book I

can repeat, Such time I’ve squandered o’er the history: A contradiction thus complete Is always for the wise, no less than fools, a mystery. The art is old and new, for verily All ages have been taught the matter,— By Three and One, and One and Three, Error instead of Truth to scatter. They prate and teach, and no one interferes; All from the fellowship of fools are shrinking. Man usually believes, if only words he hears, That also with them goes material for thinking!

THE WITCH (_continues_)

The lofty skill Of Science, still From all men deeply hidden! Who takes no thought, To him ’tis brought, ’Tis given unsought, unbidden!

FAUST

What nonsense she declaims before us! My head is nigh to split, I fear: It seems to me as if I hear A hundred thousand fools in chorus.

MEPHISTOPHELES

O Sibyl excellent, enough of adjuration! But hither bring us thy potation, And quickly fill the beaker to the brim! This drink will bring my friend no injuries: He is a man of manifold degrees, And many draughts are known to him.

(_The_ WITCH, _with many ceremonies, pours the drink into a cup; as_ FAUST _sets it to his lips, a light flame arises_.)

Down with it quickly! Drain it off! ’Twill warm thy heart with new desire: Art with the Devil hand and glove, And wilt thou be afraid of fire?

(_The_ WITCH _breaks the circle_: FAUST _steps forth_.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

And now, away! Thou dar’st not rest.

THE WITCH

And much good may the liquor do thee!

MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the_ WITCH)

Thy wish be on Walpurgis Night expressed; What boon I have, shall then be given unto thee.

THE WITCH

Here is a song, which, if you sometimes sing, You’ll find it of peculiar operation.

MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)

Come, walk at once! A rapid occupation Must start the needful perspiration, And through thy frame the liquor’s potence fling. The noble indolence I’ll teach thee then to treasure, And soon thou’lt be aware, with keenest thrills of pleasure, How Cupid stirs and leaps, on light and restless wing.

FAUST

One rapid glance within the mirror give me, How beautiful that woman-form!

MEPHISTOPHELES

No, no! The paragon of all, believe me, Thou soon shalt see, alive and warm.

_(Aside)_

Thou’lt find, this drink thy blood compelling, Each woman beautiful as Helen!

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

VII

STREET

FAUST MARGARET _(passing by)_

FAUST

Fair lady, let it not offend you, That arm and escort I would lend you!

MARGARET

I’m neither lady, neither fair, And home I can go without your care.

[_She releases herself, and exit_.

FAUST

By Heaven, the girl is wondrous fair! Of all I’ve seen, beyond compare; So sweetly virtuous and pure, And yet a little pert, be sure! The lip so red, the cheek’s clear dawn, [Illustration:] I’ll not forget while the world rolls on! How she cast down her timid eyes, Deep in my heart imprinted lies: How short and sharp of speech was she, Why, ’twas a real ecstasy!

(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_)

FAUST

Hear, of that girl I’d have possession!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Which, then?

FAUST

The one who just went by.

MEPHISTOPHELES

She, there? She’s coming from confession, Of every sin absolved; for I, Behind her chair, was listening nigh. So innocent is she, indeed, That to confess she had no need. I have no power o’er souls so green.

FAUST

And yet, she’s older than fourteen.

MEPHISTOPHELES

How now! You’re talking like Jack Rake, Who every flower for himself would take, And fancies there are no favors more, Nor honors, save for him in store; Yet always doesn’t the thing succeed.

FAUST

Most Worthy Pedagogue, take heed! Let not a word of moral law be spoken! I claim, I tell thee, all my right; And if that image of delight Rest not within mine arms to-night, At midnight is our compact broken.

MEPHISTOPHELES

But think, the chances of the case! I need, at least, a fortnight’s space, To find an opportune occasion.

FAUST

Had I but seven hours for all, I should not on the Devil call, But win her by my own persuasion.

MEPHISTOPHELES

You almost like a Frenchman prate; Yet, pray, don’t take it as annoyance! Why, all at once, exhaust the joyance? Your bliss is by no means so great As if you’d use, to get control, All sorts of tender rigmarole, And knead and shape her to your thought, As in Italian tales ’tis taught.

FAUST

Without that, I have appetite.

MEPHISTOPHELES

But now, leave jesting out of sight! I tell you, once for all, that speed With this fair girl will not succeed; By storm she cannot captured be; We must make use of strategy.

FAUST

Get me something the angel keeps! Lead me thither where she sleeps! Get me a kerchief from her breast,— A garter that her knee has pressed!

MEPHISTOPHELES

That you may see how much I’d fain Further and satisfy your pain, We will no longer lose a minute; I’ll find her room to-day, and take you in it.

FAUST

And shall I see—possess her?

MEPHISTOPHELES

No! Unto a neighbor she must go, And meanwhile thou, alone, mayst glow With every hope of future pleasure, Breathing her atmosphere in fullest measure.

FAUST

Can we go thither?

MEPHISTOPHELES

’Tis too early yet.

FAUST

A gift for her I bid thee get! [_Exit_.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Presents at once? That’s good: he’s certain to get at her! Full many a pleasant place I know, And treasures, buried long ago: I must, perforce, look up the matter. _[Exit_. [Illustration]

VIII

EVENING A SMALL, NEATLY KEPT CHAMBER

MARGARET

(_plaiting and binding up the braids of her hair_)

I’d something give, could I but say Who was that gentleman, to-day. Surely a gallant man was he, And of a noble family; And much could I in his face behold,— And he wouldn’t, else, have been so bold!

[_Exit_

MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST

MEPHISTOPHELES

Come in, but gently: follow me!

FAUST (_after a moment’s silence_)

Leave me alone, I beg of thee!

MEPHISTOPHELES (_prying about_)

Not every girl keeps things so neat.

FAUST (_looking around_)

O welcome, twilight soft and sweet, That breathes throughout this hallowed shrine! Sweet pain of love, bind thou with fetters fleet The heart that on the dew of hope must pine! How all around a sense impresses Of quiet, order, and content! This poverty what bounty blesses! What bliss within this narrow den is pent!

(_He throws himself into a leathern arm-chair near the bed_.)

Receive me, thou, that in thine open arms Departed joy and pain wert wont to gather! How oft the children, with their ruddy charms, Hung here, around this throne, where sat the father! Perchance my love, amid the childish band, Grateful for gifts the Holy Christmas gave her, Here meekly kissed the grandsire’s withered hand. I feel, O maid! thy very soul Of order and content around me whisper,— Which leads thee with its motherly control, The cloth upon thy board bids smoothly thee unroll, The sand beneath thy feet makes whiter, crisper. O dearest hand, to thee ’tis given To change this hut into a lower heaven! And here!

(_He lifts one of the bed-curtains_.)

What sweetest thrill is in my blood! Here could I spend whole hours, delaying: Here Nature shaped, as if in sportive playing, The angel blossom from the bud. Here lay the child, with Life’s warm essence The tender bosom filled and fair, And here was wrought, through holier, purer presence, The form diviner beings wear!

And I? What drew me here with power? How deeply am I moved, this hour! What seek I? Why so full my heart, and sore? Miserable Faust! I know thee now no more.

