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diff --git a/old/63203.txt b/old/63203.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8191fa2..0000000 --- a/old/63203.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10030 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Faust: A Tragedy, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Faust: A Tragedy - -Author: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - -Translator: John Stuart Blackie - -Release Date: September 14, 2020 [EBook #63203] -[Last updated: June 10, 2022] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAUST: A TRAGEDY *** - - - - -Produced by David Thomas - - - - - FAUST: A TRAGEDY - - BY GOETHE - - TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE - WITH NOTES AND PRELIMINARY REMARKS - - By JOHN STUART BLACKIE - PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH - - SECOND EDITION - CAREFULLY REVISED AND LARGELY REWRITTEN - - London - MACMILLAN AND CO. - 1880 - - - - - TRANSLATOR’S DEDICATION. - - An Goethe. - - _Versuch ich’s mich so kühnlich hoch zu heben,_ - _Zu den Gefilden reiner Lebensstrahlen?_ - _Und wag’ ich’s frech, mit schwacher Hand zu malen_ - _Was Dir nur ziemt, das buntbewegte Leben?_ - _Wie soll der Kinderzunge lallend Streben_ - _Aussprechen, was des Mannes Kraft gesungen?_ - _Wie soll des Menschen Stimme wiedergeben,_ - _Was aus der tiefen Götterbrust entsprungen?_ - _O! wenn der Liebe ungestümer Drang_ - _Mich trieb, dass ich das Heiligste entweihe,_ - _Und zu berauschter, frecher Sünde zwang;_ - _So schaue Du, aus der Verklärten Reihe,_ - _Aus Himmelsharfen liebevollem Klang,_ - _Und, wenn du mich nicht loben kannst, verzeihe!_ - - - - - CONTENTS. - - PREFACE. - PRELIMINARY. - DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. - DEDICATION. - PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE. - PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. - FAUST. - ACT I. - Scene I, Scene II, Scene III. - ACT II. - Scene I, Scene II, Scene III, Scene IV, Scene V, Scene VI, Scene VII. - ACT III. - Scene I, Scene II, Scene III, Scene IV, Scene V, Scene VI, Scene VII, - Scene VIII. - ACT IV. - Scene I, Scene II, Scene III, Scene IV, Scene V, Scene VI, Scene VII, - Scene VIII, Scene IX. - ACT V. - Scene I, Scene II, Scene III, Scene IV, Scene V. - FOOTNOTES. - NOTES. - - - - - PREFACE. - -The appearance of this Second Edition of my translation of -“Faust,” after an interval of more than forty years from the -publication of the original edition, may seem to require a word of -explanation. Very soon after the issue of the first edition I became -convinced that with the usual tendency of ambitious young men, I had -allowed my enthusiasm to overrule my discretion, and ventured upon a -task that demanded a much riper experience of life, and a much more -finished dexterity of execution than was to be expected from a -person of my age and capacity. I accordingly passed a verdict of -condemnation upon it, and--notwithstanding the more lenient sentence -passed on the work by not a few friendly voices--continued to regard -it as a juvenile performance, which had done the best service of -which it was capable, by teaching me my ignorance. This verdict was -confirmed in my mind by the appearance of the admirable version of -the same poem by my accomplished friend, Sir Theodore Martin, with -whose laurels, thus nobly earned, I was inclined to think it a sort -of impertinence to interfere. But, as time went on, and, while I was -employing my whole energies on laborious works in quite another -sphere, I still continued to hear people, whose judgment I could not -altogether despise, praising and quoting my “Faust;” in which -partial estimate they were no doubt confirmed by the approval of the -late George Lewes, in his classical Life of Goethe, and of the -Germans generally, who, from the close intercourse I have always -maintained with that people, are inclined to look on my doings in -the field of their literature with a specially favourable eye. Under -these circumstances, it was only natural for me to imagine that the -condemnation I had passed on my first juvenile attempt in verse had -perhaps been too severe; and that, after all, I owed it to myself, -and to Goethe, and to the noble people with whom I had been from my -youth so intimately connected, to give my translation a thorough -revisal, and to republish it in a form which might be as worthy of -the ambition that such an attempt implied as my literary capability -admitted. I accordingly, some four or five years ago, employed the -leisure of the summer months in correcting, and in not a few places -carefully rewriting, the whole work in the shape in which it now -appears. - -The principal fault which led me to condemn so severely my early -work was a certain deficiency in the easy natural grace, which every -one who knows the great German poet must recognise as one of the -most attractive characteristics of his composition. This deficiency -arose in my case partly from want of experience in the dexterous use -of poetical expression, partly from the habit of clinging too -closely to the words of the original, which is the natural vice of a -young and conscientious translator. Long practice in such matters -has now convinced me that a literal version of a great poem never -can be a graceful version; and poetry without grace is like painting -without colour, or preaching without faith; it lacks the very -feature which makes it what it pretends to be, and gives it a right -to exist. Those who wish to be minutely curious about the _ipsissima -verba_ of a great poem should read a prose translation; the mere -want of the rhythmical movement never can deprive the work of its -ideal character and elevating influence; and in the case of Faust -this has been amply proved by the excellent translation of Mr. -Hayward, which, I believe, has now reached a twelfth edition. But -the problem of the poetical translator is to give, not the words, -but the character of the original; to transfer its spirit, its tone, -its salient features, and its rhythmical attitude, into another -tongue, so far as the capabilities of that other tongue render such -a transference possible. This is the principle on which I have -worked. It would have been easy for me to have made many passages -more literal; but, in doing so, I should have sacrificed the freedom -of handling, without which I am convinced that graceful ease and -naturalness in rhythmical composition is impossible. - -There are some peculiarities in the rhythm of Faust to which it may -be as well specially to call the attention of the English reader. -While the fundamental metre is the octosyllabic Iambic, there is a -liberal use of the decasyllabic line, whenever the dignity of the -subject seems to require it, and not seldom, too, I fancy, from a -fine instinct which Goethe had to avert what Byron calls “the -fatal facility” of the octosyllabic stanza. This facility the -German poet counteracts also in another way, by the variety of the -places to which he attaches his rhyme; the couplet being constantly -varied with the quatrain, and that either in the way of the -alternate lines rhyming, or the first with the fourth, and the -second with the third. But a still more characteristic feature in -the rhythm of Faust is the frequent use of the Alexandrian line of -twelve syllables, and that, not as Pope and Dryden use it, for -giving greater volume and swell to a closing line, but simply to -indulge an easy motion, such as we may imagine a German to delight -in, when smoking his pipe and sipping his beer on a mild summer -evening, beneath the village lime tree. I request the English reader -particularly to note this peculiarity, and generally to tune his ear -to the varied flow of Goethe’s easy rhythm; otherwise he will be -apt to blame the translator, who certainly is not bound to sacrifice -one of the most characteristic features of his author to propitiate -the favour of the most ignorant, the most uncultivated, and the most -lazy section of his readers. In the strictly lyrical parts of the -poem it will be found that, if not with curious minuteness, -certainly in general tone and effect, I have carefully followed the -movement of the original. To have done otherwise, indeed, would have -been difficult for me, to whom the movement of the original, in all -its changes, has long been as familiar as the responses of the -Church Service to a devout Episcopalian. Only let the reader not -expect from me any attempt to give back on every occasion the -trochaic rhymes or double endings, as we call them, of the original. -Such an attempt will only be made by the writer who is more anxious -to gain applause by performing a difficult feat, than to ensure -grace by conforming to the plain genius of the language in which he -writes. - - J. S. B. - - Altnacraig, Oban, - 1_st October_ 1880. - - - - - PRELIMINARY. - -The story of Dr. Faustus and the Devil is one of such deep human -significance, and, from the Reformation downwards, of such large -European reputation, that in giving some account of its origin, -character, treatment, legendary and poetical, I shall seem to be -only gratifying a very natural curiosity on the part of the -intelligent reader. - -We, who live in the nineteenth century, in a period of the world’s -intellectual development, which may be called the age of spiritual -doubt and scepticism, in contradistinction to the age of faith and -reverence in things traditional, which was first shaken to its -centre by the violent shock of the Reformation, can have little -sympathy with the opinions as to spiritual beings, demoniacal -agency, magic, and theosophy, that were so universally prevalent in -the sixteenth century. We believe in the existence of angels and -spirits, because the Scriptures make mention of such spiritual -beings; but this belief occupies a place as little prominent in our -theology, as its influence is almost null in regard to actual life. -In the sixteenth century, however, Demonology and Angelography were -sciences of no common importance; and were, too, a fruitful root -whence the occult lore of the sages, and the witch, ghost, and magic -craft of the many took their rise, and spread themselves out into a -tree, whose branches covered the whole earth with their shadow. From -the earliest Christian fathers, to the last lingering theosophists -of the seventeenth century, we can trace a regular and unshaken -system of belief in the existence of infinite demons and angels in -immediate connection with this lower world, with whom it was not -only possible, but of very frequent occurrence, for men to have -familiar intercourse. Psellus,[i1] the “prince of philosophers,” -does not disdain to enter into a detailed account of the nature and -influence of demons, and seems to give full faith to the very -rankest old wives’ fables of _dæmones incubi et succubi_, -afterwards so well known in the trials for witchcraft which -disgraced the history of criminal law not more than two centuries -ago. Giordano Bruno, the poet, the philosopher, and free-thinker -of his day, to whom the traditionary doctrines of the Church -were as chaff before the wind, was by no means free from the -belief in magic, the fixed idea of the age in which he lived. “O! -quanta virtus,” says he, in all the ebullition of his vivid fancy, -“O quanta virtus est intersectionibus circulorum et quam sensibus -hominum occulta!!! cum caput draconis in sagittario exstiterit, -diacedio lapide posito in aqua, naturaliter (!) spiritus ad dandum -responsa veniunt.”[i2] The comprehensive mind of Cornelius -Agrippa, the companion of kings and of princes, soon sprung beyond -the Cabbalistical and Platonical traditions of his youth; but not -less is his famous book “De Philosophia Occulta” a good specimen -of the intellectual character of the age in which he lived. The -noted work “De Vanitate Scientiarum” is a child of Agrippa, not -of the sixteenth century. The names of Cardan, Campanella, Reuchlin, -Tritheim, Pomponatius, Dardi, Mirandula, and many others, might be -added as characteristic children of the same spirit-stirring era; -all more or less uniting a strange belief in the most baseless -superstitions, with deep profundity of thought, and comprehensive -grasp of erudition. - -To understand fully the state of belief in which the intellect of -the sixteenth century stood in regard to magic, astrology, -theosophy, etc., it will be necessary to cast an eye back to the -early history of Christianity and philosophy. - -There can, in the first place, be no doubt that the genius of the -Christian religion is completely adverse to that exaggerated and -superstitious belief in the power of the Devil and Evil Spirits, -which was so prevalent in the first ages of the Church, and -increased to such a fearful extent in the Middle Ages. The Jewish -religion, too, was founded on the great and fundamental doctrine -that there is but one God, as opposed to the Hindoo and Persian -notion of conflicting divinities, so universally spread over the -East; and all the wild waste of doctrines concerning demons -(διδασκαλίαι δαιμονίων, 1 Tim. iv. 1), with which the fertility of -Rabbinical invention overran the fair garden of Mosaic theology, has -been very properly relegated by German divines to its true source, -the Babylonish captivity. Such, however, is the proneness of human -reason to all sorts of superstition, that, though the New Testament -Scriptures expressly declare[i3] that Jesus Christ came to annihilate -the power, and destroy the works of the Devil, the monotheism of -primitive Christianity was, in a few centuries, magnified into a -monstrous system of demonological theology, little better than -Oriental Dualism. The declension to this superstition was so much -the more easy, as there were not wanting certain passages of -Scripture (Eph. ii. 2, and vi. 12; 2 Thess. ii. 9), which ignorant -and bigoted priests could easily turn to their own purposes, in -magnifying this fancied power of the great enemy of man. A man like -Del Rio would find devils within the walls of the New Jerusalem; so -wonderfully sharp is his Jesuitical nose to scent out even the -slightest motion of infernal agency. - -The Gnostic and Manichæan heresies which infested the Church during -the first five or six centuries could not be without their influence -in exalting the power of the principle of evil; but writers of a far -more philosophical character and more sober tone than those Oriental -heresiarchs cannot be exempted from the charge of having contributed -fairly to the same result. Of those fathers of the Church who did -not, like Arnobius and Lactantius, exclaim against all philosophy, -as opposed to the simplicity of the gospel, the greater number -belonged to the Alexandrian school of Neo-Platonists, who, with all -their sublime idealism, are known to have cherished, with a peculiar -fondness, some of the most childish and superstitious notions to -which philosophic mysticism has given birth. No lover of piety and -virtue springing from a high and soul-ennobling philosophy, but must -love and reverence the memory of such names as Proclus, Plotinus, -and Jamblichus. It cannot, however, be denied that the overstrained -ideas of these pure spirits went a great way to promote the growth -of the prevalent superstitions with regard to theurgy and magic. The -life of Plotinus seems, from the account given by Porphyry, to have -been considered by himself and his admirers as an uninterrupted -intercourse with spiritual intelligences, yea, with the one original -Spirit himself; and in the Enneads of this prince of philosophic -mystics, we have already fully developed all that system of mutual -sympathies and antipathies, of concords and discords, between the -all-animated parts of that mighty animal the World, which so readily -allowed themselves to be worked into a system of practical theurgy -and magic. Jamblichus, again, was not only a mystical philosopher, -who sought to arrive at union (ἕνωσις) with the Divine Being by -intellectual contemplation, but a magician and theurgist, as his -work on the Egyptian mysteries, and the many legends told of him by -his biographers, sufficiently prove. - -I have been thus particular in holding forth the decidedly magical -and theurgic character of the Alexandrian School of Platonists, in -the second and third centuries, as it is easy to perceive that the -revival of the Platonic, or rather Neo-Platonic philosophy, on -occasion of the restoration of learning in the fourteenth and -fifteenth centuries, had a principal share in the formation of the -theosophic and magical views of the sixteenth century, which it is -my intention here to characterise. The world had become heartily -sick of the eternal boom-booming of the Aristotelian bitterns.[i4] -The hungry spirit of man, aroused from its lethargic slumber, -demanded some more vital nourishment than the skeleton distinctions -of a thought-dissecting logic, and the vain pomposity of a learned -terminology, could afford; and when such men as Dante, Petrarch, and -Boccacio had taught the world to prefer the fulness of poetical life -to the nakedness of scholastic speculation, no wonder that Plato, -Plotinus, and Proclus, when brought into the West by the learned -fugitives of Constantinople, should have received a hearty welcome, -and exercised a deep-spread influence over the philosophy of the -succeeding centuries. Gemistus Pletho, Bessarion, and Marsilius -Ficinus, are well known as the three principal restorers of the -Platonic philosophy in the fifteenth century: but it deserves -especially to be remarked, that these men were far from being pure -worshippers of their great master, but mixed it up with the theurgic -dreamings of Jamblichus and Porphyry, nay, even went as far back as -Pythagoras and Hermes Trismegistus, and held the simple Platonic -doctrines as of comparatively little consequence, unless taken in -connection with the mighty system which, out of such strange -materials, had been built up by the Neo-Platonists.[i5] - -In connection with the revival of the Platonic philosophy in Italy, -we cannot omit to mention the name of Reuchlin, whose zeal for -cabbalistical studies is said to have been first excited by the -famous Johannes Picus Mirandula.[i6] Reuchlin was a German, and is -the more interesting to us as the contemporary, or rather the master -and instructor of Agrippa, Melancthon, and many celebrated men of -the sixteenth century, whose names stand immediately connected with -the story of Doctor Faust. To complete the wild dreamings of the -Italian Platonists, nothing was now wanting but a revival of the -Rabbinical and Talmudistic lore; and Reuchlin, whom Europe still -reveres as the father of Hebrew learning in modern Theology, was -precisely the man for this purpose. It was natural that the language -of the sacred Book should have been considered as containing -something mystical and transcendental even in its very letters; and -we need not wonder that the enthusiasm of the first Hebrew scholars -in Germany should have discovered the key of all the sciences in that -cabbalistic lore, which we are now accustomed to use in common -discourse, as a synonym for the most childish and unintelligible -jargon. - -Taking, thus, the prevailing theology of the Church, in connection -with the impulse which the human mind had received from the revival -of the Platonic philosophy, and the strong reaction, which the -risings of independent thought in the breasts of men like Telesius, -Campanella, and Bruno, had raised against the long-established -despotism of the Aristotelian philosophy,--and all this worked up to -a point by the revival of Cabbalism, through Reuchlin and other -cultivators of Oriental literature,--we shall have no difficulty in -perceiving at once the leading features of the age in which Faust -flourished, and the causes which led to their development. We see -the human intellect, in being roused into new life from the icy -night of scholasticism, surrounded by the glowing but unsubstantial -morning-clouds of a philosophy of feeling and imagination. -Sufficiently occupied with gazing, child-like, on the hovering -shapes that teemed so richly from its new-awakened being, it had no -time, no wish, to enter upon the severe task of conscious manhood, -that of criticising its own powers, and defining, with cautious -precision, what the mind of man can know, and what it cannot -know,--and was thus destined, for a short season, to flounder -through the misty regions of theosophy and magic, till it should -learn, from experience, to find at once its starting-point and its -goal, in the exhaustless fulness of actual Nature. - -In such an age, and under the influence of opinions, religious and -philosophical, so different from those now prevalent, flourished the -mysterious hero of modern magic, whom the pen of Goethe has made, -likewise, one of the principal heroes of modern poetry. That a good -deal of obscurity should have gathered around such a -character,--that the love of the marvellous should have united with -the ignorance of the age, in magnifying juggling tricks into -miracles of magic, and clouding with a poetical mistiness that which -was clear and definite,--is not to be wondered at. But that such a -character actually existed, the tradition perpetuated from age to -age on its native soil, and found, with little variation, scattered -over almost every country, and clothed in almost every language of -Europe, is of itself sufficient evidence. Popular legends seldom -spring, like the antediluvian and prelapsarian traditions of the -Talmudists, or the genealogies of old Celtic families, from mere -airy nothingness; and, however contradictory and inconsistent their -integrant parts may appear, they have all formed themselves around a -nucleus of substantial reality. Nevertheless, as there is nothing so -absurd which has not been asserted by some one of the philosophers, -so there have not been wanting men of learning and investigation, -who have seriously set themselves to the task of proving away the -personality of the renowned Doctor Faust.[i7] But to detect a few -chronological inaccuracies in the common popular legend, and to hold -out to merited contempt the silliness, and even the impossibility of -many things contained in it, may afford an opportunity for the -display of a pedantic erudition, but can give no ground for the -sweeping conclusion that the person, of whom these stories are told, -did actually never exist. The monks were clever fellows; but, with -all their ability, they would have found it difficult to invent such -a story as Faust--so generally believed--out of mere nothing. The -sceptics themselves are sensible of this; and, accordingly, Dürr, -the chief of them, while he denies the personality of Faust the -magician, endeavours to give a probable reason for the prevalence of -the story, by throwing the whole burden upon the back of Faust the -printer, father-in-law of Peter Schoeffer, and fellow-workers both -of Guttenburg,--the famous trio, among whom the honour of the -invention of printing is divided. The envy of the monks, acting on -the ignorance of the age, here comes most opportunely into play, to -explain how the inventor of such a novel art of multiplying books -should have been generally accounted a magician. There can, indeed, -be little doubt that he was so accounted by many ignorant people; -and as this idea is sufficiently poetical, Klingemann has taken -advantage of it in his tragedy of Doctor Faust.[i8] The main -objection, however, on the face of this theory, is, that all the -legends of Faust agree in placing the hero of magic fully half a -century later than Faust the printer, who flourished about 1440. It -is true, indeed, that some of the _Volksbücher_ (_vide_ Dürr, _ut -supra_) ascribe to the Emperor Maximilian, what is generally told of -Charles V., viz. that Doctor Faust conjured up before him the -apparitions of Alexander the Great and his queen; but the other -tricks, which were played before Cardinal Campegio and Pope Adrian, -agree better with the age of Charles V. than with that of -Maximilian. It is quite possible, however, that Faust may have -exhibited his magical skill before both these emperors, whose reigns -occupied the space from 1492 to 1558, Maximilian dying in 1519; for -even the date of Maximilian will never bring us back to the era when -Faust the printer was in his glory. - -The personality of Faust, however, is not left to rest upon the mere -traditionary evidence of the vulgar legend. The diligence of German -antiquaries, even before Goethe’s Faust gave importance to the -theme, had collected many trustworthy historical testimonies in -confirmation of the common belief. Dürr’s Letter on this subject -is dated 1676; and, not seven years afterwards, appeared Neumann’s -historical disquisition _De Fausto praestigiatore_. This essay I -have not seen at full length; but from the epitome given of it by -Hauber (_Bibliotheca Magica_, vol. ii. p. 706), I fear that there -may be but too much cause for the remark of Heumann,[i9] that “it -smacks too much of the young graduate.” It was certainly a very -pious motive that induced Neumann, a student of Wittenberg, to -attempt removing from his _alma mater_ the shame of having given -birth, or even education, to such a notorious character as Doctor -Faust; but truth often forces us to admit what fondest prejudice -would fain deny. The next critical essay on Faust, is that of -Heumann, just quoted, in Hauber’s Library of Magic, and it -contains the most important of these historical testimonies to the -truth of the Faustish legend, which have since been so -comprehensively exhibited in one work by Doctor Stieglitz.[i10] - -As all the traditions agree in representing Faust as having studied -at Wittenberg, and there, too, exhibited a number of magical tricks -to his good friends the students, it was natural to suspect that -Luther or Melancthon should, somewhere or other, make mention of -such a notorious character. And, accordingly, Stieglitz follows -Horst (_Zauber-Bibliotheck_, vi. 87) in asserting that Melancthon -actually does make mention of Doctor Faust in one of his epistles; -but as neither of these writers cites the passage, or mentions in -what particular part of Melancthon’s work it is to be found, I -barely mention this circumstance on their authority. There is, -however, very great probability that the testimony of Joannes -Manlius, in his Collectanea, the principal one relied on both by -Heumann and Stieglitz, is, in reality, to be considered as a -testimony of Melancthon. Manlius himself[i11] says of his -Collectanea, “_Labor hic noster collectus ex ore D. Phillippi -Melanchthonis aliisque clarissimis viris_,” and might, on this -account, as Heumann remarks, have fitly been named _Melancthoniana_, -or Melancthon’s Table-Talk. But be this as it may, Manlius’ -testimony is most decided, and runs as follows:--“I was acquainted -with a certain person, called Faust of Kundling, a small town in -Wurtemberg. He was a Cracovian Scholasticus, and read lectures on -magic in the university there. He was a great rambler (_vagabatur -passim_), and possessed many secrets. At Venice, wishing to amuse -the populace, he boasted that he would fly up to heaven. The devil -accordingly wafted him up a certain height, but dashed him down -again in such a plight, that he lay half-dead on the ground. A few -years ago, the same John Faust, on the last day of his life, was -found sitting in the common inn of a certain village in the Duchy of -Wittenberg. He was, indeed, a most vile blackguard (_turpissimus -nebulo_), of a most filthy life, so much so, indeed, that he once -and again almost lost his life on account of his excesses. The -landlord of the inn asked him why he sat there so sad, contrary to -his wont? “Be not terrified if you shall hear anything on this -night,” was his short answer. And at midnight the house was -shaken. Next morning, near mid-day, as Faust did not make his -appearance, the landlord entered into his chamber, and found him -lying beside his bed, with his face on the ground, having been so -slain by the devil. When he was yet alive, he was accompanied by a -dog, which was the devil. ... This Faust the magician, a most vile -beast, and a common sewer of many devils (_cloaca multorum -diabolorum_), was also a great boaster, and pretended that all the -victories of the Imperial armies in Italy were gained by the help of -his magic.”[i12] With this account agrees exactly that given by -Wier,[i13] the disciple and confidant of the celebrated Cornelius -Agrippa von Nettesheim. Del Rio,[i14] who wrote at the end of the -sixteenth century, introduces him along with the same Agrippa, -playing tricks on the poor landlords, with whom they sojourned in -their vagabond excursions, by paying them with money which turned -into crumbs and chaff, whenever the magicians were out of sight; but -his connection with such a philosopher as Agrippa is much to be -doubted, as Wier has not even hinted at it in the passage where he -treats expressly of the Doctor. - -The only other contemporary writer from whom I shall quote at -length, is Begardi[i15] whose book, _Zeyger der Gesundheit_, was -published in 1539, and contains the following interesting testimony -to the age and character of Faust, which I give here from the -German, as it stands in Dr. Stieglitz’s essay. - -“There is yet a celebrated character whom I would rather not have -named; but since I must mention him, I will tell what I know of him -in a few words. Some years ago this man passed through almost all -lands, princedoms, and kingdoms, making his name known to everybody, -and making great show of his skill, not in medicine only, but in -chiromancy, necromancy, physiognomy, visions in crystals, and such -like. And in these things he not only acquired great notoriety, but -also obtained the name of a famous and experienced master. He did -not conceal his name, but called himself Faust, and used to -subscribe himself _philosophus philosophorum_. But of those who were -cheated by him, and complained of the same to me, there is a great -multitude. His promise was great like that of Thessalus in Galen’s -days, as also his fame like that of Theophrastus;[i16] but his -deeds, as I have heard, were almost always found to be very petty -and deceitful, though he was, to speak plainly, not slow at giving, -and especially taking, money, as many a worthy person had cause to -know. But now the matter is not to be remedied; past is past, and -gone is gone. I must even leave the matter as it is; and see thou to -it, that thou treat it as a good Christian ought to do.” - -Thus far Begardi in his honest naïve language. Heumann cites -further a long passage from Tritheim’s Epistolæ Familiares,[i17] -describing a character altogether similar to that above described by -Manlius and Begardi; with this remarkable difference, that he is not -called Doctor John Faust, as he is by Manlius, and in all the vulgar -traditions, but “_Magister Georgius Faustus Sabellicus, Faustus -Junior._” I think Stieglitz has been too precipitate in concluding -that difference in the name must necessarily imply a difference in -the person. The vagabond wonder-workers of those days were wont to -have a number of names, as the example of Paracelsus alone is -sufficient to show. With regard to the denomination of “Faustus -_junior_,” this cannot certainly refer to our John Faust, with -whom this George (if he was a different person) must have been -contemporary. It probably relates to Faust the printer, who has also -been accused of magic, or to some other Faust of the fifteenth -century, whose fame has been now swallowed up in that of Doctor John -Faust of Wittenberg. - -Camerarius and Gesner[i18] also make mention of Doctor Faust; but -let the passages already quoted suffice to prove the historical -reality of our magical hero. - -Joining together these historical testimonies and the popular -traditions, it is not difficult to come to a pretty accurate -conclusion as to the real character of Doctor Faust. He appears to -have been a man of extensive learning, especially in medical and -astrological, perhaps too in philological and theological, science. -But, driven by a restless spirit, and a vain desire of popular -applause, he seems to have early abandoned the calm and steady path -that leads to professional eminence, and sought after that noisy but -less substantial fame, which his scientific skill was fitted to -procure for him in the eyes of the gazing multitude. Many of the -greatest philosophers, indeed, as Solomon, Roger Bacon, and -Cornelius Agrippa, have been accounted magicians for no other reason -than their uncommon wisdom, far surpassing that of the age in which -they lived; but there is too much reason to suspect that Faust’s -fame as a magician rests upon much more questionable grounds, and -the whole account of his life and exploits leaves upon our mind the -impression that he was a very clever vagabond quack, rather than a -retired and contemplative philosopher. There is much in all that is -told of him that recalls to our mind the biography of Paracelsus, a -man certainly of great genius, but of much greater impudence, who -gained his living by acting upon the folly of mankind.[i19] By all -accounts, indeed, Faust was a man of much more distinguished -academic learning than Paracelsus, of whom historians even question -whether he ever studied at any university; but as a vagabond, a -boaster, and a wonder-promiser, the one is perhaps only not superior -to the other. With a little knowledge of medicine, a little -classical lore, some dexterity in performing sleight-of-hand -wonders, and a panoply of assurance, a clever man like Faust or -Paracelsus may easily obtain a livelihood, and, what is more, an -imperishable name. For such characters a strolling life is at once a -pleasure and a necessity. Paracelsus soon lost his chair at -Basle,--for a man is never a hero to his _valet-de-chambre_,--and, -if we may believe the common legend, Faust scarcely left a corner of -the earth unvisited, and filled Asia and Europe with his renown. - -And verily he has had his reward. Since the time of his death, not -only Germany, but England, France, and Holland, have swarmed with -“prodigious and lamentable histories” of the “great magician -John Faust, with his testament and his terrible death.” Magical -books under his name have become as famous as those of -Solomon;[i20] artists and poets have vied with one another in -rendering his name immortal in the annals of Art; tragedies and -comedies, puppet-plays and operas, ballads and novels, essays, and -dissertations and commentaries, prologues and epilogues, and all the -varied paraphernalia of genius and erudition, have been heaped on -one another, to adorn the trophy of Doctor John Faustus, the great -German quack. The wondrous exploits of Faust are endless, and it -would be an endless task to recount the tithe of them. Were I to -enter upon an exposition of how Doctor Faust first cited -Mephistopheles on a crossroad in the midst of a dark fearful wood -near Wittenberg,--how the Devil visited him frequently in his own -study in all shapes and sizes,--how the Doctor was, after some -hesitation, prevailed on to sell his soul to Lucifer, and to that -effect signed a formal bond with blood drawn from his own arm,--how -he neglected all the warnings of his good genius, and even the -terrible writing that appeared on his wounded arm, Homo Fuge!--how -the wily Devil dissuaded him from the quiet of a domestic life, when -he wished to marry, that he might drag him into all kinds of -licentiousness,--how he forced Mephistopheles to answer all his -importunate interrogatories, as to the state of Hell, and the -condition of the damned, which the Devil painted in colours as -terrible as if he had been an Evangelist of the north-west Highland -type,--how Faust was transported into Hell upon the back of -Beelzebub, and left floundering through the chaos of the abyss,--how -he travelled from star to star, and surveyed all the infinity of -worlds, with as much expedition as the imagination of a modern -poet,--how he turned astrologer, and vied with the fame of -Nostradamus,--how he wandered over the whole world, and saw Rome, -which is a city where there is a river called Tiber, and Naples, -which is the birthplace of Virgil, who was also a great magician, -and caused a passage to be made through the rock of Posilippo, in -one night, a whole mile long,--how he played the devil in the -Sultan’s seraglio, and passed himself off for Mahomet with the -ladies of the palace,--how he sat invisible at the Pope’s banquet, -and whipped away all the tit-bits from the plates of Pope Adrian and -his assessors of the scarlet stockings, so that his Holiness was -obliged to believe that some tormented soul from Purgatory was -haunting the Vatican, and ordered prayers to be made -accordingly,--how he further showed his enmity to the Church by -making secret broaches in the wine-casks of the Bishop of -Saltzburg’s cellar, and being on one occasion surprised by the -butler, perched the poor wretch upon a tree, where he sprawled like -a limed bird for the whole length of a frosty night,--how he called -up the apparition of Alexander the Great and his Queen before the -Emperor Charles V., who assured himself of the reality of this -vision by touching the wart which history reports to have been upon -the hero’s neck,--how in like manner he frightened the students of -Erfurt by raising the ghost of Polypheme, and bewitched his good -friends the students, and himself to boot, by the apparition of the -beautiful Helena,--how he bamboozled a boor by promising him a penny -for as much hay as he could eat from his waggon, and then swallowing -the whole cart-load down, as easily as it had been a spoonful of -Sauerkraut,--how he sold a fine horse for a small price to a jockey, -who, delighted with the bargain, set off galloping upon this -wightest of steeds, till he came to a running stream, in the middle -of which, and just where the water was deepest, the animal all at -once changed into a bottle of straw, and left the poor rider -floundering up to the neck in the flood,--how he caused horns to -grow out of a certain freeborn gentleman’s temples, when he was -sleeping with his head out of the window, in such a manner that, -when he awoke, like an ox in a stile, he could neither move -backwards nor forwards,--and how, finally, he at last met with the -death which his shameful life merited, and was torn in pieces by the -Devil with such violence, that the whole house was shaken as by an -earthquake.