ll stay.

Mephis.

(ToFaust.) What think you of the charming creatures?

Faust.

I loathe alike their form and features!

Mephis.

Nay, such discourse, be it confess’d,

Is just the thing that pleases me the best.

To theMonkeys.

Tell me, ye whelps, accursed crew!

What stir ye in the broth about?

The Monkeys.

Coarse beggar’s gruel here we stew.

Mephis.

Of customers you’ll have a rout.

The he Monkey.

(Approaching and fawning onMephistopheles.)

• Quick! quick! throw the dice,
• Make me rich in a trice,
• Oh give me the prize!
• Alas, for myself!
• Had I plenty of pelf,
• I then should be wise.

Mephis.

How blest the ape would think himself, if he

Could only put into the lottery!

[In the meantime the youngMonkeyshave been playing with a large globe, which they roll forwards.

The he Monkey.

The world behold!

• Unceasingly roll’d,
• It riseth and falleth ever;
• It ringeth like glass!
• How brittle, alas!
• ’Tis hollow, and resteth never.
• How bright the sphere,
• Still brighter here!
• Now living am I!
• Dear son, beware!
• Nor venture there!
• Thou too must die!
• It is of clay;
• ’Twill crumble away;
• There fragments lie.

Mephis.

Of what use is the sieve?

The he Monkey.

(Taking it down.). The sieve would show

If thou wert a thief or no.

[He runs to theshe Monkey,and makes her look through it.

• Look through the sieve!
• Dost know him the thief,
• And dar’st thou not call him so?

Mephis.

(Approaching the fire.) And then this pot?

The Monkeys.

The half-witted sot!

• He knows not the pot!
• He knows not the kettle!

Mephis.

Unmannerly beast!

Be civil at least!

The he Monkey.

Take the whisk and sit down in the settle!

[He makesMephistophelessit down.

Faust.

(Who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass, now approaching, and now retiring from it.) What do I see? What form whose charms transcend

The loveliness of earth, is mirror’d here!

O Love, to waft me to her sphere,

To me the swiftest of thy pinions lend!

Alas! if I remain not rooted to this place,

If to approach more near I’m fondly lur’d,

Her image fades, in veiling mist obscur’d!—

Model of beauty both in form and face!

Is’t possible? Hath woman charms so rare?

Is this recumbent form, supremely fair,

The very essence of all heavenly grace?

Can aught so exquisite on earth be found?

Mephis.

The six days’ labor of a god, my friend,

Who doth himself cry bravo, at the end,

By something clever doubtless should be crown’d.

For this time gaze your fill, and when you please

Just such a prize for you I can provide;

How blest is he to whom kind fate decrees,

To take her to his home, a lovely bride!

[Faustcontinues to gaze into the mirror.Mephistophelesstretching himself on the settle and playing with the whisk, continues to speak.

Here sit I, like a king upon his throne;

My sceptre this;—the crown I want alone.

The Monkeys.

(Who have hitherto been making all sorts of strange gestures, bringMephistophelesa crown, with loud cries.)

• Oh, be so good,
• With sweat and with blood
• The crown to lime!

[They handle the crown awkwardly and break it into two pieces, with which they skip about.

• ’Twas fate’s decree!
• We speak and see!
• We hear and rhyme.

Faust.

(Before the mirror.) Woe’s me! well-nigh distraught I feel!

Mephis.

(Pointing to the beasts.) And even my own head almost begins to reel.

The Monkeys.

If good luck attend,

• If fitly things blend,
• Our jargon with thought
• And with reason is fraught!

Faust.

(As above.) A flame is kindled in my breast!

Let us begone! nor linger here!

Mephis.

(In the same position.) It now at least must be confess’d,

That poets sometimes are sincere.

[The caldron which theshe Monkeyhas neglected begins to boil over; a great flame arises, which streams up the chimney. TheWitchcomes down the chimney with horrible cries.

The Witch.

Ough! ough! ough! ough!

Accursed brute! accursed sow!

Thou dost neglect the pot, for shame!

Accursed brute to scorch the dame!

[PerceivingFaustandMephistopheles.

• Whom have we here?
• Who’s sneaking here?
• Whence are ye come?
• With what desire?
• The plague of fire
• Your bones consume!

[She dips the skimming-ladle into the caldron and throws flames atFaust, Mephistophelesand theMonkeys.TheMonkeyswhimper.

Mephis.

(Twirling the whisk which he holds in his hand, and striking among the glasses and pots.)