Is there a magic vapor here? I came, with lust of instant pleasure, And lie dissolved in dreams of love’s sweet leisure! Are we the sport of every changeful atmosphere?

And if, this moment, came she in to me, How would I for the fault atonement render! How small the giant lout would be, Prone at her feet, relaxed and tender!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Be quick! I see her there, returning.

FAUST

Go! go! I never will retreat.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Here is a casket, not unmeet, Which elsewhere I have just been earning. Here, set it in the press, with haste! I swear, ’twill turn her head, to spy it: Some baubles I therein had placed, That you might win another by it. True, child is child, and play is play.

FAUST

I know not, should I do it?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ask you, pray? Yourself, perhaps, would keep the bubble? Then I suggest, ’twere fair and just To spare the lovely day your lust, And spare to me the further trouble. You are not miserly, I trust? I rub my hands, in expectation tender—

(_He places the casket in the press, and locks it again_.)

Now quick, away! The sweet young maiden to betray, So that by wish and will you bend her; And you look as though To the lecture-hall you were forced to go,— As if stood before you, gray and loath, Physics and Metaphysics both! But away! [_Exeunt_.

MARGARET (_with a lamp_)

It is so close, so sultry, here!

(_She opens the window_)

And yet ’tis not so warm outside. I feel, I know not why, such fear!— Would mother came!—where can she bide? My body’s chill and shuddering,— I’m but a silly, fearsome thing!

(_She begins to sing while undressing_)

There was a King in Thule, Was faithful till the grave,— To whom his mistress, dying, A golden goblet gave.

Naught was to him more precious; He drained it at every bout: His eyes with tears ran over, As oft as he drank thereout.

When came his time of dying, The towns in his land he told, Naught else to his heir denying Except the goblet of gold.

He sat at the royal banquet With his knights of high degree, In the lofty hall of his fathers In the Castle by the Sea.

There stood the old carouser, And drank the last life-glow; And hurled the hallowed goblet Into the tide below.

He saw it plunging and filling, And sinking deep in the sea: Then fell his eyelids forever, And never more drank he!

(_She opens the press in order to arrange her clothes, and perceives the casket of jewels_.)

How comes that lovely casket here to me? I locked the press, most certainly. ’Tis truly wonderful! What can within it be? Perhaps ’twas brought by some one as a pawn, And mother gave a loan thereon? And here there hangs a key to fit: I have a mind to open it. What is that? God in Heaven! Whence came Such things? Never beheld I aught so fair! Rich ornaments, such as a noble dame On highest holidays might wear! How would the pearl-chain suit my hair? Ah, who may all this splendor own?

(_She adorns herself with the jewelry, and steps before the mirror_.)

Were but the ear-rings mine, alone! One has at once another air. What helps one’s beauty, youthful blood? One may possess them, well and good; But none the more do others care. They praise us half in pity, sure: To gold still tends, On gold depends All, all! Alas, we poor!

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

IX

PROMENADE

(FAUST, _walking thoughtfully up and down. To him_ MEPHISTOPHELES.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

By all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and unsparing! I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it for swearing!

FAUST

What ails thee? What is’t gripes thee, elf? A face like thine beheld I never.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I would myself unto the Devil deliver, If I were not a Devil myself!

FAUST

Thy head is out of order, sadly: It much becomes thee to be raving madly.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Just think, the pocket of a priest should get The trinkets left for Margaret! The mother saw them, and, instanter, A secret dread began to haunt her. Keen scent has she for tainted air; She snuffs within her book of prayer, And smells each article, to see If sacred or profane it be; So here she guessed, from every gem, That not much blessing came with them. “My child,” she said, “ill-gotten good Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood. Before the Mother of God we’ll lay it; With heavenly manna she’ll repay it!” But Margaret thought, with sour grimace, “A gift-horse is not out of place, And, truly! godless cannot be The one who brought such things to me.” A parson came, by the mother bidden: He saw, at once, where the game was hidden, And viewed it with a favor stealthy. He spake: “That is the proper view,— Who overcometh, winneth too. The Holy Church has a stomach healthy: Hath eaten many a land as forfeit, And never yet complained of surfeit: The Church alone, beyond all question, Has for ill-gotten goods the right digestion.”

FAUST

A general practice is the same, Which Jew and King may also claim.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Then bagged the spangles, chains, and rings, As if but toadstools were the things, And thanked no less, and thanked no more Than if a sack of nuts he bore,— Promised them fullest heavenly pay, And deeply edified were they.

FAUST

And Margaret?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Sits unrestful still, And knows not what she should, or will; Thinks on the jewels, day and night, But more on him who gave her such delight.

FAUST

The darling’s sorrow gives me pain. Get thou a set for her again! The first was not a great display.

MEPHISTOPHELES

O yes, the gentleman finds it all child’s-play!

FAUST

Fix and arrange it to my will; And on her neighbor try thy skill! Don’t be a Devil stiff as paste, But get fresh jewels to her taste!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, gracious Sir, in all obedience!

[_Exit_ FAUST.

Such an enamored fool in air would blow Sun, moon, and all the starry legions, To give his sweetheart a diverting show.

[_Exit_.

[Illustration]

X

THE NEIGHBOR’S HOUSE

MARTHA (_solus_)

God forgive my husband, yet he Hasn’t done his duty by me! Off in the world he went straightway,— Left me lie in the straw where I lay. And, truly, I did naught to fret him: God knows I loved, and can’t forget him!

(_She weeps_.)

Perhaps he’s even dead! Ah, woe!— Had I a certificate to show!

MARGARET (_comes_)

Dame Martha!

MARTHA

Margaret! what’s happened thee?

MARGARET

I scarce can stand, my knees are trembling! I find a box, the first resembling, Within my press! Of ebony,— And things, all splendid to behold, And richer far than were the old.

MARTHA

You mustn’t tell it to your mother! ’Twould go to the priest, as did the other.

MARGARET

Ah, look and see—just look and see!

MARTHA (_adorning her_)

O, what a blessed luck for thee!

MARGARET

But, ah! in the streets I dare not bear them, Nor in the church be seen to wear them.

MARTHA

Yet thou canst often this way wander, And secretly the jewels don, Walk up and down an hour, before the mirror yonder,— We’ll have our private joy thereon. And then a chance will come, a holiday, When, piece by piece, can one the things abroad display, A chain at first, then other ornament: Thy mother will not see, and stories we’ll invent.

MARGARET

Whoever could have brought me things so precious? That something’s wrong, I feel suspicious.

(_A knock_)

Good Heaven! My mother can that have been?

MARTHA (_peeping through the blind_)

’Tis some strange gentleman.—Come in!

(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

That I so boldly introduce me, I beg you, ladies, to excuse me.

(_Steps back reverently, on seeing_ MARGARET.)

For Martha Schwerdtlein I’d inquire!

MARTHA

I’m she: what does the gentleman desire?

MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside to her_)

It is enough that you are she: You’ve a visitor of high degree. Pardon the freedom I have ta’en,— Will after noon return again.

MARTHA (_aloud_)

Of all things in the world! Just hear— He takes thee for a lady, dear!