--To narrate all, or one tithe of these wonderful events, -would require more pages than the circulating libraries would -tolerate, and far exceed the limits of these introductory remarks. -I, however, the less regret that I am unable to enter at length upon -this theme, as the task has been already performed, partly by Kit -Marlow, and partly by Mr. Roscoe,[i21] in a collection of German -tales, which I may presume to be accessible to most of my readers. - -Let us ask now what materials this story possesses, which have so -recommended it to the genius of modern Europe for a high dramatic -treatment; and for an answer to this question happily we have not -far to seek. The moral significance of the legend lies on the -surface of the popular chap-book; and the dramatic writer who should -have omitted it altogether, would have proved himself unworthy of -the noble function which he exercises. ’Tis the world-old story of -the pride of knowledge, and the impatience of limitation with which -that knowledge is often accompanied. “Eritis sicut Deus, scientes -bonum et malum.” “Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and -evil.” The desire to be as God, looking into the soul of things, -and commanding the mystical machinery of the universe, is the rank -outblossoming of an unchastened intellectual ambition, leading -naturally to discontent with the common human limits of the -knowable, and to a morbid intermeddling with supernatural powers and -forces, in order to lift the lofty speculator out of the vulgar -sphere of confined humanity. This kicking against the bars of finite -knowledge is of course rebellion against the constitution of things, -disownment of the divine authority which imposed these limitations, -and alliance with the Evil Spirit, whom popular belief acknowledges -as the incarnation of that spirit of impatience, pride, and -presumption, out of which this rebellion springs. Here we have the -real motive which gives moral dignity and human interest to the -legend of Faust. The compact of the Wittenberg doctor with -Mephistopheles is only a striking instance of what is constantly -taking place in the thinking world before us, especially in these -days of curious microscopic prying into the seeds of things, and -pretentious parading of all sorts of dogmatic and negative -philosophies, ambitiously engaged in the insane attempt to explain -the existence of a reasonable world, independent of a reasonable -cause. “Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth.” It is the -greed of knowledge, where knowledge is not possible, and the lack of -love and reverence, the indispensable conditions of moral sanity, -that in ages of dreamy speculation lead to the practice of magic and -necromancy, and in days of nice scientific measurement, to a hollow -and heartless atheism, clothing itself in the philosopher’s mantle -and accepted as wisdom by the unthinking. This aspect of the Faust -legend, accordingly, did not escape the notice of Marlow, who has -set it forth prominently, if not profoundly, in the opening scene of -his drama; a scene which bears, indeed, a striking likeness to the -opening scene in Goethe’s poem, in the fashion that a rough-hewn -Highland hut is the same sort of thing as a neat English cottage, -only in a more rude and unscientific style. A secondary element -contained in the Faust legend arises out of the reaction which, in -certain natures, is apt to plunge disappointed intellectual ambition -into a course of sensual indulgence. The key to the invisible world -being denied us, let us make what we can of the visible. If we -cannot be as gods in our knowledge, at least let us be men in our -enjoyments, as largely and as deeply as to our sensuous nature is -allowed; and, to attain this, let us overlook all bounds of vulgar -morality and petty propriety; for to acknowledge these would be only -to substitute one kind of cribbing limitation for another; and -limitation of any kind is what the proud heart of the intellectually -ambitious will not accept. But, to scorn all limit and regulation in -the exercise of our social instincts is to practice systematic -selfishness; in other words, to call in the aid of the author of -Evil, to enable us to gratify our sensual passions in the grandest -style; which of course leads in the end to the ruin of all parties -concerned, and of some who are only accidentally connected with the -direct offender. This is the tragedy of Faust, as handled by the -great German poet, and handled in a style which bids fair to keep it -prominently in the general European eye, as long as Dante’s divine -comedy and Shakespeare’s Hamlet. But there is another element in -the popular legend which both Marlow and Goethe have used, and which -stands to the moral kernel of the story, pretty much as the witch -atmosphere in which Macbeth moves to Macbeth’s personal career. -Faust is a magician, as well as a thinker; and his alliance with the -Powers of Evil implied not merely that all sources of sensual -gratification should be placed at his disposal; but specially that a -power over Nature should be granted him, in virtue of which, by -asserting his superiority over the vulgar conditions of space and -time, by which humanity is bound, his vanity might be flattered, and -his person raised to a platform of public estimation with which -neither Pope, nor Kaiser, nor any earthly dignity might contend. -Faust, therefore, must appear as an exhibitor of magical tricks; -and, as this is the vulgar and shallow element of the legend, it -naturally plays the principal part both in the common chap-book, and -in the dramatic adaptation of Marlow, whose handling of the legend -altogether is commonplace, and, except in some of the lighter parts -of sharp repartee, certainly not worthy of his reputation as one of -the heralds of Shakespeare in the early history of the great English -drama. Goethe, on the other hand, has wisely given these juggling -tricks a very subordinate place in his treatment of the legend; the -scene in Auerbach’s cellar being, I think, the only thing of the -kind directly taken from the chap-book; and brought in also with -great wisdom, in order to make it plain that Faust, with all his -strongly sensual tendencies, was essentially an intellectual -creature, who could not be seduced even by the Devil into any -sympathetic fellowship with the pot-companions of a public -beer-cellar. He felt, however, strongly, at the same time, that, as -in the case of Macbeth, with which he was well acquainted, some wild -and grotesque atmosphere was necessary for the magic doctor to -figure in when he was not occupied directly with his love adventure; -so he followed our great dramatist in making the witches’ cauldron -as necessary to his hero’s passion as it was to Macbeth’s -ambition; and along with this thoroughly mediæval and altogether -appropriate adjunct of the witches’ kitchen, he contrived to bring -in afterwards the wild and weird traditions of a supernatural -character which attach to the famous Brocken mountain, the central -and topmost elevation of the great ridge of the Harz in Northern -Germany; thus rooting his poem locally in the fatherland as firmly -as Walter Scott did for us in Scotland when he made the soft -beauties of Tweedside, and the picturesque grandeur of the -Perthshire Highlands, inseparably associated with the creations of -his poetic fancy. And this brings me to a fourth element in the -legend with which Marlow did not require to concern himself -particularly, but which, from a great poet of Goethe’s character -and with Goethe’s position, could not receive a perfunctory -treatment. If the native home of the whole legend is in all its -parts essentially German, most especially German is its connection -with Wittenberg, and through it with the German University system. -Not only the general speculative tendency so characteristic of our -trans-Rhenane brethren, but the special academic and scholastic hue -of their learning, is vividly portrayed in this national drama. Not -more native to the Cumberland meres is Wordsworth, and to the banks -of Doon is Robert Burns, than Goethe’s _Faust_ is to Göttingen, -Leipzig, and Bonn. A university in Germany is socially a more -powerful thing, though architecturally and aristocratically by no -means so magnificent a thing as Oxford in England. The German -professors are the great representatives and leaders of the national -mind in all departments of thought; this is the case only to a -certain limited extent in our country. The academical element, -therefore, must assert a prominent place in a truly German national -poem. And so it is here. The learned Doctor who sells his soul to -the Devil was a professor; a man of books certainly, and a trainer -of youth; and some of the most suggestive scenes in the poem are -those in which the contrast between mere academical learning with -the wisdom of deeper thought and the living experience of life is -hit off with a few rapid but telling strokes. - -I have no desire to preoccupy the judgment of the English reader by -any detailed criticism of the merits and defects of Faust as a -dramatic poem. As a tale of human interest it will always be largely -appreciated, even beyond the circle of strictly poetical readers; -and readers of a more specially cultivated taste will not allow any -small faults that might readily be pointed out, whether in the -structure of the poem or in the treatment of the characters, to -interfere with their enjoyment of so rare a combination of profound -thought, wise observation, and deep pathos, as this famous -production exhibits. I will take the liberty, however, of suggesting -to the students of the poem a careful comparison with Lord Byron’s -Manfred, and our great dramatist’s Hamlet, as particularly -fruitful in valuable conclusions. All Byron’s characters, as the -offspring of pride and unchastened ambition, are in a certain sense -Fausts, but Manfred in a particular degree; and, though the idea -that Byron’s tragedy was borrowed from Goethe’s could proceed -only from a superficial knowledge of his lordship’s character, and -from an ignorance of the circumstances which gave rise to the -composition of that poem, it is not the less certain that there is a -great resemblance between the character of Manfred and that of -Faust. From what this resemblance proceeds Lord Byron has himself -most satisfactorily told us:--“It was the Steinbach, and the -Jungfrau, and _something else_, much more than Faust,”[i22] that -produced the gigantic Titan-like apparition of Manfred. That -_something else_ here mentioned was Lord Byron himself, who, had he -lived in the sixteenth century, would probably enough have been a -magician (at all events a Giordano Bruno), and might have been -immortalised by some modern poet as the great English Doctor Faust. -How, then, does Manfred stand as compared with Faust? Exactly in the -same way, we must assume, as Byron stands when contrasted with -Goethe. Byron is more sublime; Goethe more human. Byron has more -wing; Goethe a better use of his wing. Byron is more intense, more -impetuous, and more forcible; Goethe more rich, more various, more -mellow, and more ripe. But the chief difference is this, that in all -his poetry Goethe is wise; Byron never. Accordingly, we may say that -with all its grandeur Manfred is essentially a mad poem. It -overleaps the bounds of all sane thinking with no apparent purpose, -and certainly with little apparent effect but the glorification of -monstrous pride. Still there is a moral lesson at the root of the -story, if the reader will take the trouble to think it out. The man -who could find no pleasure in existence, except in the gratification -of an unnatural passion, could end only as Manfred ended, and die -communing with his own proud soul and the evoked spirits of earth -and air, amid the frost-bound ridges of the Alps. But, in order to -attain this solitary Titanic sublimity, the poet has sacrificed all -human probability and all human interest. It is a sublime poem, -Manfred; but it is the sublime of monstrosity. The sublime of the -Prometheus of Æschylus is a very different thing: it is the -sublime, in the first place, not of an unnatural man, but of a god; -and, in the second place, it is the sublime of a soul inspired by -ill-regulated philanthropy, not by unchastened passion. I presume -there are few things finer in the English language than that -midnight soliloquy in the third act of Manfred, when the Count, -looking forth from his lonely tower on the stars and the -snow-shining mountains, recalls a night spent amid the ruins of the -Colosseum, and the palace of the Cæsars in Rome--a soliloquy which -certainly will lose nothing by a detailed comparison with the -strikingly similar monologue in the fourth act of Goethe’s great -poem; but the misfortune is, when admiration has been spent on -particular passages, one can take no general impression away from -the work except this, that the poet wrote under the influence of -some sad disease of morbid sublimity, and his heroes were made in -Titanic proportions, after his own likeness. In every view, -therefore, except in regard to the power of one or two individual -passages, the study of Manfred can only tend to raise in the mind of -the reader a most profound admiration for the more healthy tone, the -more ripe wisdom, the more rich material, and the more skilful -treatment, of the German writer. With Shakespeare’s great work it -is quite otherwise. Hamlet unquestionably has many striking points -of similarity with Faust. The same moody melancholy, and tendency to -contemplation of suicide; the same lofty discontent with his -environment, and misanthropic contempt for the humanity with which -he stood in direct relationship; the same communion with the unseen -world, though in a different form; the same feebleness and -indecision of character in the hero, with occasional blind plunges -into strokes that hurry himself and others into ruin. In his morbid -state of mind the ghost acts according to the same law on the hero -of our great English tragedy that Mephistopheles does on the German -doctor; but the ghost in the one case for the Devil, in the -other--though both incarnated creations of a diseased -mind--indicates in the strongest possible way the diverse character -of the disease. Hamlet is an essentially noble character sunk into -melancholy by the abnormal character of the immediate social element -in which it was his destiny to move; the moody contemplation of the -social wrongs which were rife round about him generated the idea of -revenge, or taking the moral law into his own hand; and of this rash -idea of revenge the ghost is dramatically the voice and the spur. -But, though plunging himself and his environment into misery by -following out his bloody suggestions, Hamlet never forfeits our -respect. He is never selfish; and suffers more from excessive -sensibility to the sins of others than from any faults that may be -placed fairly at his own door. Otherwise with Faust; he is at bottom -a compound of a sentimentalist and a sensualist; and, though the -metaphysical perplexities in which at the outset of his career he is -found entangled, excite in the reader some emotion of pity, yet the -feebleness and irresolution of his conduct afterwards, the ease with -which he allows himself to be dragged by his fiendish guide through -all kinds of selfish indulgence and moral meanness, cannot fail to -inoculate the reader with a strong feeling of contempt. This no -doubt was meant by the poet; and very properly so; as a noble -character never could have fallen into the sensual trap so cunningly -laid for him by the Tempter; still it is a misfortune to the piece, -and imperatively demands the large compensation which it receives -from the profound tragic interest with which the consummate art of -the dramatist has contrived to invest the closing scenes with poor -Margaret. - -It is well known to the literary public that the author of Faust, as -generally read by foreigners, always looked upon this production as -only the first part of the great “_Divina Comedia_,” to use the -language of Dante’s time, with which he was to enrich the -literature of his century. The incomplete character of the first -part, indeed, is distinctly indicated in the introductory scene -called the “Prologue to Heaven,” which contains the following -lines:-- - - “Though now he serve me stumblingly, the hour - Is nigh, when I shall lead him into light. - When the tree buds, the gardener knows that flower - And fruit will make the coming season bright.”[i23] - -To a “divine comedy,” indeed, in the large style, which should -contain a vindication of the ways of God to man, a second part of -Faust was as necessary as Dante’s Paradiso was to his Inferno, or -the _Prometheus Unbound_ of Æschylus to the _Prometheus Bound_, or -the last four chapters of the Book of Job to the rest of the poem; -and when Goethe wrote this Prologue in Heaven--a piece by no means -necessary to Faust as an acting play--it is impossible to imagine -that he had not then distinctly purposed and dimly planned the -singular poem now known as the second part of Faust. For the sake, -therefore, of those readers of the great German tragedy, within the -scope of whose vision the second part of Faust is, for various -reasons, never likely to come, I will set down here a somewhat -detailed panoramic view of that remarkable production. A few -remarks, then, will enable any person of common intelligence to -understand the exact relation which exists between the two works. - -The first act opens with a pleasing landscape scene, in the midst of -which Faust is discovered reclining upon a flowery turf, weary, -restless, and seeking repose. The hour is twilight, and round the -weary one Ariel and other quaint and pleasant Spirits are hovering -in airy circles, entertaining his fancy with lovely shows, and -lulling him with sweet sounds; quite a piece of Nature’s most -voluptuous and luxuriant beauty, such as Goethe’s soul delighted -to bathe in. As the Spirits continue their song, accompanying the -watches of the night, the dawn approaches to the ear of mortal men -calmly and gently, but to the sense of Spirits, the march of the -hours is heard as a storm: the gigantic rock-gates of the East creak -fearfully; Phœbus rolls his chariot wheels in thunder; and eye and -ear are startled at the strong coming of the day. Faust then wakens, -and gratefully welcomes the fresh tide of a renewed existence which, -after the soothing influences of the magic sleep, seems to stream in -upon him. A resolution is strongly stirred in his breast to strive -after the highest perfection of which human nature is capable. - -The second scene brings us from the fairy into the court atmosphere. -The Emperor sits on his throne, surrounded by all sorts of -courtiers, ministers, and other appendages of Majesty; the -astrologer and the fool, significantly for those times (for we must -suppose the end of the fifteenth or the beginning of the sixteenth -century), occupying not the least conspicuous place. Forthwith -begins a somewhat prolix discourse between the Imperial Majesty and -his principal ministers--Chancellor, Treasurer, Master of the -Household, etc., the burden of which is--a very common one with -great people and people in office--that they have no money and are -at their wit’s end how to get it. The fool, into whose shoes -Mephistopheles has cunningly shuffled himself, is applied to for the -aid of his sage counsels, and is not slow with the common resource -of German devils and necromancers--hidden treasures. But before the -spade and the mattock can be brought into play to unearth this -hidden heap, as it happens to be Carnival, there must be a -masquerade. The Emperor, too, has just come from Rome, whither he -had gone, according to the laudable old custom of the Heinrichs and -Ottos and Friedrichs, to get himself dubbed Holy Roman Emperor, and -with his crown on his head, he has brought also the fool’s cap. -Scene third, accordingly, exhibits a rich show of foolery and -masquerading of all sorts. Flower-girls and gardeners; mothers and -daughters; fishers, fowlers, and foresters; Pulcinellos, parasites, -and drunkards; poets and critics; the three Graces, Aglaia, -Hegemone, and Euphrosyne; the three Fates, Atropos, Clotho, and -Lachesis; the three Furies, Alecto, Megæra, and Tisiphone; Fear, -Hope, and Providence leading in Victory, who stands on the top -parapet of a tower--all this moves in motley operatic splendour -before the eyes of the spectator; and the various personages, as -they pass, festoon themselves, so to speak, with short speeches and -moral reflections in the style of the masques of our old English -dramatists--points prettily enough curled and frizzled, and -agreeable enough, doubtless, to hear with music in an opera, but -rather wearisome to read in a long sequence as part of a written -play. Then, that Doctor Faust may have something to do in his own -peculiar province of magic, for the command of which, as we know, he -has sold his soul to the Devil, we have a grand chariot brought upon -the stage by four horses; and in this chariot are two allegorical -personages, the charioteer boy (_Knabenlenker_), that is to say, -Poetry or intellectual wealth, and Plutus, the god of material -wealth, a character fitly sustained by Doctor Faust himself. These -two scatter their riches profusely among the mob of masquers--Poetry -pearls and spangles, which turn into moths and beetles as soon as -snatched; Plutus golden guineas and silver pennies; but they are red -hot, and burn the fingers of the appropriators. A general row takes -place, which, however, is only the overture to a greater one, with -which the masquerade concludes. Preceded and surrounded by dancing -groups of fauns and satyrs, giants, nymphs, and gnomes, the Emperor -appears in the character of the great Pan, the All of the world -(πᾶν). Plutus, _i.e._ Faustus, is now ready to close the scene -with a fire trick, like to that which, on the first start of his -magical career, he played off upon Brander, Siebel, Frosch, and the -other worthies of Auerbach’s cellar. The little dwarfish gnomes -take the mighty Pan by the hand and lead him to a hole in the rock, -whence a fountain of fire wells out with many a freakish spurt of -subterranean flame. This the universal δαίμων, or mighty Pan, beholds -with infinite satisfaction; but lo! as he bends forward to -contemplate such miracle more near, his beard unglues itself and -catches fire; and the flame begins to play about at a furious rate, -cracking like a whip right and left, and with long snaky tongues -licking the roof of the welkin. The stage is now one web of -confusion and consternation; all hands are at work to clap -extinguishment on the earth-born flame; but the more they plash and -potter in the wild element, the more it blazes, and the cry is -raised--Oh treason!--that the Emperor is burning; whereupon the -herald very appropriately lifts up the moral complaint:-- - - “O Youth, O Youth! and wilt thou never - Learn to rein thy fancies flighty? - O Highness, Highness! wilt thou never - Be as wise as thou art mighty?” - -and herewith, and with a conjuration of soft dews and mists -convocated by Plutus to lay the flaming devils whom he had raised, -ends the spectacle and the scene. - -What next? The fourth scene discovers the Emperor on his holy Roman -throne, as in the second. Faust hopes that his Majesty has readily -pardoned the frolic of flame-jugglery with which the preceding -day’s sport had ended; and the Emperor expresses his high delight -with the exhibition of such tricks; for nothing could give him -greater pleasure than to imagine himself for a season a king of -salamanders. Mephistopheles then comes forward with the finished -draught of his new scheme for the replenishing of the Imperial -exchequer; and, that his Majesty may not have long to wait for the -drudgery of the mattock and spade in bringing to light the hidden -treasures before promised, the affair is to be managed in the -meantime by paper money; and straightway, upon the faith of the -to-be-unearthed gold, the Minister of Finance is relieved from his -perplexities, and the whole country rises and swells and billows up -in a flux of prosperity. This as a prelude; but the serious work is -yet to come. The Emperor requests the great conjuror to produce for -his amusement something better than salamanders, and more wonderful -even than paper money. He wishes to see the famous beauty, the -Spartan Helen who set Troy on fire, and Paris the princely shepherd, -whose well-trimmed locks and gold-embroidered mantle had prevailed -to seduce her from her fidelity to her royal husband. Faust engages -to gratify the Imperial wishes; and Mephistopheles, after a little -demurring--the shades of the classical world being not within his -proper domain--consents. Whereupon the hero, holding in his hand a -magic key which he has received from his comrade, descends through -the earth into the empty and bodiless realm of the Mothers; and, -having abstracted from their presence a mystical tripod, ascends -into the upper air, and appears before the Imperial Court, where, -habited as a priest, he instantly invokes the shade of the famous -pair, to whom Aphrodite has been so lavish of her gifts. They -forthwith appear, and, environed by music and mist, exhibit their -classical charms, and repeat their storied loves to the modern eye. -The exhibition, of course, after the first surprise is over, -produces different effects on the spectators, according to their -different tastes; the Court critics, like other brethren of the same -carping fraternity, must have something to object, even to the queen -of beauties; but Faust is fascinated, and, at the first glance, -falls violently in love with the phantom which himself had raised. -As before the vanishing form which he had seen in the magic mirror, -when in the witches’ kitchen, so here again he stands transfixed -with wonder, gazes in ecstasy, glows with passion, and, losing all -sense of propriety, raves in jealous indignation at Paris, for -venturing to handle too familiarly the object of his adoration. He -then rushes insanely to seize the bodiless form; but no sooner has -fleshly touch troubled the spiritual essence than an explosion -follows. The Doctor falls down in a swoon; the fair apparitions -vanish; and Mephistopheles, taking the hero on his back, leaves the -scene of the luckless conjuration amid darkness and confusion. Thus -ends the first act. - -The second act displays the old Gothic, high-vaulted, narrow chamber -which we remember to have seen in the first scene of the first act -of this strange drama. This chamber formerly belonged to Doctor -Faust; it now belongs to his hopeful disciple in the art of alchemy, -the learned Doctor Wagner, whom we at once recognise as an old -friend. To refresh old memories further, the same young student is -introduced, to whom Mephistopheles, masqued in academical cap and -gown, had given such admirable instructions on his first entrance to -college life. He is now no longer a freshman, but a Bachelor of -Arts, well crammed with the customary amount of book lore, notable, -also, for a certain heroic dash of scepticism, which has taught him -to believe that a large amount of what passes for learning in the -world is humbug, and that the professors of learning, generally, are -only a more respectable sort of quacks. He stands in no need now of -a Faust or a Mephistopheles to instruct him; for he knows more than -all the most learned doctors can teach him by the simple omnipotence -of his own conceit. He has studied theology under some neologic -doctor of the age, is a decided disbeliever in the personality of -the Devil, and boasts with the most confident faith in the -infallibility of his own Ego--“_Unless I will, no devil may -exist!_” But the principal character in this scene is the learned -Doctor Wagner himself, who is exhibited in his laboratory, bending -and blowing over the hot coals of his furnace in the act of making a -man. And anon, not so much by the chymick wit of Wagner, of course, -as by the magic of Mephistopheles, Homunculus does actually come -forth, all glowing and eager, enclosed within a glass phial, a brisk -little fellow, brimful of elastic energy, and fired with the heroic -resolve to be developed into the fulness of the freedom of the -perfect man, bursting his vitreous hull with all possible -expedition. To his chymick “fatherkin” Wagner he pays little or -no respect, but recognises Mephistopheles on the spot as first -cousin; in Faust, and the dreams of Spartan Helen that occupy his -fancy, being, like the Doctor, of a hot and amorous temperament, he -takes a wonderful interest; and, spurred on by that lust of -intellectual adventure which is characteristic of his nature, after -a few preliminary remarks, proposes to Mephistopheles that they -should all three set themselves afloat on the magic mantle, and -balloon over to Thessaly, where, amid the haunts of Erichtho and -other famous witches, an assembly of old classical ghosts and -goblins, heroes and heroines, is that night to be held. On this -phantasmal expedition the worthy triad accordingly set out without -delay; Homunculus to enlarge his mind and achieve development; Faust -to search out Helen; and Mephistopheles from mere curiosity; for, in -fact, he is quite a stranger in the classical Hades, and is not, -from anything that has come to his ear, inclined to imagine that -there is anything in Olympus which will suit his humour half so well -as the witches on the Brocken. - -We are now prepared for what the poet has evidently dressed up with -special care, as the imposing spectacle of the second act, intending -to overpower the senses of the spectator with a profusion of -imaginative wealth, in the same fashion as he managed the Carnival -in the first act; with this slight difference, that, whereas there -we had a show of masqued realities, here we have a show of real -phantoms. To this phantasmal exhibition the poet gives the name of -the Classical Walpurgis-Night, or May-Day Night, the counterpart of -the Gothic Walpurgis-Night set forth with such power and variety in -the first part of the drama. Like the short intermezzo of Oberon and -Titania’s golden wedding on the Brocken, the strange motley dance -of figures that are here made to pop up before us with significant -saws in their mouths, have little or nothing to do with the main -action of the piece. Faust and Homunculus and Mephistopheles appear -at intervals merely flitting through its luxuriant variety like -fire-flies in a forest full of lions and tigers, and camelopards, -and every curious wild beast. The scene is in the Pharsalian -Plains--Thessaly being the native ground of classical witchcraft and -enchantment--the time of course midnight. The prologue is spoken by -Erichtho, Lucan’s famous witch, in Iambic trimeters which the poet -handles with the fine rhythmical tact so prominent in all his -productions. Immediately after her monologue the three magical -aeronauts appear; then colossal ants gathering gold grains; with -them gigantic griffins, keepers of the gold, and Arimaspi fighting -with the griffins for its possession; then Sphynxes, and Sirens, and -Stymphalides, and various, to the classical ear familiar, monsters -of the bird genus, who hold much talk, but not of much significance, -with Faust and his conductor. Suddenly the scene changes to the -banks of the Peneus, where the god of the classical flood sits -crowned with reeds, surrounded by gracefully sportive groups of -Nymphs, and majestically sailing swans. Thereafter a hollow tramp of -horses’ hoofs announces the arrival of the Centaur Chiron, wise -pedagogue of Achilles and other renowned classical heroes. Him Faust -accosts, and requests a clue to the haunt of the fair Helen, the -possession of whom still burns in his inordinate desire as the only -thing capable of making him happy. To this request the wise bi-form -demi-god is not able, from his own resources, to accede; but he -takes the Doctor on his back; and off they tramp together to the -temple-cave of Manto--the famous prophet-daughter of Æsculapius. -With her Faust enters the subterranean regions, the realm of -Persephone; and the possession of Helen, as we shall see in the -third act, is the reward of his intrepidity. But, though Faust seems -now amply provided for, the phantasmal hubbub goes on. The Sirens -and the Sphynxes again come to the front, singing and soliloquising -as before; likewise the ants and the griffins; and to them presently -are associated, Seismos (earthquake), the Pygmies or Lilliputians, -and the Idæan Dactyles or Tom Thumbs of antiquity; with them--in -honour of Schiller, we may suppose--the cranes of Ibycus; then -Empusa the foul ass-footed blood-sucking hag, and troops of hideous -Lamias to captivate the Gothic taste of Mephistopheles; but even -these are not ugly enough for him; so he wanders on through the -Fair, till he encounters the three daughters of Phorcys, who had -only one eye and one tooth among them; and from one of these he -borrows her hideous mask, that he may perform juggleries behind it -in a future part of the play. Meanwhile Homunculus, in prosecution -of his eager desire to be developed, has hunted out two -philosophers, Anaxagoras and Thales; and under the guidance of the -latter, he proceeds through the peopled air to the adjacent bays of -the Ægean Sea, where the marine gods and demi-gods are holding -their revels. To this water-festival the scene finally changes; and -forthwith a new swarm of vocal apparitions begins to buzz around us; -among whom (besides the Sirens, whom we had before) Nereus and -Proteus, the Telchins of Rhodes, the Cabiri of Samothrace, with -troops of shell-blowing Tritons, and Nereids riding on dolphins and -hippocampes, are the most remarkable. With these fair apparitions, -and the pleasant aquatic sports in which they are engaged, -Homunculus, under the appropriate teaching of Thales, the -water-philosopher, seems vastly delighted; and mounting on the -dolphin-back of Proteus, careers about from creek to creek, seeking -anxiously for a just occasion of being fully developed. This desired -consummation, accordingly, happens sooner perhaps than the little -man had fancied, and in an unexpected fashion; for, as he bounds -along from wave to wave gallantly, on the back of the multiform -sea-god, the lovely Galatea, the fairest of the daughters of Doris, -suddenly presents herself to his view, all radiant with marine -beauty, like a sea-Venus, drawn in a shell-car. To stand unmoved at -such a spectacle was not possible, as we may remember, even to -ponderous Polypheme in the Ovidian ballad, much less to a nimble and -highly excitable Homunculus. A commotion is immediately observed in -the waters close to Galatea’s car; the silver foam becomes red and -glowing; the spark of Homunculus dilates itself into a blaze; a -breaking of glass and a plashing of water is heard; and a bright -illumination spreads itself widely over the festal waves. Hereupon -breaks in full and symphonious the song of the Sirens. - - “Hail to Ocean, silver plashing, - Hail to Fire around it flashing, - Hail to pure Air’s breezy pinions, - Hail to deep Earth’s dark dominions; - Blithely to the elements four, - Festal notes symphonious pour.” - -And with this erotic explosion the Classical Walpurgis-Night ends, -and the third act of the drama commences. This third act is entirely -made up of another fanciful piece, exhibiting the phantasmal loves -of Faust and Helen. The famous Lacedæmonian beauty appears -surrounded by a chorus of Trojan captive maids in the palace of -Menelaus, at Sparta. Her husband, on the way back from the weary -capture of Troy, is still on the broad seas, Helen having been sent -before to prepare a sacrifice in honour of his expected arrival. For -this sacrifice everything had been prescribed by Menelaus, only not -the victim; and, while Helen is wondering with herself what might be -the cause of this omission, Mephistopheles suddenly appears in the -mask of one of the Phorcyades, and, giving himself out for the old -housekeeper of the palace, succeeds in filling the mind of Helen -with no unreasonable fears, that she is, in fact, herself the victim -destined by her death to atone for the decennial toils and troubles -of the Greeks before Ilium. From the imminent danger thus impending -there is no safety for the fair but to throw herself under the -guidance of Mephistopheles, into the arms of Faust, who, by his -accustomed magical machinery, has established himself in a grand -Gothic castle, hard by, among the ridges of Taygetus. No sooner is -this resolution taken, than the scene suddenly changes from a -classical palace a thousand years before Christ, to a Gothic castle -a thousand years after Christ, where, in the midst of knights and -squires, courtiers, cavaliers, and other appropriate -supernumeraries, marshalled plentifully around, the thaumaturgic -Doctor appears as a German prince of the Middle Ages, with dignity -and loyal regard, coming forward to pay his homage to the paragon of -classical beauty. After a few gallant speeches gracefully made and -gracefully responded to, Helen, of course, surrenders at discretion; -and the scene changes to a lovely Arcadian district, with wood and -water, mountain and mead, richly variegating the pastoral solitude, -the abode of love. What is there enacted you may guess partly, but -not altogether; you may well imagine that Faust and Helen are there -depicted as enjoying all the raptures that, to transcendental -lovers, in such a place, naturally belong; but you will not guess -that from their phantasmal embrace a son is born, and that this son, -under the name of Euphorion, is neither more nor less than -impersonated Poetry, the same, or a similar allegorial character, -that we were already introduced to in the first act, under the name -of the Boy-charioteer. Here, in this third act, he appears brisk and -nimble, tricksy as a Mercury, lovely as a Cupid, precocious, -impetuous, and elastic as a Chatterton. And, like a Chatterton, he -will not run and leap only in the fashion of common boys, but he -bounds and skips, right and left, above and below, without reason or -measure. Light and agile in every motion, more like a bird than a -boy, he is tempted to believe that the air, not the earth, is his -proper element, and, notwithstanding the importunate warnings of his -parents, assays, like Icarus, to bestride the air, and, like Icarus, -falls and perishes. This mournful catastrophe the poet gladly makes -use of to dissolve the spell of Helen’s phantasmal existence, and -to put a finale on the unsubstantial classical courtship of Doctor -Faust. The mother precipitates herself after the son, a second time -to find her home in the dim halls of Proserpine; and the hero, by -the direction of Mephistopheles, seizes the dropped mantle of Helen, -and, wrapping himself in it, is straightway enveloped in clouds and -borne aloft through far space, even back to honest Deutschland, in -quest of new adventures. - -The fourth act is very short, merely a stepping-stone to the fifth, -it would appear. In the first scene Faust is exhibited in a new -character. Pleasures both real and fantastical having been -exhausted, he now girds his loins to work, and that neither in the -Moon nor in any extra-terrene sphere, but even on this sorry planet, -which his high-soaring spirit had so long despised:-- - - “No talk of moons! this earth for mighty deeds - Hath scope enough: the man who dares succeeds; - I’ve hatched a plan of manful stout adventure, - And with brave heart on bold career I enter!” - -This is a great improvement, no doubt; but, as Faust never does -anything to the end of his career without magic and the fellowship -of the Devil, the activity into which he immediately dashes has no -effect in exciting the admiration of the spectator. The Emperor, it -seems--the same with whom we made acquaintance in the first -act--notwithstanding the unexpected aid of hidden treasures and -paper money, being a lover of pleasure rather than of governing, has -fallen into discredit with his subjects; and a -counter-Kaiser--according to the not uncommon practice of Popes and -Kaisers in the Middle Ages--is set up. Faust, though he professes -himself no great admirer of the special sphere of activity which is -opened up by war, nevertheless, for the love he bears to the -Emperor, who is a good fellow with a thousand foibles, allows -himself to be persuaded by Mephistopheles to take part in the war -against the counter-Kaiser. This war, as was to be expected with -Mephistopheles behind scenes, is brought speedily to a glorious -conclusion, and that specially by the intervention of the three -mighty men of David (2 Sam. xxiii. 