• Dash! Smash!
• There lies the glass!
• There lies the slime!
• ’Tis but a jest;
• I but keep time,
• Thou hellish pest,
• To thine own chime!

[While theWitchsteps back in rage and astonishment.

Dost know me? Skeleton! Vile scarecrow, thou!

Thy lord and master dost thou know?

What holds me, that I deal not now

Thee and thine apes a stunning blow?

No more respect to my red vest dost pay?

Does my cock’s feather no allegiance claim?

Have I my visage mask’d to-day?

Must I be forc’d myself to name?

The Witch.

Master, forgive this rude salute!

But I perceive no cloven foot.

And your two ravens, where are they?

Mephis.

This once I must admit your plea—

For truly I must own that we

Each other have not seen for many a day.

The culture, too, that shapes the world, at last

Hath e’en the devil in its sphere embrac’d;

The northern phantom from the scene hath pass’d,

Tail, talons, horns, are nowhere to be traced!

As for the foot, with which I can’t dispense,

’Twould injure me in company, and hence,

Like many a youthful cavalier,

False calves I now have worn for many a year.

The Witch.

(Dancing.) I am beside myself with joy,

To see once more the gallant Satan here!

Mephis.

Woman, no more that name employ!

The Witch.

But why? what mischief hath it done?

Mephis.

To fable it too long hath appertain’d;

But people from the change have nothing won.

Rid of the evil one, the evil has remain’d.

Lord Baron call thou me, so is the matter good;

Of other cavaliers the mien I wear.

Dost make no question of my gentle blood?

See here, this is the scutcheon that I bear!

[He makes an unseemly gesture.

The Witch.

(Laughing immoderately.)

Ha! ha! Just like yourself! You are, I ween,

The same mad wag that you have ever been!

Mephis.

(ToFaust.) My friend, learn this to understand, I pray!

To deal with witches this is still the way.

The Witch.

Now tell me, gentlemen, what you desire?

Mephis.

Of your known juice a goblet we require.

But for the very oldest let me ask;

Double its strength with years doth grow.

The Witch.

Most willingly! And here I have a flask,

From which I’ve sipp’d myself ere now;

What’s more, it doth no longer stink;

To you a glass I joyfully will give.

[Aside.

If unprepar’d, however, this man drink,

He hath not, as you know, an hour to live.

Mephis.

He’s my good friend, with whom ’twill prosper well;

I grudge him not the choicest of thy store.

Now draw thy circle, speak thy spell,

And straight a bumper for him pour!

[TheWitch,with extraordinary gestures, describes a circle, and places strange things within it. The glasses meanwhile begin to ring, the caldron to sound, and to make music. Lastly, she brings a great book; places theMonkeysin the circle to serve her as a desk, and to hold the torches. She beckonsFaustto approach.

Faust.

(ToMephistopheles.) Tell me, to what doth all this tend?

Where will these frantic gestures end?

This loathsome cheat, this senseless stuff

I’ve known and hated long enough.

Mephis.

Mere mummery, a laugh to raise!

Pray don’t be so fastidious! She

But as a leech, her hocus-pocus plays,

That well with you her potion may agree.

[He compelsFaustto enter the circle.

(TheWitch,with great emphasis, begins to declaim from the book.)

• This must thou ken:
• Of one make ten,
• Pass two, and then
• Make square the three,
• So rich thou’lt be.
• Drop out the four!
• From five and six,
• Thus says the witch,
• Make seven and eight.
• So all is straight!
• And nine is one,
• And ten is none,
• This is the witch’s one-time-one!

Faust.

The hag doth as in fever rave.

Mephis.

To these will follow many a stave.

I know it well, so rings the book throughout;

Much time I’ve lost in puzzling o’er its pages,

For downright paradox, no doubt,

A mystery remains alike to fools and sages.

Ancient the art and modern too, my friend.

’Tis still the fashion as it used to be,

Error instead of truth abroad to send

By means of three and one, and one and three.

’Tis ever taught and babbled in the schools.

Who’d take the trouble to dispute with fools?

When words men hear, in sooth, they usually believe,

That there must needs therein be something to conceive.

The Witch.

(Continues.)

• The lofty power
• Of wisdom’s dower,
• From all the world conceal’d!
• Who thinketh not,
• To him I wot,
• Unsought it is reveal’d.

Faust.

What nonsense doth the hag propound?

My brain it doth well-nigh confound.

A hundred thousand fools or more,

Methinks I hear in chorus roar

Mephis.

Incomparable Sibyl cease, I pray!

Hand us thy liquor without more delay.

And to the very brim the goblet crown!