MARGARET

I am a creature young and poor: The gentleman’s too kind, I’m sure. The jewels don’t belong to me.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ah, not alone the jewelry! The look, the manner, both betray— Rejoiced am I that I may stay!

MARTHA

What is your business? I would fain—

MEPHISTOPHELES

I would I had a more cheerful strain! Take not unkindly its repeating: Your husband’s dead, and sends a greeting.

MARTHA

Is dead? Alas, that heart so true! My husband dead! Let me die, too!

MARGARET

Ah, dearest dame, let not your courage fail!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Hear me relate the mournful tale!

MARGARET

Therefore I’d never love, believe me! A loss like this to death would grieve me.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Joy follows woe, woe after joy comes flying.

MARTHA

Relate his life’s sad close to me!

MEPHISTOPHELES

In Padua buried, he is lying Beside the good Saint Antony, Within a grave well consecrated, For cool, eternal rest created.

MARTHA

He gave you, further, no commission?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, one of weight, with many sighs: Three hundred masses buy, to save him from perdition! My hands are empty, otherwise.

MARTHA

What! Not a pocket-piece? no jewelry? What every journeyman within his wallet spares, And as a token with him bears, And rather starves or begs, than loses?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Madam, it is a grief to me; Yet, on my word, his cash was put to proper uses. Besides, his penitence was very sore, And he lamented his ill fortune all the more.

MARGARET

Alack, that men are so unfortunate! Surely for his soul’s sake full many a prayer I’ll proffer.

MEPHISTOPHELES

You well deserve a speedy marriage-offer: You are so kind, compassionate.

MARGARET

O, no! As yet, it would not do.

MEPHISTOPHELES

If not a husband, then a beau for you! It is the greatest heavenly blessing, To have a dear thing for one’s caressing.

MARGARET

The country’s custom is not so.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Custom, or not! It happens, though.

MARTHA

Continue, pray!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I stood beside his bed of dying. ’Twas something better than manure,— Half-rotten straw: and yet, he died a Christian, sure, And found that heavier scores to his account were lying. He cried: “I find my conduct wholly hateful! To leave my wife, my trade, in manner so ungrateful! Ah, the remembrance makes me die! Would of my wrong to her I might be shriven!”

MARTHA (_weeping_)

The dear, good man! Long since was he forgiven.

MEPHISTOPHELES

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

MARTHA

He lied! What! On the brink of death he slandered?

MEPHISTOPHELES

In the last throes his senses wandered, If I such things but half can judge. He said: “I had no time for play, for gaping freedom: First children, and then work for bread to feed ’em,— For bread, in the widest sense, to drudge, And could not even eat my share in peace and quiet!”

MARTHA

Had he all love, all faith forgotten in his riot? My work and worry, day and night?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Not so: the memory of it touched him quite. Said he: “When I from Malta went away My prayers for wife and little ones were zealous, And such a luck from Heaven befell us, We made a Turkish merchantman our prey, That to the Soldan bore a mighty treasure. Then I received, as was most fit, Since bravery was paid in fullest measure, My well-apportioned share of it.”

MARTHA

Say, how? Say, where? If buried, did he own it?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Who knows, now, whither the four winds have blown it? A fair young damsel took him in her care, As he in Naples wandered round, unfriended; And she much love, much faith to him did bear, So that he felt it till his days were ended.

MARTHA

The villain! From his children thieving! Even all the misery on him cast Could not prevent his shameful way of living!

MEPHISTOPHELES

But see! He’s dead therefrom, at last. Were I in _your_ place, do not doubt me, I’d mourn him decently a year, And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me.

MARTHA

Ah, God! another one so dear As was my first, this world will hardly give me. There never was a sweeter fool than mine, Only he loved to roam and leave me, And foreign wenches and foreign wine, And the damned throw of dice, indeed.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Well, well! That might have done, however, If he had only been as clever, And treated _your_ slips with as little heed. I swear, with this condition, too, I would, myself, change rings with you.

MARTHA

The gentleman is pleased to jest.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’ll cut away, betimes, from here: She’d take the Devil at his word, I fear.

(_To_ MARGARET)

How fares the heart within your breast?

MARGARET

What means the gentleman?

MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)

Sweet innocent, thou art!

(_Aloud_.)

Ladies, farewell!

MARGARET

Farewell!

MARTHA

A moment, ere we part! I’d like to have a legal witness, Where, how, and when he died, to certify his fitness. Irregular ways I’ve always hated; I want his death in the weekly paper stated.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, my good dame, a pair of witnesses Always the truth establishes. I have a friend of high condition, Who’ll also add his deposition. I’ll bring him here.

MARTHA

Good Sir, pray do!

MEPHISTOPHELES

And this young lady will be present, too? A gallant youth! has travelled far: Ladies with him delighted are.

MARGARET

Before him I should blush, ashamed.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Before no king that could be named!

MARTHA

Behind the house, in my garden, then, This eve we’ll expect the gentlemen.

[Illustration]

XI

A STREET

FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

How is it? under way? and soon complete?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ah, bravo! Do I find you burning? Well, Margaret soon will still your yearning: At Neighbor Martha’s you’ll this evening meet. A fitter woman ne’er was made To ply the pimp and gypsy trade!

FAUST

Tis well.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yet something is required from us.

FAUST

One service pays the other thus.

MEPHISTOPHELES

We’ve but to make a deposition valid That now her husband’s limbs, outstretched and pallid, At Padua rest, in consecrated soil.

FAUST

Most wise! And first, of course, we’ll make the journey thither?

MEPHISTOPHELES

_Sancta simplicitas_! no need of such a toil; Depose, with knowledge or without it, either!

FAUST

If you’ve naught better, then, I’ll tear your pretty plan!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Now, there you are! O holy man! Is it the first time in your life you’re driven To bear false witness in a case? Of God, the world and all that in it has a place, Of Man, and all that moves the being of his race, Have you not terms and definitions given With brazen forehead, daring breast? And, if you’ll probe the thing profoundly, Knew you so much—and you’ll confess it roundly!— As here of Schwerdtlein’s death and place of rest?

FAUST

Thou art, and thou remain’st, a sophist, liar.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, knew I not more deeply thy desire. For wilt thou not, no lover fairer, Poor Margaret flatter, and ensnare her, And all thy soul’s devotion swear her?

FAUST

And from my heart.

MEPHISTOPHELES

’Tis very fine! Thine endless love, thy faith assuring, The one almighty force enduring,— Will that, too, prompt this heart of thine?

FAUST

Hold! hold! It will!—If such my flame, And for the sense and power intense I seek, and cannot find, a name; Then range with all my senses through creation, Craving the speech of inspiration, And call this ardor, so supernal, Endless, eternal and eternal,— Is that a devilish lying game?

MEPHISTOPHELES

And yet I’m right!

FAUST

Mark this, I beg of thee! And spare my lungs henceforth: whoever Intends to have the right, if but his tongue be clever, Will have it, certainly. But come: the further talking brings disgust, For thou art right, especially since I must.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XII

GARDEN

(MARGARET _on_ FAUST’S _arm_. MARTHA _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES _walking up and down_.)

MARGARET

I feel, the gentleman allows for me, Demeans himself, and shames me by it; A traveller is so used to be Kindly content with any diet. I know too well that my poor gossip can Ne’er entertain such an experienced man.