8), and a host of Undenes with -water juggleries, whom Mephistopheles calls to the rescue: and the -Doctor, like Bellerophon in Homer, is rewarded for his heroic -soldiership by an extensive grant of land along the sea-coast, great -part of which, however, has yet to be redeemed from the waves. So -ends act the fourth. - -Act fifth exhibits our hero, now in extreme old age--exactly one -hundred years, we learn from Eckermann--after some seven or eight -decades of mortal life spent first in all sorts of vain speculation, -and then in all sorts of idle dissipation and lawless indulgence, at -length settled down as a landed proprietor, a great agricultural -improver, a redeemer of waste lands from the sea, a builder of -harbours, and a promoter of trade. But in the midst of engrossing -business and continued occupation, as much, at least, as axe and -spade, ditch and dyke can furnish him withal, he is the old man -still, discontented and unhappy. The lord of a vast tract of -sea-coast, and of uncounted acres, he is miserable, because an old -peasant and his old wife--Baucis and Philemon--are the owners of a -little cottage near his house, and a few lime trees, which deform -his lawn and obstruct his view. ’Tis the old story of Ahab, King -of Israel, and Naboth’s vineyard (1 Kings xxi.), as -Mephistopheles, who is well versed in Scripture, takes occasion to -inform us. Well, what is to be done? The attendant fiend of course -undertakes (like certain Highland proprietors whom we hear of) to -expel the good old people from their old dwelling; and Faust, like -the same Caledonian aristocracy, solaces his conscience with the -salve that he will provide the good people a far more valuable and -more convenient lodging in some remote corner of his estate. -Meanwhile Mephistopheles, not over scrupulous about means, and not -being able to persuade the stiff-necked and timid old snails to -creep out of their shell, settles the matter--as has been practised -also in the Scottish Highlands--by applying fire to habitation and -habitant at once; the pious old pair fall a sacrifice to the greed -of the master and the violence of the man; and with this blood on -his hands, Faustus now prepares, with all possible heroic -confidence, to meet death and to mount up to Heaven. - -We are now arrived at the closing scene of this eventful history. -’Tis midnight: the scene is Faust’s castle; before the door of -his chamber four grey old hags appear. “I,” says the one, “am -called Want.” “I,” says the second, “Guilt.” “I,” says the -third, “Care.” “I,” quoth the fourth, “am called Need.” Of -these four, however, only one can do, or attempt to do, any harm -to the magical Doctor, for he is now a rich man; and rich men can -know nothing of Want or Need, nor of Guilt, either, we are told; -but Care leaps in through the keyhole, and annoys him a little -before his dismissal. The Doctor, however, is heroically determined -not to yield to this demon; and he finds his sure remedy for all -unpleasant cogitations in unremitted work. The great pioneers of -land improvement, canals and ditches, must be proceeded with; and -the indefatigable Doctor, even after pestilential Care had blown -a blinding blast into his eyes, marches into the grave with the -spade and the pick-axe in his hand. Then commences a scene of a -most singular character. The terrible jaws of Hell yawn wide on -the left side of the stage, and a contest commences between -Mephistopheles on the one hand, and the descending angels on the -other, for the possession of the soul of Faust. At first the Evil -Spirit seems confident of success, strengthened as he is by a -numerous host of multiform imps and devils, who come up in swarms -from the steaming mouth of the abyss; but the fury of this -malignant host is soon disarmed in a very simple way, by a band of -young blooming boy-angels scattering a shower of celestial blossoms -over the heads of the infernals. Beneath the fire of these -apparently innocent weapons, the legion of horned, and dumpy, and -wizened devils fall head foremost into the pit whence they had -issued; while their mighty master, Mephistopheles, stands so -captivated by the bright bloom and the pretty looks of the rosy -cherubs, that in the very moment when heroism is most necessary, he -loses all his manhood, and a few beardless boys, with psalms and -flosculosities, cheat him of the immortal soul which was his by the -signature of blood, and by the seal of a lifetime spent in giving -free rein to all sorts of foolish fancies and unprincipled -iniquities. - -After this catastrophe there remains nothing but the formal -introduction of Faust to Heaven, for which the closing scene is -appropriated. The Virgin Mary, surrounded by pious Anchorites and -fair Penitents, with Fathers seraphic and ecstatic, is revealed in -the heavenly glory, awaiting the arrival of redeemed souls from -earth; and immediately the band of angels that had worsted -Mephistopheles appear aloft in triumph, bearing the immortal part of -Faust, and singing a hymn, the words of which are intended to convey -the moral of the piece:-- - - “_A rescued spirit to the goal_ - _We bring of Earth’s probation;_ - The ever-active striving soul - Works out its own salvation. - _And when, in love and mercy strong,_ - _His God and Saviour meets him,_ - _The angel-choir, to join their throng,_ - _With hearty welcome greets him_.” - -Among the throng of redeemed Penitents one appears conspicuous, -whose name, while she lived on earth, was Margaret; she is close by -the Virgin, interceding for Faust, and ever as she mounts with the -Queen of Heaven to higher stages of glory, draws the newcomer after -her to share in her sempiternal blessedness. The curtain then falls; -the redeemed throngs ascend; and the scene resounds with the -mystical chorus:-- - - “_Earth and earthly things_ - _Type the celestial,_ - _Shadow and show_ - _Is all glory terrestrial;_ - _Beauty immortal_ - _The rapt spirit hails,_ - _Where the eternally-_ - _Female prevails_.” - -After so detailed an account of this rich and various exhibition of -imaginative power, the student of this great world-drama, to use a -German phrase, can have no difficulty in understanding the theology -and the theodicy of the great Teutonic poet. The promise of the -Prologue in Heaven is fulfilled; there is no such thing as -everlasting punishment; and the Evil Spirit is sure to be cheated -even of the souls for whom he has most surely bargained, if that -soul, after staining itself with any number of sins, only perseveres -at last in some course of honourable and useful activity. This is -not according to the common Protestant conception in such cases; for -Protestantism, having abolished Purgatory, lies under a necessity of -peopling Tartarus more largely; and besides, after such a solemn -compact with the Evil One, and twenty-four years (for that is the -number given in the legend) spent in unrepented indulgence of all -sensualities and vanities, it was dramatically as well as -theologically inconsistent to redeem such a deliberate and -persistent sinner from the damnation for which he had bargained. But -the hell of the mediæval Catholic Church, though terrible enough in -its pictorial presentation (as many an Italian cloister testifies) -was more accommodating in its adaptation to the many forms of human -weakness; and so, to magnify the grace of God, and make Christ all -in all, after a fashion which the severe Protestant Calvinist is -forced to condemn, the mediæval form of the Faust legend could -afford to save Faust, notwithstanding his blood-sealed transaction -with the Devil; and no one has a right to blame Goethe, morally and -theologically, for having adopted this view of the matter. But, -though the salvation of Faust, according to the feeling of orthodox -mediæval Christianity, is permissible, and even desirable, the -manner in which, and the process by which, his salvation is achieved -by the German Protestant poet differs very much from the treatment -it receives at the hand of the Catholic Church. In Christian -theology--and in any healthy system of human Ethics too, I -imagine--the forgiveness of a great sinner always implies confession -of guilt, and a process, sometimes painful and protracted, of -repentance and amendment; but of this not a hint occurs in the -second part of Faust; and so the moral instincts of man, which had -been so strongly appealed to in the first part, are ignored, with a -feeling of great moral dissatisfaction as the unavoidable result. So -much for the ethico-theological aspect of the case. Æsthetically, -and viewed as a dramatic continuation of the first part, the second -part of the poem is much more at fault, and must be pronounced, with -all its wealth of imaginative reproduction, and all its luxuriance -of rhythmical form, a magnificent failure. If this judgment appears -severe, it must be remembered that the very excellence of the first -part, considered morally and dramatically, rendered a satisfactory -continuation of it, even to the genius of a Goethe, both impolitic -and impossible. Who would ever dream of a continuation of Hamlet? -Had it pleased our great dramatic master to keep Hamlet alive amid -the general catastrophe of the play, as he might lightly have done, -the future fate of his hero would only have been a matter of -historical curiosity. For dramatic purposes his course was finished. -So with Faust. Though he remains on the stage in the pathetic -closing scene, dramatically his part is played out. The “Hither -to me!” of his fiendish companion is quite enough for the -satisfaction of the moral feeling which the catastrophe has excited; -all beyond this is a matter, no doubt, for metaphysical speculation -and theological solution, but with which the dramatist has nothing -to do. But even if there were any feeling in the breast of the -spectator, causing him to look for some terrestrial continuation of -the sad story which he has been witnessing, by the manner in which -he has conducted this continuation the poet has altogether cut -himself off from the moral sympathy which so spontaneously flowed as -a tribute to his art in the first part. The history of Faust and -Margaret, notwithstanding the magical or diabolic background on -which it figures, is a simple story of flesh and blood, a story -which would remain equally true and equally affecting were the demon -and the witches removed altogether from the scene. But now, in this -second part, we are charmed by the wand of the fiendish harlequin -into a region of mere fancy and phantasmagoria, into a swarming -Fair, so to speak, of multitudinous phantasmal figures, through the -midst of which the real actors flit to and fro like a few idle -civilians amid the ordered files and motley groups of some gigantic -host. The primary here is buried in the secondary; the actors are -lost in their environment; and the real throughout, in a most unreal -fashion, confounded with the ideal. Faust, of course, and -Mephistopheles, and even Wagner, peering with glittering eye through -the smoke of his alchymical kitchen, are the same creatures of flesh -and blood that we were made acquainted with in part one; only all -perhaps a little enfeebled in character; Mephistopheles a little -more of the conjuror, and a little less of the Devil; Faust much -less of a thinker, and not a whit less of a sensualist; Wagner much -less modest, and much more besotted in the disnatured studies and -fanciful operations of his chemical kitchen. All this is real. But -this real Faust becomes enamoured of a phantom Helen; and of this -monstrous embrace an ideal poetic child, incarnating, we presume, -the contrary beauties of the Classical and the Romantic schools, is -the product. Of such a strange jumble we may say truly, as Jeffrey -said falsely of Wordsworth’s “Excursion,” “_This will never -do_.” Such a violation of all the principles of common sense and -of good taste cannot be pardoned even to Goethe. The faults of men -of genius, it has been said, are the consolation of the dunces; but -whether the dunces choose to console themselves in this way or not, -the fact is certain, that on the stern battlefield of public life, -and no less in the flowery realms of imaginative construction, a -great genius is precisely the man to make occasionally a great -blunder. There may be some few great things, and some wonderful -things, and not a few wise things (as who could expect otherwise -from Goethe) in the second part of Faust; but it is certainly -neither a great drama nor the just sequence of a great drama. I am -inclined to compare it with the rich fanciful work familiar to the -students of art, in the so-called _Loggie_, or galleries of Raphael, -in the Vatican. In the first part of Faust, Goethe is a great -dramatist; in the second part he is an arabesque painter. It is no -small matter to compose poetical arabesques, as our poet has done so -luxuriantly in the Classical Walpurgis Night, and other parts of -this piece; and a very natural affair, too, one may remark, in the -circumstances of the present composition. It is rare, perhaps -impossible, in the history of literary manifestation, that a poet -should commence a great poem in the fervour of youth, continue it -through the firmness of middle life, and finish it in the serenity -of an advanced old age, with a homogeneousness of inspiration, and a -perfectly consistent handling throughout. Goethe, in particular, was -a man who grew, as he advanced, into many new shapes, and, of -course, grew out of the old ones; and, though he was to the end a -consummate artist, and there was no question of decayed powers, much -less of dotage, in the grand old octogenarian, it was an artistic -blunder in him to weave the fantastic tissue of fair forms, which -amused his later years, into a common web with the tale of strong -human passion, which had grown into a well-rounded dramatic shape -under the influence of his most fervid youthful inspirations. The -error lay in the name and the connection perhaps more than in the -matter. A classical Walpurgis Night, or a love adventure with a -resuscitated Helen of Troy, might have formed a very pleasing -exhibition as a masque or show for an academical celebration--as at -Oxford, for instance, in Commemoration season--while, as a second -part of Faust, it falls flat. Let it contain as many allegories as -the wise old poet-philosopher may have meant to smuggle into it, and -as many mysteries as the mystery-loving race of German commentators -may have strained themselves to draw out of it; as it stands, and -where it stands, and with the claims which it necessarily makes, it -remains a brilliant blunder and a magnificent mistake; and with this -we must be content. Those whose organ of reverence is stronger than -their love of truth, will, of course, think otherwise; and this is -no doubt the most suitable excuse for any nonsense that may have -been thought or written on the subject; but, if it be a part of the -wisdom of life to learn to look calmly on plain facts, even when -most disagreeable, it belongs no less to an educated literary -judgment to admit honestly the special shortcomings of a great -genius, without prejudice to his general merits. An ignorant worship -is a poor substitute for a just appreciation. - - - - - DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. - - Dr. Henry Faust, _a scholar._ - - Wagner, _Faust’s servant._ - - Mephistopheles, _a Devil._ - - Margaret, _Faust’s love. Also called Gretchen._ - - Martha, _Margaret’s neighbour._ - - Eliza, _an acquaintance of Margaret’s._ - - Valentin, _Margaret’s brother._ - - Altmayer, Brander, Frosch, Siebel, _patrons of Auerbach’s - Wine Cellar._ - - _Students, Spirits, Women, Angels, Servants, Beggars, Soldiers, - Peasants, Cat-Apes, Witches, Director of the Theatre, Leader of the - Orchestra, Idealist, Realist, Sceptic, etc._ - - - - - DEDICATION. - - _Prefixed to the Later Editions of Faust._ - - Ye hover nigh, dim-floating shapes again, - That erst the misty eye of Fancy knew! - Shall I once more your shadowy flight detain, - And the fond dreamings of my youth pursue? - Ye press around!--resume your ancient reign,-- - As from the hazy past ye rise to view; - The magic breath that wafts your airy train - Stirs in my breast long-slumbering chords again. - - Ye raise the pictured forms of happy days, - And many a dear loved shade comes up with you; - Like the far echo of old-memoried lays, - First love and early friendship ye renew. - Old pangs return; life’s labyrinthine maze - Again the plaint of sorrow wanders through, - And names the loved ones who from Fate received - A bitter call, and left my heart bereaved. - - They hear no more the sequel of my song, - Who heard my early chant with open ear; - Dispersed for ever is the favouring throng, - Dumb the response from friend to friend so dear. - My sorrow floats an unknown crowd among, - Whose very praise comes mingled with strange fear; - And they who once were pleased to hear my lay, - If yet they live, have drifted far away. - - And I recall with long-unfelt desire - The realm of spirits, solemn, still, serene; - My faltering lay, like the Æolian lyre, - Gives wavering tones with many a pause between; - The stern heart glows with youth’s rekindled fire, - Tear follows tear, where long no tear hath been; - The thing I am fades into distance grey; - And the pale Past stands out a clear to-day. - - - - - PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE. - - Manager of a Strolling Company.--Stage-poet--Merryfellow. - - Manager. - Ye twain, in good and evil day - So oft my solace and my stay, - Say, have ye heard sure word, or wandering rumour - How our new scheme affects the public humour? - Without the multitude we cannot thrive, - Their maxim is to live and to let live. - The posts are up, the planks are fastened, and - Each man’s agog for something gay and grand. - With arched eyebrows they sit already there, - Gaping for something new to make them stare. - I know the public taste, and profit by it; - But still to-day I’ve fears of our succeeding: - ’Tis true they’re customed to no dainty diet, - But they’ve gone through an awful breadth of reading. - How shall we make our pieces fresh and new, - And with some meaning in them, pleasing too? - In sooth, I like to see the people pouring - Into our booth, like storm and tempest roaring, - While, as the waving impulse onward heaves them, - The narrow gate of grace at length receives them, - When, long ere it be dark, with lusty knocks - They fight their way on to the money-box, - And like a starving crowd around a baker’s door, - For tickets as for bread they roar. - So wonder-working is the poet’s sway - O’er every heart--so may it work to-day! - - Poet. - O mention not that motley throng to me, - Which only seen makes frighted genius pause; - Hide from my view that wild and whirling sea - That sucks me in, and deep and downward draws. - No! let some noiseless nook of refuge be - My heaven, remote from boisterous rude applause, - Where Love and Friendship, as a God inspires, - Create and fan the pure heart’s chastened fires. - - Alas! what there the shaping thought did rear, - And scarce the trembling lip might lisping say, - To Nature’s rounded type not always near, - The greedy moment rudely sweeps away. - Oft-times a work, through many a patient year - Must toil to reach its finished fair display; - The glittering gaud may fix the passing gaze, - But the pure gem gains Time’s enduring praise. - - Merryfellow. - Pshaw! Time will reap his own; but in our power - The moment lies, and we must use the hour. - The Future, no doubt, is the Present’s heir, - But we who live must first enjoy our share. - Methinks the present of a goodly boy - Has something that the wisest might enjoy. - Whose ready lips with easy lightness brim, - The people’s humour need not trouble him; - He courts a crowd the surer to impart - The quickening word that stirs the kindred heart. - Quit ye like men, be honest bards and true, - Let Fancy with her many-sounding chorus, - Reason, Sense, Feeling, Passion, move before us, - But, mark me well--a spice of folly too! - - Manager. - Give what you please, so that you give but plenty; - They come to see, and you must feed their eyes; - Scene upon scene, each act may have its twenty, - To keep them gaping still in fresh surprise: - This is the royal road to public favour; - You snatch it thus, and it is yours for ever. - A mass of things alone the mass secures; - Each comes at last and culls his own from yours. - Bring much, and every one is sure to find, - In your rich nosegay, something to his mind. - You give a piece, give it at once in pieces; - Such a ragout each taste and temper pleases, - And spares, if only they were wise to know it, - Much fruitless toil to player and to poet. - In vain into an artful whole you glue it; - The public in the long run will undo it. - - Poet. - What? feel you not the vileness of this trade? - How much the genuine artist ye degrade? - The bungling practice of our hasty school - You raise into a maxim and a rule. - - Manager. - All very well!--but when a man - Has forged a scheme, and sketched a plan - He must have sense to use the tool - The best that for the job is fit. - Consider what soft wood you have to split, - And who the people are for whom you write. - One comes to kill a few hours o’ the night; - Another, with his drowsy wits oppressed, - An over-sated banquet to digest; - And not a few, whom least of all we choose, - Come to the play from reading the Reviews. - They drift to us as to a masquerade; - Mere curiosity wings their paces; - The ladies show themselves, and show their silks and laces, - And play their parts well, though they are not paid. - What dream you of, on your poetic height? - A crowded house, forsooth, gives you delight! - Look at your patrons as you should, - You’ll find them one half cold, and one half crude. - One leaves the play to spend the night - Upon a wench’s breast in wild delight; - Another sets him down to cards, or calls - For rattling dice, or clicking billiard balls. - For such like hearers, and for ends like these - Why should a bard the gentle Muses tease? - I tell you, give them more, and ever more, and still - A little more, if you would prove your skill. - And since they can’t discern the finer quality, - Confound them with broad sweep of triviality-- - But what’s the matter?--pain or ravishment? - - Poet. - If such your service, you must be content - With other servants who will take your pay! - Shall then the bard his noblest right betray? - The right of man, which Nature’s gift imparts, - For brainless plaudits basely jest away? - What gives him power to move all hearts, - Each stubborn element to sway, - What but the harmony, his being’s inmost tone, - That charms all feelings back into his own? - Where listless Nature, her eternal thread, - The unwilling spindle twists around, - And hostile shocks of things that will not wed - With jarring dissonance resound, - Who guides with living pulse the rhythmic flow - Of powers that make sweet music as they go? - Who consecrates each separate limb and soul - To beat in glorious concert with the whole? - Who makes the surgy-swelling billow - Heave with the wildly heaving breast, - And on the evening’s rosy pillow, - Invites the brooding heart to rest? - Who scatters spring’s most lovely blooms upon - The path of the belovèd one? - Who plaits the leaves that unregarded grow - Into a crown to deck the honoured brow? - Who charms the gods? who makes Olympus yield? - The power of man in poet’s art revealed. - - Merryfellow. - Then learn such subtle powers to wield, - And on the poet’s business enter - As one does on a love-adventure. - They meet by chance, are pleased, and stay - On being pressed, just for a day; - Then hours to hours are sweetly linked in chain, - Till net-caught by degrees, they find retreat is vain. - At first the sky is bright, then darkly lowers; - To-day, fine thrilling rapture wings the hours, - To-morrow, doubts and anguish have their chance, - And, ere one knows, they’re deep in a romance. - A play like this both praise and profit brings. - Plunge yourself boldly in the stream of things-- - What’s lived by all, but known to few-- - And bring up something fresh and new, - No matter what; just use your eyes, - And all will praise what all can prize; - Strange motley pictures in a misty mirror, - A spark of truth in a thick cloud of error; - ’Tis thus we brew the genuine beverage, - To edify and to refresh the age. - The bloom of youth in eager expectation, - With gaping ears drinks in your revelation; - Each tender sentimental disposition - Sucks from your art sweet woe-be-gone nutrition; - Each hears a part of what his own heart says, - While over all your quickening sceptre sways. - These younglings follow where you bid them go. - Lightly to laughter stirred, or turned to woe, - They love the show, and with an easy swing, - Follow the lordly wafture of your wing; - Your made-up man looks cold on everything, - But growing minds take in what makes them grow. - - Poet. - Then give me back the years again, - When mine own spirit too was growing, - When my whole being was a vein - Of thronging songs within me flowing! - Then slept the world in misty blue, - Each bud the nascent wonder cherished, - And all for me the flowerets grew, - That on each meadow richly flourished. - Though I had nothing then, I had a treasure, - The thirst for truth, and in illusion pleasure. - Give me the free, unshackled pinion, - The height of joy, the depth of pain, - Strong hate, and stronger love’s dominion; - O give me back my youth again! - - Merryfellow. - The fire of youth, good friend, you need, of course, - Into the hostile ranks to break, - Or, when the loveliest damsels hang by force, - With amorous clinging, from your neck, - When swift your wingèd steps advance - To where the racer’s prize invites you, - Or, after hours of wheeling dance, - The nightly deep carouse invites you. - But to awake the well-known lyre - With graceful touch that tempers fire, - And to a self-appointed goal, - With tuneful rambling on to roll, - Such are your duties, aged sirs; nor we - Less honour pay for this, nor stint your fee; - Old age, not childish, makes the old; but they - Are genuine children of a mellower day. - - Manager. - Enough of words: ’tis time that we - Were come to deeds; while you are spinning - Fine airy phrases, fancy-free, - We might have made some good beginning. - What stuff you talk of being in the vein! - A lazy man is never in the vein. - If once your names are on the poet’s roll, - The Muses should be under your control. - You know our want; a good stiff liquor - To make their creeping blood flow quicker; - Then brew the brewst without delay; - What was not done to-day, to-morrow - Will leave undone for greater sorrow. - Don’t stand, and stare, and block the way, - But with a firm, set purpose lay - Hold of your bright thoughts as they rise to view, - And bid them stay; - Once caught, they will not lightly run away, - Till they have done what in them lies to do. - - Among the sons of German play, - Each tries his hand at what he may; - Therefore be brilliant in your scenery, - And spare no cost on your machinery. - Let sun and moon be at your call, - And scatter stars on stars around; - Let water, fire, and rocky wall, - And bird and beast and fish abound. - Thus in your narrow booth mete forth - The wide creation’s flaming girth, - And wing your progress, pondered well, - From heaven to earth, from earth to hell. - - - - - PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. - - The Lord--The Heavenly Hosts: afterwards Mephistopheles. - - Raphael. - The Sun doth chime his ancient music - ’Mid brothered spheres’ contending song. - And on his fore-appointed journey - With pace of thunder rolls along. - Strength drink the angels from his glory, - Though none may throughly search his way: - God’s works rehearse their wondrous story - As bright as on Creation’s day. - - Gabriel. - And swift and swift beyond conceiving - The pomp of earth is wheeled around, - Alternating Elysian brightness - With awful gloom of night profound. - Up foams the sea, a surging river, - And smites the steep rock’s echoing base, - And rock and sea, unwearied ever, - Spin their eternal circling race. - - Michael. - And storm meets storm with rival greeting, - From sea to land, from land to sea, - While from their war a virtue floweth, - That thrills with life all things that be. - The lightning darts his fury, blazing - Before the thunder’s sounding way; - But still thy servants, Lord, are praising - The gentle going of thy day. - - All the Three. - Strength drink the angels from thy glory, - Though none may search thy wondrous way; - Thy works repeat their radiant story, - As bright as on Creation’s day. - - Mephistopheles. - Sith thou, O Lord, approachest near, - And how we fare would’st fain have information, - And thou of old wert glad to see me here, - I stand to-day amid the courtly nation. - Pardon; no words of fine address I know, - Nor could, though all should hoot me down with sneers; - My pathos would move laughter, and not tears, - Wert thou not weaned from laughter long ago. - Of suns and worlds I’ve nought to say, - I only see how men must fret their lives away. - The little god o’ the world jogs and jogs on, the same - As when from ruddy clay he took his name; - And, sooth to say, remains a riddle, just - As much as when you shaped him from the dust. - Perhaps a little better he had thriven, - Had he not got the show of glimmering light from heaven: - He calls it reason, and it makes him free - To be more brutish than a brute can be; - He is, methinks, with reverence of your grace, - Like one of the long-leggèd race - Of grasshoppers that leap in the air, and spring, - And straightway in the grass the same old song they sing; - ’Twere well that from the grass he never rose, - On every stubble he must break his nose! - - The Lord. - Hast thou then nothing more to say? - And art thou here again to-day - To vent thy grudge in peevish spite - Against the earth, still finding nothing right? - - Mephistopheles. - True, Lord; I find things there no better than before; - I must confess I do deplore - Man’s hopeless case, and scarce have heart myself - To torture the poor miserable elf. - - The Lord. - Dost thou know Faust? - - Mephistopheles. - The Doctor? - - The Lord. - Ay: my servant. - - Mephistopheles. - Indeed! and of his master’s will observant, - In fashion quite peculiar to himself; - His food and drink are of no earthly taste, - A restless fever drives him to the waste. - Himself half seems to understand - How his poor wits have run astrand; - From heaven he asks each loveliest star, - Earth’s chiefest joy must jump to his demand, - And all that’s near, and all that’s far, - Soothes not his deep-moved spirit’s war. - - The Lord. - Though for a time he blindly grope his way, - Soon will I lead him into open day; - Well knows the gardener, when green shoots appear, - That bloom and fruit await the ripening year. - - Mephistopheles. - What wager you? you yet shall lose that soul! - Only give me full license, and you’ll see - How I shall lead him softly to my goal. - - The Lord. - As long as on the earth he lives - Thou hast my license full and free; - Man still must stumble while he strives. - - Mephistopheles. - My thanks for that! the dead for me - Have little charm; my humour seeks - The bloom of lusty life, with plump and rosy cheeks; - For a vile corpse my tooth is far too nice, - I do just as the cat does with the mice. - - The Lord. - So be it; meanwhile, to tempt him thou art free; - Go, drag this spirit from his native fount, - And lead him on, canst thou his will surmount, - Into perdition down with thee; - But stand ashamed at last, when thou shalt see - An honest man, ’mid all his strivings dark, - Finds the right way, though lit but by a spark. - - Mephistopheles. - Well, well; short time will show; into my net - I’ll draw the fish, and then I’ve won my bet; - And when I’ve carried through my measure - Loud blast of trump shall blaze my glory; - Dust shall he eat, and that with pleasure, - Like my cousin the snake in the rare old story. - - The Lord. - And thou mayst show thee here in upper sky - Unhindered, when thou hast a mind; - I never hated much thee or thy kind; - Of all the spirits that deny, - The clever rogue sins least against my mind. - For, in good sooth, the mortal generation, - When a soft pillow they may haply find, - Are far too apt to sink into stagnation; - And therefore man for comrade wisely gets - A devil, who spurs, and stimulates, and whets. - But you, ye sons of heaven’s own choice, - In the one living Beautiful rejoice! - The self-evolving Energy divine - Enclasp you round with love’s embrace benign, - And on the floating forms of earth and sky - Stamp the fair type of thought that may not die. - - Mephistopheles. - From time to time the ancient gentleman - I see, and keep on the best terms I can. - In a great Lord ’tis surely wondrous civil - So face to face to hold talk with the devil. - - - - - FAUST. - - ACT I. - - Scene I. - - Night. - - Faust _discovered sitting restless at his desk, in a narrow - high-vaulted Gothic chamber._ - - Faust. - There now, I’ve toiled my way quite through - Law, Medicine, and Philosophy, - And, to my sorrow, also thee, - Theology, with much ado; - And here I stand, poor human fool, - As wise as when I went to school. - Master, ay, Doctor, titled duly, - An urchin-brood of boys unruly - For ten slow-creeping years and mo, - Up and down, and to and fro, - I lead by the nose: and this I know, - That vain is all our boasted lore-- - A thought that burns me to the core! - True, I am wiser than all their tribe, - Doctor, Master, Priest, and Scribe; - No scruples nor doubts in my bosom dwell, - I fear no devil, believe no hell; - But with my fear all joy is gone, - All rare conceit of wisdom won; - All dreams so fond, all faith so fair, - To make men better than they are. - Nor gold have I, nor gear, nor fame, - Station, or rank, or honoured name, - Here like a kennelled cur I lie! - Therefore the magic art I’ll try, - From spirit’s might and mouth to draw, - Mayhap, some key to Nature’s law; - That I no more, with solemn show, - May sweat to teach what I do not know; - That I may ken the bond that holds - The world, through all its mystic folds; - The hidden seeds of things explore, - And cheat my thought with words no more. - - O might thou shine, thou full moon bright, - For the last time upon my woes, - Thou whom, by this brown desk alone, - So oft my wakeful eyne have known. - Then over books and paper rose - On me thy sad familiar light! - Oh, that beneath thy friendly ray, - On peaky summit I might stray, - Round mountain caves with spirits hover, - And flit the glimmering meadows over, - And from all fevered fumes of thinking free, - Bathe me to health within thy dewy sea. - - In vain! still pines my prisoned soul - Within this curst dank dungeon-hole! - Where dimly finds ev’n heaven’s blest ray, - Through painted glass, its struggling way. - Shut in by heaps of books up-piled, - All worm-begnawed and dust-besoiled, - With yellowed papers, from the ground - To the smoked ceiling, stuck around; - Caged in with old ancestral lumber, - Cases, boxes, without number, - Broken glass, and crazy chair, - Dust and brittleness everywhere; - This is thy world, a world for a man’s soul to breathe in! - - And ask I still why in my breast, - My heart beats heavy and oppressed? - And why some secret unknown sorrow - Freezes my blood, and numbs my marrow? - ’Stead of the living sphere of Nature, - Where man was placed by his Creator, - Surrounds thee mouldering dust alone, - The grinning skull and skeleton. - - Arise! forth to the fields, arise! - And this mysterious magic page, - From Nostradamus’ hand so sage,[n1] - Should guide thee well. Thy raptured eyes - Shall then behold what force compels - The tuneful spheres to chime together; - When, taught by Nature’s mightiest spells, - Thine innate spring of soul upwells, - As speaks one spirit to another. - In vain my thought gropes blindly here, - To make those sacred symbols clear; - Ye unseen Powers that hover near me, - Answer, I charge ye, when ye hear me! - [_He opens the book, and sees the sign of the Macrocosm._][n2] - Ha! what ecstatic joy this page reveals, - At once through all my thrilling senses flowing! - Young holy zest of life my spirit feels - In every vein, in every nerve, new glowing! - Was it a God whose finger drew these signs, - That, with mild pulse of joy, and breath of rest, - Smooth the tumultuous heaving of my breast, - And with mysterious virtue spread the lines - Of Nature’s cipher bare to mortal sight? - Am I a God? so wondrous pure the light - Within me! in these tokens I behold - The powers by which all Nature is besouled. - Now may I reach the sage’s words aright; - “The world of spirits is not barred; - Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead! - Up, scholars, bathe your hearts so hard, - In the fresh dew of morning’s red!” - [_He scans carefully the sign._] - How mingles here in one the soul with soul, - And lives each portion in the living whole! - How heavenly Powers, ascending and descending, - From hand to hand their golden ewers are lending, - And bliss-exhaling swing from pole to pole! - From the high welkin to earth’s centre bounding, - Harmonious all through the great All resounding! - - What wondrous show! but ah! ’tis but a show! - Where grasp I thee, thou infinite Nature, where? - And you, ye teeming breasts? ye founts whence flow - All living influences fresh and fair? - Whereon the heavens and earth dependent hang, - Where seeks relief the withered bosom’s pang? - Your founts still well, and I must pine in vain! - [_He turns the book over impatiently, and beholds the sign of the - Spirit of the Earth._] - What different working hath this sign? - Thou Spirit of the Earth, I feel thee nearer; - Already sees my strengthened spirit clearer; - I glow as I had drunk new wine. - New strength I feel to plunge into the strife, - And bear the woes and share the joys of life, - Buffet the blasts, and where the wild waves dash, - Look calmly on the shipwreck’s fearful crash! - Clouds hover o’er me-- - The moon is dim! - The lamp’s flame wanes! - It smokes!--Red beams dart forth - Around my head--and from the vaulted roof - Falls a cold shudder down, - And grips me!--I feel - Thou hover’st near me, conjured Spirit, now; - Reveal thee! - Ha! how swells with wild delight - My bursting heart! - And feelings, strange and new, - At once through all my ravished senses dart! - I feel my inmost soul made thrall to thee! - Thou must! thou must! and were my life the fee! - - [_He seizes the book, and pronounces with a mysterious air the sign - of the Spirit. A red flame darts forth, and the Spirit appears in the - flame._ - - Spirit. - Who calls me? - - Faust. [_turning away_] - Vision of affright! - - Spirit. - Thou hast with mighty spells invoked me, - And to obey thy call provoked me, - And now---- - - Faust. - Hence from my sight! - - Spirit. - Thy panting prayer besought my might to view, - To hear my voice, and know my semblance too; - Now bending from my native sphere to please thee, - Here am I!--ha! what pitiful terrors seize thee, - And overman thee quite! where now the call - Of that proud soul, that scorned to own the thrall - Of earth, a world within itself created, - And bore and cherished? that with its fellows sated - Swelled with prophetic joy to leave its sphere, - And live a spirit with spirits, their rightful peer. - Where art thou, Faust? whose invocation rung - Upon mine ear, whose powers all round me clung? - Art thou that Faust? whom melts my breath away, - Trembling even to the life-depths of thy frame, - Like a poor worm that crawls into his clay! - - Faust. - Shall I then yield to thee, thou thing of flame? - I am that Faust, and Spirit is my name! - - Spirit. - Where life’s floods flow - And its tempests rave, - Up and down I wave, - Flit I to and fro! - Birth and the grave, - Life’s hidden glow, - A shifting motion, - A boundless ocean - Whose waters heave - Eternally; - Thus on the sounding loom of Time I weave - The living mantle of the Deity. - - Faust. - Thou who round the wide world wendest, - Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee! - - Spirit. - Thou’rt like the spirit whom thou comprehendest, - Not me! [_Vanishes._ - - Faust. - Not thee! - Whom, then? - I, image of the Godhead, - Dwarfed by thee! [_Knocking is heard._] - O death!--’tis Wagner’s knock--I know it well, - My famulus; he comes to mar the spell! - Woe’s me that such bright vision of the spheres - Must vanish when this pedant-slave appears! - - - - - Scene II. - - _Enter_ Wagner _in night-gown and night-cap; a lamp in his hand._ - - Wagner. - Your pardon, sir, I heard your voice declaiming, - No doubt some old Greek drama, and I came in, - To profit by your learned recitation; - For in these days the art of declamation - Is held in highest estimation; - And I have heard asserted that a preacher - Might wisely have an actor for his teacher. - - Faust. - Yes; when our parsons preach to make grimaces, - As here and there a not uncommon case is. - - Wagner. - Alack! when a poor wight is so confined - Amid his books, shut up from all mankind, - And sees the world scarce on a holiday, - As through a telescope and far away, - How may he hope, with nicely tempered skill, - To bend the hearts he knows not to his will? - - Faust. - What you don’t feel, you’ll hunt to find in vain. - It must gush from the soul, possess the brain, - And with an instinct kindly force compel - All captive hearts to own the grateful spell; - Go to! sit o’er your books, and snip and glue - Your wretched piece-work, dressing your ragout - From others’ feasts, your piteous flames still blowing - From sparks beneath dull heaps of ashes glowing; - Vain wonderment of children and of apes, - If with such paltry meed content thou art; - The human heart to heart he only shapes, - Whose words flow warm from human heart to heart. - - Wagner. - But the delivery is a chief concern - In Rhetoric; and alas! here I have much to learn. - - Faust. - Be thine to seek the honest gain, - No shallow-tinkling fool! - Sound sense finds utterance for itself, - Without the critic’s rule. - If clear your thought, and your intention true, - What need to hunt for words with much ado? - The trim orations your fine speaker weaves, - Crisping light shreds of thought for shallow minds, - Are unrefreshing as the foggy winds - That whistle through the sapless autumn leaves. - - Wagner. - Alas! how long is art, - And human life how short! - I feel at times with all my learned pains, - As if a weight of lead were at my heart, - And palsy on my brains. - How high to climb up learning’s lofty stair, - How hard to find the helps that guide us there; - And when scarce half the way behind him lies, - His glass is run, and the poor devil dies! - - Faust. - The parchment-roll is that the holy river, - From which one draught shall slake the thirst for ever? - The quickening power of science only he - Can know, from whose own soul it gushes free. - - Wagner. - And yet the spirit of a bygone age, - To re-create may well the wise engage; - To know the choicest thoughts of every ancient sage, - And think how far above their best we’ve mounted high! - - Faust. - O yes, I trow, even to the stars, so high! - My friend, the ages that are past - Are as a book with seven seals made fast; - And what men call the spirit of the age, - Is but the spirit of the gentlemen - Who glass their own thoughts in the pliant page, - And image back themselves. O, then, - What precious stuff they dish, and call’t a book, - Your stomach turns at the first look; - A heap of rubbish, and a lumber room, - At best some great state farce with proclamations, - Pragmatic maxims, protocols, orations, - Such as from puppet-mouths do fitly come! - - Wagner. - But then the world!