My friend he is, and need not be afraid;

Besides, he is a man of many a grade,

Who hath drunk deep already.

[TheWitch,with many ceremonies, pours the liquor into a cup; asFaustlifts it to his mouth, a light flame arises.

Mephis.

Gulp it down!

No hesitation! It will prove

A cordial, and your heart inspire!

What! with the devil hand and glove,

And yet shrink back afraid of fire?

[TheWitchdissolves the circle.Fauststeps out.

Mephis.

Now forth at once! thou dar’st not rest.

Witch.

And much, sir, may the liquor profit you!

Mephis.

(To theWitch.) And if to pleasure thee I aught can do,

Pray on Walpurgis mention thy request.

Witch.

Here is a song, sung o’er sometimes, you’ll see,

That ’twill a singular effect produce.

Mephis.

(ToFaust.) Come, quick, and let thyself be led by me;

Thou must perspire, in order that the juice

Thy frame may penetrate through every part.

Thy noble idleness I’ll teach thee then to prize,

And soon with ecstasy thou’lt recognize

How Cupid stirs and gambols in thy heart.

Faust.

Let me but gaze one moment in the glass!

Too lovely was that female form!

Mephis.

Nay! nay!

A model which all women shall surpass,

In flesh and blood ere long thou shalt survey.

[Aside.

As works the draught, thou presently shalt greet

A Helen in each woman thou dost meet.

A Street.

Faust.

(Margaretpassing by.)

Faust.

Fair lady, may I thus make free

To offer you my arm and company?

Margaret.

I am no lady, am not fair,

Can without escort home repair.

[She disengages herself and exit.

Faust.

By heaven! This girl is fair indeed!

No form like hers can I recall.

Virtue she hath, and modest heed,

Is piquant too, and sharp withal.

Her cheek’s soft light, her rosy lips,

No length of time will e’er eclipse!

Her downward glance in passing by,

Deep in my heart is stamp’d for aye;

How curt and sharp her answer too!

My ravish’d heart to rapture grew!

[Mephistophelesenters.

Faust.

This girl must win for me! Dost hear?

Mephis.

Which?

Faust.

She who but now pass’d.

Mephis.

What! She?

She from confession cometh here,

From every sin absolv’d and free;

I crept near the confessor’s chair.

All innocence her virgin soul,

For next to nothing went she there;

O’er such as she I’ve no control!

Faust.

She’s past fourteen.

Mephis.

You really talk

Like any gay Lothario,

Who every floweret from its stalk

Would pluck, and deems nor grace nor truth

Secure against his arts, forsooth!

This ne’ertheless won’t always do.

Faust.

Sir Moralizer, prithee pause;

Nor plague me with your tiresome laws!

To cut the matter short, my friend,

She must this very night be mine,—

And if to help me you decline,

Midnight shall see our compact end.

Mephis.

What may occur just bear in mind!

A fortnight’s space, at least, I need,

A fit occasion but to find.

Faust.

With but seven hours I could succeed;

Nor should I want the devil’s wile,

So young a creature to beguile.

Mephis.

Like any Frenchman now you speak,

But do not fret, I pray; why seek

To hurry to enjoyment straight?

The pleasure is not half so great

As when at first, around, above,

With all the fooleries of love,

The puppet you can knead and mould

As in Italian story oft is told.

Faust.

No such incentives do I need.

Mephis.

But now, without offence or jest!

You cannot quickly, I protest,

In winning this sweet child succeed.

By storm we cannot take the fort,

To stratagem we must resort.

Faust.

Conduct me to her place of rest?

Some token of the angel bring!

artist: franz bimm.

FAUST. FIRST PART.

faust and margaret leaving church

A kerchief from her snowy breast,

A garter bring me,—anything!

Mephis.

That I my anxious zeal may prove,

Your pangs to sooth and aid your love,

A single moment will we not delay,

Will lead you to her room this very day.

Faust.

And shall I see her?—Have her?

Mephis.

No!

She to a neighbor’s house will go;

But in her atmosphere alone,

The tedious hours meanwhile you may employ,

In blissful dreams of future joy.

Faust.

Can we go now?

Mephis.

’Tis yet too soon.

Faust.

Some present for my love procure!

[Exit.

Mephis.

Presents so soon! ’tis well! success is sure!

I know full many a secret store

Of treasure, buried long before,

I must a little look them o’er.

[Exit.

Evening. A small and neat room.

Margaret.

(Braiding and binding up her hair.) I would give something now to know,

Who yonder gentleman could be!