FAUST

A look from thee, a word, more entertains Than all the lore of wisest brains.

(_He kisses her hand_.)

MARGARET

Don’t incommode yourself! How could you ever kiss it! It is so ugly, rough to see! What work I do,—how hard and steady is it! Mother is much too close with me.

[_They pass_.

MARTHA

And you, Sir, travel always, do you not?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Alas, that trade and duty us so harry! With what a pang one leaves so many a spot, And dares not even now and then to tarry!

MARTHA

In young, wild years it suits your ways, This round and round the world in freedom sweeping; But then come on the evil days, And so, as bachelor, into his grave a-creeping, None ever found a thing to praise.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I dread to see how such a fate advances.

MARTHA

Then, worthy Sir, improve betimes your chances!

[_They pass_.

MARGARET

Yes, out of sight is out of mind! Your courtesy an easy grace is; But you have friends in other places, And sensibler than I, you’ll find.

FAUST

Trust me, dear heart! what men call sensible Is oft mere vanity and narrowness.

MARGARET

How so?

FAUST

Ah, that simplicity and innocence ne’er know Themselves, their holy value, and their spell! That meekness, lowliness, the highest graces Which Nature portions out so lovingly—

MARGARET

So you but think a moment’s space on me, All times I’ll have to think on you, all places!

FAUST

No doubt you’re much alone?

MARGARET

Yes, for our household small has grown, Yet must be cared for, you will own. We have no maid: I do the knitting, sewing, sweeping, The cooking, early work and late, in fact; And mother, in her notions of housekeeping, Is so exact! Not that she needs so much to keep expenses down: We, more than others, might take comfort, rather: A nice estate was left us by my father, A house, a little garden near the town. But now my days have less of noise and hurry; My brother is a soldier, My little sister’s dead. True, with the child a troubled life I led, Yet I would take again, and willing, all the worry, So very dear was she.

FAUST

An angel, if like thee!

MARGARET

I brought it up, and it was fond of me. Father had died before it saw the light, And mother’s case seemed hopeless quite, So weak and miserable she lay; And she recovered, then, so slowly, day by day. She could not think, herself, of giving The poor wee thing its natural living; And so I nursed it all alone With milk and water: ’twas my own. Lulled in my lap with many a song, It smiled, and tumbled, and grew strong.

FAUST

The purest bliss was surely then thy dower.

MARGARET

But surely, also, many a weary hour. I kept the baby’s cradle near My bed at night: if ’t even stirred, I’d guess it, And waking, hear. And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it, And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake, And dandling back and forth the restless creature take, Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning’s break; And then the marketing and kitchen-tending, Day after day, the same thing, never-ending. One’s spirits, Sir, are thus not always good, But then one learns to relish rest and food.

[_They pass_.

MARTHA

Yes, the poor women are bad off, ’tis true: A stubborn bachelor there’s no converting.

MEPHISTOPHELES

It but depends upon the like of you, And I should turn to better ways than flirting.

MARTHA

Speak plainly, Sir, have you no one detected? Has not your heart been anywhere subjected?

MEPHISTOPHELES

The proverb says: One’s own warm hearth And a good wife, are gold and jewels worth.

MARTHA

I mean, have you not felt desire, though ne’er so slightly?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’ve everywhere, in fact, been entertained politely.

MARTHA

I meant to say, were you not touched in earnest, ever?

MEPHISTOPHELES

One should allow one’s self to jest with ladies never.

MARTHA Ah, you don’t understand!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’m sorry I’m so blind: But I am sure—that you are very kind.

[_They pass_.

FAUST

And me, thou angel! didst thou recognize, As through the garden-gate I came?

MARGARET

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

FAUST

And thou forgiv’st my freedom, and the blame To my impertinence befitting, As the Cathedral thou wert quitting?

MARGARET

I was confused, the like ne’er happened me; No one could ever speak to my discredit. Ah, thought I, in my conduct has he read it— Something immodest or unseemly free? He seemed to have the sudden feeling That with this wench ’twere very easy dealing. I will confess, I knew not what appeal On your behalf, here, in my bosom grew; But I was angry with myself, to feel That I could not be angrier with you.

FAUST

Sweet darling!

MARGARET

Wait a while!

(_She plucks a star-flower, and pulls off the leaves, one after the other_.)

FAUST

Shall that a nosegay be?

MARGARET

No, it is just in play.

FAUST

How?

MARGARET

Go! you’ll laugh at me. (_She pulls off the leaves and murmurs_.)

FAUST

What murmurest thou?

MARGARET (_half aloud_)

He loves me—loves me not.

FAUST

Thou sweet, angelic soul!

MARGARET (_continues_)

Loves me—not—loves me—not— (_plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight_:)

He loves me!

FAUST

Yes, child! and let this blossom-word For thee be speech divine! He loves thee! Ah, know’st thou what it means? He loves thee!

(_He grasps both her hands_.)

MARGARET

I’m all a-tremble!

FAUST

O tremble not! but let this look, Let this warm clasp of hands declare thee What is unspeakable! To yield one wholly, and to feel a rapture In yielding, that must be eternal! Eternal!—for the end would be despair. No, no,—no ending! no ending!

MARTHA (_coming forward_)

The night is falling.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ay! we must away.

MARTHA

I’d ask you, longer here to tarry, But evil tongues in this town have full play. It’s as if nobody had nothing to fetch and carry, Nor other labor, But spying all the doings of one’s neighbor: And one becomes the talk, do whatsoe’er one may. Where is our couple now?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Flown up the alley yonder, The wilful summer-birds!

MARTHA

He seems of her still fonder.

MEPHISTOPHELES

And she of him. So runs the world away!

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XIII

A GARDEN-ARBOR

(MARGARET _comes in, conceals herself behind the door, puts her finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack_.)

MARGARET

He comes!

FAUST (_entering_)

Ah, rogue! a tease thou art: I have thee! (_He kisses her_.)

MARGARET

(_clasping him, and returning the kiss_) Dearest man! I love thee from my heart.

(MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_)

FAUST (_stamping his foot_)

Who’s there?

MEPHISTOPHELES

A friend!

FAUST

A beast!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Tis time to separate.

MARTHA (_coming_)

Yes, Sir, ’tis late.

FAUST

May I not, then, upon you wait?

MARGARET My mother would—farewell!

FAUST

Ah, can I not remain? Farewell!

MARTHA

Adieu!

MARGARET

And soon to meet again!

[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.

MARGARET

Dear God! However is it, such A man can think and know so much? I stand ashamed and in amaze, And answer “Yes” to all he says, A poor, unknowing child! and he— I can’t think what he finds in me! [_Exit_.

[Illustration]

XIV

FOREST AND CAVERN

FAUST (_solus_)

Spirit sublime, thou gav’st me, gav’st me all For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire. Thou gav’st me Nature as a kingdom grand, With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield’st, But grantest, that in her profoundest breast I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend. The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead Before me, teaching me to know my brothers In air and water and the silent wood. And when the storm in forests roars and grinds, The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down, And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,— Then to the cave secure thou leadest me, Then show’st me mine own self, and in my breast The deep, mysterious miracles unfold. And when the perfect moon before my gaze Comes up with soothing light, around me float From every precipice and thicket damp The silvery phantoms of the ages past, And temper the austere delight of thought.