--the human heart and mind! - Somewhat of this to know are all inclined. - - Faust. - Yes! as such knowledge goes! but what man dares - To call the child by the true name it bears? - The noble few that something better knew, - And to the gross reach of the general view, - Their finer feelings bared, and insight true, - From oldest times were burnt and crucified. - I do beseech thee, friend,--’tis getting late, - ’Twere wise to put an end to our debate. - - Wagner. - Such learned talk to draw through all the night - With Doctor Faust were my supreme delight; - But on the morrow, being Easter, I - Your patience with some questions more may try. - With zeal I’ve followed Learning’s lofty call, - Much I have learned, but fain would master all. [_Exit._ - - - - - Scene III. - - Faust. [_alone_] - Strange how his pate alone hope never leaves, - Who still to shallow husks of learning cleaves! - With greedy hand who digs for hidden treasure, - And, when he finds a grub, rejoiceth above measure! - - Durst such a mortal voice usurp mine ear - When all the spirit-world was floating near? - Yet, for this once, my thanks are free, - Thou meanest of earth’s sons, to thee! - Thy presence drew me back from sheer despair, - And shock too keen for mortal nerve to bear; - Alas! so giant-great the vision came, - That I might feel me dwarf, ev’n as I am. - - I, God’s own image that already seemed - To gaze where Truth’s eternal mirror gleamed, - And, clean divested of this cumbering clay, - Basked in the bliss of heaven’s vivific ray; - I, more than cherub, with fresh pulses glowing, - Who well nigh seemed through Nature’s deep veins flowing - Like a pure god, creative virtue knowing, - What sharp reproof my hot presumption found! - One word of thunder smote me to the ground. - Alas! ’tis true! not I with thee and thine - May dare to cope! the strength indeed was mine - To make thee own my call, but not - To chain thee to the charmèd spot. - When that blest rapture thrilled my frame, - I felt myself so small, so great; - But thou didst spurn me back with shame, - Into this crazy human state. - Where find I aid? what follow? what eschew? - Shall I that impulse of my soul obey? - Alas! alas! but I must feel it true, - The pains we suffer and the deeds we do, - Are clogs alike in the free spirit’s way. - - The godlike essence of our heaven-born powers - Must yield to strange and still more strange intrusion; - Soon as the good things of this world are ours, - We deem our nobler self a vain illusion, - And heaven-born instincts--very life of life-- - Are strangled in the low terrestrial strife. - - Young fancy, that once soared with flight sublime, - On venturous vans, ev’n to th’ Eternal’s throne, - Now schools her down a little space to own, - When in the dark engulphing stream of time, - Our fair-faced pleasures perish one by one. - Care nestles deep in every heart, - And, cradling there the secret smart, - Rocks to and fro, and peace and joy are gone. - What though new masks she still may wear, - Wealth, house and hall, with acres rich and rare, - As wife or child appear she, water, flame, - Dagger, or poison, she is still the same; - And still we fear the ill which happens never, - And what we lose not are bewailing ever. - - Alas! alas! too deep ’tis felt! too deep! - With gods may vie no son of mortal clay; - More am I like to worms that crawl and creep, - And dig, and dig through earth their lightless way, - Which, while they feed on dust in narrow room, - Find from the wanderer’s foot their death-blow and their tomb. - - Is it not dust that this old wall - From all its musty benches shows me? - And dust the trifling trumperies all - That in this world of moths enclose me? - Here is it that I hope to find - Wherewith to sate my craving mind? - Need I spell out page after page, - To know that men in every age - And every clime, have spurred in vain - The jaded muscle and the tortured brain, - And here and there, with centuries between, - One happy man belike hath been? - - Thou grinning skull, what wouldst thou say, - Save that thy brain, in chase of truth, like mine, - With patient toil pursued its floundering way - By glimmering lights that through dim twilight-shine? - Ye instruments, in sooth, now laugh at me, - With wheel, and cog-wheel, ring, and cylinder; - At Nature’s door I stood; ye should have been the key, - But though your ward be good, the bolt ye cannot stir. - Mysterious Nature may not choose - To unveil her secrets to the stare of day, - And what from the mind’s eye she stores away, - Thou canst not force from her with levers and with screws. - Thou antique gear, why dost thou cumber - My chamber with thy useless lumber? - My father housed thee on this spot, - And I must keep thee, though I need thee not! - Thou parchment roll that hast been smoked upon - Long as around this desk the sorry lamp-light shone; - Much better had I spent my little gear, - Than with this little to sit mouldering here; - Why should a man possess ancestral treasures, - But by possession to enlarge his pleasures? - The thing we use not a dead burden lies, - But what the moment brings the wise man knows to prize. - - But what is this? there in the corner; why - Does that flask play the magnet to mine eye? - And why within me does this strange light shine, - As the soft nightly moon through groves of sombre pine? - I greet thee, matchless phial; and with devotion - I take thee down, and in thy mellow potion - I reverence human wit and human skill. - Fine essence of the opiate dew of sleep, - Dear extract of all subtle powers that kill, - Be mine the first-fruits of thy strength to reap! - I look on thee, and soothed is my heart’s pain; - I grasp thee, straight is lulled my racking brain, - And wave by wave my soul’s flood ebbs away. - I see wide ocean’s swell invite my wistful eyes, - And at my feet her sparkling mirror lies; - To brighter shores invites a brighter day. - - A car of fire comes hovering o’er my head, - With gentle wafture; now let me pursue - New flight adventurous, through the starry blue, - And be my wingèd steps unburdened sped - To spheres of uncramped energy divine! - And may indeed this life of gods be mine, - But now a worm, and cased in mortal clay? - Yes! only let strong will high thought obey, - To turn thy back on the blest light of day, - And open burst the portals which by most - With fear, that fain would pass them by, are crossed. - Now is the time by deeds, not words, to prove - That earth-born man yields not to gods above. - Before that gloomy cavern not to tremble, - Where all those spectral shapes of dread assemble, - Which Fancy, slave of every childish fear, - Bids, to the torment of herself, appear; - Forward to strive unto that passage dire, - Whose narrow mouth seems fenced with hell’s collected fire; - With glad resolve this leap to make, even though - That thing we call our soul should into nothing flow! - - Now come thou forth! thou crystal goblet clear, - From out thy worshipful old case, - Where thou hast lain unused this many a year. - In days of yore right gaily didst thou grace - The festive meetings of my grey-beard sires, - When passed from hand to hand the draught that glee inspires. - Thy goodly round, the figures there - Pictured with skill so quaint and rare, - Each lusty drinker’s duty to declare - In ready rhyme what meaning they might bear, - And at one draught to drain the brimming cup,-- - All this recalls full many a youthful night. - Now to no comrade shall I yield thee up, - Nor whet my wit upon thy pictures bright; - Here is a juice intoxicates the soul - Quickly. With dark brown flood it crowns the bowl. - Let this last draught, my mingling and my choice, - With blithesome heart be quaffed, and joyful voice, - A solemn greeting to the rising morn! - - [_A sound of bells is heard, and distant quire-singing._ - - Quire of Angels. - Christ is arisen! - Joy be to mortal man, - Whom, since the world began, - Evils inherited, - By his sins merited, - Through his veins creeping, - Sin-bound are keeping. - - Faust. - What sweet soft peals, what notes, so clear and pure, - Draw from my lips the glass perforce away? - Thus early do the bells their homage pay, - Of holy hymning to new Easter day! - Already sing the quires the soothing song - That erst, round the dark grave, an angel throng - Sang, to proclaim the great salvation sure! - - Quire of Women. - With spices and balsams - All sweetly we bathed Him; - With cloths of fine linen - All cleanly we swathed Him; - In the tomb of the rock, where - His body was lain, - We come, and we seek - Our loved Master, in vain! - - Quire of Angels. - Christ is arisen! - Praised be His name! - Whose love shared with sinners - Their sorrow and shame; - Who bore the hard trial - Of self-denial, - And, victorious, ascends to the skies whence - He came. - - Faust. - What seek ye here, ye gently-swaying tones, - Sweet seraph-music ’mid a mortal’s groans? - Soft-natured men may own that soothing chaunt; - I hear the message, but the faith I want. - For still the child to Faith most dear - Was Miracle: nor I may vaunt - To mount, and mingle with the sphere - Whence such fair news floats down to mortal ear. - And yet, with youthful memories fraught, this strain - Hath power to call me back to life again. - A time there was when Heaven’s own kiss, - On solemn Sabbath, seemed to fall on me, - The minster-bell boomed forth no human bliss, - And prayer to God was burning ecstasy. - A dim desire of inarticulate good - Drove me o’er hill and dale, through wold and wood, - And, while hot tears streamed from mine eyes, - I felt a world within me rise. - This hymn proclaimed the sports of youthful days, - And merry-makings when the spring began; - Now Memory’s potent spell my spirit sways, - And thoughts of childhood rule the full-grown man. - O! sound thou on, thou sweet celestial strain, - The tear doth gush, Earth claims her truant son again! - - Quire of the Disciples. - By death untimely, though - Laid in the lowly grave, - Soars He sublimely now - Whence He came us to save. - He on His Father’s breast, - Fountain of life and light; - We on the earth oppressed, - Groping through cloudy night; - Comfortless left are we, - Toiling through life’s annoy, - Weeping to envy thee, - Master, thy joy! - - Quire of Angels. - Christ is risen - From Death’s corrupting thrall, - Break from your prison - And follow His call! - Praising by deeds of love - Him who now reigns above, - Feeding the brethren poor, - Preaching salvation sure, - Joys that shall aye endure, - Knowing nor doubt nor fear, - While He is near. - - end of act first. - - - - - ACT II. - -Scene I. - - _Before the gate of the town. - Motley groups of people crowding out to walk._ - - Some Journeymen. - Brethren, whither bound? - - Others. - To the Jægerhaus. - - The First. - We to the mill. - - A Journeyman. - At Wasserhof best cheer is to be found. - - A Second. - But then the road is not agreeable. - - The Others. - And what dost thou? - - A Third. - I go where others go. - - A Fourth. - Let’s go to Burgdorf; there you’ll find, I know, - The best of beer, and maidens to your mind, - And roaring frolics too, if that’s your kind. - - A Fifth. - Thou over-wanton losel, thou! - Dost itch again for some new row? - I loathe the place; and who goes thither, - He and I don’t go together. - - A Servant Girl. - No! no! back to the town I’d rather fare. - - Another. - We’re sure to find him ’neath the poplars there. - - The First. - No mighty matter that for me, - Since he will walk with none but thee, - In every dance, too, he is thine: - What have thy joys to do with mine? - - The Other. - To-day he’ll not come single; sure he said - That he would bring with him the curly-head. - - Student. - Blitz, how the buxom wenches do their paces! - Come, let us make acquaintance with their faces. - A stiff tobacco, and a good strong beer, - And a fine girl well-rigged, that’s the true Burschen cheer! - - Burghers’ Daughters. - Look only at those spruce young fellows there! - In sooth, ’tis more than one can bear; - The best society have they, if they please, - And run after such low-bred queans as these! - - Second Student. [_to the first_] - Not quite so fast! there comes a pair behind, - So smug and trim, so blithe and debonair; - And one is my fair neighbour, I declare; - She is a girl quite to my mind. - They pass along so proper and so shy, - And yet they’ll take us with them by and by. - - First Student. - No, no! these girls with nice conceits they bore you, - Have at the open game that lies before you! - The hand that plies the busy broom on Monday, - Caressed her love the sweetest on the Sunday. - - A Burgher. - No! this new burgomaster don’t please me, - Now that he’s made, his pride mounts high and higher; - And for the town, say, what does he? - Are we not deep and deeper in the mire? - In strictness day by day he waxes, - And more than ever lays on taxes. - - A Beggar. [_singing_] - Ye gentle sirs, and ladies fair, - With clothes so fine, and cheeks so red, - O pass not by, but from your eye - Be pity’s gracious virtue shed! - Let me not harp in vain; for blest - Is he alone who gives away; - And may this merry Easter-feast - Be for the poor no fasting day! - - Another Burgher. - Upon a Sunday or a holiday, - No better talk I know than war and warlike rumours, - When in Turkey far away, - The nations fight out their ill humours. - We sit i’ the window, sip our glass at ease, - And see how down the stream the gay ships gently glide; - Then wend us safely home at even-tide, - Blessing our stars we live in times of peace. - - Third Burgher. - Yea, neighbour, there you speak right wisely; - Ev’n so do I opine precisely. - They may split their skulls, they may, - And turn the world upside down, - So long as we, in our good town, - Keep jogging in the good old way. - - Old Woman. [_to the Burghers’ Daughters._] - Hey-day, how fine! these be of gentle stuff, - The eyes that would not look on you are blind. - Only not quite so high! ’Tis well enough-- - And what you wish I think I know to find. - - First Burgher’s Daughter. - Agatha, come! I choose not to be seen - With such old hags upon the public green; - Though on St. Andrew’s night she let me see - My future lover bodily. - - Second Burgher’s Daughter. - Mine too, bold, soldier-like, she made to pass, - With his wild mates, before me in a glass; - I hunt him out from place to place, - But nowhere yet he shows his face. - - Soldiers. - Castles with turrets - And battlements high, - Maids with proud spirits, - And looks that defy! - From the red throat of death, - With the spear and the glaive, - We pluck the ripe glory - That blooms for the brave. - - The trumpet invites him, - With soul-stirring call, - To where joy delights him, - Nor terrors appall. - On storming maintains he - Triumphant the field, - Strong fortresses gains he, - Proud maidens must yield. - Thus carries the soldier - The prize of the day, - And merrily, merrily - Dashes away! - - - - - Scene II. - - _Enter_ Faust _and_ Wagner. - - Faust. - The ice is now melted from stream and brook - By the Spring’s genial life-giving look; - Forth smiles young Hope in the greening vale, - And ancient Winter, feeble and frail, - Creeps cowering back to the mountains grey; - And thence he sends, as he hies him away, - Fitfullest brushes of icy hail, - Sweeping the plain in his harmless flight. - But the sun may brook no white, - Everywhere stirs he the vegetive strife, - Flushing the fields with the glow of life; - But since few flowers yet deck the mead - He takes him gay-dressed folk in their stead. - Now from these heights I turn me back - To view the city’s busy track. - Through the dark, deep-throated gate - They are pouring and spreading in motley array. - All sun themselves so blithe to-day. - The Lord’s resurrection they celebrate, - For that themselves to life are arisen. - From lowly dwellings’ murky prison, - From labour and business’ fetters tight, - From the press of gables and roofs that meet - Over the squeezing narrow street, - From the churches’ solemn night - Have they all been brought to the light. - Lo! how nimbly the multitude - Through the fields and the gardens hurry, - How, in its breadth and length, the flood - Wafts onward many a gleesome wherry, - And this last skiff moves from the brink - So laden that it seems to sink. - Ev’n from the far hills’ winding way - I’ the sunshine glitter their garments gay. - I hear the hamlet’s noisy mirth; - Here is the people’s heaven on earth, - And great and small rejoice to-day. - Here may I be a man, here dare - The joys of men with men to share. - - Wagner. - With you, Herr Doctor, one is proud to walk, - Sharing your fame, improving by your talk; - But, for myself, I shun the multitude, - Being a foe to everything that’s rude. - I may not brook their senseless howling, - Their fiddling, screaming, ninepin bowling; - Like men possessed, they rave along, - And call it joy, and call it song. - - - - - Scene III. - - Peasants. [_beneath a lime-tree_] - The shepherd for the dance was dressed, - With ribbon, wreath, and spotted vest, - Right sprucely he did show. - And round and round the linden-tree - All danced as mad as mad could be. - Juchhe, juchhe! - Juchheisa, heisa, he! - So went the fiddle bow. - - Then with a jerk he wheeled him by, - And on a maiden that stood nigh - He with his elbow came. - Quick turned the wench, and, “Sir,” quoth she, - “Such game is rather rough for me.” - Juchhe, juchhe! - Juchheisa, heisa, he! - “For shame, I say, for shame!” - - Yet merrily went it round and round, - And right and left they swept the ground, - And coat and kirtle flew; - And they grew red, and they grew warm, - And, panting, rested arm in arm; - Juchhe, juchhe! - Juchheisa, heisa, he! - And hips on elbows too. - - And “Softly, softly,” quoth the quean, - “How many a bride hath cheated been - By men as fair as you!” - But he spoke a word in her ear aside, - And from the tree it shouted wide - Juchhe, juchhe! - Juchheisa, heisa, he! - With fife and fiddle too. - - An old Peasant. - Herr Doctor, ’tis most kind in you, - And all here prize the boon, I’m sure, - That one so learned should condescend - To share the pastimes of the poor. - Here, take this pitcher, filled ev’n now - With cooling water from the spring. - May God with grace to slake your thirst, - Bless the libation that we bring; - Be every drop a day to increase - Your years in happiness and peace! - - Faust. - Your welcome offering I receive; the draught - By kind hands given, with grateful heart be quaffed! - - [_The people collect round him in a circle._ - - Old Peasant. - Soothly, Herr Doctor, on this tide, - Your grace and kindness passes praise; - Good cause had we whileome to bless - The name of Faust in evil days. - Here stand there not a few whose lives - Your father’s pious care attest, - Saved from fell fever’s rage, when he - Set limits to the deadly pest. - You were a young man then, and went - From hospital to hospital; - Full many a corpse they bore away, - But you came scaithless back from all; - Full many a test severe you stood - Helping helped by the Father of Good. - - All the Peasants. - Long may the man who saved us live, - His aid in future need to give! - - Faust. - Give thanks to Him above, who made - The hand that helped you strong to aid. - - [_He goes on farther with_ Wagner. - - Wagner. - How proud must thou not feel, most learnèd man, - To hear the praises of this multitude; - Thrice happy he who from his talents can - Reap such fair harvest of untainted good! - The father shows you to his son, - And all in crowds to see you run; - The dancers cease their giddy round, - The fiddle stops its gleesome sound; - They form a ring where’er you go, - And in the air their caps they throw; - A little more, and they would bend the knee, - As if the Holy Host came by in thee! - - Faust. - Yet a few paces, till we reach yon stone, - And there our wearied strength we may repair. - Here oft I sat in moody thought alone, - And vexed my soul with fasting and with prayer. - Rich then in hope, in faith then strong, - With tears and sobs my hands I wrung, - And weened the end of that dire pest, - From heaven’s high-counselled lord to wrest. - Now their applause with mockery flouts mine ear. - O could’st thou ope my heart and read it here, - How little sire and son - For such huge meed of thanks have done! - My father was a grave old gentleman, - Who o’er the holy secrets of creation, - Sincere, but after his peculiar plan, - Brooded, with whimsied speculation. - Who, with adepts in painful gropings spent - His days, within the smoky kitchen pent, - And, after recipes unnumbered, made - The unnatural mixtures of his trade. - The tender lily and the lion red, - A suitor bold, in tepid bath were wed, - With open fiery flame well baked together, - And squeezed from one bride-chamber to another; - Then, when the glass the queen discovered, - Arrayed in youthful glistening pride, - Here was the medicine, and the patient died, - But no one questioned who recovered. - Thus in these peaceful vales and hills, - The plague was not the worst of ills, - And Death his ghastly work pursued, - The better for the hellish brewst we brewed. - Myself to thousands the curst juice supplied; - They pined away, and I must live to hear - The praise of mercy in the murderer’s ear. - - Wagner. - How can you with such whims be grieved? - Surely a good man does his part - With scrupulous care to use the art - Which from his father he received. - When we, in youth, place on our sire reliance, - He opes to us his stores of information; - When we, as men, extend the bounds of science, - Our sons build higher upon our foundation. - - Faust. - O happy he who yet hath hope to float - Above this sea of crude distempered thought! - What we know not is what we need to know, - And what we know, we might as well let go; - But cease; cheat not the moment of its right - By curious care and envious repining; - Behold how fair, in evening’s mellow light, - The green-embosomed cottages are shining. - The sun slants down, the day hath lived his date, - But on he hies to tend another sphere. - O that no wing upon my wish may wait - To follow still and still in his career! - Upborne on evening’s quenchless beams to greet - The noiseless world illumined at my feet, - Each peaceful vale, each crimson-flaming peak, - Each silver rill whose tinkling waters seek - The golden flood that feeds the fruitful plain. - Then savage crags, and gorges dark, would rein - My proud careering course in vain; - Ev’n now the sea spreads out its shimmering bays, - And charms the sense with ecstasy of gaze. - Yet seems the god at length to sink; - But, borne by this new impulse of my mind, - I hasten on, his quenchless ray to drink, - The day before me, and the night behind, - The heavens above me, under me the sea. - A lovely dream! meanwhile the god is gone. - Alas! the soul, in wingèd fancy free, - Seeks for a corporal wing, and findeth none. - Yet in each breast ’tis deeply graven, - Upward and onward still to pant, - When over us, lost in the blue of heaven, - Her quavering song the lark doth chaunt; - When over piny peaks sublime - The eagle soars with easy strain, - And over lands and seas the crane - Steers homeward to a sunnier clime. - - Wagner. - I too have had my hours of whim, - But feeling here runs over reason’s brim. - Forest and field soon tire the eye to scan, - And eagle’s wings were never made for man. - How otherwise the mind and its delights! - From book to book, from page to page, we go. - Thus sweeten we the dreary winter nights, - Till every limb with new life is aglow; - And chance we but unroll some rare old parchment scroll, - All heaven stoops down, and finds a lodgment in the soul. - - Faust. - Thou know’st but the one impulse--it is well! - Tempt not the yearning that divides the heart. - Two souls, alas! within my bosom dwell! - This strives from that with adverse strain to part. - The one, bound fast by stubborn might of love, - To this low earth with grappling organs clings; - The other spurns the clod, and soars on wings - To join a nobler ancestry above. - Oh! be there spirits in the air, - ’Twixt earth and heaven that float with potent sway, - Drop from your sphere of golden-glowing day, - And waft me hence new varied life to share! - Might I but own a mantle’s fold enchanted, - To climes remote to bear me on its wing, - More than the costliest raiment I should vaunt it, - More than the purple robe that clothes a king. - - Wagner. - Invoke not rash the well-known spirit-throng, - That stream unseen the atmosphere along, - And dangers thousandfold prepare, - Weak men from every quarter to ensnare. - From the keen north in troops they float, - With sharpest teeth and arrow-pointed tongues; - From the harsh east they bring a blasting drought, - And feed with wasting greed upon thy lungs. - When from the arid south their sultry powers - They send, hot fires upheaping on thy crown, - The West brings forth his swarms with cooling showers, - To end in floods that sweep thy harvests down. - Quick-ear’d are they, on wanton mischief bent, - And work our will with surer bait to ply us; - They show as fair as heaven’s own couriers sent, - And lisp like angels when they most belie us. - But let us hence! the air is chill, - The cold grey mists are creeping down the hill, - Now is the time to seek the bright fireside. - Why standest thou with strange eyes opened wide? - What twilight-spectre may thy fancy trouble? - - Faust. - See’st thou that swarthy dog sweeping through corn and stubble? - - Wagner. - I saw him long ago--not strange he seemed to me. - - Faust. - Look at him well--what should the creature be? - - Wagner. - He seems a poodle who employs his snout - Now here, now there, to snuff his master out. - - Faust. - Dost thou not see how nigher still and nigher - His spiral circles round us wind? - And, err I not, he leaves behind - His track a train of sparkling fire. - - Wagner. - A small black poodle is all I see; - Surely some strange delusion blinds thee! - - Faust. - Methinks soft magic circles winds he, - About, about, a snare for thee and me. - - Wagner. - I see him only doubtful springing round, - Having two strangers for his master found. - - Faust. - He draws him closer--now he comes quite near! - - Wagner. - A dog, be sure, and not a ghost, is here. - He growls, and looks about in fear, - And crouches down, and looks to you, - And wags his tail--what any dog will do. - - Faust. - Come hither, poodle! - - Wagner. - ’Tis a drollish brute; - When you stand still, then stands he mute, - But when you speak, he springs as he would speak to you; - He will bring back what you let fall, - And fetch your stick out of the water. - - Faust. - You are quite right. There’s no such matter. - No trace of ghost--a dog well trained, that’s all! - - Wagner. - A well-trained dog may well engage - The favour of a man most sage; - This poodle well deserves your recognition; - Few students learn so much from good tuition. - - [_Exeunt, going in through the gate of the city._ - - - - - Scene IV. - - Faust’s _Study._ - - Faust. [_entering with the_ Poodle.] - Now field and meadow lie behind me, - Hushed ’neath the veil of deepest night, - And thoughts of solemn seeming find me, - Too holy for the garish light. - Calm now the blood that wildly ran, - Asleep the hand of lawless strife; - Now wakes to life the love of man, - The love of God now wakes to life. - - Cease, poodle! why snuff’st and snifflest thou so, - Running restless to and fro? - Behind the stove there lie at rest, - And take for bed my cushion the best! - And as without, on our mountain-ramble, - We joyed to see thy freakish gambol, - So here, my hospitable care, - A quiet guest, and welcome share. - - When in our narrow cell confined, - The friendly lamp begins to burn, - Then clearer sees the thoughtful mind, - With searching looks that inward turn. - Bright Hope again within us beams, - And Reason’s voice again is strong, - We thirst for life’s untroubled streams, - For the pure fount of life we long. - - Quiet thee, poodle! it seems not well - To break, with thy growling, the holy spell - Of my soul’s music, that refuses - All fellowship with bestial uses. - Full well we know that the human brood, - What they don’t understand condemn, - And murmur in their peevish mood - At things too fair and good for them; - Belike the cur, as curs are they, - Thus growls and snarls his bliss away. - - But, alas! already I feel it well, - No more may peace within this bosom dwell. - Why must the stream so soon dry up, - And I lie panting for the cup - That mocks my lips? so often why - Drink pleasure’s shallow fount, when scarce yet tasted, dry? - Yet is this evil not without remeid; - We long for heavenly food to feed - Our heaven-born spirit, and the heart, now bent - On things divine, to revelation turns, - Which nowhere worthier or purer burns, - Than here in our New Testament. - I feel strange impulse in my soul - The sacred volume to unroll, - With honest purpose, once for all, - The holy Greek Original - Into my honest German to translate. - [_He opens the Bible and reads._] - “In the beginning was the Word:” thus here - The text stands written; but no clear - Meaning shines here for me, and I must wait, - A beggar at dark mystery’s gate, - Lamed in the start of my career. - The naked word I dare not prize so high, - I must translate it differently, - If by the Spirit I am rightly taught. - “In the beginning of all things was Thought.” - The first line let me ponder well, - Lest my pen outstrip my sense; - Is it Thought wherein doth dwell - All-creative omnipotence? - I change the phrase, and write--the course - Of the great stream of things was shaped by Force. - But even here, before I lift my pen, - A voice of warning bids me try again. - At length, at length, the Spirit helps my need, - I write--“In the beginning was the Deed.” - - Wilt thou keep thy dainty berth, - Poodle, use a gentler mirth, - Cease thy whimpering and howling, - And keep for other place thy growling. - Such a noisy inmate may - Not my studious leisure cumber; - You or I, without delay, - Restless cur, must leave the chamber! - Not willingly from thee I take - The right of hospitality. - But if thou wilt my quiet break, - Seek other quarters--thou hast exit free. - But what must I see? - What vision strange - Beyond the powers - Of Nature’s range? - Am I awake, or bound with a spell? - How wondrously the brute doth swell! - Long and broad - Uprises he, - In a form that no form - Of a dog may be! - What spectre brought I into the house? - He stands already, with glaring eyes, - And teeth in grinning ranks that rise, - Large as a hippopotamus! - O! I have thee now! - For such half-brood of hell as thou - The key of Solomon the wise - Is surest spell to exorcise.[n3] - - Spirits. [_in the passage without_] - Brother spirits, have a care! - One within is prisoned there! - Follow him none!--for he doth quail - Like a fox, trap-caught by the tail. - But let us watch! - Hover here, hover there, - Up and down amid the air; - For soon this sly old lynx of hell - Will tear him free, and all be well. - If we can by foul or fair, - We will free him from the snare, - And repay good service thus, - Done by him oft-times for us. - - Faust. - First let the charm of the elements four - The nature of the brute explore. - Let the Salamander glow, - Undene twine her crested wave, - Silphe into ether flow, - And Kobold vex him, drudging slave![n4] - - Whoso knows not - The elements four, - Their quality, - And hidden power, - In the magic art - Hath he no part. - - Spiring in flames glow - Salamander! - Rushing in waves flow - Undene! - Shine forth in meteor-beauty - Silphe! - Work thy domestic duty - Incubus Incubus! - Step forth and finish the spell. - None of the four - In the brute doth dwell. - It lies quite still with elfish grinning there. - It shall know a stronger charm, - It shall shrink from sharper harm, - When by a mightier name I swear. - - Art thou a fugitive - Urchin of hell? - So yield thee at length - To this holiest spell! - Bend thee this sacred - Emblem before, - Which the powers of darkness - Trembling adore.[n5] - - Already swells he up with bristling hair. - - Can’st thou read it, - The holy sign, - Reprobate spirit, - The emblem divine? - The unbegotten, - Whom none can name, - Moving and moulding - The wide world’s frame, - Yet nailed to the cross - With a death of shame. - - Now behind the stove he lies, - And swells him up to an elephant’s size, - And fills up all the space. - He’ll melt into a cloud; not so! - Down, I say, down, proud imp, and know - Here, at thy master’s feet, thy place! - In vain, in vain, thou seek’st to turn thee, - With an holy flame I burn thee! - Wait not the charm - Of the triple-glowing light! - Beware the harm - If thou invite - Upon thy head my spell of strongest might! - - [_The clouds vanish, and_ Mephistopheles _comes forward from behind - the fireplace, dressed like an itinerant scholar._ - - - - - Scene V. - - Faust _and_ Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. - What’s all the noise about? I’m here at leisure - To work your worship’s will and pleasure. - - Faust. - So, so! such kernel cracked from such a shell! - A travelling scholar! the jest likes me well! - - Mephistopheles. - I greet the learned gentleman! - I’ve got a proper sweating ’neath your ban. - - Faust. - What is thy name? - - Mephistopheles. - What is my power were better, - From one who so despises the mere letter, - Who piercing through the coarse material shell, - With Being’s inmost substance loves to dwell. - - Faust. - Yes, but you gentlemen proclaim - Your nature mostly in your name; - Destroyer, God of Flies, the Adversary,[1] - Such names their own interpretation carry. - But say, who art thou? - - Mephistopheles. - I am a part of that primordial Might, - Which always wills the wrong, and always works the right. - - Faust. - You speak in riddles; the interpretation? - - Mephistopheles. - I am the Spirit of Negation: - And justly so; for all that is created - Deserves to be annihilated. - ’Twere better, thus, that there were no creation. - Thus everything that you call evil, - Destruction, ruin, death, the devil, - Is my pure element and sphere. - - Faust. - Thou nam’st thyself a part, yet standest wholly here. - - Mephistopheles. - I speak to thee the truth exact, - The plain, unvarnished, naked fact, - Though man, that microcosm of folly deems - Himself the compact whole he seems. - Part of the part I am that erst was all, - Part of the darkness, from whose primal pall - Was born the light, the proud rebellious Light, - Which now disputeth with its mother Night, - Her rank and room i’ the world by ancient right. - Yet vainly; though it strain and struggle much, - ’Tis bound to body with the closer clutch; - From body it streams, on body paints a hue, - And body bends it from its course direct; - Thus in due season I expect, - When bodies perish, Light will perish too. - - Faust. - Hold! now I know thy worthy duties all! - Unable to annihilate wholesale, - Thy mischief now thou workest by retail. - - Mephistopheles. - And even thus, my progress is but small. - This something, the big lumpish world, which stands - Opposed to nothing, still ties my hands, - And spite of all the ground that I seem winning, - Remains as firm as in the beginning; - With storms and tempests, earthquakes and burnings, - Earth still enjoys its evenings and mornings, - And the accursèd fry of brute and human clay, - On them my noblest skill seems worse than thrown away. - How many thousands have I not buried! - Yet still a new fresh blood is hurried - Through fresh young veins, that I must sheer despair. - The earth, the water, and the air, - The moist, the dry, the hot, the cold, - A thousand germs of life unfold; - And had I not of flame made reservation, - I had no portion left in the creation. - - Faust. - And thus thou seekest to oppose - The genial power, from which all life and motion flows, - Against Existence’ universal chain, - Clenching thy icy devil’s fist in vain! - Try some more profitable feats, - Strange son of Chaos, full of cross conceits. - - Mephistopheles. - The hint is good, and on occasion, - May well deserve consideration; - Meanwhile, with your good leave, I would withdraw. - - Faust. - My leave! do I make devil’s law? - The liberty, methinks, is all your own. - I see you here to-day with pleasure, - Go now, and come back at your leisure. - Here is the door, there is the window, and - A chimney, if you choose it, is at hand. - - Mephistopheles. - Let me speak plain! there is a small affair, - That, without your assistance, bars my way, - The goblin-foot upon the threshold there-- - - Faust. - The pentagram stands in your way![n6] - Ha! tell me then, thou imp of sin, - If this be such a potent spell - To bar thy going out, how cam’st thou in? - What could have cheated such a son of hell? - - Mephistopheles. - Look at it well, the drawing is not true; - One angle, that towards the door, you see, - Left a small opening for me. - - Faust. - So so! for once dame Fortune has been kind, - And I have made a prisoner of you! - Chance is not always blind. - - Mephistopheles. - The cur sprang in before it looked about; - But now the thing puts on a serious air; - The devil is in the house and can’t get out. - - Faust. - You have the window, why not jump out there? - - Mephistopheles. - It is a law which binds all ghosts and sprites; - Wherever they creep in, there too they must creep out; - I came in at the door, by the door I must go out. - - Faust. - So so! then hell too has its laws and rights, - Thus might one profit by the powers of evil, - And make an honest bargain with the devil. - - Mephistopheles. - The devil, sir, makes no undue exaction, - And pays what he has promised to a fraction; - But this affair requires consideration, - We’ll leave it for some future conversation. - For this time, I beseech your grace, - Let me be gone; I’ve work to do. - - Faust. - Stay but one minute, I’ve scarce seen your face. - Speak; you should know the newest of the new. - - Mephistopheles. - I’ll answer thee at length some other day; - At present, I beseech thee, let me loose. - - Faust. - I laid no trap to snare thee in the way, - Thyself didst thrust thy head into the noose; - Whoso hath caught the devil, hold him fast! - Such lucky chance returns not soon again. - - Mephistopheles. - If ’tis your pleasure so, I will remain, - But on condition that the time be passed - In worthy wise, and you consent to see - Some cunning sleights of spirit-craft from me. - - Faust. - Thy fancy jumps with mine. Thou may’st commence, - So that thy dainty tricks but please the sense. - - Mephistopheles. - Thou shalt, in this one hour, my friend, - More for thy noblest senses gain, - Than in the year’s dull formal train, - From stale beginning to stale end. - The songs the gentle Spirits sing thee, - The lovely visions that they bring thee, - Are not an empty juggling show. - On thine ear sweet sounds shall fall, - Odorous breezes round thee blow, - Taste, and touch, and senses all - With delicious tingling glow. - No lengthened prelude need we here, - Sing, Spirit-imps that hover near! - - Spirits. - Vanish ye murky - Old arches away! - Through the cloud curtain - That blinds heaven’s ray - Mild and serenely - Look forth the queenly - Eye of the day! - Star now and starlet - Beam more benign, - And purer suns now - Softlier shine. - In beauty ethereal, - A swift-moving throng, - Of spirits aërial, - Are waving along, - And the soul follows - On wings of desire; - The fluttering garlands - That deck their attire, - Cover the meadows, - Cover the bowers, - Where lovers with lovers - Breathe rapturous hours. - Bower on bower! - The shoots of the vine, - With the leaves of the fig-tree, - Their tendrils entwine! - Clusters of ripe grapes, - Bright-blushing all, - Into the wine-press - Heavily fall; - From fountains divine - Bright rivers of wine - Come foaming and swirling; - O’er gems of the purest, - Sparkling and purling, - They flow and they broaden - In bright vista seen, - To deep-bosomed lakes - Lightly fringed with the green, - Where leafy woods nod - In their tremulous sheen. - On light-oaring pinions - The birds cut the gale, - Through the breezy dominions - As sunward they sail; - They sail on swift wings - To the isles of the blest, - On the soft swelling waves - That are cradled to rest; - Where we hear the glad spirits - In jubilee sing, - As o’er the green meadows - Fleet-bounding they spring: - With light airy footing, - A numberless throng, - Like meteors shooting - The mountains along; - Some there are flinging - Their breasts to the seas, - Others are swinging - In undulant ease, - Lovingly twining - Life’s tissue divine, - Where pure stars are shining - In beauty benign! - - Mephistopheles. - He sleeps! well done, ye airy urchins! I - Remain your debtor for this lullaby, - By which so bravely ye have sung asleep - This restless spirit, who, with all his wit, - Is not yet quite the man with cunning cast, - To hook the devil and hold him fast. - Around him let your shapes fantastic flit, - And in a sea of dreams his senses steep. - But now this threshold’s charm to disenchant, - The tooth of a rat is all I want; - Nor need I make a lengthened conjuration, - I hear one scraping there in preparation. - - The lord of the rats and of the mice, - Of the flies, and frogs, and bugs, and lice, - Commands you with your teeth’s good saw, - The threshold of this door to gnaw! - Forth come, and there begin to file, - Where he lets fall this drop of oil. - Ha! there he jumps! that angle there, - With thy sharp teeth I bid thee tear, - Which jutting forward, sad disaster, - Unwilling prisoner keeps thy master. - Briskly let the work go on, - One bite more and it is done! [_Exit._ - - Faust. [_awakening from his trance_] - Once more the juggler Pleasure cheats my lip, - Gone the bright spirit-dream, and left no trace, - That I spake with the devil face to face, - And that a poodle dog gave me the slip! - - - - - Scene VI. - - Faust’s _Study as before._ - - Faust. Mephistopheles. - - Faust. - Who’s there to break my peace once more? come in! - - Mephistopheles. - ’Tis I! - - Faust. - Come in! - - Mephistopheles. - Thou must repeat it thrice. - - Faust. - Come in. - - Mephistopheles. - Thus with good omen we begin; - I come to give you good advice, - And hope we’ll understand each other. - The idle fancies to expel, - That in your brain make such a pother, - At your service behold me here, - Of noble blood, a cavalier, - A gallant youth rigged out with grace, - In scarlet coat with golden lace, - A short silk mantle, and a bonnet, - With a gay cock’s feather on it, - And at my side a long sharp sword. - Now listen to a well-meant word; - Do thou the like, and follow me, - All unembarrassed thus and free, - To mingle in the busy scenes - Of life, and know what living means. - - Faust. - Still must I suffer, clothe me as you may, - This narrow earthly life’s incumbrancy; - Too old I am to be content with play, - Too young from every longing to be free. - What can the world hold forth for me to gain? - Abstain, it saith, and still it saith, Abstain! - This is the burden of the song - That in our ears eternal rings, - Life’s dreary litany lean and long, - That each dull moment hoarsely sings. - With terror wake I in the morn from sleep, - And bitter tears might often weep, - To see the day, when its dull course is run, - That brings to fruit not one small wish,--not one! - That, with capricious criticising, - Each taste of joy within my bosom rising, - Ere it be born, destroys, and in my breast - Chokes every thought that gives existence zest, - With thousand soulless trifles of an hour. - And when the dark night-shadows lower, - I seek to ease my aching brain - Upon a weary couch in vain. - With throngs of feverish dreams possessed, - Even in the home of sleep I find no rest; - The god, that in my bosom dwells, - Can stir my being’s inmost wells; - But he who sways supreme our finer stuff, - Moves not the outward world, hard, obdurate, and tough. - Thus my existence is a load of woes, - Death my best friend, and life my worst of foes. - - Mephistopheles. - And yet methinks this friend you call your best, - Is seldom, when he comes, a welcome guest. - - Faust. - Oh! happy he to whom, in victory’s glance, - Death round his brow the bloody laurel winds! - Whom, ’mid the circling hurry of the dance, - Locked in a maiden’s close embrace he finds; - O! would to God that I had sunk that night - In tranceful death before the Spirit’s might! - - Mephistopheles. - Yet, on a certain night, a certain man was slow - To drink a certain brown potation out. - - Faust. - It seems ’tis your delight to play the scout. - - Mephistopheles. - Omniscient am I not; but many things I know. - - Faust. - If, in that moment’s wild confusion, - A well-known tone of blithesome youth - Had power, by memory’s dear delusion, - To cheat me with the guise of truth; - Then curse I all whate’er the soul - With luring juggleries entwines, - And in this gloomy dungeon-hole - With dazzling flatteries confines! - Curst be ’fore all the high opinion - The soul has of its own dominion! - Curst all the show of shallow seeming, - Through gates of sense fallacious streaming! - Curst be the hollow dreams of fame, - Of honour, glory, and a name! - Curst be the flattering goods of earth, - Wife, child, and servant, house and hearth! - Accursed be Mammon, when with treasures - To riskful venture he invites us, - Curst when, the slaves of passive pleasures, - On soft-spread cushions he delights us! - Curst be the balsam juice o’ the grape! - Accursed be love’s deceitful thrall! - Accursed be Hope! accursed be Faith! - Accursed be Patience above all! - - Chorus of Spirits. [_invisible_] - Woe! woe! - Thou hast destroyed it! - The beautiful world, - With mightiest hand, - A demigod - In ruin has hurled! - We weep, - And bear its wrecked beauty away, - Whence it may never - Return to the day. - Mightiest one - Of the sons of earth, - Brightest one, - Build it again! - Proudly resurgent with lovelier birth - In thine own bosom build it again! - Life’s glad career - Anew commence - With insight clear, - And purgèd sense, - The while new songs around thee play, - To launch thee on more hopeful way! - - Mephistopheles. - These are the tiny - Spirits that wait on me; - Hark how to pleasure - And action they counsel thee! - Into the world wide - Would they allure thee, - In solitude dull - No more to immure thee, - No more to sit moping - In mouldy mood, - With a film on thy sense, - And a frost in thy blood! - - Cease then with thine own peevish whim to play, - That like a vulture makes thy life its prey. - Society, however low, - Still gives thee cause to feel and know - Thyself a man, amid thy fellow-men. - Yet my intent is not to pen - Thee up with the common herd! and though - I cannot boast, or rank, or birth - Of mighty men, the lords of earth, - Yet do I offer, at thy side, - Thy steps through mazy life to guide; - And, wilt thou join in this adventure, - I bind myself by strong indenture, - Here, on the spot, with thee to go. - Call me companion, comrade brave, - Or, if it better please thee so, - I am thy servant, am thy slave! - - Faust. - And in return, say, what the fee - Thy faithful service claims from me? - - Mephistopheles. - Of that you may consider when you list. - - Faust. - No, no! the devil is an Egotist, - And seldom gratis sells his labour, - For love of God, to serve his neighbour. - Speak boldly out, no private clause conceal; - With such as you ’tis dangerous to deal. - - Mephistopheles. - I bind myself to be thy servant here, - And wait with sleepless eyes upon thy pleasure, - If, when we meet again in _yonder_ sphere, - Thou wilt repay my service in like measure. - - Faust. - What _yonder_ is I little reck to know, - Provided I be happy here below; - The future world will soon enough arise, - When the present in ruin lies. - ’Tis from this earth my stream of pleasure flows, - This sun it is that shines upon my woes; - And, were I once from this my home away, - Then happen freely what happen may. - Nor hope in me it moves, nor fear, - If then, as now, we hate and love; - Or if in yonder world, as here, - An under be, and an above. - - Mephistopheles. - Well, in this humour, you bid fair - With hope of good result to dare. - Close with my plan, and you will see - Anon such pleasant tricks from me, - As never eyes of man did bliss - From father Adam’s time to this. - - Faust. - Poor devil, what hast thou to give, - By which a human soul may live? - By thee or thine was never yet divined - The thought that stirs the deep heart of mankind! - True, thou hast food that sateth never, - And yellow gold that, restless ever, - Like quicksilver between the fingers, - Only to escape us, lingers; - A game where we are sure to lose our labour, - A maiden that, while hanging on my breast, - Flings looks of stolen dalliance on my neighbour; - And honour by which gods are blest, - That, like a meteor, vanishes in air. - Show me the fruit that rots _before_ ’tis broken, - And trees that day by day their green repair! - - Mephistopheles. - A word of mighty meaning thou hast spoken, - Yet such commission makes not me despair. - Believe me, friend, we only need to try it, - And we too may enjoy our morsel sweet in quiet. - - Faust. - If ever on a couch of soft repose - My soul shall rock at ease, - If thou canst teach with sweet delusive shows - Myself myself to please, - If thou canst trick me with a toy - To say sincerely I enjoy, - Then may my latest sand be run! - A wager on it! - - Mephistopheles. - Done! - - Faust. - And done, and done! - When to the moment I shall say, - Stay, thou art so lovely, stay! - Then with thy fetters bind me round, - Then perish I with cheerful glee! - Then may the knell of death resound, - Then from thy service art thou free! - The clock may stand, - And the falling hand - Mark the time no more for me! - - Mephistopheles. - Consider well: in things like these - The devil’s memory is not apt to slip. - - Faust. - That I know well; may’st keep thy heart at ease, - No random word hath wandered o’er my lip. - Slave I remain, or here, or there, - Thine, or another’s, I little care. - - Mephistopheles. - My duty I’ll commence without delay, - When with the graduates you dine to-day. - One thing remains!