He had a gallant air, I trow,

And doubtless was of high degree:

That written on his brow was seen—

Nor else would he so bold have been.

[Exit.

Mephis.

Come in! tread softly! be discreet!

Faust.

(After a pause.) Begone and leave me, I entreat!

Mephis.

(Looking round.) Not every maiden is so neat.

[Exit.

Faust.

(Gazing round.) Welcome sweet twilight gloom which reigns,

Through this dim place of hallow’d rest!

Fond yearning love, inspire my breast,

Feeding on hope’s sweet dew thy blissful pains!

What stillness here environs me!

Content and order brood around.

What fulness in this poverty!

In this small cell what bliss profound!

[He throws himself on the leather arm-chair beside the bed.

Receive me thou, who hast in thine embrace,

Welcom’d in joy and grief the ages flown!

How oft the children of a bygone race

Have cluster’d round this patriarchal throne!

Haply she, also, whom I hold so dear,

For Christmas gift, with grateful joy possess’d,

Hath with the full round cheek of childhood, here,

Her grandsire’s wither’d hand devoutly press’d.

Maiden! I feel thy spirit haunt the place,

Breathing of order and abounding grace.

As with a mother’s voice it prompteth thee,

The pure white cover o’er the board to spread,

To strew the crisping sand beneath thy tread.

Dear hand! so godlike in its ministry!

The hut becomes a paradise through thee!

And here—

[He raises the bed-curtain.

How thrills my pulse with strange delight!

Here could I linger hours untold;

Thou, Nature, didst in vision bright,

The embryo angel here unfold.

Here lay the child, her bosom warm

With life; while steeped in slumber’s dew,

To perfect grace her godlike form

With pure and hallow’d weavings grew!

And thou! ah here what seekest thou?

How quails mine inmost being now!

What wouldst thou here? what makes thy heart so sore?

Unhappy Faust! I know thee now no more.

Do I a magic atmosphere inhale?

Erewhile, my passion would not brook delay!

Now in a pure love-dream I melt away.

Are we the sport of every passing gale?

Should she return and enter now,

How wouldst thou rue thy guilty flame!

Proud vaunter—thou wouldst hide thy brow,—

And at her feet sink down with shame.

Mephis.

Quick! quick! below I see her there.

Faust.

Away! I will return no more!

Mephis.

Here is a casket, with a store

Of jewels, which I got elsewhere.

Just lay it in the press; make haste!

I swear to you, ’twill turn her brain;

Therein some trifles I have plac’d,

Wherewith another to obtain.

But child is child, and play is play.

Faust.

I know not—shall I?

Mephis.

Do you ask?

Perchance you would retain the treasure?

If such your wish, why then, I say,

Henceforth absolve me from my task,

Nor longer waste your hours of leisure.

I trust you’re not by avarice led!

I rub my hands, I scratch my head,—

[He places the casket in the press and closes the lock.

Now quick! Away!

That soon the sweet young creature may

The wish and purpose of your heart obey;

Yet stand you there

As would you to the lecture-room repair,

As if before you stood,

Array’d in flesh and blood,

Physics and metaphysics weird and gray!—

Away!

Margaret.

(With a lamp.) It is so close, so sultry now,

[She opens the window.

Yet out of doors ’tis not so warm.

I feel so strange, I know not how—

I wish my mother would come home,

Through me there runs a shuddering—

I’m but a foolish timid thing!

[While undressing herself she begins to sing.

• • There was a king in Thule,
  • True even to the grave;
  • To whom his dying mistress
  • A golden beaker gave.
• • At every feast he drain’d it,
  • Naught was to him so dear,
  • And often as he drain’d it,
  • Gush’d from his eyes the tear.
• • When death he felt approaching,
  • His cities o’er he told;
  • And grudg’s his heir no treasure
  • Except his cup of gold.
• • Girt round with knightly vassals
  • At a royal feast sat he,
  • In yon proud hall ancestral,
  • In his castle o’er the sea.
• • Up stood the jovial monarch,
  • And quaff’d his last life’s glow,
  • Then hurl’d the hallow’d goblet
  • Into the flood below.
• • He saw it splashing, drinking,
  • And plunging in the sea;
  • His eyes meanwhile were sinking,
  • And never again drank he.

[She opens the press to put away her clothes, and perceives the casket.

How comes this lovely casket here? The press

I lock’d, of that I’m confident.

’Tis very wonderful! What’s in it I can’t guess;

Perhaps ’twas brought by some one in distress,

And left in pledge for loan my mother lent.

Here by a ribbon hangs a little key!