That nothing can be perfect unto Man I now am conscious. With this ecstasy, Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods, Thou gav’st the comrade, whom I now no more Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he Demeans me to myself, and with a breath, A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness. Within my breast he fans a lawless fire, Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form: Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment, And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.

(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

Have you not led this life quite long enough? How can a further test delight you? ’Tis very well, that once one tries the stuff, But something new must then requite you.

FAUST

Would there were other work for thee! To plague my day auspicious thou returnest.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Well! I’ll engage to let thee be: Thou darest not tell me so in earnest. The loss of thee were truly very slight,— comrade crazy, rude, repelling:

[Illustration]

One has one’s hands full all the day and night; If what one does, or leaves undone, is right, From such a face as thine there is no telling.

FAUST

There is, again, thy proper tone!— That thou hast bored me, I must thankful be!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Poor Son of Earth, how couldst thou thus alone Have led thy life, bereft of me? I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure; Thy fancy’s rickets plague thee not at all: Had I not been, so hadst thou, sure, Walked thyself off this earthly ball Why here to caverns, rocky hollows slinking, Sit’st thou, as ’twere an owl a-blinking? Why suck’st, from sodden moss and dripping stone, Toad-like, thy nourishment alone? A fine way, this, thy time to fill! The Doctor’s in thy body still.

FAUST

What fresh and vital forces, canst thou guess, Spring from my commerce with the wilderness? But, if thou hadst the power of guessing, Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge my soul the blessing.

MEPHISTOPHELES

A blessing drawn from supernatural fountains! In night and dew to lie upon the mountains; All Heaven and Earth in rapture penetrating; Thyself to Godhood haughtily inflating; To grub with yearning force through Earth’s dark marrow, Compress the six days’ work within thy bosom narrow,— To taste, I know not what, in haughty power, Thine own ecstatic life on all things shower, Thine earthly self behind thee cast, And then the lofty instinct, thus—

(_With a gesture_:)

at last,— daren’t say how—to pluck the final flower!

FAUST

Shame on thee!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, thou findest that unpleasant! Thou hast the moral right to cry me “shame!” at present. One dares not that before chaste ears declare, Which chaste hearts, notwithstanding, cannot spare; And, once for all, I grudge thee not the pleasure Of lying to thyself in moderate measure. But such a course thou wilt not long endure; Already art thou o’er-excited, And, if it last, wilt soon be plighted To madness and to horror, sure. Enough of that! Thy love sits lonely yonder, By all things saddened and oppressed; Her thoughts and yearnings seek thee, tenderer, fonder,— mighty love is in her breast. First came thy passion’s flood and poured around her As when from melted snow a streamlet overflows; Thou hast therewith so filled and drowned her, That now _thy_ stream all shallow shows. Methinks, instead of in the forests lording, The noble Sir should find it good, The love of this young silly blood At once to set about rewarding. Her time is miserably long; She haunts her window, watching clouds that stray O’er the old city-wall, and far away. “Were I a little bird!” so runs her song, Day long, and half night long. Now she is lively, mostly sad, Now, wept beyond her tears; Then again quiet she appears,—Always love-mad.

FAUST

Serpent! Serpent!

MEPHISTOPHELES _(aside)_

Ha! do I trap thee!

FAUST

Get thee away with thine offences, Reprobate! Name not that fairest thing, Nor the desire for her sweet body bring Again before my half-distracted senses!

MEPHISTOPHELES

What wouldst thou, then? She thinks that thou art flown; And half and half thou art, I own.

FAUST

Yet am I near, and love keeps watch and ward; Though I were ne’er so far, it cannot falter: I envy even the Body of the Lord The touching of her lips, before the altar.

MEPHISTOPHELES

’Tis very well! _My_ envy oft reposes On your twin-pair, that feed among the roses.

FAUST

Away, thou pimp!

MEPHISTOPHELES

You rail, and it is fun to me. The God, who fashioned youth and maid, Perceived the noblest purpose of His trade, And also made their opportunity. Go on! It is a woe profound! ’Tis for your sweetheart’s room you’re bound, And not for death, indeed.

FAUST

What are, within her arms, the heavenly blisses? Though I be glowing with her kisses, Do I not always share her need? I am the fugitive, all houseless roaming, The monster without air or rest, That like a cataract, down rocks and gorges foaming, Leaps, maddened, into the abyss’s breast! And side-wards she, with young unwakened senses, Within her cabin on the Alpine field Her simple, homely life commences, Her little world therein concealed. And I, God’s hate flung o’er me, Had not enough, to thrust The stubborn rocks before me And strike them into dust! She and her peace I yet must undermine: Thou, Hell, hast claimed this sacrifice as thine! Help, Devil! through the coming pangs to push me; What must be, let it quickly be! Let fall on me her fate, and also crush me,— One ruin whelm both her and me!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Again it seethes, again it glows! Thou fool, go in and comfort her! When such a head as thine no outlet knows, It thinks the end must soon occur. Hail him, who keeps a steadfast mind! Thou, else, dost well the devil-nature wear: Naught so insipid in the world I find As is a devil in despair.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XV

MARGARET’S ROOM

MARGARET

(_at the spinning-wheel, alone_)

My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore!

Save I have him near. The grave is here; The world is gall And bitterness all.

My poor weak head Is racked and crazed; My thought is lost, My senses mazed.

My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore!

To see him, him only, At the pane I sit; To meet him, him only, The house I quit.

His lofty gait, His noble size, The smile of his mouth, The power of his eyes,

And the magic flow Of his talk, the bliss In the clasp of his hand, And, ah! his kiss!

My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore!

My bosom yearns For him alone; Ah, dared I clasp him, And hold, and own!

And kiss his mouth, To heart’s desire, And on his kisses At last expire!

[Illustration]

XVI

MARTHA’S GARDEN

MARGARET FAUST

MARGARET

Promise me, Henry!—

FAUST

What I can!

MARGARET

How is’t with thy religion, pray? Thou art a dear, good-hearted man, And yet, I think, dost not incline that way.

FAUST

Leave that, my child! Thou know’st my love is tender; For love, my blood and life would I surrender, And as for Faith and Church, I grant to each his own.

MARGARET

That’s not enough: we must believe thereon.

FAUST

Must we?

MARGARET

Would that I had some influence! Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments.

FAUST

I honor them.

MARGARET

Desiring no possession ’Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession. Believest thou in God?

FAUST

My darling, who shall dare “I believe in God!” to say? Ask priest or sage the answer to declare, And it will seem a mocking play, A sarcasm on the asker.

MARGARET

Then thou believest not!

FAUST

Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance! Who dare express Him? And who profess Him, Saying: I believe in Him! Who, feeling, seeing, Deny His being, Saying: I believe Him not! The All-enfolding, The All-upholding, Folds and upholds he not Thee, me, Himself? Arches not there the sky above us? Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth? And rise not, on us shining, Friendly, the everlasting stars? Look I not, eye to eye, on thee, And feel’st not, thronging To head and heart, the force, Still weaving its eternal secret, Invisible, visible, round thy life? Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart, And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art, Call it, then, what thou wilt,— Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God! I have no name to give it! Feeling is all in all: The Name is sound and smoke, Obscuring Heaven’s clear glow.