--black upon white - A line or two, to make the bargain tight. - - Faust. - A writing, pedant!--hast thou never found - A man whose word was better than his bond? - Is’t not enough that by my spoken word, - Of all I am and shall be thou art lord? - The world drives on, wild wave engulphing wave, - And shall a line bind me, if I would be a knave? - Yet ’tis a whim deep-graven in the heart, - And from such fancies who would gladly part? - Happy within whose honest breast concealed - There lives a faith, nor time nor chance can shake; - Yet still a parchment, written, stamped, and sealed, - A spectre is before which all must quake. - Commit but once thy word to the goose-feather, - Then must thou yield the sway to wax and leather. - Say, devil--paper, parchment, stone, or brass? - With me this coin or that will pass; - Style, or chisel, or pen shall it be? - Thou hast thy choice of all the three. - - Mephistopheles. - What need of such a hasty flare - Of words about so paltry an affair? - Paper or parchment, any scrap will do, - Then write in blood your signature thereto. - - Faust. - If this be all, there needs but small delay, - Such trifles shall not stand long in my way. - - Mephistopheles. [_while Faust is signing the paper_] - Blood is a juice of most peculiar virtue. - - Faust. - Only no fear that I shall e’er demur to - The bond as signed; my whole heart swears - Even to the letter that the parchment bears. - Too high hath soared my blown ambition; - I now take rank with thy condition; - The Mighty Spirit of All hath scorned me, - And Nature from her secrets spurned me: - My thread of thought is rent in twain, - All science I loathe with its wranglings vain. - In the depths of sensual joy, let us tame - Our glowing passion’s restless flame! - In magic veil, from unseen hand, - Be wonders ever at our command! - Plunge we into the rush of Time! - Into Action’s rolling main! - Then let pleasure and pain, - Loss and gain, - Joy and sorrow, alternate chime! - Let bright suns shine, or dark clouds lower, - The man that works is master of the hour. - - Mephistopheles. - To thee I set nor bound nor measure, - Every dainty thou may’st snatch, - Every flying joy may’st catch, - Drink deep, and drain each cup of pleasure; - Only have courage, friend, and be not shy! - - Faust. - Content from thee thy proper wares to buy, - Thou markest well, I do not speak of joy, - Pleasure that smarts, giddy intoxication, - Enamoured hate, and stimulant vexation. - My bosom healed from hungry greed of science - With every human pang shall court alliance; - What all mankind of pain and of enjoyment - May taste, with them to taste be my employment; - Their deepest and their highest I will sound, - Want when they want, be filled when they abound, - My proper self unto their self extend, - And with them too be wrecked, and ruined in the end. - - Mephistopheles. - Believe thou me, who speak from test severe, - Chewing the same hard food from year to year, - There lives (were but the naked truth confessed) - No man who, from his cradle to his bier, - The same sour leaven can digest! - Trust one of us--this universe so bright, - He made it only for his own delight; - Supreme He reigns, in endless glory shining, - To utter darkness me and mine consigning, - And grudges ev’n to you the day without the night. - - Faust. - But I will! - - Mephistopheles. - There you are right! - One thing alone gives me concern, - The time is short, and we have much to learn. - There is a way, if you would know it, - Just take into your pay a poet; - Then let the learned gentleman sweep - Through the wide realms of imagination - And every noble qualification, - Upon your honoured crown upheap, - The strength of the lion, - The wild deer’s agility, - The fire of the south, - With the north’s durability. - Then let his invention the secret unfold, - To be crafty and cunning, yet generous and bold; - And teach your youthful blood, as poets can, - To fall in love according to a plan. - Myself have a shrewd notion where we might - Enlist a cunning craftsman of this nature, - And Mr. Microcosmus he is hight. - - Faust. - What am I then, if still I strive in vain - To reach the crown of manhood’s perfect stature, - The goal for which with all my life of life I strain? - - Mephistopheles. - Thou art, do what thou wilt, just what thou art. - Heap wigs on wigs by millions on thy head, - And upon yard-high buskins tread, - Still thou remainest simply what thou art. - - Faust. - I feel it well, in vain have I uphoarded - All treasures that the mind of man afforded, - And when I sit me down, I feel no more - A well of life within me than before; - Not ev’n one hairbreadth greater is my height, - Not one inch nearer to the infinite. - - Mephistopheles. - My worthy friend, these things you view, - Just as they appear to you; - Some wiser method we must shape us, - Ere the joys of life escape us. - Why, what the devil! hands and feet, - Brain and brawn and blood are thine; - And what I drink, and what I eat, - Whose can it be, if ’tis not mine? - If I can number twice three horses, - Are not their muscles mine? and when I’m mounted, - I feel myself a man, and wheel my courses, - Just as if four-and-twenty legs I counted. - Quick then! have done with reverie, - And dash into the world with me! - I tell thee plain, a speculating fellow - Is like an ox on heath all brown and yellow, - Led in a circle by an evil spirit, - With roods of lush green pasture smiling near it. - - Faust. - But how shall we commence? - - Mephistopheles. - We start this minute: - Why, what a place of torture is here, - And what a life you live within it! - Yourself and your pack of younkers dear, - Killing outright with ennui! - Leave that to honest neighbour Paunch! - Thrashing of straw is not for thee: - Besides, into the best of all your knowledge, - You know ’tis not permitted you to launch - With chicken-hearted boys at College. - Ev’n now, methinks, I hear one on the stair. - - Faust. - Send him away: I cannot bear-- - - Mephistopheles. - Poor boy! he’s waited long, nor must depart - Without some friendly word for head and heart; - Come, let me slip into your gown; the mask - Will suit me well; as for the teaching task, - [_He puts on_ Faust’s _scholastic robes._] - Leave that to me! I only ask - A quarter of an hour; and you make speed - And have all ready for our journey’s need. [_Exit._ - - Mephistopheles. [_solus_] - Continue thus to hold at nought - Man’s highest power, his power of thought; - Thus let the Father of all lies - With shows of magic blind thine eyes, - And thou art mine, a certain prize. - To him hath Fate a spirit given, - With reinless impulse ever forwards driven, - Whose hasty striving overskips - The joys that flow for mortal lips; - Him drag I on through life’s wild chase, - Through flat unmeaning emptiness; - He shall cling and cleave to me, - Like a sprawling child in agony, - And food and drink, illusive hovering nigh, - Shall shun his parchèd lips, and cheat his longing eye; - He shall pine and pant and strain - For the thing he may not gain, - And, though he ne’er had sold him to do evil, - He would have damned himself without help from the devil. - - - - - Scene VII. - - _Enter a_ Student. - - Student. - I am but fresh arrived to-day, - And come my best respects to pay, - To one whose name, from boor to Kaiser, - None, without veneration, mention. - - Mephistopheles. - I feel obliged by your attention! - You see a man than other men no wiser: - Have you made inquiry elsewhere? - - Student. - Beseech you, sir, be my adviser! - I come with money to spend and spare, - With fresh young blood, and a merry heart, - On my college career to start: - My mother sent me, not without a tear, - To get some needful schooling here. - - Mephistopheles. - A better place you could not find. - - Student. - To speak the truth, ’tis not much to my mind. - Within these narrow cloister walls, - These antiquated Gothic halls, - I feel myself but ill at ease; - No spot of green I see, no trees, - And ’mid your formal rows of benches, - I almost seem to lose my senses. - - Mephistopheles. - That all depends on custom. Don’t you see - How a young babe at first is slow - To know its mother’s breast; but soon - With joy it strains the milky boon; - So you anon will suck nutrition - From Wisdom’s breasts with blest fruition. - - Student. - I yearn to do so even now; - But, in the first place, tell me how? - - Mephistopheles. - My help is yours, or great or small; - But choose your Faculty, first of all. - - Student. - I aim at culture, learning, all - That men call science on the ball - Of earth, or in the starry tent - Of heaven; all Nature high and low, - Broad and deep, I seek to know. - - Mephistopheles. - There you are on the proper scent; - Only beware of too much distraction. - - Student. - With soul and body I’m girt for action, - And yet I cannot choose but praise - A little freedom and merriment, - On pleasant summer holidays. - - Mephistopheles. - Redeem the time, for fast it fleets away, - But order rules the hour it cannot stay. - Therefore ’tis plain that you must pass - First of all through the logic class. - There will your mind be postured rightly, - Laced up in Spanish buskins tightly, - That with caution and care, as wisdom ought, - It may creep along the path of thought, - And not with fitful flickering glow - Will o’ the wisp it to and fro. - There, too, if you hear the gentleman through - The term, to every lecture true, - You’ll learn that a stroke of human thinking, - Which you had practised once as free - And natural as eating and drinking, - Cannot be made without one! two! three! - True, it should seem that the tissue of thought - Is like a web by cunning master wrought, - Where one stroke moves a thousand threads, - The shuttle shoots backwards and forwards between, - The slender threads flow together unseen, - And one with the others thousand-fold weds: - Then steps the philosopher forth to show - How of necessity it must be so: - If the first be so, the second is so, - And therefore the third and the fourth is so; - And unless the first and the second before be, - The third and the fourth can never more be. - So schoolmen teach and scholars believe, - But none of them yet ever learned to weave. - He who strives to know a thing well - Must first the spirit within expel, - Then can he count the parts in his hand, - Only without the spiritual band. - _Encheiresis naturæ_, ’tis clept in Chemistry, - Thus laughing at herself, albeit she knows not why. - - Student. - I must confess I can’t quite comprehend you. - - Mephistopheles. - In this respect time by and by will mend you, - When you have learned the crude mixed masses - To decompose, and rank them in their classes. - - Student. - I feel as stupid to all he has said, - As a mill-wheel were whirling round in my head. - - Mephistopheles. - After logic, first of all, - To the study of metaphysics fall! - There strive to know what ne’er was made - To go into a human head; - For what is within and without its command - A high-sounding word is always at hand. - But chiefly, for the first half year, - Let order in all your studies appear; - Five lectures a-day, that no time be lost, - And with the clock be at your post! - Come not, as some, without preparation, - But con his paragraphs o’er and o’er, - To be able to say, when you hear his oration, - That he gives you his book, and nothing more; - Yet not the less take down his words in writing, - As if the Holy Spirit were inditing! - - Student. - I shall not quickly give you cause - To repeat so weighty a clause; - For what with black on white is written, - We carry it home, a sure possession. - - Mephistopheles. - But, as I said, you must choose a profession. - - Student. - With Law, I must confess, I never was much smitten. - - Mephistopheles. - I should be loath to force your inclination, - Myself have some small skill in legislation; - For human laws and rights from sire to son, - Like an hereditary ill, flow on; - From generation dragged to generation, - And creeping slow from place to place. - Reason is changed to nonsense, good to evil, - Art thou a grandson, woe betide thy case! - Of Law they prate, most falsely clept the Civil, - But for that right, which from our birth we carry, - ’Tis not a word found in their Dictionary. - - Student. - Your words have much increased my detestation. - O happy he, to whom such guide points out the way! - And now, I almost feel an inclination - To give Theology the sway. - - Mephistopheles. - I have no wish to lead you astray. - As to this science, ’tis so hard to eschew - The false way, and to hit upon the true, - And so much hidden poison lurks within, - That’s scarce distinguished from the medicine. - Methinks that here ’twere safest done - That you should listen but to one, - And _jurare in verba magistri_ - Is the best maxim to assist thee. - Upon the whole, I counsel thee - To stick to words as much as may be, - For such will still the surest way be - Into the temple of certainty. - - Student. - Yet in a word some sense must surely lurk. - - Mephistopheles. - Yes, but one must not go too curiously to work; - For, just when our ideas fail us, - A well-coined word may best avail us. - Words are best weapons in disputing, - In system-building and uprooting, - To words most men will swear, though mean they ne’er so little, - From words one cannot filch a single tittle. - - Student. - Pardon me, if I trespass on your time, - Though to make wisdom speak seems scarce a crime; - On medicine, too, I am concerned - To hear some pregnant word from one so learned. - Three years, God knows, is a short time, - And we have far to go, and high to climb; - A wise man’s fingers pointing to the goal - Will save full many a groan to many a labouring soul. - - Mephistopheles. [_aside_] - I’m weary of this dry pedantic strain, - ’Tis time to play the genuine devil again. - [_Aloud._] The spirit of Medicine ’tis not hard to seize: - The world, both great and small, you seek to know, - That in the end you may let all things go - As God shall please. - In vain you range around with scientific eyes, - Each one at length learns only what he can; - But he who knows the passing hour to prize, - That is the proper man. - A goodly shape and mien you vaunt, - And confidence, I guess, is not your want, - Trust but yourself, and, without more ado, - All other men will straightway trust you too. - But chiefly be intent to get a hold - O’ the women’s minds: their endless Oh! and Ah! - So thousandfold, - In all its change, obeys a single law, - And, if with half a modest air you come, - You have them all beneath your thumb. - A title first must purchase their reliance, - That you have skill surpassing vulgar science; - Thus have you hold at once of all the seven ends, - Round which another year of labour spends. - Study to press the pulse right tenderly, - And, with a sly and fiery eye, - To hold her freely round the slender waist, - That you may see how tightly she is laced. - - Student. - This seems to promise better; here we see - Where to apply and how to use the knife. - - Mephistopheles. - Grey, my good friend, is every theory, - But green the golden tree of life. - - Student. - I vow I feel as in a dream; my brain - Contains much more than it can comprehend; - Some other day may I come back again, - To hear your wisdom to the end? - - Mephistopheles. - What I can teach all men are free to know. - - Student. - One little favour grant me ere I go; - It were my boast to take home on this page - [_Presenting a leaf from his album._] - Some sapient maxim from a man so sage. - - Mephistopheles. - Right willingly. - - [_He writes, and gives back the book._ - - Student. [_reads_] - Eritis sicut Deus scientes bonum et malum. - - [_He closes the book reverently, and takes his leave._ - - Mephistopheles. - Follow the ancient saw, and my cousin, the famous old Serpent, - Right soon shalt thou have cause, at thy godlike knowledge to tremble! - - _Enter_ Faust. - - Faust. - Now, whither bound? - - Mephistopheles. - Where’er it pleases you; - The world, both great and small, we view. - O! how it will delight, entrance you, - The merry reel of life to dance through! - - Faust. - My beard, I am afraid, is rather long; - And without easy manners, gentle breeding, - I fear there is small chance of my succeeding; - I feel so awkward ’mid the busy throng, - So powerless and so insignificant, - And what all others have I seem to want. - - Mephistopheles. - Bah! never fear; the simple art of living - Is just to live right on without misgiving! - - Faust. - But how shall we commence our course? - I see nor coach, nor groom, nor horse. - - Mephistopheles. - We only need your mantle to unfold, - And it shall waft us on the wind. - Who makes with me this journey bold - No bulky bundle busks behind; - A single puff of inflammable air, - And from the ground we nimbly fare. - Lightly we float. I wish the best of cheer - To Doctor Faustus on his new career. - - end of act second. - - - - - ACT III. - - Scene I. - - _Auerbach’s Wine-Cellar. Leipzig._ - - _A Bout of Merry Fellows._ - - Frosch. - Will no one sing? none crack a joke? - I’ll teach you to make saucy faces! - Like old wet straw to-day you smoke, - While bright as flame your wonted blaze is. - - Brander. - The blame lies with yourself, for you have given us - To-day no fun nor frolic to enliven us. - - Frosch. [_throwing a glass of wine over his head_] - There hast thou both! - - Brander. - Double swine! - - Frosch. - You asked a joke--I gave it you in wine! - - Siebel. - Out at the door with all who dare to quarrel! - Give all your pipes full play! this is no place to snarl. - Up! hollo! ho! - - Altmayer. - Woe’s me! the devil and his crew are here! - Some cotton, ho! he makes my ear-drum crack. - - Siebel. - Roar on! for, when the vault loud echoes back, - The deep bass notes come thundering on the ear. - - Frosch. - Right, right! out with each saucy fellow! - A! tara lara da! - - Altmayer. - A tara lara da! - - Frosch. - Our throats are now quite mellow. - [_Sings._] The holy Roman empire now, - How does it hold together? - A clumsy song!--fie! a political song! - A scurvy song! thank God, with each to-morrow, - The Roman empire can give you small sorrow; - For me, I deem I’m wealthier and wiser - For being neither Chancellor nor Kaiser. - Yet even we must have a head to rule us; - Let’s choose a pope in drinking well to school us, - Come, well you know the qualification - That lifts a man to consideration. - - Frosch. [_sings_] - Mount up, lady nightingale, - Greet my love ten thousand times! - - Siebel. - No, sir, not once,--I’ll hear no more of this. - - Frosch. - But you _shall_ hear!--A greeting and a kiss! - [_He sings._] Ope the door in silent night. - Ope and let me in, I pray; - Shut the door, the morn is bright, - Shut it, love, I must away! - - Siebel. - Yes! sing and sing! belaud her, and berhyme! - I’ll have my laugh at that--all in good time! - She jilted me right rarely; soon - She’ll make thee sing to the same tune; - ’Twere fit a Kobold with his love should bless her, - On some cross road to cocker and caress her; - Or that some old he-goat, that tramps away - From merry Blocksberg on the first of May, - Should greet her passing with a lusty baa! - An honest man of genuine flesh and blood - Is for the wench by far too good. - Batter her doors, her windows shiver, - That’s all the serenade I’d give her! - - Brander. [_striking the table_] - Gentlemen, hear! only attend to me, - You’ll see that I know how to live. - If love-sick people here there be, - To honour them, I’m bound to give - A song brim-full of the most melting passion. - I’ll sing a ditty of the newest fashion! - Give ear! and with full swell sonorous, - Let each and all ring forth the chorus! - [_He sings._] In a pantry-hole there lived a rat, - On bacon and on butter, - It had a paunch as round and fat - As Doctor Martin Luther. - The cook placed poison in its way, - It felt as straitened all the day, - As if it had love in its body. - - Chorus. [_shouting_] - As if it had love in its body. - - Brander. - It ran within, it ran without, - And sipped in every puddle; - And scratched and gnawed, but bettered not - The fever of its noddle. - With many a twinge it tossed and tossed, - Seemed ready to give up the ghost, - As if it had love in its body. - - Chorus. - As if it had love in its body. - - Brander. - It left its hole for very pain, - Into the kitchen crawling, - And snuffling there with might and main, - Upon the earth lay sprawling. - The cook she laughed when she saw it die; - “It squeaks,” quoth she, “with its latest sigh, - As if it had love in its body.” - - Chorus. - As if it had love in its body. - - Siebel. - How the hard-hearted boys rejoice! - As if it were a trade so choice - To teach the rats and mice to die! - - Brander. - Rats find great favour in your eyes. - - Altmayer. - The oily paunch! the bald pate! he - Has eyes of sorrow for the creature: - For why? he could not fail to see - In the swoll’n rat his own best feature! - - - - - Scene II. - - _Enter_ Faust _and_ Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. - First thing of all I bring you here, - Into a company of jolly cheer, - That you may learn how men contrive - Without much thought or care to live. - These fellows feast their lives away - In a continual holiday; - With little wit and much content - Their narrow round of life is spent, - As playful kittens oft are found - To chase their own tails round and round. - So live they on from day to day, - As long as headache keeps away, - And by no anxious thought are crossed, - While they get credit from the host. - - Brander. - These gentlemen are strangers; in their face - One reads they lack the breeding of the place; - They’re not an hour arrived, I warrant thee. - - Frosch. - There you are right!--Leipzig’s the place, I say! - It is a little Paris in its way. - - Siebel. - What, think you, may the strangers be? - - Frosch. - Leave that to me!--I’ll soon fish out the truth. - Fill me a bumper till it overflows, - And then I’ll draw the worms out of their nose, - As easily as ’twere an infant’s tooth. - To me they seem to be of noble blood, - They look so discontented and so proud. - - Brander. - Quack doctors both!--Altmayer, what think you? - - Altmayer. - ’Tis like. - - Frosch. - Mark me! I’ll make them feel the screw. - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Faust] - They have no nose to smell the devil out, - Even when he has them by the snout. - - Faust. - Be greeted, gentlemen! - - Siebel. - With much respect return we the salute. - [_Softly, eyeing_ Mephistopheles _from the one side._] - What! does the fellow limp upon one foot? - - Mephistopheles. - With your permission, we will make so free, - As to intrude upon your company. - The host’s poor wines may keep us in sobriety, - But we at least enjoy your good society. - - Altmayer. - Our wine is good; and, for to speak the truth, - Your mother fed you with too nice a tooth. - - Frosch. - When left you Rippach? you must have been pressed - For time. Supped you with Squire Hans by the way?[n7] - - Mephistopheles. - We had no time to stay! - But when I last came by, I was his guest. - He spoke much of his cousins, and he sent - To you and all full many a compliment. - [_He makes a bow to_ Frosch. - - Altmayer. [_softly_] - You have him there!--he understands the jest! - - Siebel. - He is a knowing one! - - Frosch. - I’ll sift him through anon! - - Mephistopheles. - As we came in, a concert struck my ear - Of skilful voices in a chorus pealing! - A gleesome song must sound most nobly here, - Re-echoed freely from the vaulted ceiling. - - Frosch. - Perhaps you have yourself some skill? - - Mephistopheles. - O no! had I the power, I should not want the will. - - Altmayer. - Give us a song! - - Mephistopheles. - A thousand, willingly! - - Siebel. - Only brand-new, I say!--no thread-bare strain! - - Mephistopheles. - We are but just come from a tour in Spain, - The lovely land of wine and melody. - [_He sings._] There was a king in old times - That had a huge big flea-- - - Frosch. - Ha, ha! a flea!--he seems a man of taste! - A flea, I wis, is a most dainty guest? - - Mephistopheles. [_sings again_] - There was a king in old times - That had a huge big flea, - As if it were his own son, - He loved it mightily. - He sent out for the tailor, - To get it a suit of clothes; - He made my lord a dress-coat, - He made him a pair of hose. - - Brander. - Be sure that Monsieur le Tailleur be told - To take his measure most exact and nice, - And as upon his head he puts a price, - To make the hose without or crease or fold! - - Mephistopheles. - In velvet and in silk clad - He strutted proudly then, - And showed his star and garter - With titled gentlemen. - Prime minister they made him, - With cross and ribbon gay, - And then all his relations - At court had much to say. - - This caused no small vexation - At court; I tell you true-- - The queen and all her ladies - Were bitten black and blue. - And yet they durst not catch them, - Nor crack them, when they might, - But we are free to catch them, - And crack them when they bite. - - Chorus. [_shouting_] - But we are free to catch them - And crack them when they bite! - - Frosch. - Bravo, bravo!--his voice is quite divine. - - Siebel. - Such fate may every flea befall! - - Brander. - Point your nails and crack ’em all! - - Altmayer. - A glass to liberty!--long live the vine! - - Mephistopheles. - I’d drink to liberty with right good will, - If we had only better wine to drink. - - Siebel. - You might have kept that to yourself, I think! - - Mephistopheles. - I only fear our host might take it ill, - Else should I give to every honoured guest - From our own cellar of the very best. - - Siebel. - O never fear!--If you but find the wine, - Our host shall be content--the risk be mine! - - Frosch. - Give me a flowing glass, and praise you shall not want, - So that your sample, mark me! be not scant; - I cannot judge of wine, unless I fill - My mouth and throat too with a goodly swill. - - Altmayer. [_softly_] - I see the gentlemen are from the Rhine. - - Mephistopheles. - Give me a gimlet here!--I’ll show you wine. - - Brander. - What would the fellow bore? - Has he then wine-casks at the door? - - Altmayer. - There, in the basket, you will find a store - Of tools, which our good landlord sometimes uses. - - Mephistopheles. [_Taking the gimlet._] - [_To_ Frosch.] Now every man may taste of what he chooses. - - Frosch. - How mean you that? Can you afford? - - Mephistopheles. - No fear of that; my cellar is well stored. - - Altmayer. [_to_ Frosch] - Aha! I see you smack your lips already. - - Frosch. - I’ll have Rhine wine; what fatherland produces - Is better far than French or Spanish juices. - - Mephistopheles. [_boring a hole in the edge of the table where_ - Frosch _is sitting_] - Fetch me some wax, to make the stoppers ready. - - Altmayer. - He means to put us off with jugglery. - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Brander] - And you, sir, what? - - Brander. - Champagne for me! - And brisk and foaming let it be! - - [Mephistopheles _bores; meanwhile one of the party has got the - stoppers ready, and closes the holes._ - - Brander. - To foreign climes a man must sometimes roam, - In quest of things he cannot find at home; - For Frenchmen Germans have no strong affection, - But to their wines we seldom make objection. - - Siebel. [_while_ Mephistopheles _is coming round to him_] - I have no taste for your sour wines to-day, - I wish to have a swig of good Tokay. - - Mephistopheles. [_boring_] - That you shall have, and of the very best. - - Altmayer. - No, gentlemen!--’tis plain you mean to jest; - If so, in me you much mistake your man. - - Mephistopheles. - Ha! ha!--no little risk, methinks, I ran, - To venture tricks with noble guests like you. - Come! make your choice, speak boldly out, and I - Will do my best your wish to gratify. - - Altmayer. - Give me what wine you please!--only not much ado. - - [_After having bored and stopped up all the holes._ - - Mephistopheles. [_with strange gestures_] - Grapes on the vine grow! - Horns on the goat! - The wine is juicy, the vine is of wood, - The wooden table can give it as good. - Look into Nature’s depths with me! - Whoso hath faith shall wonders see! - Now draw the corks, and quaff the wine! - - All. [_drawing the corks, and quaffing the out-streaming liquor each - as he had desired_] - O blessed stream!--O fount divine! - - Mephistopheles. - Drink on! only be cautious in your hurry. - -[_They drink freely._ - - All. [_singing_] - No king of cannibals to day - More bravely rules the drinking bout, - Than we, when, like five hundred swine, - We drain the brimming bumpers out! - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Faust] - Look at the fellows now!--are they not merry? - - Faust. - I feel inclined to go!--’tis getting late. - - Mephistopheles. - Soon shall we have a glorious revelation - Of the pure beast in man, if you but wait. - - Siebel. [_drinks carelessly; the wine falls to the ground and becomes - flame_] - Help! fire! the devil’s here! death and damnation! - - Mephistopheles. [_Addressing himself to the flames_] - Peace, friendly element! be still! - [_To the company._] This time ’twas but a spurt of purgatorial flame. - - Siebel. - What’s that?--you little know your men; we’ll tame - Your impudence, you juggling knave, we will! - - Frosch. - ’Twere dangerous to repeat such gambols here! - - Altmayer. - Methinks ’twere best to whisper in his ear - That he had better leave the room. - - Siebel. - What, sirrah? do you then presume - To play your hocus-pocus here? - - Mephistopheles. - Peace, old wine-cask! - - Siebel. - You broomstick, you! - Must we then bear your insolence too? - - Brander. - Wait! wait! it shall rain blows anon! - - Altmayer. [_draws a stopper from the table, and fire rushes out on - him_] - I burn! I burn! - - Siebel. - There’s witchcraft in his face! - The fellow’s an outlaw! strike him down! - - [_They draw their knives and attack_ Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. [_with serious mien_] - False be eye, and false be ear! - Change the sense, and change the place! - Now be there, and now be here! - - [_They look as thunderstruck, and stare at one another._ - - Altmayer. - Where am I? in what lovely land? - - Frosch. - Vineyards! can it be so? - - Siebel. - And grapes too quite at hand! - - Brander. - And here beneath this shady tree, - This noble vine, these blushing clusters see! - - [_He seizes_ Siebel _by the nose. The rest seize one another in the - same manner, and lift up their knives._ - - Mephistopheles. [_as above_] - Let Error now their eyes unclose, - The devil’s joke to understand! - - [_He vanishes with_ Faust. _The fellows start back from one another._ - - Siebel. - What’s the matter? - - Altmayer. - How now? - - Frosch. - Was that your nose? - - Brander. [_to_ Siebel] - And yours is in my hand! - - Altmayer. - It was a stroke shot through my every limb! - Give me a chair!--I faint! My eyes grow dim! - - Frosch. - Now tell me only what has been the matter? - - Siebel. - Where is the fellow? Could I catch him here, - His life out of his body I should batter! - - Altmayer. - I saw him just this instant disappear, - Riding upon a wine-cask--I declare - I feel a weight like lead about my feet. - [_Turning to the table._] - I wonder if his d----d wine still be there! - - Siebel. - There’s not a single drop; ’twas all a cheat. - - Frosch. - And yet methinks that I was drinking wine. - - Brander. - And I could swear I saw a clustered vine. - - Altmayer. - Let none now say the age of miracles is past! - - - - - Scene III. - -_Witches’ Kitchen._ - - _A cauldron is seen boiling on a low hearth. Numbers of strange - fantastic figures tumbling up and down in the smoke. A - Mother_-Cat-Ape[n8] _sits beside the cauldron, taking off the - scum, and keeping it from boiling over. An Old_ Cat-Ape _beside - her warming himself with his young ones. Roof and walls are covered - over with a strange assortment of furniture, and implements used by - witches._ - - _Enter_ Faust _and_ Mephistopheles. - - Faust. - I cannot brook this brainless bedlam stuff! - And must it be that I shall cast my slough - In this hotbed of all unreasoned doing? - Shall an old beldam give me what I lack? - And can her pots and pans, with all their brewing, - Shake off full thirty summers from my back? - Woe’s me, if thou canst boast no better scheme! - My brightest hopes are vanished as a dream. - Has Nature then, and has some noble Spirit, - No balsam for the body to repair it? - - Mephistopheles. - My friend, with your great sense I cannot but be smitten! - Nature, too, boasts a plan to renovate your age; - But in a wondrous volume it is written, - And wondrous is the chapter and the page. - - Faust. - But I must know it. - - Mephistopheles. - Good! the poorest man may try it, - Without or witch, or quack, or gold to buy it; - And yet it works a certain cure. - Go take thee with the peasant to the moor, - And straight begin to hew and hack; - Confine thee there, with patient mood, - Within the narrow beaten track, - And nourish thee with simplest food; - Live with the brute a brute, and count it not too low - To dung the corn-fields thine own hands shall mow; - Than this I know on earth no med’cine stronger, - To make, by fourscore years, both soul and body younger! - - Faust. - I was not trained to this--was never made - To labour with the pick-axe and the spade; - Such narrow round of life I may not brook. - - Mephistopheles. - Then you must look into another book, - And be content to take the witch for cook. - - Faust. - But why this self-same ugly Jezebel? - Could you not brew the drink yourself as well? - - Mephistopheles. - A precious pastime that indeed! meanwhile - I had built bridges many a German mile. - Not art, and science strict, are here enough, - But patience too, and perseverance tough. - A thoughtful soul toils on through many a silent year. - Time only makes the busy ferment clear, - Besides that the ingredients all - Are passing strange and mystical! - ’Tis true the devil taught them how to do it, - But not the devil with his own hands can brew it. - [_Looking at the_ Cat-Apes.] Lo! what a tiny gay parade! - Here’s the man, and there’s the maid! - [_Addressing them._] It seems that your good mother has gone out? - - The Cat-Apes. - Up the chimney, - Went she out, - To a drinking bout! - - Mephistopheles. - Is it her wont to gossip long without? - - The Animals. - As long as we sit here and warm our feet. - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Faust] - What think you of the brutes? are they not neat? - - Faust. - I never saw such tasteless would-be-drolls! - - Mephistopheles. - Pooh! pooh!--I know no greater delectation - On earth, than such a merry conversation. - [_To the brutes._] Now let us hear, you pretty dolls, - What are you stirring there in the pot? - - The Brutes. - Soup for beggars, hissing and hot, - Thin and watery, that’s the stew. - - Mephistopheles. - Your customers will not be few. - - The Father Cat-Ape. [_comes up and fawns upon_ Mephistopheles] - Come rattle the dice, - Make me rich in a trice, - Come, come, let me gain! - My case is so bad, - It scarce could be worse: - Were I right in my purse, - I’d be right in my brain! - - Mephistopheles. - How happy would the apish creature be, - To buy a ticket in the lottery! - - [_Meanwhile the young_ Cat-Apes _have been playing with a large - globe, and roll it forwards._ - - The Father Cat-Ape. - Such is the world, - So doth it go, - Up and down, - To and fro! - Like glass it tinkles, - Like glass it twinkles, - Breaks in a minute, - Has nothing within it; - Here it sparkles, - There it darkles, - I am alive! - My dear son, I say, - Keep out of the way! - If you don’t strive, - You will die, you will die! - It is but of clay, - And in pieces will fly! - - Mephistopheles. - What make you with the sieve? - - The Father Cat-Ape. [_bringing down the sieve_] - When comes a thief, - On the instant we know him. - [_He runs off to the_ Mother Cat-Ape, _and lets her look through - the sieve._] - Look through the sieve! - See’st thou the thief, - And fearest to show him? - - Mephistopheles. [_coming near the fire_] - And this pot? - - Father Cat-Ape and his Wife. - The silly sot! - He knows not the pot! - And he knows not - The kettle, the sot! - - Mephistopheles. - You ill-bred urchin, you! - - The Father Cat-Ape. - Come, sit thee down, - We’ll give thee a crown, - And a sceptre too! - - [_He obliges_ Mephistopheles _to sit down, and gives him a long - brush for a sceptre._ - - Faust. [_Who, while_ Mephistopheles _was engaged with the - animals, had been standing before a mirror, alternately approaching it - and retiring from it._] - What see I here? what heavenly image bright, - Within this magic mirror, chains my sight? - O Love, the swiftest of thy pinions lend me, - That where she is in rapture I may bend me! - Alas! when I would move one step more near, - To breathe her balmy atmosphere, - She seems to melt and disappear, - And cheats my longing eye. - Oh she is fair beyond all type of human! - Is’t possible; can this be simple woman? - There lies she, on that downy couch reposing, - Within herself the heaven of heavens enclosing! - Can it then be that earth a thing so fair contains? - - Mephistopheles. - Of course: for when a god has vexed his brains - For six long days, and, when his work is done, - Says bravo to himself, is it a wonder - He should make one fair thing without a blunder? - For this time give thine eyes their pleasure; - I know how to procure you such an one, - Whence thou mayst drink delight in brimming measure, - And blest the man, for whom Fate shall decide, - To lead home such a treasure as his bride! - [Faust _continues gazing on the mirror._ Mephistopheles - _stretches himself on the arm-chair, and, playing with the brush, - goes on as follows._] - Here, from my throne, a monarch, I look down: - My sceptre this: I wait to get my crown. - - The Animals. [_Who had in the interval been wheeling about with - strange antic gestures, bring a crown to_ Mephistopheles, _with - loud shouts._] - O be but so good, - With sweat and with blood, - Your crown to glue, - As monarchs do! - [_They use the crown rather roughly, in consequence of which it falls - into two pieces, with which they jump about._] - O sorrow and shame! - ’Tis broken, no doubt: - But we’ll make a name, - When our poem comes out! - - Faust. [_gazing on the mirror_] - Woe’s me! her beauty doth my wits confound. - - Mephistopheles. [_pointing to the Brutes_] - And even my good brain is whirling round and round. - - The Brutes. - And if we well speed, - As speed well we ought, - We are makers indeed, - We are moulders of thought. - - Faust. [_as above_] - I burn, I burn! this rapturous glow - Consumes me sheer!