I have a mind to open it and see!

Heavens! only look! what have we here!

In all my days ne’er saw I such a sight!

Jewels! which any noble dame might wear,

For some high pageant richly dight!

How would the necklace look on me!

These splendid gems, whose may they be?

[She puts them on and steps before the glass.

Were but the ear-rings only mine!

Thus one has quite another air.

What boots it to be young and fair?

It doubtless may be very fine;

But then, alas, none cares for you,

And praise sounds half like pity too.

Gold all doth lure,

Gold doth secure

All things. Alas, we poor!

Promenade.

Faustwalking thoughtfully up and down.

To himMephistopheles.

Mephis.

By love despis’d! By hell’s fierce fires I curse,

Would I knew aught to make my imprecation worse!

Faust.

What aileth thee? what chafes thee now so sore?

A face like that I never saw before!

Mephis.

I’d yield me to the devil instantly,

Did it not happen that myself am he!

Faust.

There must be some disorder in thy wit!

To rave thus like a madman, is it fit?

Mephis.

Just think! The gems for Gretchen brought,

Them hath a priest now made his own!—

A glimpse of them the mother caught,

And ’gan with secret fear to groan.

The woman’s scent is keen enough;

Doth ever in the prayer-book snuff;

Smells every article to ascertain

Whether the thing is holy or profane,

And scented in the jewels rare,

That there was not much blessing there.

“My child,” she cries, “ill-gotten good

Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood;

With them we’ll deck our Lady’s shrine,

She’ll cheer our souls with bread divine!”

At this poor Gretchen ’gan to pout;

’Tis a gift-horse, at least, she thought,

And sure, he godless cannot be,

Who brought them here so cleverly.

Straight for a priest the mother sent,

Who, when he understood the jest,

With what he saw was well content.

“This shows a pious mind!” Quoth he:

“Self-conquest is true victory.

The Church hath a good stomach; she, with zest,

Hath lands and kingdoms swallow’d down,

And never yet a surfeit known.

The Church alone, be it confess’d,

Daughters, can ill-got wealth digest.”

Faust.

It is a general custom, too,

Practised alike by king and jew.

Mephis.

With that, clasp, chain and ring he swept

As they were mushrooms; and the casket,

Without one word of thanks, he kept,

As if of nuts it were a basket.

Promis’d reward in heaven, then forth he hied:

And greatly they were edified.

Faust.

And Gretchen!

Mephis.

In unquiet mood

Knows neither what she would or should;

The trinkets night and day thinks o’er,

On him who brought them, dwells still more.

Faust.

The darling’s sorrow grieves me, bring

Another set without delay!

The first, methinks, was no great thing.

Mephis.

All’s to my gentleman child’s play!

Faust.

Plan all things to achieve my end!

Engage the attention of her friend!

No milk-and-water devil be,

And bring fresh jewels instantly!

Mephis.

Ay, sir! Most gladly I’ll obey.

[Faustexit.

Mephis.

Your doting love-sick fool, with ease,

Merely his lady-love to please,

Sun, moon and stars in sport would puff away.

[Exit.

The Neighbor’s House.

Martha.

(Alone.) God pardon my dear husband, he

Doth not in truth act well by me!

Forth in the world abroad to roam,

And leave me on the straw at home.

And yet his will I ne’er did thwart,

God knows, I lov’d him from my heart!

[She weeps.

Perchance he’s dead!—oh wretched state!—

Had I but a certificate!

[Margaretcomes.

Margaret.

Dame Martha!

Martha.

Gretchen!

Margaret.

Only think!

My knees beneath me well-nigh sink!

Within my press I’ve found to-day,

Another case, of ebony.

And things—magnificent they are,

More costly than the first, by far.

Martha.

You must not name it to your mother!

It would to shrift, just like the other.

Margaret.

Nay look at them! now only see!

Martha.

(Dresses her up.) Thou happy creature!

Margaret.

Woe is me!

Them in the street I cannot wear,

Or in the church, or anywhere.

Martha.

Come often over here to me,

The gems put on quite privately;

And then before the mirror walk an hour or so,

Thus we shall have our pleasure too.

Then suitable occasions we must seize,

As at a feast, to show them by degrees:

A chain at first, then ear-drops,—and your mother

Won’t see them, or we’ll coin some tale or other.

Margaret.

But who, I wonder, could the caskets bring?

I fear there’s something wrong about the thing!

[A knock.

Good heavens! can that my mother be?

Martha.

(Peering through the blind.) ’Tis a strange gentleman I see.

Come in.