MARGARET

All that is fine and good, to hear it so: Much the same way the preacher spoke, Only with slightly different phrases.

FAUST

The same thing, in all places, All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day— Each in its language—say; Then why not I, in mine, as well?

MARGARET

To hear it thus, it may seem passable; And yet, some hitch in’t there must be For thou hast no Christianity.

FAUST

Dear love!

MARGARET

I’ve long been grieved to see That thou art in such company.

FAUST

How so?

MARGARET

The man who with thee goes, thy mate, Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate. In all my life there’s nothing Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing, As his repulsive face has done.

FAUST

Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one!

MARGARET

I feel his presence like something ill. I’ve else, for all, a kindly will, But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth, The secret horror of him returneth; And I think the man a knave, as I live! If I do him wrong, may God forgive!

FAUST

There must be such queer birds, however.

MARGARET

Live with the like of him, may I never! When once inside the door comes he, He looks around so sneeringly, And half in wrath: One sees that in nothing no interest he hath: ’Tis written on his very forehead That love, to him, is a thing abhorréd. I am so happy on thine arm, So free, so yielding, and so warm, And in his presence stifled seems my heart.

FAUST

Foreboding angel that thou art!

MARGARET

It overcomes me in such degree, That wheresoe’er he meets us, even, I feel as though I’d lost my love for thee. When he is by, I could not pray to Heaven. That burns within me like a flame, And surely, Henry, ’tis with thee the same.

FAUST

There, now, is thine antipathy!

MARGARET

But I must go.

FAUST

Ah, shall there never be A quiet hour, to see us fondly plighted, With breast to breast, and soul to soul united?

MARGARET

Ah, if I only slept alone! I’d draw the bolts to-night, for thy desire; But mother’s sleep so light has grown, And if we were discovered by her, ’Twould be my death upon the spot!

FAUST

Thou angel, fear it not! Here is a phial: in her drink But three drops of it measure, And deepest sleep will on her senses sink.

MARGARET

What would I not, to give thee pleasure? It will not harm her, when one tries it?

FAUST

If ’twould, my love, would I advise it?

MARGARET

Ah, dearest man, if but thy face I see, I know not what compels me to thy will: So much have I already done for thee, That scarcely more is left me to fulfil.

(_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) [_Exit_.

MEPHISTOPHELES

The monkey! Is she gone?

FAUST

Hast played the spy again?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’ve heard, most fully, how she drew thee. The Doctor has been catechised, ’tis plain; Great good, I hope, the thing will do thee. The girls have much desire to ascertain If one is prim and good, as ancient rules compel: If there he’s led, they think, he’ll follow them as well.

FAUST

Thou, monster, wilt nor see nor own How this pure soul, of faith so lowly, So loving and ineffable,— The faith alone That her salvation is,—with scruples holy Pines, lest she hold as lost the man she loves so well!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Thou, full of sensual, super-sensual desire, A girl by the nose is leading thee.

FAUST

Abortion, thou, of filth and fire!

MEPHISTOPHELES

And then, how masterly she reads physiognomy! When I am present she’s impressed, she knows not how; She in my mask a hidden sense would read: She feels that surely I’m a genius now,— Perhaps the very Devil, indeed! Well, well,—to-night—?

FAUST

What’s that to thee?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yet my delight ’twill also be!

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XVII

AT THE FOUNTAIN

MARGARET _and_ LISBETH _With pitchers_.

LISBETH

Hast nothing heard of Barbara?

MARGARET

No, not a word. I go so little out.

LISBETH

It’s true, Sibylla said, to-day. She’s played the fool at last, there’s not a doubt. Such taking-on of airs!

MARGARET

How so?

LISBETH

It stinks! She’s feeding two, whene’er she eats and drinks.

MARGARET

Ah!

LISBETH

And so, at last, it serves her rightly. She clung to the fellow so long and tightly! That was a promenading! At village and dance parading! As the first they must everywhere shine, And he treated her always to pies and wine, And she made a to-do with her face so fine; So mean and shameless was her behavior, She took all the presents the fellow gave her. ’Twas kissing and coddling, on and on! So now, at the end, the flower is gone.

MARGARET

The poor, poor thing!

LISBETH

Dost pity her, at that? When one of us at spinning sat, And mother, nights, ne’er let us out the door She sported with her paramour. On the door-bench, in the passage dark, The length of the time they’d never mark. So now her head no more she’ll lift, But do church-penance in her sinner’s shift!

MARGARET

He’ll surely take her for his wife.

LISBETH

He’d be a fool! A brisk young blade Has room, elsewhere, to ply his trade. Besides, he’s gone.

MARGARET

That is not fair!

LISBETH

If him she gets, why let her beware! The boys shall dash her wreath on the floor, And we’ll scatter chaff before her door! [_Exit_.

MARGARET (_returning home_)

How scornfully I once reviled, When some poor maiden was beguiled! More speech than any tongue suffices I craved, to censure others’ vices. Black as it seemed, I blackened still, And blacker yet was in my will; And blessed myself, and boasted high,— And now—a living sin am I! Yet—all that drove my heart thereto, God! was so good, so dear, so true!

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XVIII

DONJON

(_In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater Dolorosa. Pots of flowers before it_.)

MARGARET

(_putting fresh flowers in the pots_)

Incline, O Maiden, Thou sorrow-laden, Thy gracious countenance upon my pain!

The sword Thy heart in, With anguish smarting, Thou lookest up to where Thy Son is slain!

Thou seest the Father; Thy sad sighs gather, And bear aloft Thy sorrow and His pain!

Ah, past guessing, Beyond expressing, The pangs that wring my flesh and bone! Why this anxious heart so burneth, Why it trembleth, why it yearneth, Knowest Thou, and Thou alone!

Where’er I go, what sorrow, What woe, what woe and sorrow Within my bosom aches! Alone, and ah! unsleeping, I’m weeping, weeping, weeping, The heart within me breaks.

The pots before my window, Alas! my tears did wet, As in the early morning For thee these flowers I set.

Within my lonely chamber The morning sun shone red: I sat, in utter sorrow, Already on my bed.

Help! rescue me from death and stain! O Maiden! Thou sorrow-laden, Incline Thy countenance upon my pain!

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XIX

NIGHT

STREET BEFORE MARGARET’S DOOR

VALENTINE (_a soldier_, MARGARET’S _brother_)

When I have sat at some carouse. Where each to each his brag allows, And many a comrade praised to me His pink of girls right lustily, With brimming glass that spilled the toast, And elbows planted as in boast: I sat in unconcerned repose, And heard the swagger as it rose. And stroking then my beard, I’d say, Smiling, the bumper in my hand: “Each well enough in her own way. But is there one in all the land Like sister Margaret, good as gold,— One that to her can a candle hold?” Cling! clang! “Here’s to her!” went around The board: “He speaks the truth!” cried some; “In her the flower o’ the sex is found!” And all the swaggerers were dumb. And now!—I could tear my hair with vexation. And dash out my brains in desperation! With turned-up nose each scamp may face me, With sneers and stinging taunts disgrace me, And, like a bankrupt debtor sitting, A chance-dropped word may set me sweating! Yet, though I thresh them all together, I cannot call them liars, either.