--come, let us go! - - Mephistopheles. [_as above_] - One must, at least, confess that they - Are honest poets in their way. - - [_The kettle, which had been neglected by the Mother_ Cat-Ape - _begins to boil over: A great flame arises, and runs up the chimney. - The Witch comes through the flame, down the chimney, with a terrible - noise._ - - The Witch. - Ow! ow! ow! ow! - Thou damnèd brute! thou cursèd sow! - To leave the kettle and singe the frow! - Thou cursed imp, thou! - [_Turning to_ Faust _and_ Mephistopheles.] - What’s this here now? - Who are you? who are you? - What’s here ado? - Ye are scouts! ye are scouts! - Out with the louts! - A fiery arrow - Consume your marrow! - - [_She plunges the ladle into the kettle, and spurts out flame on_ - Faust, Mephistopheles, _and the Brutes. These last whine._ - - Mephistopheles. [_Who, in the meantime, had turned round the butt-end - of the brush, now dashes in amongst the pots and glasses._] - In two! in two! - There lies the broth! - The glass and the kettle, - Shiver them both! - ’Tis a jest, thou must know, - Thou carrion crow! - ’Tis a tune to keep time, - To thy senseless rhyme. - [_While the Witch, foaming with rage and fury, draws back._] - What! know’st me not? thou scrag! thou Jezebel! - Thy lord and master? thou should’st know me well. - What hinders me, in all my strength to come - And crush you and your cat-imps ’neath my thumb? - Know’st not the scarlet-doublet, mole-eyed mother? - Bow’st not the knee before the famed cock’s feather? - Use your old eyes; behind a mask - Did I conceal my honest face? - And when I come here must I ask - A special introduction to your Grace? - - The Witch. - O my liege lord! forgive the rough salute! - I did not see the horse’s foot: - And where too have you left your pair of ravens? - - Mephistopheles. - For this time you may thank the heavens - That you have made so cheap an escape; - ’Tis some time since I saw your face, - And things since then have moved apace. - The march of modern cultivation, - That licks the whole world into shape, - Has reached the Devil. In this wise generation - The Northern phantom is no longer seen, - And horns and tail and claws have been. - And for my hoof, with which I can’t dispense, - In good society ’twould give great offence; - Therefore, like many a smart sprig of nobility, - I use false calves to trick out my gentility. - - The Witch. [_dancing_] - Heyday! it almost turns my brain - To see Squire Satan here again! - - Mephistopheles. - Woman, you must not call me by that name! - - The Witch. - And wherefore not? I see no cause for shame. - - Mephistopheles. - That name has had its station long assigned - With Mother Bunch; and yet I cannot see - Men are much better for the want of me. - The wicked one is gone, the wicked stay behind. - Call me now Baron, less than that were rude-- - I am a cavalier like other cavaliers; - My line is noble, and my blood is good; - Here is a coat of arms that all the world reveres. - - [_He makes an indecent gesture._ - - The Witch. [_laughing immoderately_] - Ha! ha! now I perceive Old Nick is here! - You are a rogue still, as you always were. - - Mephistopheles. [_aside to_ Faust] - My friend, I give you here, your wit to whet, - A little lesson in witch-etiquette. - - The Witch. - Now say, good sirs, what would you have with me? - - Mephistopheles. - A glass of your restoring liquor, - That makes an old man’s blood run quicker: - And bring the best out from your bins; - With years the juice in virtue wins. - - The Witch. - Most willingly. Here I have got a phial - Of which myself at times make trial: - ’Tis now a pleasant mellow potion; - You shall not meet with a denial. - [_Softly._] Yet if this worthy man drinks it without precaution, - His life can’t stand an hour against its strong infection. - - Mephistopheles. - Leave that to me; he’s under my protection, - Ripe for the draught; no harm will come to him. - - [_The_ Witch, _with strange gestures, draws a circle and places - many curious things within it; meanwhile the glasses begin to tinkle, - and the kettle to sound and make music. She brings a large book, puts - the_ Cat-Apes _into the circle, and makes them serve as a desk to - lay the book on, and hold the torches. She motions to_ Faust _to - come near._ - - Faust. [_to_ Mephistopheles] - Now say, what would she with this flummery? - These antic gestures, this wild bedlam-stuff, - This most insipid of all mummery, - I know it well, I hate it well enough. - - Mephistopheles. - Pshaw, nonsense! come, give up your sermonising, - And learn to understand what a good joke is! - Like other quacks, she plays her hocus-pocus; - It gives the juice a virtue most surprising! - - [_He obliges_ Faust _to enter the circle._ - - The Witch. [_declaiming from the book with great emphasis_] - Now be exact! - Of one make ten, - Then two subtract, - And add three then, - This makes thee rich. - Four shalt thou bate, - Of five and six, - So says the Witch, - Make seven and eight, - And all is done. - And nine is one, - And ten is none; - Here take and spell, if you are able, - The Witches’ multiplication table. - - Faust. - This is a jargon worse than Babel; - Say, is she fevered? is she mad? - - Mephistopheles. - O never fear! the rest is quite as bad; - I know the book, and oft have vexed my brains - With bootless labour on its rhymes and rules; - A downright contradiction still remains, - Mysterious alike for wise men and for fools. - My friend, the art is old and new; - Ancient and modern schools agree - With three and one, and one and three - Plain to perplex, and false inweave with true. - So they expound, discourse, dispute, debate; - What man of sense would plague him with their prate? - Men pin their faith to words, in sounds high sapience weening, - Though words were surely made to have a meaning. - - The Witch. [_Goes on reading from the book_] - The soul to know - Beneath the show, - And view it without blinking; - The simple mind - The craft will find, - Without the toil of thinking. - - Faust. - What flood of nonsense now she’s pouring o’er us? - She’ll split my skull with her insensate chatter. - I feel as if I heard the ceaseless clatter - Of thirty thousand idiots in a chorus. - - Mephistopheles. - Enough, kind Sibyl; thanks for thy good will! - Now bring your jug here, and the goblet fill - With this prime juice, till it be brimming o’er. - My friend here is a man of high degrees, - And will digest the draught with ease. - He has swilled many a goodly glass before. - - [_The_ Witch, _with many ceremonies, pours the beverage into a cup. - While_ Faust _brings it to his mouth a light flame arises._ - - Mephistopheles. - Come, quaff it boldly, without thinking! - The draught will make thy heart to burn with love. - Art with the Devil hand and glove, - And from a fire-spurt would’st be shrinking? - - [_The_ Witch _looses the circle._ Faust _steps out._ - - Mephistopheles. - Come quickly out; you must not rest. - - The Witch. - I hope the swig will wonders work on thee! - - Mephistopheles. - And you, if you have aught to beg of me, - Upon Walpurgis’ night make your request. - - The Witch. - Here is a song! at times sung, you will find - It hath a wondrous working on your mind. - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Faust] - Come, yield thee now to my desire; - Be meek for once, and own the bridle. - You must keep quiet, and let yourself perspire, - That through your inmost frame the potent juice may pierce. - When we have time to spare, I will rehearse - Some lessons on the art of being nobly idle; - And soon thy heart with ecstasy shall know, - How Cupid ’gins to stir, and boundeth to and fro. - - Faust. [_Turning again towards the mirror_] - Indulge me with one glance!--one moment spare! - It was a virgin-form surpassing fair! - - Mephistopheles. - No! No! with my good aid thou soon shalt see - The paragon of women bodily. - [_Aside._] Anon, if this good potion does its duty, - He’ll see in every wench the Trojan beauty. - - - - - Scene IV. - - _A Street._ - - Faust. Margaret _passes over._ - - Faust. - My fair young lady, may I dare - To offer you my escort home? - - Margaret. - Nor lady I, good sir, nor fair, - And need no guide to show me home. [_Exit._ - - Faust. - By heaven, this child is passing fair! - A fairer never crossed my view; - Of such a modest gentle air, - Yet with a dash of pertness too, - And girlish innocent conceit; - Her lips so red, her cheeks so bright, - Forget I could not, if I might. - How she casts down her lovely eyes - Deep graven in my heart it lies, - And how so smartly she replied, - And with a sharp turn stepped aside, - It was most ravishingly sweet! - - _Enter_ Mephistopheles. - - Faust. - Hark! you must get the girl for me! - - Mephistopheles. - Which one? - - Faust. - She’s just gone by. - - Mephistopheles. - What! she? - She’s only now come from confession, - Where she received a full remission. - I slinked close by the box, and heard - The simple damsel’s every word; - ’Tis a most guileless thing, that goes - For very nothing to the priest. - My power does not extend to those. - - Faust. - Yet she is fourteen years of age at least. - - Mephistopheles. - You speak like Jack the debauchee, - Who thinks each sweet flow’r grows for me; - As if his wish sufficed alone - To make each priceless pearl his own: - But ’tis not so; and cannot be. - - Faust. - My good Sir Knight of pedantry, - Lay not thou down the law to me! - And this, for good and all, be told, - Unless, this very night, I hold - The sweet young maid in my embrace, - ’Tis the last time that you shall see my face. - - Mephistopheles. - Bethink thee!--what with here, and what with there, - The thing requires no little care. - Full fourteen days must first be spent, - To come upon the proper scent. - - Faust. - Had I but seven good hours of rest, - The devil’s aid I’d ne’er request, - To mould this fair young creature to my bent. - - Mephistopheles. - You speak as if you were a Frenchman born; - But though the end be good, we must not scorn - The means; what boots the mere gratification? - It is the best half of the recreation, - When, up and down, and to and fro, - The pretty doll, through every kind - Of fiddle-faddle sweet flirtation, - You knead out first, and dress up to your mind-- - As many an Italian tale can show. - - Faust. - I need no tricks to whet my zest. - - Mephistopheles. - I tell thee plainly without jest, - As things stand here, we cannot win - The fort by hotly rushing in; - To gain fair lady’s favour, you - Must boldly scheme, and gently do. - - Faust. - Fetch me something that breathed her air! - Her home, her chamber, plant me there! - A kerchief of her chaste attire! - A garter of my heart’s desire! - - Mephistopheles. - That you may see how I would fain - Do all I can to ease your pain, - We shall not lose a single minute; - I know her room--thou shalt enjoy thee in it. - - Faust. - And I shall see her?--have her? - - Mephistopheles. - No! - She’ll be with a neighbour--better so. - Meanwhile, unhindered thou may’st go, - And on the hope of joys that wait thee, - Within her atmosphere may’st sate thee. - - Faust. - Can we go now? - - Mephistopheles. - No; we must wait till night. - - Faust. - Go fetch a present for my heart’s delight. [_Exit._ - - Mephistopheles. - Presents already! good!--a lover should not loiter! - I know some dainty spots of ground, - Where hidden treasures can be found; - I will go straight and reconnoitre. [_Exit._ - - - - - Scene V. - - _A small neat Chamber._ - - Margaret. [_Plaiting and putting up her hair._] - I wonder who the gentleman could be, - That on the street accosted me to-day! - He looked a gallant cavalier and gay, - And must be of a noble family; - That I could read upon his brow-- - Else had he never been so free. [_Exit._ - - _Enter_ Faust _and_ Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. - Come in--but softly--we are landed now! - - Faust. [_after a pause_] - Leave me alone a minute, I entreat! - - Mephistopheles. [_looking round about_] - Not every maiden keeps her room so neat. [_Exit._ - - Faust. [_looking round_] - Be greeted, thou sweet twilight-shine! - Through this chaste sanctuary shed! - Oh seize my heart, sweet pains of love divine, - That on the languid dew of hope are fed! - What sacred stillness holds the air! - What order, what contentment rare! - [_He throws himself on the old leathern armchair beside the bed._] - Receive thou me! thou, who, in ages gone, - In joy and grief hast welcomed sire and son. - How often round this old paternal throne, - A clambering host of playful children hung! - Belike that here my loved one too hath clung - To her hoar grandsire’s neck, with childish joy - Thankful received the yearly Christmas toy, - And with the full red cheeks of childhood pressed - Upon his withered hand a pious kiss. - I feel, sweet maid, mine inmost soul possessed - By thy calm spirit of order and of bliss, - That motherly doth teach thee day by day: - That bids thee deck the table clean and neat, - And crisps the very sand strewn at thy feet. - Sweet hand! sweet, lovely hand! where thou dost sway, - The meanest hut is decked in heaven’s array. - And here! [_He lifts up the bed-curtain._] - O Heaven, what strange o’ermastering might - Thrills every sense with fine delight! - Here might I gaze unwearied day and night. - Nature! in airy dreams here didst thou build - The mortal hull of the angelic child; - Here she reposed! her tender bosom teeming - With warmest life, in buoyant fulness streaming, - And here, with pulse of gently gracious power, - The heaven-born bud was nursed into a flower! - - And thou! what brought thee here? why now backshrinks - Thy courage from the prize it sought before? - What wouldst thou have? Thy heart within thee sinks; - Poor wretched Faust! thou know’st thyself no more. - - Do I then breathe a magic atmosphere? - I sought immediate enjoyment here, - And into viewless dreams my passion flows! - Are we the sport of every breath that blows? - If now she came, and found me gazing here, - How for this boldfaced presence must I pay! - The mighty man, how small would he appear, - And at her feet, a suppliant, sink away! - - Mephistopheles. [_coming back_] - Quick! quick! I see her--she’ll be here anon. - - Faust. - Yes, let’s be gone! for once and all be gone! - - Mephistopheles. - Here is a casket, of a goodly weight; - Its former lord, I ween, bewails its fate. - Come, put it in the press. I swear - She’ll lose her senses when she sees it there. - The trinkets that I stowed within it - Were bait meant for a nobler prey: - But child is child, and play is play! - - Faust. - I know not--shall I? - - Mephistopheles. - Can you doubt a minute? - Would you then keep the dainty pelf, - Like an old miser, to yourself? - If so, I would advise you, sir, - To spare your squire the bitter toil, - And with some choicer sport the hour beguile - Than looking lustfully at her. - I scratch my head and rub my hands that you-- - [_He puts the casket into the cupboard, and locks the door again._] - Come, let’s away!-- - With this sweet piece of womanhood may do, - As will may sway; - And you stand there, - And gape and stare, - As if you looked into a lecture-room, - And there with awe - The twin grey spectres bodily saw, - Physics and Metaphysics! Come! - - [_Exeunt._ - - _Enter_ Margaret, _with a lamp._ - - Margaret. - It is so sultry here, so hot! [_She opens the window._] - And yet so warm without ’tis not. - I feel--I know not how--oppressed; - Would to God that my mother came! - A shivering cold runs o’er my frame-- - I’m but a silly timid girl at best! - [_While taking off her clothes, she sings._] - - There was a king in Thule, - True-hearted to his grave: - To him his dying lady - A golden goblet gave. - - He prized it more than rubies; - At every drinking-bout - His eyes they swam in glory, - When he would drain it out. - - On his death-bed he counted - His cities one by one; - Unto his heirs he left them; - The bowl he gave to none. - - He sat amid his barons, - And feasted merrily, - Within his father’s castle, - That beetles o’er the sea. - - There stood the old carouser, - And drank his life’s last glow; - Then flung the goblet over - Into the sea below. - - He saw it fall, and gurgling - Sink deep into the sea; - His eyes they sank in darkness; - No bumper more drank he. - - [_She opens the cupboard to put in her clothes, and sees the casket._] - How came the pretty casket here? no doubt - I locked the press when I went out. - ’Tis really strange!--Belike that it was sent - A pledge for money that my mother lent. - Here hangs the key; sure there can be no sin - In only looking what may be within. - What have we here? good heavens! see! - What a display of finery! - Here is a dress in which a queen - Might on a gala-day be seen. - I wonder how the necklace would suit me! - Who may the lord of all this splendour be? - [_She puts on the necklace, and looks at herself in the glass._] - Were but the ear-rings mine to wear! - It gives one such a different air. - What boots the beauty of the poor? - ’Tis very beautiful to be sure, - But without riches little weighs; - They praise you, but half pity while they praise. - Gold is the pole, - To which all point: the whole - Big world hangs on gold. Alas we poor! - - - - - Scene VI. - - _A Walk._ - - Faust _going up and down thoughtfully; then enter_ - Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. - By all the keen pangs of love! by all the hot blasts of hell! - By all the fellest of curses, if curse there be any more fell! - - Faust. - How now, Mephisto? what the devil’s wrong? - I ne’er beheld a face one half so long! - - Mephistopheles. - But that I am a devil myself, I’d sell - Both soul and body on the spot to hell! - - Faust. - I verily believe you’ve got a craze! - Beseems it you with such outrageous phrase, - To rage like any bedlamite? - - Mephistopheles. - Only conceive! the box of rare gewgaws - For Margaret got, is in a parson’s claws! - The thing came to the mother’s sight, - Who soon suspected all was not right: - The woman has got a most delicate nose, - That snuffling through the prayer-book goes, - And seldom scents a thing in vain, - If it be holy or profane. - Your jewels, she was not long in guessing, - Were not like to bring a blessing. - “My child,” quoth she, “ill-gotten gear - Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood; - We’ll give it to Mary-mother dear, - And she will feed us with heavenly food!” - Margaret looked blank--“’tis hard,” thought she, - “To put a gift-horse away from me; - And surely godless was he never - Who lodged it here, a gracious giver.” - The mother then brought in the priest; - He quickly understood the jest, - And his eyes watered at the sight. - “Good dame,” quoth he, “you have done right! - He conquers all the world who wins - A victory o’er his darling sins. - The Church is a most sharp-set lady, - And her stomach holds good store, - Has swallowed lands on lands already, - And, still unglutted, craves for more; - The Church alone, my ladies dear, - Can digest ill-gotten gear.” - - Faust. - That is a general fashion--Jew, - And King, and Kaiser have it too. - - Mephistopheles. - Then ring and ear-ring, and necklace, and casket, - Like a bundle of toad-stools away he bore; - Thanked her no less, and thanked her no more, - Than had it been so many nuts in a basket; - On heavenly treasures then held an oration, - Much, of course, to their edification. - - Faust. - And Margaret? - - Mephistopheles. - Sits now in restless mood, - Knows neither what she would, nor what she should; - Broods o’er the trinkets night and day, - And on him who sent them, more. - - Faust. - Sweet love! her grief doth vex me sore. - Mephisto, mark well what I say! - Get her another set straightway! - The first were not so very fine. - - Mephistopheles. - O yes! with you all things are mere child’s play. - - Faust. - Quick hence! and match your will with mine! - Throw thee oft in her neighbour’s way. - Be not a devil of milk and water, - And for another gift go cater. - - Mephistopheles. - Yes, gracious sir! most humbly I obey. - - [_Exit_ Faust. - - Mephistopheles. - Such love-sick fools as these would blow - Sun, moon, and stars, like vilest stuff, - To nothing with a single puff, - To make their lady-love a show! - - - - - Scene VII. - - Martha’s _House._ - - Martha. [_alone_] - In honest truth, it was not nobly done, - In my good spouse to leave me here alone! - May God forgive him! while he roams at large, - O’er the wide world, I live at my own charge. - Sure he could have no reason to complain! - So good a wife he’ll not find soon again. [_She weeps._] - He may be dead!--Ah me!--could I but know, - By a certificate, that ’tis really so! - - _Enter_ Margaret. - - Margaret. - Martha! - - Martha. - What wouldst thou, dear? - - Margaret. - My knees can scarcely bear me!--only hear! - I found a second box to-day - Of ebon-wood, just where the first one lay, - Brimful of jewels passing rare, - Much finer than the others. - - Martha. - Have a care - You keep this well masqued from your mother-- - ’Twould fare no better than the other. - - Margaret. - Only come near, and see! look here! - - Martha. [_decking her with the jewels_] - Thou art a lucky little dear! - - Margaret. - And yet I dare not thus be seen - In church, or on the public green. - - Martha. - Just come across when you’ve an hour to spare, - And put the gauds on here with none to see! - Then promenade a while before the mirror there; - ’Twill be a joy alike to thee and me. - Then on a Sunday, or a holiday, - Our riches by degrees we can display. - A necklace first, the drops then in your ear; - Your mother sees it not; and should she hear, - ’Tis easy to invent some fair pretence or other. - - Margaret. - But whence the pretty caskets came? I fear - There’s something in it not right altogether. [_Knocking._] - Good God!--I hear a step--is it my mother? - - Martha. [_looking through the casement_] - ’Tis a strange gentleman. Come in! - - _Enter_ Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. - I hope the ladies will not think me rude, - That uninvited thus I here intrude. - [_Observing_ Margaret, _he draws back respectfully._] - I have commands for Mistress Martha Schwerdtlein. - - Martha. - For me? what has the gentleman to say? - - Mephistopheles. [_softly to her_] - Excuse my freedom. I perceive that you - Have visitors of rank to-day; - For this time I shall bid adieu, - And after dinner do myself the pleasure - To wait upon you, when you’re more at leisure. - - Martha. [_aloud_] - Think, child! of all things in the world the last! - My Gretchen for a lady should have passed! - - Margaret. - The gentleman is far too good; - I’m a poor girl--boast neither wealth nor blood. - This dress, these jewels, are not mine. - - Mephistopheles. - ’Tis not the dress alone that I admire; - She has a mien, a gait, a look so fine, - That speak the lady more than costliest attire. - - Martha. - And now your business, sir? I much desire---- - - Mephistopheles. - Would God I had a better tale to tell! - Small thanks I should receive, I knew it well. - Your husband’s dead--his last fond words I bear. - - Martha. - Is dead! the good fond soul! O woe! - My man is dead! flow, sorrow, flow! - - Margaret. - Beseech thee, dearest Martha, don’t despair. - - Mephistopheles. - Now hear my mournful story to the end. - - Margaret. - I would not love a man on earth, to rend - Me thus with grief, when he might hap to die. - - Mephistopheles. - Joy hath its sorrow, sorrow hath its joy; - Twin sisters are they, as the proverb saith. - - Martha. - Now let me hear the manner of his death. - - Mephistopheles. - Where Padua’s sacred turrets rise, - Above the grave of holy Antony, - On consecrated ground thy husband lies, - And slumbers for eternity. - - Martha. - No further message? is this all? - - Mephistopheles. - Yes! one request, and that not small. - For his soul’s peace, your good man wanted - Three hundred masses to be chanted. - This is the whole of my commission. - - Martha. - What! not a jewel? not a coin? - No journeyman, however poor, - However wild, could make such an omission, - But in the bottom of his pouch is sure - To keep some small memorial for his wife, - And rather beg, and rather pine - Away the remnant of his life---- - - Mephistopheles. - Madam! for your hard case I greatly grieve, - But your good husband had no gold to leave. - His sins and follies he lamented sore-- - Yes! and bewailed his own mishap much more. - - Margaret. - Alas for all the miseries of mankind! - He shall not want my oft-repeated prayer. - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Margaret] - Thou, gentle heart, dost well deserve to find - A husband worthy of a bride so fair. - - Margaret. - Ah no!--for that, it is too soon. - - Mephistopheles. - A lover, then, might in the mean time do. - ’Tis bounteous Heaven’s choicest boon - To fondle in one’s arms so sweet a thing as you. - - Margaret. - Such things are never done with us. - - Mephistopheles. - Done or not done!--it may be managed thus:-- - - Martha. - Now let me hear! - - Mephistopheles. - By his death-bed I stood. - It was a little better than of dung, - Of mouldy straw; there, as a Christian should, - With many a sin repented on his tongue, - He died.--“Oh! how must I,” he said, - “Myself detest so to throw up my trade, - And my dear wife abandon so! - It kills me with the simple memory, oh! - Might she but now forgive me, ere I die!” - - Martha. [_weeping_] - Good soul! I have forgiven him long ago. - - Mephistopheles. [_continuing his interrupted narrative_] - And yet was she, God knows, much more to blame than I. - - Martha. - What! did he lie? on the grave’s brink to lie! - - Mephistopheles. - He fabled to the last, be sure, - If I am half a connoisseur. - “In sooth, I had no time to gape,” he said, - “First to get children, then to get them bread, - To clothe them, and to put them to a trade, - From toil and labour I had no release, - And could not even eat my own thin slice in peace.” - - Martha. - Can it then be? has he forgotten quite - My fag and drudgery, by day and night? - - Mephistopheles. - Not quite! attend the sequel of my tale. - “When last we sailed from Malta”--so he said, - “For wife and children fervently I prayed, - And Heaven then blew a favourable gale. - We came across a Turkish ship that bore - Home bullion to increase the Sultan’s store, - And soon, by valour’s right, were masters - Of all the Infidel piastres; - The precious spoil was shared among the crew, - And I received the part that was my due.” - - Martha. - But where and how?--has he then buried it? - - Mephistopheles. - Who knows where the four winds have hurried it! - A lady took him under her protection - At Naples, as he wandered to and fro; - She left him many a mark of her affection, - As to his life’s end he had cause to know. - - Martha. - The knave, to treat his helpless orphans so! - To all our misery and all our need, - Amid his reckless life, he gave no heed! - - Mephistopheles. - And for that cause he’s dead. If I were you, - Now mark me well, I tell you what I’d do; - I’d mourn him decently for one chaste year, - Then look about me for another dear. - - Martha. - Alas! God knows it would be hard to find - Another so completely to my mind. - A better-hearted fool you never knew, - A love of roving was his only vice; - And foreign wine, and foreign women too, - And the accursèd gambling dice. - - Mephistopheles. - Such marriage-articles were most convenient, - Had he to you been only half so lenient. - On terms like these myself had no objection - To change with you the ring of conjugal affection. - - Martha. - You jest, mein Herr! - - Mephistopheles. [_aside_] - A serious jest for me! - I’d better go; for, if I tarry here, - She’ll take the devil at his word, I fear. - [_To_ Margaret.] How stands it with your heart then?--is it free? - - Margaret. - I scarce know what you mean. - - Mephistopheles. - Sweet guileless heart! - Ladies, farewell! - - Margaret. - Farewell! - - Martha. - One word before we part! - I fain would have it solemnly averred, - How my dear husband died, and where he was interred. - Order was aye my special virtue; and - ’Tis right both where and when he died should stand - In the newspapers. - - Mephistopheles. - Yes, when two attest, - As Scripture saith, the truth is manifest. - I have a friend, who, at your requisition, - Before the judge will make a deposition. - I’ll bring him here. - - Martha. - Yes, bring him with you, do! - - Mephistopheles. - And we shall meet your fair young lady too? - [_To_ Margaret.] A gallant youth!--has been abroad, and seen - The world--a perfect cavalier, I trow. - - Margaret. - ’Twould make me blush, should he bestow - A single look on one so mean. - - Mephistopheles. - You have no cause to be ashamed before - The proudest king that ever sceptre bore. - - Martha. - This evening, in the garden then, behind - The house, you’ll find warm hearts and welcome kind! - - - - - Scene VIII. - - _A Street._ - - Faust. - How now? what news? how speed your labours? - - Mephistopheles. - Bravo! ’tis well you are on fire; - Soon shall you have your heart’s desire. - This evening you shall meet her at her neighbour’s; - A dame ’tis to a nicety made - For the bawd and gipsy trade. - - Faust. - ’Tis well. - - Mephistopheles. - But you must lend a hand, and so must I. - - Faust. - One good turn deserves another. - - Mephistopheles. - We must appear before a judge together, - And solemnly there testify - That stiff and stark her worthy spouse doth lie, - Beside the shrine of holy Antony. - - Faust. - Most wise! we must first make a goodly travel! - - Mephistopheles. - _Sancta simplicitas!_ what stuff you drivel! - We may make oath, and not know much about it. - - Faust. - If that’s your best, your best is bad. I scout it. - - Mephistopheles. - O holy man that would outwit the devil! - Is it the first time in your life that you - Have sworn to what you knew could not be true? - Of God, the world, and all that it contains, - Of man, and all that circles in his veins, - Or dwells within the compass of his brains, - Have you not pompous definitions given, - With swelling breast and dogmatising brow, - As if you were an oracle from heaven? - And yet, if the plain truth you will avow, - You knew as much of all these things, in faith, - As now you know of Master Schwerdtlein’s death! - - Faust. - Thou art, and wert, a sophist and a liar. - - Mephistopheles. - Yes, unless one could mount a little higher. - To-morrow I shall hear you pour - False vows that silly girl before, - Swear to do everything to serve her, - And love her with a quenchless fervour. - - Faust. - And from my heart too. - - Mephistopheles. - Oh! of course, of course! - Then will you speak, till you are hoarse, - Of love, and constancy, and truth, - And feelings of eternal youth-- - Will that too be the simple sooth? - - Faust. - It will! it will!--for, when I feel, - And for the feeling, the confusion - Of feelings, that absorbs my mind, - Seek for names, and none can find, - Sweep through the universe’s girth - For every highest word to give it birth; - And then this soul-pervading flame, - Infinite, endless, endless name, - Call you this nought but devilish delusion? - - Mephistopheles. - Still I am right! - - Faust. - Hold! mark me, you - Are right indeed! for this is true, - Who _will_ be right, and only has a tongue, - Is never wrong. - Come, I confess thee master in debating, - That I may be delivered from thy prating. - - end of act third. - - - - - ACT IV. - - Scene I. - - Martha’s _Garden._ - - Margaret _on_ Faust’s _arm;_ Martha _with_ Mephistopheles, - _walking up and down._ - - Margaret. - I feel it well, ’tis from pure condescension - You pay to one like me so much attention. - With travellers ’tis a thing of course, - To be contented with the best they find; - For sure a man of cultivated mind - Can have small pleasure in my poor discourse. - - Faust. - One look from thee, one word, delights me more - Than all the world’s high-vaunted lore. - - [_He kisses her hand._ - - Margaret. - O trouble not yourself! how could you kiss it so? - It is so coarse, so rough! for I must go - Through all the work above stairs and below, - Mother will have it so. - - [_They pass on._ - - Martha. - And you, sir, will it still - Be your delight from place to place to roam? - - Mephistopheles. - In this our duty guides us, not our will. - With what sad hearts from many a place we go, - Where we had almost learned to be at home! - - Martha. - When one is young it seems a harmless gambol, - Thus round and round through the wide world to ramble: - But soon the evil day comes on, - And as a stiff old bachelor to die - Has never yet done good to any one. - - Mephistopheles. - I see ahead, and fear such wretched fate. - - Martha. - Then, sir, take warning ere it be too late! - - [_They pass on._ - - Margaret. - Yes, out of sight, and out of mind! - You see me now, and are so kind: - But you have friends at home of station high, - With far more wit and far more sense than I. - - Faust. - Their sense, dear girl, is often nothing more - Than vain conceit of vain short-sighted lore. - - Margaret. - How mean you that? - - Faust. - Oh that the innocent heart - And sweet simplicity, unspoiled by art, - So seldom knows its own rare quality! - That fair humility, the comeliest grace - Which bounteous Nature sheds on blooming face---- - - Margaret. - Do thou bestow a moment’s thought on me, - I shall have time enough to think of thee. - - Faust. - You are then much alone? - - Margaret. - Our household is but small, I own, - And yet must be attended to. - We keep no maid; I have the whole to do, - Must wash and brush, and sew and knit, - And cook, and early run and late; - And then my mother is, in every whit, - So accurate! - Not that she needs to pinch her household; we - Might do much more than many others do: - My father left a goodly sum, quite free - From debt, with a neat house and garden too, - Close by the town, just as you pass the gate; - But we have lived retired enough of late. - My brother is a soldier: he - Is at the wars: my little sister’s dead: - Poor thing! it caused me many an hour of pain - To see it pine, and droop its little head, - But gladly would I suffer all again, - So much I loved the child! - - Faust. - An angel, if like thee! - - Margaret. - I nursed it, and it loved me heartily. - My father died before it saw the light, - My mother was despaired of quite, - So miserably weak she lay. - Yet she recovered slowly, day by day; - And as she had not strength herself - To suckle the poor helpless elf, - She gave’t in charge to me, and I - With milk and water nursed it carefully. - Thus in my arm, and on my lap, it grew, - And smiled and crowed, and flung its legs about, - And called me mother too. - - Faust. - To thy pure heart the purest joy, no doubt. - - Margaret. - Ay! but full many an hour - Heavy with sorrow, and with labour sour. - The infant’s cradle stood beside - My bed, and when it stirred or cried, - I must awake; - Sometimes to give it drink, sometimes to take - It with me to my bed, and fondle it: - And when all this its fretting might not stay, - I rose, and danced about, and dandled it; - And after that I must away - To wash the clothes by break of day. - I make the markets too, and keep house for my mother, - One weary day just like another; - Thus drudging on, the day might lack delights, - But food went lightly down, and sleep was sweet o’ nights. - - [_They pass on._ - - Martha. - A woman’s case is not much to be vaunted; - A hardened bachelor is hard to mend. - - Mephistopheles. - A few apostles such as you were wanted, - From evil ways their vagrant steps to bend. - - Martha. - Speak plainly, sir, have you found nothing yet? - Are you quite disentangled from the net? - - Mephistopheles. - A house and hearth, we have been often told, - With a good wife, is worth its weight in gold. - - Martha. - I mean, sir, have you never felt the want? - - Mephistopheles. - A good reception I have always found. - - Martha. - I mean to say, did your heart never pant? - - Mephistopheles. - For ladies my respect is too profound - To jest on such a serious theme as this. - - Martha. - My meaning still you strangely miss! - - Mephistopheles. - Alas, that I should be so blind! - One thing I plainly see, that you are very kind! - - [_They pass on._ - - Faust. - You knew me, then, you little angel! straight, - When you beheld me at the garden-gate? - - Margaret. - Marked you it not?--You saw my downward look. - - Faust. - And you forgive the liberty I took, - When from the minster you came out that day, - And I, with forward boldness more than meet, - Then ventured to address you on the street? - - Margaret. - I was surprised, I knew not what to say; - No one could speak an evil word of me. - Did he, perchance, in my comportment see - Aught careless or improper on that day, - That he should take me for a worthless girl, - Whom round his little finger he might twirl? - Not yet the favourable thoughts I knew, - That even then were rising _here_ for you; - One thing I know, myself I sharply chid, - That I could treat you then no harshlier than I did. - - Faust. - Sweet love! - - Margaret. - Let go! - - [_She plucks a star-flower, and pulls the petals off one after - another._ - - Faust. - What’s that? a nosegay? let me see! - - Margaret. - ’Tis but a game. - - Faust. - How so? - - Margaret. - Go! you would laugh at me. - - [_She continues pulling the petals, and murmuring to herself._ - - Faust. - What are you murmuring now, so sweetly low? - - Margaret. [_half loud_] - He loves me, yes!--he loves me, no! - - Faust. - Thou sweet angelic face! - - Margaret. [_murmuring as before_] - He loves me, yes!--he loves me, no! - [_Pulling out the last petal with manifest delight._] - He loves me, yes! - - Faust. - Yes, child! the fair flower-star hath answered Yes! - In this the judgment of the gods approves thee; - He loves thee! know’st thou what it means?