[Mephistophelesenters.

Mephis.

I’ve ventured to intrude to-day.

Ladies, excuse the liberty, I pray.

[He steps back respectfully beforeMargaret.

After dame Martha Schwerdtlein I inquire!

Martha.

’Tis I. Pray what have you to say to me?

Mephis.

(Aside to her.) I know you now,—and therefore will retire;

At present you’ve distinguish’d company.

Pardon the freedom, Madam, with your leave,

I will make free to call again at eve.

Martha.

(Aloud.) Why, child, of all strange notions, he

For some grand lady taketh thee!

Margaret.

I am, in truth, of humble blood—

The gentleman is far too good—

Nor gems nor trinkets are my own.

Mephis.

Oh, ’tis not the mere ornaments alone;

Her glance and mien far more betray.

Rejoic’d I am that I may stay.

Martha.

Your business, Sir? I long to know—

Mephis.

Would I could happier tidings show!

I trust mine errand you’ll not let me rue;

Your husband’s dead, and greeteth you.

Martha.

Is dead? True heart! Oh misery!

My husband dead! Oh, I shall die!

Margaret.

Alas! good Martha! don’t despair!

Mephis.

Now listen to the sad affair!

Margaret.

I for this cause should fear to love.

The loss my certain death would prove.

Mephis.

Joy still must sorrow, sorrow joy attend.

Martha.

Proceed, and tell the story of his end!

Mephis.

At Padua, in St. Anthony’s,

In holy ground his body lies;

Quiet and cool his place of rest,

With pious ceremonials blest.

Martha.

And had you naught besides to bring?

Mephis.

Oh yes! one grave and solemn prayer;

Let them for him three hundred masses sing!

But in my pockets, I have nothing there.

Martha.

No trinket! no love-token did he send!

What every journeyman safe in his pouch will hoard

There for remembrance fondly stor’d,

And rather hungers, rather begs than spend!

Mephis.

Madam, in truth, it grieves me sore,

But he his gold not lavishly hath spent,

His failings too he deeply did repent,

Ay! and his evil plight bewail’d still more.

Margaret.

Alas! That men should thus be doom’d to woe!

I for his soul will many a requiem pray.

Mephis.

A husband you deserve this very day,

A child so worthy to be loved.

Margaret.

Ah no,

That time hath not yet come for me.

Mephis.

If not a spouse, a gallant let it be.

Among heaven’s choicest gifts I place

So sweet a darling to embrace.

Margaret.

Our land doth no such usage know.

Mephis.

Usage or not, it happens so.

Martha.

Go on, I pray!

Mephis.

I stood by his bedside.

Something less foul it was than dung;

’Twas straw half rotten; yet, he as a Christian died.

And sorely hath remorse his conscience wrung.

“Wretch that I was,” quoth he, with parting breath,

“So to forsake my business and my wife!

Ah! the remembrance is my death.

Could I but have her pardon in this life!”—

Martha.

(Weeping.) Dear soul! I’ve long forgiven him, indeed!

Mephis.

“Though she, God knows, was more to blame than I.”

Martha.

What, on the brink of death assert a lie!

Mephis.

If I am skill’d the countenance to read,

He doubtless fabled as he parted hence.—

“No time had I to gape, or take my ease,” he said,

“First to get children, and then get them bread;

And bread, too, in the very widest sense;

Nor could I eat in peace even my proper share.”

Martha.

What, all my truth, my love forgotten quite?

My weary drudgery by day and night!

Mephis.

Not so! He thought of you with tender care.

Quoth he: “Heaven knows how fervently I prayed

For wife and children when from Malta bound;—

The prayer hath Heaven with favor crown’d;

We took a Turkish vessel which convey’d

Rich store of treasure for the Sultan’s court;

Its own reward our gallant action brought;

The captur’d prize was shared among the crew,

And of the treasure I receiv’d my due.”

Martha.

How? Where? The treasure hath he buried, pray?

Mephis.

Where the four winds have blown it, who can say?

In Naples as he stroll’d, a stranger there,—

A comely maid took pity on my friend;

And gave such tokens of her love and care,

That he retain’d them to his blessed end.

Martha.

Scoundrel! to rob his children of their bread!

And all this misery, this bitter need,

Could not his course of recklessness impede!

Mephis.

Well, he hath paid the forfeit, and is dead.

Now were I in your place, my counsel hear;

My weeds I’d wear for one chaste year,

And for another lover meanwhile would look out.

Martha.

Alas, I might search far and near,

Not quickly should I find another like my first!