But what comes sneaking, there, to view? If I mistake not, there are two. If _he’s_ one, let me at him drive! He shall not leave the spot alive.

FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

How from the window of the sacristy Upward th’eternal lamp sends forth a glimmer, That, lessening side-wards, fainter grows and dimmer, Till darkness closes from the sky! The shadows thus within my bosom gather.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’m like a sentimental tom-cat, rather, That round the tall fire-ladders sweeps, And stealthy, then, along the coping creeps: Quite virtuous, withal, I come, A little thievish and a little frolicsome. I feel in every limb the presage Forerunning the grand Walpurgis-Night: Day after to-morrow brings its message, And one keeps watch then with delight.

FAUST

Meanwhile, may not the treasure risen be, Which there, behind, I glimmering see?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Shalt soon experience the pleasure, To lift the kettle with its treasure. I lately gave therein a squint— Saw splendid lion-dollars in ’t.

FAUST

Not even a jewel, not a ring, To deck therewith my darling girl?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I saw, among the rest, a thing That seemed to be a chain of pearl.

FAUST

That’s well, indeed! For painful is it To bring no gift when her I visit.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Thou shouldst not find it so annoying, Without return to be enjoying. Now, while the sky leads forth its starry throng, Thou’lt hear a masterpiece, no work completer: I’ll sing her, first, a moral song, The surer, afterwards, to cheat her.

(_Sings to the cither_.)

What dost thou here In daybreak clear, Kathrina dear, Before thy lover’s door? Beware! the blade Lets in a maid. That out a maid Departeth nevermore!

The coaxing shun Of such an one! When once ’tis done Good-night to thee, poor thing! Love’s time is brief: Unto no thief Be warm and lief, But with the wedding-ring!

VALENTINE (_comes forward_)

Whom wilt thou lure? God’s-element! Rat-catching piper, thou!—perdition! To the Devil, first, the instrument! To the Devil, then, the curst musician!

MEPHISTOPHELES

The cither’s smashed! For nothing more ’tis fitting.

VALENTINE

There’s yet a skull I must be splitting!

MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)

Sir Doctor, don’t retreat, I pray! Stand by: I’ll lead, if you’ll but tarry: Out with your spit, without delay! You’ve but to lunge, and I will parry.

VALENTINE

Then parry that!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Why not? ’tis light. VALENTINE

That, too!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Of course.

VALENTINE

I think the Devil must fight! How is it, then? my hand’s already lame:

MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)

Thrust home!

VALENTINE (_jails_)

O God!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Now is the lubber tame! But come, away! ’Tis time for us to fly; For there arises now a murderous cry. With the police ’twere easy to compound it, But here the penal court will sift and sound it.

[_Exit with_ FAUST.

MARTHA (_at the window_)

Come out! Come out!

MARGARET (_at the window_)

Quick, bring a light!

MARTHA (_as above_)

They swear and storm, they yell and fight!

PEOPLE

Here lies one dead already—see!

MARTHA (_coming from the house_)

The murderers, whither have they run?

MARGARET (_coming out_)

Who lies here?

PEOPLE

’Tis thy mother’s son!

MARGARET

Almighty God! what misery!

VALENTINE

I’m dying! That is quickly said, And quicker yet ’tis done. Why howl, you women there? Instead, Come here and listen, every one!

(_All gather around him_)

My Margaret, see! still young thou art, But not the least bit shrewd or smart, Thy business thus to slight: So this advice I bid thee heed— Now that thou art a whore indeed, Why, be one then, outright!

MARGARET

My brother! God! such words to me?

VALENTINE

In this game let our Lord God be! What’s done’s already done, alas! What follows it, must come to pass. With one begin’st thou secretly, Then soon will others come to thee, And when a dozen thee have known, Thou’rt also free to all the town. When Shame is born and first appears, She is in secret brought to light, And then they draw the veil of night Over her head and ears; Her life, in fact, they’re loath to spare her. But let her growth and strength display, She walks abroad unveiled by day, Yet is not grown a whit the fairer. The uglier she is to sight, The more she seeks the day’s broad light. The time I verily can discern When all the honest folk will turn From thee, thou jade! and seek protection As from a corpse that breeds infection. Thy guilty heart shall then dismay thee. When they but look thee in the face:— Shalt not in a golden chain array thee, Nor at the altar take thy place! Shalt not, in lace and ribbons flowing, Make merry when the dance is going! But in some corner, woe betide thee! Among the beggars and cripples hide thee; And so, though even God forgive, On earth a damned existence live!

MARTHA

Commend your soul to God for pardon, That you your heart with slander harden!

VALENTINE

Thou pimp most infamous, be still! Could I thy withered body kill, ’Twould bring, for all my sinful pleasure, Forgiveness in the richest measure.

MARGARET

My brother! This is Hell’s own pain!

VALENTINE

I tell thee, from thy tears refrain! When thou from honor didst depart It stabbed me to the very heart. Now through the slumber of the grave I go to God as a soldier brave.

(_Dies_.)

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XX

CATHEDRAL

SERVICE, ORGAN _and_ ANTHEM.

(MARGARET _among much people: the_ EVIL SPIRIT _behind_ MARGARET.)

EVIL SPIRIT

HOW otherwise was it, Margaret, When thou, still innocent, Here to the altar cam’st, And from the worn and fingered book Thy prayers didst prattle, Half sport of childhood, Half God within thee! Margaret! Where tends thy thought? Within thy bosom What hidden crime? Pray’st thou for mercy on thy mother’s soul, That fell asleep to long, long torment, and through thee? Upon thy threshold whose the blood? And stirreth not and quickens Something beneath thy heart, Thy life disquieting With most foreboding presence?

MARGARET

Woe! woe! Would I were free from the thoughts That cross me, drawing hither and thither Despite me!

CHORUS

_Diesira, dies illa, Solvet soeclum in favilla_! _(Sound of the organ_.)

EVIL SPIRIT

Wrath takes thee! The trumpet peals! The graves tremble! And thy heart From ashy rest To fiery torments Now again requickened, Throbs to life!

MARGARET

Would I were forth! I feel as if the organ here My breath takes from me, My very heart Dissolved by the anthem!

CHORUS

_Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet, ad parebit, Nil inultum remanebit_. MARGARET

I cannot breathe! The massy pillars Imprison me! The vaulted arches Crush me!—Air!

EVIL SPIRIT

Hide thyself! Sin and shame Stay never hidden. Air? Light? Woe to thee!

CHORUS

_Quid sum miser tunc dicturus, Quem patronem rogaturus, Cum vix Justus sit securus_?

EVIL SPIRIT

They turn their faces, The glorified, from thee: The pure, their hands to offer, Shuddering, refuse thee! Woe!

CHORUS

_Quid sum miser tune dicturus_?

MARGARET

Neighbor! your cordial! (_She falls in a swoon_.)