--He loves thee! - - [_He seizes her by both hands._ - - Margaret. - I scarce can speak for joy! - - Faust. - Fear thee not, love! But let this look proclaim, - This pressure of my hand declare - What words can never name: - To yield us to an ecstasy of joy, - And feel this tranceful bliss must be - Eternal! yes! its end would be despair! - It hath no end! no end for thee and me! - - [Margaret _presses his hands, makes herself free, and runs away. - He stands still for a moment thoughtfully, then follows her._ - - Martha. [_coming up_] - ’Tis getting late. - - Mephistopheles. - Yes, and we must away. - - Martha. - I fain would have you stay; - But ’tis an evil neighbourhood, - Where idle gossips find their only good, - Their pleasure and their business too, - In spying out all that their neighbours do. - And thus, the whole town in a moment knows - The veriest trifle. But where is our young pair? - - Mephistopheles. - Like wanton birds of summer, through the air - I saw them dart away. - - Martha. - He seems well pleased with her. - - Mephistopheles. - And she with him. ’Tis thus the world goes. - - - - - Scene II. - - _A Summer-house in the Garden._ - - [Margaret _comes springing in, and hides herself behind the door - of the summer-house. She places the point of her finger on her lips, - and looks through a rent._ - - Margaret. - He comes! - - Faust. [_coming up_] - Ha! ha! thou cunning soul, and thou - Would’st trick me thus; but I have caught thee now! - - [_He kisses her._ - - Margaret. [_clasping him and returning the kiss_] - Thou best of men, with my whole heart I love thee! - - [Mephistopheles _heard knocking._ - - Faust. [_stamping_] - Who’s there? - - Mephistopheles. - A friend! - - Faust. - A beast! - - Mephistopheles. - ’Tis time now to remove thee. - - Martha. [_coming up_] - Yes, sir, ’tis getting late. - - Faust. - May I not take you home? - - Margaret. - My mother would--farewell! - - Faust. - And must I leave you then? - Farewell! - - Martha. - Adieu! - - Margaret. - Right soon to meet again! - - [_Exeunt_ Faust _and_ Mephistopheles. - - Margaret. [_alone_] - Dear God! what such a man as this - Can think on all and every thing! - I stand ashamed, and simple _yes_ - Is the one answer I can bring. - I wonder what a man, so learned as he, - Can find in a poor simple girl like me. [_Exit._ - - - - - Scene III. - - _Wood and Cavern._ - - Faust. [_alone_] - Spirit Supreme! thou gav’st me--gav’st me all, - For which I asked thee. Not in vain hast thou - Turned toward me thy countenance in fire. - Thou gavest me wide Nature for my kingdom, - And power to feel it, to enjoy it. Not - Cold gaze of wonder gav’st thou me alone, - But even into her bosom’s depth to look, - As it might be the bosom of a friend. - The grand array of living things thou mad’st - To pass before me, mad’st me know my brothers - In silent bush, in water, and in air. - And when the straining storm loud roars, and raves - Through the dark forest, and the giant pine, - Root-wrenched, tears all the neighbouring branches down - And neighbouring stems, and strews the ground with wreck, - And to their fall the hollow mountain thunders; - Then dost thou guide me to the cave, where safe - I learn to know myself, and from my breast - Deep and mysterious wonders are unfolded. - Then mounts the pure white moon before mine eye - With mellow ray, and in her softening light, - From rocky wall, from humid brake, upfloat - The silvery shapes of times by-gone, and soothe - The painful pleasure of deep-brooding thought. - Alas! that man enjoys no perfect bliss, - I feel it now. Thou gav’st me with this joy, - Which brings me near and nearer to the gods, - A fellow, whom I cannot do without. - All cold and heartless, he debases me - Before myself, and, with a single breath, - Blows all the bounties of thy love to nought; - And fans within my breast a raging fire - For that fair image, busy to do ill. - Thus reel I from desire on to enjoyment, - And in enjoyment languish for desire. - - _Enter_ Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. - What! not yet tired of meditation? - Methinks this is a sorry recreation. - To try it once or twice might do; - But then, again to something new. - - Faust. - You might employ your time some better way - Than thus to plague me on a happy day. - - Mephistopheles. - Well, well! I do not grudge you quiet, - You need my aid, and you cannot deny it. - There is not much to lose, I trow, - With one so harsh, and gruff, and mad as thou. - Toil! moil! from morn to ev’n, so on it goes! - And what one should, and what one should not do, - One cannot always read it on your nose. - - Faust. - This is the proper tone for you! - Annoy me first, and then my thanks are due. - - Mephistopheles. - Poor son of Earth! without my timed assistance, - How had you ever dragged on your existence? - From freakish fancy’s fevered effervescence, - I have worked long ago your convalescence, - And, but for me, you would have marched away, - In your best youth, from the blest light of day. - What have you here, in caves and clefts, to do, - Like an old owl, screeching to-whit, to-whoo? - Or like a torpid toad, that sits alone - Sipping the oozing moss and dripping stone? - A precious condition to be in! - I see the Doctor sticks yet in your skin. - - Faust. - Couldst thou but know what re-born vigour springs - From this lone wandering in the wilderness, - Couldst thou conceive what heavenly joy it brings, - Then wert thou fiend enough to envy me my bliss. - - Mephistopheles. - A supermundane bliss! - In night and dew to lie upon the height, - And clasp the heaven and earth in wild delight, - To swell up to the godhead’s stature, - And pierce with clear miraculous sight - The inmost pith of central Nature, - To carry in your breast with strange elation, - The ferment of the whole six days’ creation, - With proud anticipation of--I know - Not what--to glow in rapturous overflow, - And melt into the universal mind, - Casting the paltry son of earth behind; - And then, the heaven-sprung intuition - [_With a gesture._] To end--I shall not say in what--fruition. - - Faust. - Shame on thee! - - Mephistopheles. - Yes! that’s not quite to your mind. - You have a privilege to cry out shame, - When things are mentioned by their proper name. - Before chaste ears one may not dare to spout - What chastest hearts yet cannot do without. - I do not envy you the pleasure - Of palming lies upon yourself at leisure; - But long it cannot last, I warrant thee. - You are returned to your old whims, I see, - And, at this rate, you soon will wear - Your strength away, in madness and despair. - Of this enough! thy love sits waiting thee, - In doubt and darkness, cabined and confined. - By day, by night, she has thee in her mind; - I trow she loves thee in no common kind. - Thy raging passion ’gan to flow, - Like a torrent in spring from melted snow; - Into her heart thy tide gushed high, - Now is thy shallow streamlet dry. - Instead of standing here to overbrim - With fine ecstatic rapture to the trees, - Methinks the mighty gentleman might please - To drop some words of fond regard, to ease - The sweet young chick who droops and pines for him. - Poor thing, she is half dead of ennui, - And at the window stands whole hours, to see - The clouds pass by the old town-wall along. - Were I a little bird! so goes her song - The live-long day, and half the night to boot. - Sometimes she will be merry, mostly sad, - Now, like a child, weeping her sorrows out, - Now calm again to look at, never glad; - Always in love. - - Faust. - Thou snake! thou snake! - - Mephistopheles. [_to himself_] - So be it! that my guile thy stubborn will may break! - - Faust. - Hence and begone, thou son of filth and fire! - Name not the lovely maid again! - Bring not that overmastering desire - Once more to tempt my poor bewildered brain! - - Mephistopheles. - What then? she deems that you are gone for ever; - And half and half methinks you are. - - Faust. - No! I am nigh, and were I ne’er so far, - I could forget her, I could lose her never; - I envy ev’n the body of the Lord, - When on the sacred cake her lips she closes. - - Mephistopheles. - Yes! to be honest, and confess my sins, - I oft have envied thee the lovely twins - That have their fragrant pasture among roses. - - Faust. - Avaunt, thou pimp! - - Mephistopheles. - Rail you, and I will laugh; - The God who made the human stuff - Both male and female, if the book don’t lie, - Himself the noblest trade knew well enough, - How to carve out an opportunity. - But come, why peak and pine you here? - I lead you to the chamber of your dear, - Not to the gallows. - - Faust. - Ah! what were Heaven’s supremest blessedness - Within her arms, upon her breast, to me! - Must I not still be wrung with agony, - That I should plunge her into such distress? - I, the poor fugitive! outlaw from my kind, - Without a friend, without a home, - With restless heart, and aimless mind, - Unblest, unblessing, ever doomed to roam; - Who, like a waterfall, from rock to rock came roaring, - With greedy rage into the cauldron pouring; - While she, a heedless infant, rears - Sidewards her hut upon the Alpine field, - With all her hopes, and all her fears, - Within this little world concealed. - And I--the God-detested--not content - To seize the rocks, and in my headlong bent - To shatter them to dust, with ruthless tide - Her little shieling on the mountain side - Bore down, and wrecked her life’s sweet peace with mine. - And such an offering, Hell, must it be thine? - Help, Devil, to cut short the hour of ill! - What happen must, may happen when it will! - May her sad fate my crashing fall attend, - And she with me be ruined in the end! - - Mephistopheles. - Lo! how it boils again and blows - Like furnace, wherefore no man knows. - Go in, thou fool, and let her borrow - From thee, sweet solace to her sorrow! - When such a brainsick dreamer sees - No road, where he to walk may please, - He stands and stares like Balaam’s ass, - As if a god did block the pass. - A man’s a man who does and dares! - In other points you’re spiced not scantly with the devil; - Nothing more silly moves on earth’s wide level, - Than is a devil who despairs. - - - - - Scene IV. - - Margaret’s _Room._ - - Margaret _alone, at a Spinning-wheel._ - - Margaret. - My rest is gone, - My heart is sore; - Peace find I never, - And never more. - - Where he is not - Life is the tomb, - The world is bitterness - And gloom. - - Crazed is my poor - Distracted brain, - My thread of thought - Is rent in twain. - - My rest is gone, - My heart is sore; - Peace find I never, - And never more. - - I look from the window - For none but him, - I go abroad - For only him. - - His noble air, - His bearing high, - The smile of his mouth, - The might of his eye, - - And, when he speaks, - What flow of bliss! - The clasp of his hand, - And ah! his kiss! - - My rest is gone, - My heart is sore; - Peace find I never, - And never more. - - My bosom swells, - And pants for him. - O that I might clasp him, - And cling to him! - And kiss him, and kiss him - The live-long day, - And on his kisses - Melt away! - - - - - Scene V. - - Martha’s _Garden._ - - Margaret _and_ Faust. - - Margaret. - Promise me, Henry! - - Faust. - What I can. - - Margaret. - Of your religion I am fain to hear; - I know thou art a most kind-hearted man, - But as to thy belief I fear---- - - Faust. - Fear not! thou know’st I love thee well: and know - For whom I love my life’s last drop shall flow! - For other men, I have nor wish nor need - To rob them of their church, or of their creed. - - Margaret. - That’s not enough; you must believe it too! - - Faust. - Must I? - - Margaret. - Alas! that I might work some change on you! - Not even the holy mass do you revere. - - Faust. - I do revere ’t. - - Margaret. - Yes, but without desire. - At mass and at confession, too, I fear, - Thou hast not shown thyself this many a year. - Dost thou believe in God? - - Faust. - My love, who dares aspire - To say he doth believe in God? - May’st ask thy priests and sages all, - Their answer seems like mockery to fall - Upon the asker’s ear. - - Margaret. - Then thou dost not believe? - - Faust. - Misunderstand me not, thou sweet, angelic face! - Who dares pronounce His name? - And who proclaim-- - I do believe in Him? - And who dares presume - To utter--I believe Him not? - The All-embracer, - The All-upholder, - Grasps and upholds He not - Thee, me, Himself? - Vaults not the Heaven his vasty dome above thee? - Stand not the earth’s foundations firm beneath thee? - And climb not, with benignant beaming, - Up heaven’s slope the eternal stars? - Looks not mine eye now into thine? - And feel’st thou not an innate force propelling - Thy tide of life to head and heart, - A power that, in eternal mystery dwelling, - Invisible visible moves beside thee? - Go, fill thy heart therewith, in all its greatness, - And when thy heart brims with this feeling, - Then call it what thou wilt, - Heart! Happiness! Love! God! - I have no name for that which passes all revealing! - Feeling is all in all; - Name is but smoke and sound, - Enshrouding heaven’s pure glow. - - Margaret. - All that appears most pious and profound; - Much of the same our parson says, - Only he clothes it in a different phrase. - - Faust. - All places speak it forth; - All hearts, from farthest South to farthest North, - Proclaim the tale divine, - Each in its proper speech; - Wherefore not I in mine? - - Margaret. - When thus you speak it does not seem so bad, - And yet is your condition still most sad: - Unless you are a Christian, all is vain. - - Faust. - Sweet love! - - Margaret. - Henry, it gives me pain, - More than my lips can speak, to see - Thee joined to such strange company. - - Faust. - How so? - - Margaret. - The man whom thou hast made thy mate, - Deep in my inmost soul I hate; - Nothing in all my life hath made me smart - So much as his disgusting leer. - His face stabs like a dagger through my heart! - - Faust. - Sweet doll! thou hast no cause to fear. - - Margaret. - It makes my blood to freeze when he comes near. - To other men I have no lack - Of kindly thoughts; but as I long - To see thy face, I shudder back - From him. That he’s a knave I make no doubt; - May God forgive me, if I do him wrong! - - Faust. - Such grim old owls must be; without - Their help the world could not get on, I fear. - - Margaret. - With men like him I would have nought to do! - As often as he shows him here, - He looks in at the door with such a scornful leer, - Half angry too; - Whate’er is done, he takes no kindly part; - And one can see it written on his face, - He never loved a son of Adam’s race. - Henry, within thy loving arm - I feel so free, so trustful-warm; - But when his foot comes near, I start, - And feel a freezing grip tie up my heart. - - Faust. - O thou prophetic angel, thou! - - Margaret. - This overpowers me so - That, when his icy foot may cross the door, - I feel as if I could not love thee more. - When he is here, too, I could never pray; - This eats my very heart. Now say, - Henry, is’t not the same with thee? - - Faust. - Nay now, this is mere blind antipathy! - - Margaret. - I must be gone. - - Faust. - Oh! may it never be - That I shall spend one quiet hour with thee, - One single little hour, and breast on breast, - And soul on soul, with panting love, be pressed? - - Margaret. - Alas! did I but sleep alone, this night - The door unbarred thy coming should invite; - But my good mother has but broken sleep; - And, if her ears an inkling got, - Then were I dead upon the spot! - - Faust. - Sweet angel! that’s an easy fence to leap. - Here is a juice, whose grateful power can steep - Her senses in a slumber soft and deep; - Three drops mixed with her evening draught will do. - - Margaret. - I would adventure this and more for you. - Of course, there’s nothing hurtful in the phial? - - Faust. - If so, would I advise the trial? - - Margaret. - Thou best of men, if I but look on thee, - All will deserts me to thy wish untrue; - So much already have I done for thee - That now scarce aught remains for me to do. [_Exit._ - - _Enter_ Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. - Well, is the monkey gone? - - Faust. - And you--must I - Submit again to see you play the spy? - - Mephistopheles. - I have been duly advertised - How Doctor Faust was catechised: - I hope it will agree with you. - The girls are wont--they have their reasons too-- - To see that one, in every point, believes - The faith, that from his fathers he receives. - They think, if little mettle here he shows, - We too may lead him by the nose. - - Faust. - Thou monster! dost not know how this fond soul, - Who yields her being’s whole - To God, and feels and knows - That from such faith alone her own salvation flows, - With many an anxious holy fear is tossed, - Lest he, whom best she loves, should be for ever lost? - - Mephistopheles. - Thou super-sensual sensual fool, - A silly girl takes thee to school! - - Faust. - Thou son of filth and fire, thou monster, thou! - - Mephistopheles. - And then her skill in reading faces - Is not the least of all her graces! - When I come near, she feels, she knows not how, - And through my mask can read it on my brow - That I must be, if not the very Devil, - A genius far above the common level. - And now to-night---- - - Faust. - What’s that to thee? - - Mephistopheles. - What brings my master joy, brings joy to me. - - - - - Scene VI. - - _At the Well._ - - Margaret _and_ Eliza, _with water-pitchers._ - - Eliza. - Have you heard nought of Barbara? - - Margaret. - Nothing at all. I seldom stray - From home, to hear of other folk’s affairs. - - Eliza. - You may believe me every whit; - Sibylla told it me to-day. - She too has been befooled: that comes of it, - When people give themselves such airs! - - Margaret. - How so? - - Eliza. - ’Tis rank! - She eats and drinks for two, not now for one. - - Margaret. - Poor girl! - - Eliza. - Well, well! she has herself to thank. - How long did she not hang upon - The fellow!--Yes! that was a parading, - A dancing and a promenading! - Must always be before the rest! - And to wines and pasties be pressed; - Began then to be proud of her beauty, - And was so reckless of her duty - As to take presents from him too. - That was a cooing and a caressing! - No wonder if the flower too be amissing! - - Margaret. - I pity her. - - Eliza. - Methinks you have not much to do. - When we were not allowed to venture o’er - The threshold, night and day kept close at spinning, - There stood she, with her paramour, - Upon the bench, before the door, - Or in the lane, and hour for hour - Scarce knew the end from the beginning. - ’Tis time that she should go to school - And learn--on the repentance-stool! - - Margaret. - But he will take her for his wife. - - Eliza. - He marry her! not for his life! - An active youth like him can find, - Where’er he pleases, quarters to his mind. - Besides, he’s gone! - - Margaret. - That was not fair. - - Eliza. - And if he should come back, she’ll not enjoy him more. - Her marriage wreath the boys will tear, - And we will strew chopped straw before the door.[n9] [_Exit._ - - Margaret. [_going homewards_] - How could I once so boldly chide - When a poor maiden stepped aside, - And scarce found words enough to name - The measure of a sister’s shame! - If it was black, I blackened it yet more, - And with that blackness not content, - More thickly still laid on the paint, - And blessed my stars, as cased in mail, - Against all frailties of the frail; - And now myself am what I chid before!-- - Yet was each step that lured my slippery feet - So good, so lovely, so enticing sweet! - - - - - Scene VII. - - _An enclosed Area._ - - (_In a niche of the wall an image of the Mater dolorosa, with - flower-jugs before it._) - - Margaret. [_placing fresh flowers in the jugs_] - O mother rich in sorrows, - Bend down to hear my cry! - O bend thee, gracious mother, - To my sore agony! - - Thy heart with swords is piercèd, - And tears are in thine eye, - Because they made thy dear Son - A cruel death to die. - - Thou lookest up to heaven, - And deeply thou dost sigh; - His God and thine beholds thee, - And heals thine agony. - - Oh! who can know - What bitter woe - Doth pierce me through and through? - The fear, the anguish of my heart, - Its every pang, its every smart, - Know’st thou, and only thou. - - And wheresoe’er I wend me, - What woes, what woes attend me, - And how my bosom quakes! - And in my chamber lonely, - With weeping, weeping only, - My heart for sorrow breaks. - - These flower-pots on the window - I wet with tears, ah me! - When with the early morning, - I plucked these flowers for thee. - - And when the morn’s first sunbeam - Into my room was shed, - I sat, in deepest anguish, - And watched it on my bed. - - O save me, Mother of Sorrows! - Unto my prayer give heed, - By all the swords that pierced thee, - O save me in my need! - - - - - Scene VIII. - - _Night. Street before_ Margaret’s _door._ - - _Enter_ Valentin. - - Valentin. - When I sat with our merry men, - At a carousal, now and then, - Where one may be allowed a boast, - And my messmates gave toast for toast - To the girl they prized the most, - And with a bumper then swilled o’er - Their praise, when they could praise no more; - I’d sit at ease, and lean upon - My elbow, while they prated on, - Till all the swaggerers had done, - And smile and stroke my beard, and fill - The goodly rummer to my hand, - And say, All that is very well! - But is there one, in all the land, - That with my Margaret may compare, - Or even tie the shoe to her? - Rap, rap! cling, clang! so went it round! - From man to man, with gleesome sound, - And one cried out with lusty breath, - “Yes, Gretchen! Gretchen! she’s the girl, - Of womanhood the perfect pearl!” - And all the braggarts were dumb as death. - And now,--the devil’s in the matter! - It is enough to make one clatter, - Like a rat, along the walls! - Shall every boor, with gibe and jeer, - Turn up his nose when I appear? - And every pettiest word that falls - Me, like a purseless debtor, torture? - And though I bruised them in a mortar, - I could not say that they were wrong. - - What comes apace?--what creeps along? - A pair of them comes slinking by. - If ’tis the man I look for, I - Will dust his coat so well he’ll not, - By Jove! go living from the spot! [_Retires._ - - _Enter_ Faust _and_ Mephistopheles. - - Faust. - As from the window of the vestry there, - The light of the undying lamp doth glare, - And sidewards gleameth, dimmer still and dimmer, - Till darkness closes round its fitful glimmer, - So murky is it in my soul. - - Mephistopheles. - And I’ve a qualmish sort of feeling, - Like a cat on a rainy day, - Creeping round the wall, and stealing - Near the fireplace, if it may. - Yet am I in most virtuous trim - For a small turn at stealing, or at lechery; - So jumps already through my every limb - Walpurgis-Night, with all its glorious witchery. - The day after to-morrow brings again - The Feast, with fun and frolic in its train. - - Faust. - Is it not time that you were raising - The treasure there in the distance blazing? - - Mephistopheles. - Soon shall you sate your eyes with gazing, - And lift up from the urn yourself - A little mine of precious pelf. - I gave it a side-glance before-- - Saw lion-dollars by the score. - - Faust. - Is there no gaud?--no jewel at all? - To deck my sweet little mistress withal. - - Mephistopheles. - O yes! I saw some trinkets for the girls,-- - A sort of necklace strung with pearls. - - Faust. - ’Tis well that we have this to give her, - For empty-handed go I never. - - Mephistopheles. - And yet a wise man ought to learn - To enjoy gratis, as well as to earn. - Now, that the stars are bright and clear the sky, - I’ll give you a touch of choicest melody; - A moral song--that, while we seem to school her, - With the more certainty we may befool her. - [_Sings to the guitar._] - Why stands before - Her lover’s door, - Young Catherine here, - At early break of day? - Beware, beware! - He lets thee in, - A maiden in, - A maiden not away! - - When full it blows, - He breaks the rose, - And leaves thee then, - A wretched outcast thing! - Take warning, then, - And yield to none - But who hath shown, - And changed with thee the ring. - - Valentin. [_advancing_] - Ho, serenaders! by the Element! - You whoreson rascals! you rat-catchers, you! - First, to the devil with the instrument, - And, after it, the harper too! - - Mephistopheles. - Donner and blitz! my good guitar is broken! - - Valentin. - And your skull, too, anon: by this sure token! - - Mephistopheles. - Quick, Doctor! here’s no time to tarry! - Keep close, as I shall lead the way. - Out with your goosewing![2] out, I say! - Make you the thrusts, and I will parry. - - Valentin. - Then parry that! - - Mephistopheles. - Why not? - - Valentin. - And that! - - Mephistopheles. - Of course! - - Valentin. - I deem the devil is here, or something worse. - Good God! what’s this?--my arm is lamed! - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Faust] - Have at him there! - - Valentin. [_falls_] - O woe! - - Mephistopheles. - Now is the lubber tamed! - But let’s be gone! why stand you gaping there? - They’ll raise a cry of murder! I can play - A game with the policeman, any day; - But blood spilt is a dangerous affair. - - [_Exeunt_ Mephistopheles _and_ Faust. - - Martha. [_at the window_] - Ho! murder, ho! - - Margaret. [_at the window_] - A light! a light! - - Martha. [_as above_] - They bawl, they brawl, they strike, they fight. - - The People. - And here lies one already dead! - - Martha. [_appearing below_] - Where are the murderers? are they fled? - - Margaret. [_below_] - Who’s this lies here? - - The People. - Thy mother’s son. - - Margaret. - Almighty God! my brother dead! - - Valentin. - I die! I die!--’tis quickly said, - And yet more quickly done. - Why stand you, women, and weep and wail? - Draw near, and listen to my tale! - [_They all come round him._] - My Margaret, mark me, you are young, - And in sense not overstrong; - You manage matters ill. - I tell thee in thine ear, that thou - Art, once for all, a strumpet,--now - Mayst go and take thy fill. - - Margaret. - My brother! God! what do you mean? - - Valentin. - Leave the Lord God out of the jest; - Said is said, and done is done; - Now you may manage, as you best - Know how to help the matter on. - You commenced the trade with one, - We shall have two, three, four, anon, - Next a dozen, and next a score, - And then the whole town at your door. - - When sin is born it shuns the light - (For conscience guilt may not abide it), - And they draw the veil of night - Over head and ears, to hide it; - Yea, they would murder it, if they might. - But anon it waxes bolder, - And walks about in broad day-light, - And, uglier still as it grows older, - The less it offers to invite, - The more it courts the public sight. - - Even now, methinks, I see the day, - When every honest citizen, - As from a corpse of tainted clay, - From thee, thou whore! will turn away. - Thy very heart shall fail thee then, - When they shall look thee in the face! - No more shall golden chain thee grace! - The Church shall spurn thee from its door! - The altar shall not own thee more! - Nor longer, with thy spruce lace-tippet, - Where the dance wheels, shalt thou trip it! - In some vile den of want and woe, - With beggars and cripples thou shalt bed; - And, if from Heaven forgiveness flow, - Earth shall rain curses on thy head! - - Martha. - Speak softly, and prepare thy soul for death, - Nor mingle slander with thy parting breath! - - Valentin. - Could I but reach thy withered skin, - Thou hag, thou bawd, so vile and shameless! - For such fair deed I might pass blameless, - To score the black mark from my blackest sin. - - Margaret. - Brother, thou mak’st me feel a hell of pain! - - Valentin. - I tell thee, all thy tears are vain! - When with thy honour thou didst part, - Thou dealt the blow that pierced my heart. - I go through death, with fearless mood, - To meet my God, as a soldier should. [_Dies._ - - - - - Scene IX. - - _A Cathedral._ - - _Mass, Organ, and Song._ Margaret _amid a crowd of people,_ - Evil Spirit _behind her._ - - Evil Spirit. - How different, Margaret, was thy case, - When, in thine innocence, thou didst kneel - Before the altar, - And from the well-worn book - Didst lisp thy prayers, - Half childish play, - Half God in thy heart! - Margaret! - Where is thy head? - Within thy heart - What dire misdeed? - Prayest thou for thy mother’s soul, whom thou - Didst make to sleep a long, long sleep of sorrow? - Whose blood is on thy threshold? - --And, underneath thy heart, - Moves not the swelling germ of life already, - And, with its boding presence - Thee tortures, and itself? - - Margaret. - Woe, woe! - That I might shake away the thoughts, - That hither flit and thither, - Against me! - - Quire. - _Dies iræ, dies illa,_ - _Solvet saeclum in favilla._ - - [_The organ sounds._ - - Evil Spirit. - Terror doth seize thee! - The trumpet sounds! - The graves quake! - And thy heart, - From its rest of ashes, - To fiery pain - Created again, - Quivers to life! - - Margaret. - Would I were hence! - I feel as if the organ stopped - My breath, - And, at the hymn, - My inmost heart - Melted away! - - Quire. - _Judex ergo cum sedebit,_ - _Quidquid latet adparebit,_ - _Nil inultum remanebit._ - - Margaret. - I feel so straitened! - The pillar shafts - Enclasp me round! - The vault - Is closing o’er me!--Air! - - Evil Spirit. - Yea! let them hide thee! but thy sin and shame - No vault can hide! - Air? Light? No! - Woe on thee! woe! - - Quire. - _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?_ - _Quem patronum rogaturus?_ - _Cum vix justus sit securus._ - - Evil Spirit. - The blessèd turn - Their looks away, - And the pure shudder - From touch of thee! - Woe! - - Margaret. - Neighbour, help! help! I faint! - - [_She falls down in a swoon._ - - end of act fourth. - - - - - ACT V. - - Scene I. - - _Walpurgis-Night. - The Hartz Mountains. Neighbourhood of Schirke and Elend._ - - Faust _and_ Mephistopheles. - - Mephistopheles. - Would you not like a broomstick to bestride? - Would God I had a stout old goat to ride! - The way is long; and I would rather spare me - This uphill work. - - Faust. - While my good legs can bear me, - This knotted stick will serve my end. - What boots it to cut short the way? - Through the long labyrinth of vales to wend, - These rugged mountain-steeps to climb, - And hear the gushing waters’ ceaseless chime, - No better seasoning on my wish to-day - Could wait, to make the Brocken banquet prime! - The Spring is waving in the birchen bower, - And ev’n the pine begins to feel its power; - Shall we alone be strangers to its sway? - - Mephistopheles. - No whiff I feel that hath a smell of May; - I am most wintry cold in every limb; - I’d sooner track my road o’er frost and snow. - How sadly mounts the imperfect moon!--so dim - Shines forth its red disk, with belated glow, - We run the risk, at every step, on stones - Or stumps of crazy trees, to break our bones. - You must allow me to request the aid - Of a Will-o-the-Wisp;--I see one right ahead, - And in the bog it blazes merrily. - Holla! my good friend! dare I be so free? - Two travellers here stand much in need of thee; - Why should’st thou waste thy flickering flame in vain? - Pray be so good as light us up the hill! - - Will-o-the-Wisp. - Out of respect to you, I will restrain, - If possible, my ever-shifting will; - But all our natural genius, and our skill - Is zigzag; straight lines go against the grain. - - Mephistopheles. - Ha! ha! hast learned from men how to declaim? - March on, I tell thee, in the Devil’s name! - Else will I blow thy flickering life-spark out. - - Will-o-the-Wisp. - You are the master of the house, no doubt, - And therefore I obey you cheerfully. - Only remember! ’tis the first of May, - The Brocken is as mad as mad can be; - And when an _ignis fatuus_ leads the way, - You have yourselves to blame, if you should stray. - - Faust, Mephistopheles, and Will-o-the-Wisp. [_in reciprocal song_] - Through the realms of fairy dreaming, - Through the air with magic teeming, - Guide us forward, guide us fairly, - Thanks to thee be rendered rarely; - Guide us quick, and guide us sure, - O’er the wide waste Brocken moor. - - Trees on trees thick massed before us - Flit, and fling dark shadows o’er us, - Cliffs on cliffs in rugged masses - Nod above the narrow passes, - And each rock from jagged nose, - How it snorts, and how it blows! - - Over turf and stone are pouring - Stream and streamlet, wildly roaring; - Is it rustling? is it singing? - Love’s sweet plaint with gentle winging! - Voices of those days, the dearest, - When our light of hope was clearest! - And the echo, like the sounds - Of ancient story, back rebounds. - - Oohoo! Shoohoo! what a riot! - Owl and pewit, jay and piet! - Will no bird to-night be quiet? - What is this? red salamanders, - With long legs and swoll’n paunches, - Weaving wreathy fire-meanders - Through the thicket’s bristling branches! - And the trees, their roots outspreading - From the sand and rocky bedding, - Winding, stretching, twisting grimly, - Through the dun air darting dimly - Seek to seize us, seek to grasp us, - And with snaky coils enclasp us! - And the mice in motley muster, - Red and white, and blue and grey, - Thick as bees that hang in cluster, - Crowd along the heathy way. - And the fire-flies shooting lightly - Through the weirdly winding glade, - With bewildering escort, brightly - Lead the streaming cavalcade! - - But tell me, in this strange confusion, - What is real, what delusion? - Do we walk with forward faces, - Or stand and halt with baffled paces? - All things seem to change their places, - Rocks and trees to make grimaces, - And the lights in witchy row, - Twinkle more and more they blow! - - Mephistopheles. - Hold me tightly by the cue! - From this hillock, we may view, - At leisure, with admiring gaze, - How Mammon in the mount doth blaze! - - Faust. - How strangely through the glooming glens - Dim sheen, like morning redness, glimmers! - Ev’n to the darkest, deepest dens - With its long streaky rays it shimmers. - Here mounts the smoke, there rolls the steam, - There flames through the white vapours gleam, - Here like a thread along the mountain - It creeps; there gushes in a fountain! - Here stretching out, in many a rood, - Along the vale, its veinèd flood, - And here at once it checks its flight, - And bursts in globes of studded light. - There sparks are showering on the ground, - Like golden sand besprinkled round, - And lo! where all the rocky height, - From head to foot is bathed in light! - - Mephistopheles. - Hath not old Mammon lit with goodly flame - His palace for the jubilee? - Thou art in luck to see the game; - Even now I scent the lusty company. - - Faust. - How the mad storm doth howl and hiss - And beats my neck with angry buffeting! - - Mephistopheles. - To the old mountain’s hard ribs cling, - Or the strong blast will hurl thee down the abyss; - The night with clouds is overcast; - Hear in the woods the grinding of the blast! - How the frightened owlets flit! - How the massive pillars split - Of the dark pine-palaces! - How the branches creak and break! - How the riven stems are groaning! - How the gaping roots are moaning! - In terrible confusion all, - One on another clashing, they fall, - And through the clefts, where their wrecks are buried, - Hissing and howling the winds are hurried. - Sounds of voices dost thou hear? - Voices far, and voices near? - And, all the mountain side along, - Streams a raving wizard song. - - Witches. [_in chorus_] - The witches to the Brocken ride, - The stubble is yellow, the corn is green; - A merry crew to a merry scene, - And good Sir Urian is the guide.[n10] - Over stock and stone we float, - Wrinkled hag and rank old goat. - - A Voice. - Old mother Baubo comes up now, - Alone, and riding on a sow. - - Chorus. - Honour to him to whom honour is due! - Lady Baubo heads the crew! - On the back of a sow, with the wings of the wind, - And all the host of witches behind. - - A Voice. - Sister, which way came you? - - A Voice. - By Ilsenstein! and I looked into - An owlet’s nest, as on I fared, - That with its two eyes broadly stared! - - A Voice. - The deuce! at what a devil’s pace - You go; this march is not a race. - - A Voice. - It tore me, it flayed me! - These red wounds it made me! - - Witches. [_in chorus_] - The road is broad, the road is long, - Why crowd you so on one another? - Scrapes the besom, pricks the prong, - Chokes the child, and bursts the mother. - - Wizards. [_semi-chorus_] - We trail us on, like very snails, - The women fly with flaunting sails; - For, when we run Squire Satan’s races, - They always win by a thousand paces. - - Semi-Chorus. - Not quite so bad: the women need - A thousand paces to help their speed; - But let them speed what most they can, - With one spring comes up the man. - - Voice. [_from above_] - Come up! come up from the lake with me. - - Voices. [_from below_] - Right gladly would we mount with thee; - We wash, and wash, and cease from washing never; - Our skins are as white as white can be, - But we are as dry and barren as ever. - - Both Choruses. - The wind is hushed, the stars take flight, - The sullen moon hath veiled her light, - The magic choir from whizzing wings, - Long lines of sparkling glory flings. - - Voice. [_from below_] - Stop, stop! - - Voice. [_from above_] - Who bawls so loud from the cleft? - - Voice. [_from below_] - Let me go with you! let me not be left! - Three hundred years I grope and grope - Round the base and up the slope, - But still the summit cheats my hope. - I fain would be a merry guest - At Satan’s banquet with the rest. - - Both Choruses. - On broomstick, and on lusty goat, - On pitchfork, and on stick, we float; - And he, to-day who cannot soar, - Is a lost man for evermore. - - Half-Witch. [_below_] - I hobble on behind them all, - The others scarcely hear my call! - I find no rest at home: and here, - I limp on lamely in the rear. - - Chorus of Witches. - The ointment gives our sinews might,[n11] - For us each rag is sail enough, - We find a ship in every trough; - Whoso will fly must fly to-night. - - Both Choruses. - While we upon the summit ride, - Be yours to sweep along the side; - Up and down, and far and wide, - On the left, and on the right, - Witch and wizard massed together, - Scour the moor and sweep the heather, - Bravely on Walpurgis night! - - [_They alight._ - - Mephistopheles. - What a thronging, and jolting, and rolling, and rattling! - What a whizzing, and whirling, and jostling, and battling! - What a sparkling, and blazing, and stinking, and burning! - And witches that all topsy-turvy are turning!-- - Hold fast by me, or I shall lose you quite, - Where are you? - - Faust. [_at a distance_] - Here! - - Mephistopheles. - What! so far in the rear! - Why then ’tis time that I should use my right, - As master of the house to-night. - Make way! Squire Voland comes,[n12] sweet mob, make way! - Here, Doctor, hold by me!--and now, I say, - We must cut clear - Of this wild hubbub, while we may; - Even my cloth is puzzled here. - See’st thou that light on yonder mound quite near, - It hath a most peculiar glare, - We’ll slip in there, - And watch behind the bush the humours of the Fair. - - Faust. - Strange son of contradiction!--may’st even guide us! - A rare conceit! of course you must be right; - This weary way we march on famed Walpurgis night, - Like hermits in a corner here to hide us! - - Mephistopheles. - Lo! where the flames mount up with bickering glee; - In sooth it is a goodly company. - In such a place one cannot be alone. - - Faust. - And yet a place I’d rather own - Upon the top, where whirling smoke I see; - There thousands to the evil Spirit hie, - And many a riddle there he will untie. - - Mephistopheles. - Yes: and for every knot he disentangles, - He’ll make another to produce new wrangles. - Let the great world rant and riot, - We’ll know to house us here in quiet; - In the great world ’tis a sanctioned plan, - Each makes a little world the best he can. - Look there; you see young witches without cover, - And old ones prudently veiled over; - Yield but to me, and I can promise thee, - With little labour, mickle glee. - I hear their noisy instruments begin! - Confound their scraping!--one must bear the din. - Come, come! what must be must be--let’s go in! - With my good introduction on this night, - Thou shalt have laughter to thy heart’s delight. - What say’st thou, friend? this is no common show, - A hundred lights are burning in a row, - You scarce may see the end; - They dance, they talk, they cook, they drink, they court; - Now tell me, saw you ever better sport? - - Faust. - Say, in what character do you intend - To appear here, and introduce your friend? - Devil or conjurer? - - Mephistopheles. - I love incognito, - Yet on a gala-day my order I may show; - And, though a garter here is but of small avail, - The famous horse’s foot I ne’er yet knew to fail. - See even now that cautious creeping snail! - With her long feeling visage, she - Has smelt out something of hell in me. - Do what I can, they have a snout, - In this keen air to scent me out; - Come! come; from fire to fire we roam; the game - Be mine to start, and yours to woo the dame. - [_To some who are sitting round a glimmering coal-fire._] - Why mope you here, old sirs, toasting your toes? - Methinks your Brocken hours were better spent - Amid the youthful roar and merriment; - One is enough alone at home, God knows. - - General. - Who would rely upon the faith of nations! - They leave you thankless, when their work is done; - The people, like the women, pour libations - Only in honour of the rising sun. - - Minister. - The liberties these modern changes bring, - I must confess I cannot praise; - The good old times, when we were everything, - These were the truly golden days. - - Parvenu. - We, too, pushed forward with the pushing crew, - And for the need could stretch a point or two; - But now all’s changed; and with the whirling bucket, - We lose the fruit, just when our hand would pluck it. - - Author. - No solid work now suits the reading nation, - And year by year the world more shallow grows; - And, for the glib-tongued rising generation, - They hang their wisdom on their up-turned nose! - - Mephistopheles. [_Who all at once appears very old_] - The people here seem ripe for Doom’s day; I - Suspect the world is now on its last legs; - And, since mine own good cask is running dry, - Men and their ways, I guess, are near the dregs! - - Pedlar-Witch. - Good sirs, I pray you pass not by, - Cast on my wares a friendly eye! - One cannot see such rich display - Of curious trinkets every day. - Yet is there nothing in my store - (Which far all other stores excels), - That hath not done some mischief sore - To earth, and all on earth that dwells; - No dagger by which blood hath not been shed, - No cup from which, through sound and healthy life, - Corroding fiery juice hath not been spread, - No gaud but hath seduced some lovely wife, - No sword that hath not made a truce miscarry, - Or stabbed behind the back its adversary. - - Mephistopheles. - Good lady cousin! you come rather late. - Your wares, believe me, are quite out of date; - Deal in the new and newest; that - Our palate smacks; all else is flat. - - Faust. - This is a fair that beats the Leipzig hollow! - My head is so confused, I scarce can follow. - - Mephistopheles. - To the top the stream is rushing, - And we are pushed, when we think we are pushing. - - Faust. - Who, then, is that? - - Mephistopheles. - Look at her well. - ’Tis Lilith.[n13] - - Faust. - Who? - - Mephistopheles. - Adam’s first wife. Beware, - Art thou a wise man, of her glossy hair! - ’Tis fair to look on, but its look is fell. - Those locks with which she outshines all the train, - When she hath bound a young man with that chain, - She’ll hold him fast; he’ll scarce come back again. - - Faust. - There sit an old and young one on the sward; - They seem to have been dancing somewhat hard. - - Mephistopheles. - O! once begun, they’ll go on like the devil. - Come, come! they rise again--let’s join the revel. - - [Faust _and_ Mephistopheles _join the dance; the former with the - Young Witch as his partner; the latter with the Old one._ - - Faust. [_dancing with the young Witch_] - A lovely dream once came to me, - I saw in my sleep an apple-tree; - Two lovely apples on it did shine; - I clomb the pole to make them mine. - - The Young Witch. - For apples your sire in Paradise - And primal dame had longing eyes: - And, if your eyes are wise to see, - You’ll find such apples on my tree. - - Mephistopheles. [_dancing with the old Witch_] - An ugly dream once came to me, - I dreamed I saw a cloven tree; - In the tree there sat an ugly owl; - I called it fair, though it was foul. - - The Old Witch. - My best salute this night shall be, - Thou knight of the cloven foot, to thee; - A cloven tree with an ugly owl, - Am I for thee, or fair, or foul. - - Proctophantasmist.