There could not be a fonder fool than mine,

Only he lov’d too well abroad to roam;

Lov’d foreign women too, and foreign wine,

And lov’d besides the dice accurs’d.

Mephis.

All had gone swimmingly, no doubt,

Had he but given you at home,

On his side, just as wide a range.

Upon such terms, to you I swear,

Myself with you would gladly rings exchange!

Martha.

The gentleman is surely pleas’d to jest!

Mephis.

(Aside.) Now to be off in time, were best!

She’d make the very devil marry her.

[ToMargaret.

How fares it with your heart?

Margaret.

How mean you, Sir?

Mephis.

(Aside.) The sweet young innocent!

[Aloud.

Ladies, farewell!

Margaret.

Farewell!

Martha.

But ere you leave us, quickly tell!

I from a witness fain had heard,

Where, how and when my husband died and was interr’d.

To forms I’ve always been attach’d indeed,

His death I fain would in the journals read.

Mephis.

Ay, madam, what two witnesses declare

Is held as valid everywhere;

A gallant friend I have, not far from here,

Who will for you before the judge appear.

I’ll bring him straight.

Martha.

I pray you do!

Mephis.

And this young lady, we shall find her too?

A noble youth, far travell’d, he,

Shows to the sex all courtesy.

Margaret.

I in his presence needs must blush for shame.

Mephis.

Not in the presence of a crowned king!

Martha.

The garden, then, behind my house we’ll name,

There we’ll await you both this evening.

A Street.

Faust. Mephistopheles.

Faust.

How is it now? How speeds it? Is’t in train?

Mephis.

Bravo! I find you all aflame!

Gretchen full soon your own you’ll name.

This eve, at neighbor Martha’s, her you’ll meet again;

The woman seems expressly made

To drive the pimp and gypsy’s trade.

Faust.

Good!

Mephis.

But from us she something would request.

Faust.

A favor claims return as this world goes.

Mephis.

We have on oath but duly to attest

That her dead husband’s limbs, outstretch’d, repose

In holy ground at Padua.

Faust.

Sage indeed!

So I suppose we straight must journey there!

Mephis.

Sancta simplicitas! For that no need!

Without much knowledge we have but to swear.

Faust.

If you have nothing better to suggest,

Against your plan I must at once protest.

Mephis.

Oh, holy man! methinks I have you there!

In all your life say, have you ne’er

False witness borne, until this hour?

Have you of God, the world, and all it doth contain,

Of man, and that which worketh in his heart and brain,

Not definitions given, in words of weight and power,

With front unblushing, and a dauntless breast?

Yet, if into the depth of things you go,

Touching these matters, it must be confess’d,

As much as of Herr Schwerdtlein’s death you know!

Faust.

Thou art and dost remain liar and sophist too.

Mephis.

Ay, if one did not take a somewhat deeper view!

To-morrow, in all honor, thou

Poor Gretchen wilt befool, and vow

Thy soul’s deep love, in lover’s fashion.

Faust.

And from my heart.

Mephis.

All good and fair!

Then deathless constancy thou’lt swear;

Speak of one all-o’ermastering passion,—

Will that too issue from the heart?

Faust.

Forbear!

When passion sways me, and I seek to frame

Fit utterance for feeling, deep, intense,

And for my frenzy finding no fit name,

Sweep round the ample world with every sense,

Grasp at the loftiest words to speak my flame,

And call the glow, wherewith I burn,

Quenchless, eternal, yea, eterne—

Is that of sophistry a devilish play?

Mephis.

Yet am I right!

Faust.

Mark this, my friend,

And spare my lungs: whoe’er to have the right is fain,

If he have but a tongue, wherewith his point to gain,

Will gain it in the end.

But come, of gossip I am weary quite;

Because I’ve no resource, thou’rt in the right.

Garden.

MargaretonFaust’sarm.MarthawithMephistopheleswalking up and down.

Margaret.

I feel it, you but spare my ignorance,

To shame me, sir, you stoop thus low.

A traveller from complaisance,

Still makes the best of things; I know

Too well, my humble prattle never can

Have power to entertain so wise a man.

Faust.

One glance, one word of thine doth charm me more,

Than the world’s wisdom or the sage’s lore.

[He kisses her hand.

Margaret.

Nay! trouble not yourself! A hand so coarse,

So rude as mine, now can you kiss!

What constant work at home must I not do perforce!

My mother too exacting is.

[They pass on.

Martha.

Thus, sir, unceasing travel is your lot?

Mephis.

Traffic and duty urge us! With what pain

Are we compell’d to leave full many a spot,

Where yet we dare not once remain!

Martha.

In youth’s wild years, with vigor crown’d,

’Tis not amiss thus through the world to sweep;

But ah, the evil days come round!

And to a lonely grave as bachelor to creep,

A pleasant thing has no one found.

Mephis.

The prospect fills me with dismay.

Martha.

Therefore in time, dear sir, reflect, I pray.

[They pass on.

Margaret.

Ay, out of sight is out of mind!

Politeness easy is to you;

Friends everywhere, and not a few,

Wiser than I am, you will find.

Faust.

Trust me, my angel, what doth pass for sense

Full oft is self-conceit and blindness!

Margaret.

How?

Faust.

Simplicity and holy innocence,—

When will ye learn your hallow’d worth to know?

Ah, when will meekness and humility,

Kind and all-bounteous nature’s loftiest dower—

Margaret.

Only one little moment think of me!

To think of you I shall have many an hour.

Faust.

You are perhaps much alone?

Margaret.

Yes, small our household is, I own,

Yet must I see to it. No maid we keep,

And I must cook, sew, knit and sweep,

Still early on my feet and late;

My mother is in all things, great and small,

So accurate!

Not that for thrift there is such pressing need;

Than others we might make more show indeed;

My father left behind a small estate,

A house and garden near the city-wall.

Quiet enough my life has been of late;

My brother for a soldier’s gone;

My little sister’s dead; the babe to rear

Occasion’d me some care and fond annoy;

But I would go through all again with joy,

The darling was to me so dear.

Faust.

An angel, sweet, if it resembled thee!

Margaret.

I rear’d it up, and it grew fond of me.

After my father’s death it saw the day;

We gave my mother up for lost, she lay

In such a wretched plight, and then at length

So very slowly she regain’d her strength.

Weak as she was, ’twas vain for her to try

Herself to suckle the poor babe, so I

Reared it on milk and water all alone;

And thus the child became as ’twere my own;

Within my arms it stretch’d itself and grew,

And smiling, nestled in my bosom too.

Faust.

Doubtless the purest happiness was thine.

Margaret.

But many weary hours, in sooth, were also mine.

At night its little cradle stood

Close to my bed; so was I wide awake

If it but stirr’d;

One while I was oblig’d to give it food,

Or to my arms the darling take;

From bed full oft must rise, whene’er its cry I heard,

And, dancing it, must pace the chamber to and fro;

Stand at the wash-tub early; forthwith go

To market, and then mind the cooking too—

To-morrow like to-day, the whole year through.

Ah, sir, thus living, it must be confess’d

One’s spirits are not always of the best;

Yet it a relish gives to food and rest.

[They pass on.

Martha.

Poor women! we are badly off, I own;

A bachelor’s conversion’s hard, indeed!

Mephis.

Madam, with one like you it rests alone

To tutor me a better course to lead.

Martha.

Speak frankly, sir, none is there you have met?

Has your heart ne’er attach’d itself as yet?

Mephis.

One’s own fireside and a good wife are gold

And pearls of price, so says the proverb old.

Martha.

I mean, has passion never stirr’d your breast?

Mephis.

I’ve everywhere been well receiv’d, I own.

Martha.

Yet hath your heart no earnest preference known?

Mephis.

With ladies one should ne’er presume to jest.

Martha.

Ah! you mistake!

Mephis.

I’m sorry I’m so blind!

But this I know—that you are very kind.

[They pass on.

Faust.

Me, little angel, didst thou recognize,

When in the garden first I came?

Margaret.

Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.

Faust.

Thou dost forgive my boldness, dost not blame

The liberty I took that day,

When thou from church didst lately wend thy way?

Margaret.

I was confus’d. So had it never been;

No one of me could any evil say.

Alas, thought I, he doubtless in thy mien

Something unmaidenly or bold hath seen?

It seem’d as if it struck him suddenly,

Here’s just a girl with whom one may make free!

Yet I must own that then I scarcely knew

What in your favor here began at once to plead;

Yet I was angry with myself indeed,

That I more angry could not feel with you.

Faust.

Sweet love!

Margaret.

Just wait awhile!

[She gathers a star-flower and plucks off the leaves one after another.

Faust.

A nosegay may that be?

Margaret.

No! It is but a game.

Faust.

How?

Margaret.

Go, you’ll laugh at me!

[She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself.

Faust.

What murmurest thou?

Margaret.

(Half aloud.) He loves me,—loves me not.

Faust.

Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!

Margaret.

(Continues.) He loves me—not—he loves me—not—