[n14] [_to the dancers_] - Listen to order, you presumptuous brood! - Have we not proved beyond disputing, - That ghosts on terra firma have no footing? - And yet you dance like any flesh and blood? - - The Young Witch. [_dancing_] - What wants he here, that rude-like fellow there? - - Faust. [_dancing_] - O, he is everywhere! - What others dance ’tis his to prize; - Each step he cannot criticise - Had as well not been made. But in the dance - It grieves him most when we advance. - If we would wheel still round and round in a ring, - As he is fond to do in his old mill, - He would not take it half so ill; - Especially if you take care to bring - Your praiseful offering to his master skill. - - Proctophantasmist. - What! still there, phantoms? this is past endurance! - In this enlightened age you have the assurance - To show your face and play your tricks undaunted; - We are so wise, and yet a man’s own house is haunted. - How long have I not swept the cobwebs of delusion, - And still the world remains in the same wild confusion! - - The Young Witch. - Be quiet then, and seek some other place! - - Proctophantasmist. - I tell you, Spirits, in your face, - This intellectual thrall I cannot bear it; - I love to have a free unshackled spirit. [_The dance goes on._] - To-day I see that all my strength is spent in vain; - I’ve had a tour, at least, to compensate my evils, - And hope, before I come to Blocksberg back again, - To crush, with one good stroke, the poets and the devils. - - Mephistopheles. - He will now go, and, bare of breeches, - Sit in a pool with solemn patience; - And, when his buttocks are well sucked by leeches, - Be cured of ghosts and ghostly inspirations. - [_To_ Faust, _who has just left the dance._] - Why do you let the lovely damsel go, - That in the dance with sweet song pleased you so? - - Faust. - Alas! while she so passing sweet was singing, - I saw a red mouse from her mouth outspringing. - - Mephistopheles. - Pooh! on the Brocken that’s a thing of course; - Let not such trifles mar your sweet discourse. - Go, join the crew, and dance away; - Enough, the red mouse was not gray. - - Faust. - Then saw I---- - - Mephistopheles. - What? - - Faust. - Mephisto, see’st thou there - A pale yet lovely girl, in lonely distance fare? - From place to place she moveth slow; - With shackled feet she seems to go; - I must confess, she has a cast - Of Margaret, when I saw her last. - - Mephistopheles. - Let that alone! it brings thee certain harm; - It is bewitched, a bloodless, breathless form, - For men to look upon it is not good. - Its fixèd gaze hath power to freeze the blood, - And petrify thee stark and stiff. - Of course I need not ask you if - You’ve heard of the Medusa’s head. - - Faust. - In truth I see the eyes of one that’s dead, - On which no closing hand of love was laid. - That is my Margaret’s kindly breast, - That the sweet body I caressed. - - Mephistopheles. - There lies the witchcraft o’t, thou fool! - A phantom takes thy wit to school: - She is the love of every lover’s brain. - - Faust. - What ecstasy! and yet what pain! - I cannot leave it for my life. - How strangely this most lovely neck - A single streak of red doth deck, - No broader than the back o’ a knife! - - Mephistopheles. - Quite right! I see it, just as well as you. - Sometimes her head beneath her elbow too - She wears; for Perseus cut it off, you know. - What! will you still a-dreaming go? - Come, let us mount the hillock--there - We shall have noble sport, believe me; - For, unless mine eyes deceive me, - They have got up a theatre. - What make you here? - - A Servant. - You are just come in time. - ’Tis a new piece, the last of all the seven, - For such the number that with us is given. - A dilettante ’twas that wrote the rhyme, - And dilettanti are the actors too. - Excuse me, sirs,--no disrespect to you, - If I seem curt: I am the dilettante - To draw the curtain; and our time is scanty. - - Mephistopheles. - Just so; I only wish you were so clever - To know your home; - Then from the Blocksberg you would never - Have lust to roam! - - - - - Scene II. - - _Intermezzo._[n15] - - Walpurgis-Night’s Dream; - or - Oberon and Titania’s Golden Hightide. - - Director of the Theatre. - We players here may take our ease; - For all we need for scenery - Is mount and mead, and trees, and seas - Of Nature’s leafy greenery. - - Herald. - The golden high-tide is it then, - When fifty years pass over; - But doubly golden is it when - All brawls and strifes they cover. - - Oberon. - Ye spirits, who obey my law, - Are to this feast invited, - When Oberon and Titania - In love are reunited. - - Puck. - Puck comes in first, and turns athwart, - His merry circles wheeling; - And hundreds more behind him dart, - Loud shouts of laughter pealing. - - Ariel. - I fill the air with thrilling song - Of virtue quite enchanting; - Though ugly imps I lure along, - The fair are never wanting! - - Oberon. - When man and wife begin to strive, - Just give them length of tether! - They will learn in peace to live, - When not too much together. - - Titania. - When pouts the wife, and frets the man, - This cure is best in Nature, - Him to the Arctic circle ban, - And her to the Equator. - - Orchestra. [_Tutti. Fortissimo_] - Snout of fly, and nose of gnat, - Lead on the band before us! - Frog and cricket, cat and bat, - Join merry in the chorus! - - Solo. - A soap-bell for a doodle-sack,[3] - The merry waters troubling! - Hear the snecke-snicke-snack, - From its snub-nose bubbling! - - Embryo-Spirit. - Legs of spider, paunch of toad, - And wings, if you would know it; - Nor fish, nor fowl, but on the road - Perhaps to be a poet! - - A Pair of Dancers. - With many a nimble pace and spring, - Through honey-dew and vapour, - Trips o’er the ground the little thing, - But higher cannot caper. - - Inquisitive Traveller. - Do I see a real thing, - Or is it all delusion? - Oberon, the fairy king, - Amid this wild confusion. - - Orthodox. - Though neither tail nor claws are his, - ’Tis true beyond all cavil, - As devils were the gods of Greece, - He too must be a devil. - - Northern Artist. - ’Tis but a sketch, I must admit; - But what I can’t unravel - To-night, I’ll know, with larger wit, - From my Italian travel. - - Purist. - Alas! that I should see it too! - Here we a riot rare have! - Of all the crew, there are but two - That powder on their hair have. - - Young Witch. - Powder and petticoat for grey - And wrinkled hags are fitting; - But I my lusty limbs display, - Upon a he-goat sitting. - - Matron. - To speak with such a shameless pack - We have nor will nor leisure; - Soon may your flesh rot on your back, - And we look on with pleasure! - - Leader of the Orchestra. - Snout of fly, and nose of gnat, - Sting not the naked beauty! - Frog and cricket, cat and bat, - Attend ye to your duty! - - Weathercock. [_to the one side_] - A goodly company! as sure - As I stand on the steeple; - With brides and bridegrooms swarms the moor, - The hopefulest of people! - - Weathercock. [_to the other side_] - And opes not suddenly the ground, - To swallow one and all up, - Then, with a jerk, I’ll veer me round, - And straight to hell I’ll gallop. - - Xenien. - We insects keep them all in awe, - With sharpest scissors shear we! - Old Nick, our worthy Squire Papa, - Here to salute appear we. - - Hennings. - See! how in merry circles they - Sit gossiping together; - The graceless crew have hearts, they say, - As good as any other. - - Musagetes. - This witch and wizard crew to lead, - My willing fancy chooses; - More hopeful field is here indeed, - Than when I lead the Muses. - - Ci-devant Genius of the Age. - The Brocken has a good broad back, - Like the High-Dutch Parnassus; - The Jury here no man can pack, - Or with proud silence pass us. - - Inquisitive Traveller. - Say, who is he so stiff that goes, - That stately-stalking stranger? - He snuffs for Jesuits with sharp nose, - And cries--the Church in danger! - - Crane. - In muddy waters do I fish - As well as where it clear is, - And only for such cause as this - The pious man too here is. - - Worldling. - Yes! though the saints declare that sin - And Blocksberg are identical, - Yet here, amid this demon din, - They’ll set up their conventicle. - - Dancer. - A sound of drums! a sound of men! - That wafted on the wind came!-- - The weary bitterns in the fen - Are booming--never mind ’em! - - Dancing-Master. - Lo! how they kick, and how they jump! - How well each figure shown is! - Springs the crooked, hops the plump! - Each thinks him an Adonis! - - A Good Fellow. - A sorry lot! What muffled ire - Their swelling breasts inflames here! - The beasts were tamed by Orpheus’ lyre, - And them the bagpipe tames here! - - Professor of Systematic Theology. - I let no one bamboozle me - With doubts and critic cavils; - The devil sure must something be, - Else whence so many devils? - - Idealist. - Imagination travels free - Without or rein or rule here; - If I am all that now I see, - Myself must be a fool here. - - Realist. - That on the Brocken ghosts appear - Now scarce admits disputing; - Amid this hurly burly here - I’ve fairly lost my footing. - - Supernaturalist. - Into this swarming hellish brood - I come, without intrusion; - From evil spirits to the good, - It is a just conclusion. - - Sceptic. - They chase the flame that flits about, - And deem them near their treasure; - Best rhymes with doubt this demon-rout, - And I look on with pleasure. - - Leader of the Orchestra. - Snout of fly, and nose of gnat, - Ye stupid Dilettanti! - Frog and cricket, cat and bat, - Keep better time, why can’t ye? - - Clever Spirits. - _Sans-souci_ is hight the crew - On limber limbs that ply it; - When on our feet it will not do, - Then on our heads we try it. - - Awkward Spirits. - With once or twice a lucky throw - We tramped the road together; - But now we flounder on, and show - Our toes outside the leather! - - Ignes Fatui. - Though born but with the sultry ray - This morn, in the morass all, - Yet now, amid the gallants gay, - We shine here and surpass all. - - Falling Star. - Last night I shot from starry sky - And fell upon my nose here; - Will no one come where flat I lie, - And plant me on my toes here? - - Stout Spirits. - Make way, make way! and brush the dew - Right bravely from the lawn here; - Spirits we are, but Spirits too - Can show both pith and brawn here! - - Puck. - Why tramp ye so majestical - As cub of river-horse is? - The plumpest spirit of you all - Stout Puck himself of course is. - - Ariel. - If loving Nature’s bounteous care - Hath fitted you with pinions, - Then cleave with me the yielding air - To rosy bright dominions. - - Orchestra. - The mist draws off, and overhead - All clear and bright the air is, - And with the rustling breeze are fled - The devils and the fairies! - - end of the interlude. - - - - - Scene III. - - _A cloudy day. The Fields._ - - Faust _and_ Mephistopheles. - - Faust. - In misery! in despair! Wandering in hopeless wretchedness over the - wide earth, and at last made prisoner! Shut up like a malefactor in a - dungeon, victim of the most horrible woes--poor miserable girl! Must - it then come to this? Thou treacherous and worthless Spirit! this hast - thou concealed from me!--Stand thou there! stand!--Roll round thy - fiendish eyes, infuriate in thy head! Stand and confront me with thy - insupportable presence. A prisoner! in irredeemable misery! given over - to evil Spirits, and to the condemning voice of the unfeeling world! - and me, meanwhile, thou cradlest to sleep amid a host of the most - vapid dissipations, concealing from my knowledge her aggravated - woes!--while she--she is left in hopeless wretchedness to die! - - Mephistopheles. - She’s not the first. - - Faust. - Dog! abominable monster!--Change him, O thou infinite Spirit! change - the reptile back again into his original form--the poodle that ran - before me in the twilight, now cowering at the feet of the harmless - wanderer, now springing on his shoulders!--Change him again into his - favourite shape, that he may crouch on his belly in the sand before me, - and I may tramp him underneath my feet, the reprobate!--Not the first! - Misery, misery! by no human soul to be conceived! that more than one - creature of God should ever have been plunged into the depth of this - woe! that the first, in the writhing agony of her death, should not - have atoned for the guilt of all the rest before the eyes of the - All-merciful! It digs even into the marrow of my life, the misery of - this _one_; and thou--thou grinnest in cold composure over the - wretchedness of thousands! - - Mephistopheles. - Here we are arrived once more at the limit of our wits, where the - thread of human reason snaps in sunder. Wherefore seekest thou - communion with us, unless thou would’st carry it through? Would’st - fly, and yet art not proof against giddiness? Did we thrust ourselves - on you, or you on us? - - Faust. - Whet not thy rows of voracious teeth at me! I loathe it!--Great and - glorious Spirit, who didst condescend to reveal thyself to me, who - knowest my heart and my soul, wherefore didst thou yoke me to this - vilest of complices, who feeds on mischief and banquets on - destruction? - - Mephistopheles. - Art done? - - Faust. - Deliver her! or woe thee!--the direst of curses lie on thee for ever! - - Mephistopheles. - I cannot loose the bonds of the avenger, nor open his bars.--Deliver - her! Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I or thou? - - [Faust _looks wildly round._ - - Mephistopheles. [_continues_] - Would’st grasp the thunder? ’Tis well that you, poor mortals, have it - not to wield! To smash the innocent in pieces is the proper tyrant’s - fashion of venting one’s spleen in a dilemma. - - Faust. - Bring me to her! She shall be free! - - Mephistopheles. - And the danger to which thou exposest thyself! Know that the guilt of - blood from thy hand still lies upon the town. Above the spot where the - slain fell, avenging Spirits hover and lie in wait for the returning - murderer. - - Faust. - That too from thee? Murder and death of a world on thee, thou monster! - Bring me to her, I say, and deliver her! - - Mephistopheles. - I’ll lead thee thither, and what I can do that I will do. Mark me! - Have I all power in heaven and on earth? I will cloud the wits of the - warder, and thou may’st seize the keys, and bring her out with the - hand of a man. I wait for you with the magic horses to ensure your - escape. This I can do. - - Faust. - Up and away! - - - - Scene IV. - - _Night. The open Field._ - - Faust. Mephistopheles. -(_Galloping past on black horses._) - - Faust. - What are they about there, bustling round the Ravenstone?[4] - - Mephistopheles. - Can’t say what they are cooking and kitchening. - - Faust. - They hover up, they hover down, bending and bowing. - - Mephistopheles. - A corporation of Witches. - - Faust. - They seem to be sprinkling and blessing something. - - Mephistopheles. - On! on! - - - - - Scene V. - - _A Prison._ - - Faust, _with a bundle of keys in his hand and a lamp, before an - iron door._ - - Faust. - A strange cold shuddering dread comes o’er me, all - The up-heaped wretchedness of time. - Here dwells she now behind this damp cold wall, - And dear delusion was her only crime! - Fear’st thou to go to her? - Tremblest to meet her eye? - Quick! thy delay but brings her death more nigh. - - [_He seizes the lock. Singing heard from within._ - - My mother, the wanton, - That choked my breath![n16] - My father, the villain, - That dined on my death! - My sister dear, - In the cool green shade - My bones she laid; - Then was I a glad little bird in the May; - Fly away! fly away! - - Faust. [_opening the door_] - She dreams not that her loved one is so near, - The clinking chains and rustling straw to hear. - - Margaret. [_hiding herself on the bed_] - Woe, woe! they come.--To bitter death they call. - - Faust. [_softly_] - Hush! hush! I come to free thee from their thrall! - - Margaret. [_throwing herself at his feet_] - Art thou a man? feel for my hapless plight. - - Faust. - Thy cries will wake the watchers of the night! - - [_He takes hold of the chains to unloose them._ - - Margaret. [_on her knees_] - Who gave thee, hangman, such a power - To drag me from my cell at midnight hour? - Have pity on me! Be not so harsh!--so rough! - Surely to-morrow morn is soon enough. [_She stands up._] - So young, so very young, am I, - And must already die! - Once I was lovely too--’twas this that caused my fall. - Near was the friend, but far from me to-day; - Torn lies the wreath, the flowers are scattered all. - Oh tear me not so forcibly away! - Spare me! what have I done to injure thee? - Oh hear my prayer! for once compassion show!-- - ’Tis the first time I ever looked on thee. - - Faust. - That I should live to see such depth of woe! - - Margaret. - Thou hast me now completely in thy might. - Only first give me time to suckle my sweet child. - I hugged it the whole weary night; - They took’t from me in very spite; - And now they say I murdered the sweet child, - And never more shall I be glad again. - They sing songs on me, too! - A wicked thing to do! - ’Tis the refrain - Of a grim old melody: - Who taught them that its words were meant for me? - - Faust. [_throwing himself down_] - Here, at thy feet, behold who loves thee fall, - To strike thy shackles, and to break thy thrall! - - Margaret. [_falling beside him on her knees_] - Yes! let us kneel and call upon the Saints! - Beneath these steps, - I hear it well! - Beneath the threshold, - Boileth Hell! - The evil One - His fury vents, - With fearful yell! - - Faust. [_loud_] - Gretchen! Gretchen! - - Margaret. [_attentive_] - That was the loved one’s voice! - [_She springs up; the chains fall away._] - Where is he? where? I heard him call on me, - Now I am free! and none shall hinder me! - To his neck will I fly! - On his bosom lie! - He called me his Gretchen! he stood at the door. - Through the wild howling and hissing of Hell, - Through the loud-laughing scorn and the fiendish uproar, - Came the sweet voice of love that I know so well. - - Faust. - ’Tis I! - - Margaret. - ’Tis thou! O say it yet again! [_Clasping him._] - ’Tis he! ’tis he! Where now is all my pain? - Where all my prison’s woe? my fetters where? - ’Tis he! he comes to lift me from this lair - Of wretchedness! I’m free, I’m free! - Already the well-known street I see, - Where the first time I spake to thee, - And the pleasant garden, where - Martha and I did wait for thee. - - Faust. [_striving forward_] - Come, come! - - Margaret. - O stay, stay! - Thou know’st how pleased I stay where thou dost stay. - - [_Caressing him._ - - Faust. - Away, away! - Unless we haste, - Dearly we’ll pay for these few moments’ waste. - - Margaret. - How! giv’st thou me no kiss? - My friend, so very short a space away, - And hast forgot to kiss? - Why feel I now so straitened when I hold - Thee in my arms? It was not so of old, - When from thy words and looks, a heaven of bliss - Came down; and thou didst kiss - As thou would’st smother me. Come, kiss me! kiss! - Else kiss I thee! [_She embraces him._] - O woe! thy lips are cold, - Are dumb; - Where is the love thy swelling bosom bore - Whilome for me? why are thy lips so cold? - - [_She turns away from him._ - - Faust. - Come with me, sweet love, come! - I’ll hug thee ten times closer than before, - Only come with me now! Come, I implore! - - Margaret. [_turning to him_] - Art thou then _he_? Art thou then truly _he_? - - Faust. - ’Tis I, in truth. Come, love, and follow me. - - Margaret. - And these vile chains thou breakest, - And me again unto thy bosom takest? - How canst thou dare to turn fond eyes on me? - Know’st thou then, Henry, whom thou com’st to free? - - Faust. - Come, come! the night sinks fast; come, follow me! - - Margaret. - My mother slept a sleep profound! - I drugged her to’t; - My little babe I drowned! - Was it not heaven’s boon to me and thee? - Thee, too!--’tis thou! I scarce may deem - My sense speaks true. Give me thy hand! - It is no dream! - Thy dear, dear hand! - Alas! but it is wet! - Wipe it; for it is wet - With blood! O God! what hast thou done? - Put up thy sword; - I pray thee put it up. - - Faust. - Let gone be gone! - Thou stabbest me with daggers, every word. - - Margaret. - No! thou shalt survive our sorrow! - I will describe the graves to thee, - Where thou shalt bury them and me - To-morrow. - The best place thou shalt give my mother; - Close beside her lay my brother; - Me a little to the side, - But at distance not too wide! - And my child at my right breast.-- - These, and none else with us shall rest! - Me on thy loving side to press, - That was a heaven of blessedness! - But now, I cannot do it more; - I feel as I must force my love to thee, - And thou didst coldly fling me back from thee; - And yet ’tis thou!--as good, as loving as before. - - Faust. - ’Tis I, even I, come, sweet love, come! - - Margaret. - Out there? - - Faust. - Into the open air. - - Margaret. - If the grave be there, - And death there waits, then come! - Hence to my eternal home, - Not a step more.---- - Thou leav’st me now?--would I might go with thee? - - Faust. - Thou canst, if thou but wilt. I have unbarred the door. - - Margaret. - I may not go; no hope for me remains; - They watch me close--my home is with my chains. - It is so sad to beg from door to door; - A guilty thing from human loves outcast, - A homeless earth to wander o’er; - And they are sure to find me out at last. - - Faust. - I will protect thee. - - Margaret. - Quick! Quick! - Save thy poor child! - Away, away! - Keep the path - Up the stream, - Across the bridge, - To the left hand, - Where the plank stands, - In the pond, - Seize it, quick! - It rises up, - It kicks! it lives! - O save it, save it! - - Faust. - Only bethink thee! - One step more, and thou art free. - - Margaret. - Would we were past that mountain gray! - There sits my mother on a stone-- - I feel a hand that pulls me back - As cold as clay! - There sits my mother on a stone; - Her head sways heavily; - She winks not, she nods not, her head she may not raise. - She slept so long, she never more may wake. - She slept that we might our enjoyment take. - O these were happy days! - - Faust. - Here words and prayers will only make things worse; - Come! come; or I must hale thee hence by force. - - Margaret. - Let me alone! lay no rough hands on me! - Nor with such murderous clutches seize me! - Thou know’st I have done everything to please thee. - - Faust. - The day dawns. Come, my Gretchen, follow me! - - Margaret. - Day! yes, it is day! the Judgment-day breaks in! - My marriage-day it should have been! - Let no one know thou wert before with Margaret. - Woe to my wreath! - ’Tis done! oh, pain! - We will meet again; - But not at the dance. - The thronging crowds advance - With bated breath; - No word is spoken; - The squares, the streets, - Cannot contain them all. - The bell doth call, - The staff is broken, - They bind me with cords, they drag me away, - And on the bloody block me lay; - And every trembling eye doth quake - At the blade that is brandished o’er my neck. - Mute lies the world as the grave! - - Faust. - O had I ne’er been born! - - Mephistopheles. [_appearing from without_] - Up! or no help can save! - Profitless whining, whimpering, and prating! - Meanwhile my eager steeds are waiting, - Snuffing the scent of the morning air. - - Margaret. - What’s that from the floor uprising there? - ’Tis he! ’Tis he! O send his hateful face - Away! What seeks he in this holy place? - He comes for me! - - Faust. - No! thou shalt live. - - Margaret. - Judgment of God! to thee my soul I give. - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Faust] - Come, come! else will I leave you to your fate! - - Margaret. - Thine am I, Father! O shut not the gate - Of mercy on me! - Ye angels! ye most holy Spirits! now - Encamp around me! and protect me now! - Henry, I tremble when I think on thee. - - Mephistopheles. - She is judged! - - Voice. [_from above_] - Is saved! - - Mephistopheles. [_to_ Faust] - Hither to me! - - Voice. [_from within, dying away_] - Henry! Henry! - - [The End] - - - - - FOOTNOTES. - - Introduction - - [i1] - _De Dæmonibus, Ficini, Aldus; and Horst, Zauber-Bibliothek_, vi. p. - 72. - - [i2] - _Giordano Bruno de Monade, numero et figura, apud Horst, Z. B._ iii. - p. 70. - - [i3] - John xii. 31; 1 John iii. 8; and the remarks in Bretschneider’s - _Dogmatik_, § 108. - - [i4] - “The weary bitterns in the fen - Are booming--never mind them.” - _Walpurgis-Night’s Dream._ - - [i5] - See this particularly proved of Ficinus, in Buhle’s _Geschichte der - Philosophie_, vi. _theil._ § 889. - - [i6] - Buhle, _ubi supra_, § 897. - - [i7] - The most deliberate attempt of this kind that I have seen, is that - of _Dürr_, in the sixth volume of _Schellhorn’s Amœnitates - Literariæ_; where the story of Faust is called “Historiola pueris et - aniculis credita;” and the hero himself, “_Doctor Faust fictitius - ille et imaginarius_.” - - [i8] - _Faust, eine Tragœdie_, von August Klingemann, Leipzig, 1815; of - which there is a good account in one of the numbers of _Blackwood’s - Magazine_. - - [i9] - _Christ. Aug. Huemann’s Glaubwürdigste Nachricht von D. Fausten._ In - einem Schreiben an Herrn D. Haubern. _Bib. Mag._ vol. iii. p. 84. - - [i10] - _Die Sage von Doctor Faust_, von D. Christian Ludwig Stieglitz, in - Raumer’s _Historiches Taschenbuch_, 5ter Jahrgang, Leipzig, 1834. The - same number contains a dissertation on Wallenstein. - - [i11] - _Apud_ Heumann. - - [i12] - From the Latin of Manlius. _Apud_ Heumann, _ut supra_. - - [i13] - _Wierii Opera_, Amstelodami, 1660. _De Magis Infamibus_, p. 105. He - is as little favourable to our hero as Manlius. He says, indeed, - that he practised magic over the whole of Germany, “cum multorum - admiratione;” and that “nihil non potuit,” but it was all “inani - jactantia et pollicitationibus.” - - [i14] - _Disquisit. Mag._, lib. ii. dissert. 12. - - [i15] - _Apud_ Stieglitz, _ubi supra_, p. 130. - - [i16] - I suppose Begardi alludes to the world-renowned Philippus - Aureolus Theophrastus Paracelsus Bombastus von Hohenheim. - - [i17] - In a letter dated 20th August 1507. - - [i18] - Camerarius, Hor. Successiv. cent. 2. page 314. Conrad Gesner, - Onomasticon apud Stieglitz, Sage von Faust. - - [i19] - The life of Paracelsus is very characteristic of the age, and may - be seen in Sprengel’s _Histoire de Medecine_, § 9. art. iii. - - [i20] - That Faust might attain universal celebrity, the fame of authorship - could not be wanting. Besides being the reputed author of his own - life and exploits, published by his executor Wagner after his - death, there are extant magical works under his own name,--perhaps - not more authentic than those ascribed to Solomon,--of which one of - the most curious is reprinted by Horst, _Zauber Bibliothek_, vol. - iii. p. 86, with the following title, “Doctor J. Faust’s Book of - Miracles, Art, and Wonders, or the Black Raven,--also called the - Threefold Hell-compulsion; wherewith I compelled the Spirits to - bring me whatsoever things I pleased, whether gold or silver, - treasure great and small, and the springroot (a magic plant), and - whatever other such things are upon the earth; all this have I - brought to pass by means of this book, and was also able to dismiss - the spirits as often as I pleased.” The introduction to this book by - Doctor Faust himself is curious, but too long for insertion. The - warning, however, with which it concludes is too serious to be - omitted, “_Above all things, beware of entering into compacts with - these Spirits, that it may not fare with you as it has fared with - me._” - - [i21] - Roscoe’s _German Novelists_, vol. i. To which the curious may add - (1.) Faust: _dans l’Histoire et dans la Legende par Ristelhüber_. - Didier. 1863. (2.) Faustus: his life, death, and doom, a romance in - prose; from the German. London: Kent and Co., 1864. (3.) Auerbach’s - _Volksbuchlein_. München, 1839. - - [i22] - See notes to Manfred. - - [i23] - Martin. - - - - - Faust - - [1] - _Destroyer, God of Flies, the Adversary_. Apollyon, Beelzebub, - Satan. - - [2] - _Goosewing_. A cant word for a sword. - - [3] - _Dudelsack_. A bagpipe. - - [4] - _Rabenstein_. Place of Execution. - - - - - NOTES. - - Note I. - _And this mysterious magic page_ - _From Nostradamus’ hand so sage._ - -Nostradamus was born at St. Remy, a town of Provence, in 1503, and -was a great friend of Julius Scaliger. He must thus have been -likewise a cotemporary of the famous alchymist Cornelius Agrippa, -whom, as we have seen (_Vide Introd. Remarks_), Del-Rio makes a -companion of Dr. Faust. Like a worthy son of the sixteenth century, -Nostradamus was convinced that he could make no progress in the art -of healing bodily diseases unless he began _ab ovo_ with the study -of the stars; and this it was that led him away from his own -profession of medicine into the sublime regions of astronomy and -astrology, to which allusion is made in the text. He was -particularly famous for his prophetic almanacs, which were held in -universal estimation. The title of his principal work is “_The -true Prophecies and Prognostications of Michael Nostradamus, -physician to Henry II., Francis II., Charles IX., Kings of France, -and one of the best astronomers that ever were, a work full of -curiosity and learning_.” The English translation is from the hand -of Theophilus de Garenciennes, a naturalised Frenchman, and Oxonian -Doctor of Physic. The common edition is London, 1672. - - Note II. - _He sees the sign of the Macrocosm._ - -The macrocosm is a Greek word signifying the _big world_, the -universe, as contrasted with the _little world_, the microcosm or -man, made in the likeness of God, and therefore in the likeness of -his great manifestation, the universe. The terms were in familiar -use with the theosophists of the sixteenth and seventeenth -centuries; as may be seen from the title-page of a great -physico-metaphysical book by our countryman, Robert Fludd, printed -at Oppenheim 1617-19, “_Utriusque Cosmi, majoris scilicet et -minoris, Metaphysica, Physica atque technica Historia, in duo -volumina, secundum Cosmi differentiam divisa; auctore Roberto -Fludd, alias de Fluctibus, Armigero, et in Medicina Doctore -Oxoniensi_,” etc. The book is rare; but the curious may find a -beautiful copy in the Library of the Writers to the Signet, -Edinburgh. - - Note III. - _The key of Solomon the wise_ - _Is surest spell to exorcise._ - -Solomon was a magician among the Jews, for the same reason that -Roger Bacon has acquired that reputation amongst us--on account of -his great wisdom. The Jewish exorcists, of whom mention is made in -several passages of the New Testament (Matthew xii. 27), used to -invoke the evil spirit by the name of Solomon (Joseph. Antiq. 8, 2, -5, apud Bretschneider Dogmatik, vol. i. p. 764), and the cabalistic -talmudists were, of course, not negligent in taking advantage of -this popular belief for giving authority to their occult science of -numbers. Accordingly, we find Solomon, in the Middle Ages, looked -upon as the patriarch and patron-saint of the Magic Art; and many -curious books, under his name, were in common circulation among its -Professors. It is to the title of these books that the text alludes, -“_Clavicula Solomonis_,” or Key of Solomon, supposed to be of -supreme power in compelling spirits to obey the will of man. They -are now become exceedingly rare, but some notice of them will be -found in Reichard’s work _von Geistern_, and in Horst’s -_Zauber-Bibliothek_. - - Note IV. - _Let the Salamander glow,_ - _Undene twine her crested wave,_ - _Silphe into ether flow,_ - _And Kobold vex him, drudging slave!_ - -Here we have the four elemental spirits, of which Mr. Pope has -discoursed so learnedly to Mrs. Anabella Fermor in his preface to -“The Rape of the Lock.” With Silphs and Salamanders I may -suppose the English reader sufficiently acquainted, as they have -been almost naturalised on British ground; Undenes and Kobolds still -remain more closely attached to their German soil. The former, -sometimes called _Wasser-Nixen_, are a sort of Teutonic Nymphs or -Sirens, familiar now to a large class of English readers, from -Heine’s ballad of the _Lurley_, and Fouque’s beautiful -extravaganza of _Undine_; the latter, seemingly from a Greek -original, κόβαλος, well known to the readers of Aristophanes, are -called gnomes by Pope, and appear as _brownies_ in many a Scotch -ballad. For special details of their character and proceedings the -German work of Henning’s _von Geistern_ may be consulted, p. 800, -and Horst’s _Zauber-Bibliothek_, vol. iv. p. 250. - - Note V. - _Bend thee this sacred_ - _Emblem before,_ - _Which the powers of darkness_ - _Trembling adore._ - -“Jam experimento comprobatum est nullum malum dæmonem, nullum -inferiorum virtutum, in his quæ vexant aut obsident homines, posse -huic nomini resistere quando nomen Jesu debitâ pronunciatione -illis proponitur venerandum; nec solum nomen, sed etiam illius -signaculum Crucem pavent.”--_Agrippa de Occult. Philos._, lib. -iii. c. 12. - - Note VI. - _The pentagram stands in your way._ - -“Inter alios plurimos characteres, duo tantum sunt veri et -præcipui, quorum primus constat ex duobus trigonis super se invicem -ita depictis ut Hexagonum constituant. Alterum dicunt esse priori -potentiorem et efficaciorem et esse pentagonon.”--_Paracelsus de -Characteribus apud Horst, Z. B._ vol. iii. p. 74. The figure thus -accurately described by the oracular Bombastus occurs almost as -frequently as the sign of the cross, in almost all the old books on -magic, and is drawn thus: - -[IMAGE: images/p290.jpg] - -The Platonists (let Proclus serve for an example) seem to have -derived from the Pythagoreans a strange mixture of religious -mysticism with a great enthusiasm for the mathematical sciences; and -this same pentagonal figure very probably derives not a little of -its supreme efficacy from the fact of its having been transmitted to -us from the most ancient times. Poetry is not the only thing that -receives a sacredness from age. - - Note VII. - _When left you Rippach? you must have been pressed_ - _For time. Supped you with Squire Hans by the way?_ - -“Rippach is a village near Leipzig; and to ask for Hans von -Rippach, a fictitious personage, was an old joke amongst the -students. The ready reply of Mephistopheles, indicating no surprise, -shows Siebel and Altmayer that he is up to it. Hans is the German -_Jack_.”--Hayward. - - Note VIII. - _Cat-Apes._ - -These nimble little animals, which play such a distinguished part in -this Witch Scene, are denominated in the original -“_Meer-katzen_,” literally “Sea-cats;” of which Adelung (in -voce) gives the following account:--“A name given to a certain -kind of monkeys with a cat’s tail, of which there are many -species,--_Cebus_, Linnæi. They are so called from coming across -the sea from warm countries.” I originally intended to retain the -German phrase “_Sea-cat_;” but afterwards had no hesitation to -adopt the happy translation given by the writer in _Blackwood’s -Magazine_, vol. vii. There is something mystical in the idea of an -animal half cat and half ape, which agrees wonderfully with the -witch-like antic character of this whole scene. Besides, the term -“Cat-ape” is far more expressive of the nature of the animal -than that in the original. - - Note IX. - _And we will strew chopped straw before the door._ - -A German custom prevalent among the common people, when they suspect -the virginity of a bride. The ceremony is performed on the day -before the marriage.--_Vide_ Adelung in voce _Häckerling_. - - Note X. - _And good Sir Urian is the guide._ - -“Sir Urian is a name which was formerly used to designate an -unknown person, or one whose name, even if it were known, it was not -thought proper to mention. In this sense it was sometimes applied to -the devil. In the Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach, the -unprincipled Prince of Partartois is called Urian.”--Bayard -Taylor. - - Note XI. - _The ointment gives our sinews might._ - -“According to the orthodox theory, the witches anointed their -whole body with a salve or ointment prepared in the name of the -fiend, murmured a few magic sentences into their beard, and then -flew up, body and soul, head and hair, actually and corporeally into -the air.”--Horst’s _Dæmonomagie_, vol. ii. p. 203. - - Note XII. - _Make way, Squire Voland comes._ - -A name of Satan, derived probably from the Latin _Volo_, through the -Italian _Volante_, expressive of that agile quality of the old -deceiver, whereby he is always “going to and fro on the earth, and -walking up and down in it.”--Job i. 7. See Reichard’s _Geister -Reich_, vol. i. p. 397. But I rather suspect this appellation is -connected with the office of the evil one, as chief of the flies, -and other volatile tormentors. In the French edition of the popular -story the devil is called “Le Diable volatique,” c. vi.;--or, -better still, the devil is so called as being “the prince of the -power of the air,” and therefore a flying spirit. “Mon Valet, -dis moi quel esprit es-tu?--Mon Maistre Faust, je suis un esprit -Volant, qui ay mon cours dans l’air sous le ciel”--in the same -French history of Doctor Faust. - - Note XIII. - _Who then is that?--’Tis Lilith._ - -_Lilith_, from _Lil_, darkness, is the name of night-monster -(translated _screech-owl_ in Isaiah xxxiv. 14), who, under the -deceitful form of a beautiful woman, was believed by the Jews to be -most injurious to parturient women, and very often to occasion the -death of young persons before they were circumcised. Buxtorf, in his -Lexicon Talmudicum, gives a tolerably good account of these Hebrew -_Lamiæ_; but the most complete and satisfactory information on -this, as on all other subjects connected with ancient and modern -superstition, is to be found in Horst, _Zauber-Bibliothek_, part vi. -pp. 42 and 86. - - Note XIV. - _Proctophantasmist._ - -It is universally agreed that Nicolai, a noted Berlin publisher, who -flourished about the middle and towards the end of the last century, -is the person meant here. From his biography by Göcking, he appears -to have been a man of remarkable mental activity and considerable -literary significance in his day; but, like the Brandenburg sands on -which he was located, his ideas seemed to have been somewhat flat -and prosaic, and totally inadequate to grasp the significance of the -great master spirits of thought, who were now asserting their -rightful place on the platform of German literature. Notwithstanding -the prosaic character of his mind, he became subject to a disease of -seeing apparitions in clear daylight (see Dr. Hibbert’s book on -apparitions), an abnormal action of the optic nerves, which was -cured by the application of leeches to the part of the body on which -the unfeathered biped finds it comfortable to sit. Hence the name, -from the Greek πρωκτός. - - Note XV. - _Intermezzo._ - -Most of the puppet personages who pop up in this curious little -piece, and explain their own significance in a stanza, may be -presumed to be sufficiently familiar to all readers capable of -appreciating the mind of a poetical thinker such as Goethe. I -confine myself to the few following notes:-- - -_Embryo-Spirit_.--German “_Geist der sich erst bildet_.” A quiz -upon young versifiers,--poetlings with whom rhyme and reason are -opposite poles. - -_Orthodox_.--We are indebted to the Fathers of the Church for the -pious imagination that the heathen gods were devils. Milton follows -the same unfounded idea. The gods of Greece were bad enough; but we -need not make them worse than they were. They had their good side -too. _Vide_ Schiller’s beautiful poem, “The Gods of Greece,” -which, by the by, Frantz Horn calls “Ein unendlicher -Irrthum,”--an infinite error. But a man may admire an Apollo or a -Minerva without meaning to be a heathen. - -_Purists_.--There are “purists” among the German grammarians; -but the allusion here must be to something else--prigs and -precisians, I fancy. - -_Xenien_.--Epigrammatic poems published by Goethe and Schiller, -which were very severe on the half-poets of the day. - -_Hennings_.--I know nothing of this character. Hayward says he was -one of the victims of the Xenien, and editor of two periodicals, -“_The Genius of the Age_,” and the “_Musaget_.” - -The _stiff_ man is Nicolai; he of the “old mill,” _supra_, p. -251. Nicolai was a great zealot against Catholics and Jesuits; but, -as Frantz Horn hints, his zeal was not always according to -knowledge.--_Geschichte der Deutschen Poesie_, vol. iii. - -The _Crane_, I believe, is Lavater. - - Note XVI. - _My mother, the wanton,_ - _That choked my breath._ - -“This song is founded upon a popular German story, to be found in -the _Kinder-und Haus-Märchen_ of the distinguished brothers Grimm, -under the title of _Van den Machandel-Boom_, and in the English -selection from that work (entitled _German Popular Stories_), under -the title of _The Juniper Tree_.--The wife of a rich man, whilst -standing under a juniper tree, wishes for a little child as white as -snow and as red as blood; and, on another occasion, expresses a wish -to be buried under the juniper when dead. Soon after, a little boy -as white as snow and as red as blood is born: the mother dies of joy -at beholding it, and is buried according to her wish. The husband -marries again, and has a daughter. The second wife, becoming jealous -of the boy, murders him, and serves him up at table for the -unconscious father to eat. The father finishes the whole dish, and -throws the bones under the table. The little girl, who is made the -innocent assistant in her mother’s villany, picks them up, ties -them in a silk handkerchief, and buries them under the juniper tree. -The tree begins to move its branches mysteriously, and then a kind -of cloud rises from it, a fire appears in the cloud, and out of the -fire comes a beautiful bird, which flies about singing the following -song:-- - - “‘Min Moder de mi slacht’t - Min Vader de me att, - Min Swester de Marleenken - Söcht alle mine Beeniken, - Un bindt sie in een syden Dook, - Legts unner den Machandelboom; - Kywitt, Kywitt! ach watt en schön Vagel ben ich!’” - Hayward’s _Prose Translation of Faust_, - 2_d edition_, p. 294. - - - [THE END.] - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES. - -Alterations to text: - -Add TOC and Dramatis Personae listing. - -Relabel footnote markers and link to footnotes at end of work. - -Add note markers to play and link to notes at end of work. - -Minor changes to the formatting of some play elements (speaker -names, stage directions, etc.). - -[Introduction, footnote #6] - -“Buhle, _ubi subra_, § 897.” Change _subra_ to _supra_. - -[Act II/Scene I] - -Change “Let’s go to Burgdorf; _there’ll_ you’ll find, I know,” to -_there_. - -[Act II/Scene VII] - -“To know _it’s_ mother’s breast; but soon” to _its_. - -“Round which another _years_ of labour spends.” to _year_. - -[Act III/Scene II] - -(Addressing _him_ to the flames.) to _himself_. - -[Act III/Scene V] - -“_Then_ looking lustfully at her.” to _Than_. - -[Act III/Scene VII] - -“To fondle in one’s _arm_ so sweet a thing as you.” to _arms_. - -(“When last we sailed _fram_ Malta”--so he said,) to _from_. - -[Act IV/Scene VIII] - -Change the speaker of “Who’s this lies here?” from Gretchen to -Margaret. - -“I tell thee in thine _car_, that thou” to _ear_. - -[Act V/Scene II] - -“Him to the _Artic_ circle ban,” to _Arctic_. - - [End of Text] - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Faust: A Tragedy, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAUST: A TRAGEDY *** - -***** This file should be named 63203-h.htm or 63203-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/2/0/63203/ - -Produced by David Thomas -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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