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XXI

WALPURGIS-NIGHT

THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS.

_District of Schierke and Elend_.

FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES

MEPHISTOPHELES

DOST thou not wish a broomstick-steed’s assistance? The sturdiest he-goat I would gladly see: The way we take, our goal is yet some distance.

FAUST

So long as in my legs I feel the fresh existence. This knotted staff suffices me. What need to shorten so the way? Along this labyrinth of vales to wander, Then climb the rocky ramparts yonder, Wherefrom the fountain flings eternal spray, Is such delight, my steps would fain delay. The spring-time stirs within the fragrant birches, And even the fir-tree feels it now: Should then our limbs escape its gentle searches?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I notice no such thing, I vow! ’Tis winter still within my body: Upon my path I wish for frost and snow. How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy, The moon’s lone disk, with its belated glow, And lights so dimly, that, as one advances, At every step one strikes a rock or tree! Let us, then, use a Jack-o’-lantern’s glances: I see one yonder, burning merrily. Ho, there! my friend! I’ll levy thine attendance: Why waste so vainly thy resplendence? Be kind enough to light us up the steep!

WILL-O’-THE-WISP

My reverence, I hope, will me enable To curb my temperament unstable; For zigzag courses we are wont to keep.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Indeed? he’d like mankind to imitate! Now, in the Devil’s name, go straight, Or I’ll blow out his being’s flickering spark!

WILL-O’-THE-WISP

You are the master of the house, I mark, And I shall try to serve you nicely. But then, reflect: the mountain’s magic-mad to-day, And if a will-o’-the-wisp must guide you on the way, You mustn’t take things too precisely.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, WILL-O’-THE-WISP

(_in alternating song_)

We, it seems, have entered newly In the sphere of dreams enchanted. Do thy bidding, guide us truly, That our feet be forwards planted In the vast, the desert spaces! See them swiftly changing places, Trees on trees beside us trooping, And the crags above us stooping, And the rocky snouts, outgrowing,— Hear them snoring, hear them blowing! O’er the stones, the grasses, flowing Stream and streamlet seek the hollow. Hear I noises? songs that follow? Hear I tender love-petitions? Voices of those heavenly visions? Sounds of hope, of love undying! And the echoes, like traditions Of old days, come faint and hollow.

Hoo-hoo! Shoo-hoo! Nearer hover Jay and screech-owl, and the plover,— Are they all awake and crying? Is’t the salamander pushes, Bloated-bellied, through the bushes? And the roots, like serpents twisted, Through the sand and boulders toiling, Fright us, weirdest links uncoiling To entrap us, unresisted: Living knots and gnarls uncanny Feel with polypus-antennae For the wanderer. Mice are flying, Thousand-colored, herd-wise hieing Through the moss and through the heather!

And the fire-flies wink and darkle, Crowded swarms that soar and sparkle, And in wildering escort gather!

Tell me, if we still are standing, Or if further we’re ascending? All is turning, whirling, blending, Trees and rocks with grinning faces, Wandering lights that spin in mazes, Still increasing and expanding!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Grasp my skirt with heart undaunted! Here a middle-peak is planted, Whence one seeth, with amaze, Mammon in the mountain blaze.

FAUST

How strangely glimmers through the hollows A dreary light, like that of dawn! Its exhalation tracks and follows The deepest gorges, faint and wan. Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth; Here burns the glow through film and haze: Now like a tender thread it creepeth, Now like a fountain leaps and plays. Here winds away, and in a hundred Divided veins the valley braids: There, in a corner pressed and sundered, Itself detaches, spreads and fades. Here gush the sparkles incandescent Like scattered showers of golden sand;— But, see! in all their height, at present, The rocky ramparts blazing stand.

[Illustration: _Under the old ribs of the rock retreating_,]

MEPHISTOPHELES

Has not Sir Mammon grandly lighted His palace for this festal night? ’Tis lucky thou hast seen the sight; The boisterous guests approach that were invited.

FAUST

How raves the tempest through the air! With what fierce blows upon my neck ’tis beating!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Under the old ribs of the rock retreating, Hold fast, lest thou be hurled down the abysses there! The night with the mist is black; Hark! how the forests grind and crack! Frightened, the owlets are scattered: Hearken! the pillars are shattered. The evergreen palaces shaking! Boughs are groaning and breaking, The tree-trunks terribly thunder, The roots are twisting asunder! In frightfully intricate crashing Each on the other is dashing, And over the wreck-strewn gorges The tempest whistles and surges! Hear’st thou voices higher ringing? Far away, or nearer singing? Yes, the mountain’s side along, Sweeps an infuriate glamouring song!

WITCHES (_in chorus_)

The witches ride to the Brocken’s top, The stubble is yellow, and green the crop. There gathers the crowd for carnival: Sir Urian sits over all.

And so they go over stone and stock; The witch she——s, and——s the buck.

A VOICE

Alone, old Baubo’s coming now; She rides upon a farrow-sow.

CHORUS

Then honor to whom the honor is due! Dame Baubo first, to lead the crew! A tough old sow and the mother thereon, Then follow the witches, every one.

A VOICE

Which way com’st thou hither?

VOICE

O’er the Ilsen-stone. I peeped at the owl in her nest alone: How she stared and glared!

VOICE

Betake thee to Hell! Why so fast and so fell?

VOICE

She has scored and has flayed me: See the wounds she has made me!

WITCHES (_chorus_)

The way is wide, the way is long: See, what a wild and crazy throng! The broom it scratches, the fork it thrusts, The child is stifled, the mother bursts. WIZARDS (_semichorus_)

As doth the snail in shell, we crawl: Before us go the women all. When towards the Devil’s House we tread, Woman’s a thousand steps ahead.

OTHER SEMICHORUS

We do not measure with such care: Woman in thousand steps is theft. But howsoe’er she hasten may, Man in one leap has cleared the way.

VOICE (_from above_)

Come on, come on, from Rocky Lake!

VOICE (_from below_)

Aloft we’d fain ourselves betake. We’ve washed, and are bright as ever you will, Yet we’re eternally sterile still.

BOTH CHORUSES

The wind is hushed, the star shoots by. The dreary moon forsakes the sky; The magic notes, like spark on spark, Drizzle, whistling through the dark.

VOICE (_from below_)

Halt, there! Ho, there!

VOICE (_from above_)

Who calls from the rocky cleft below there?

VOICE (_below_)

Take me, too! take me, too! I’m climbing now three hundred years, And yet the summit cannot see: Among my equals I would be.

BOTH CHORUSES

Bears the broom and bears the stock, Bears the fork and bears the buck: Who cannot raise himself to-night Is evermore a ruined wight.

HALF-WITCH (_below_)

So long I stumble, ill bestead, And the others are now so far ahead! At home I’ve neither rest nor cheer, And yet I cannot gain them here.

CHORUS OF WITCHES

To cheer the witch will salve avail; A rag will answer for a sail; Each trough a goodly ship supplies; He ne’er will fly, who now not flies.

BOTH CHORUSES

When round the summit whirls our flight, Then lower, and on the ground alight; And far and wide the heather press With witchhood’s swarms of wantonness!

(_They settle down_.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

They crowd and push, they roar and clatter! They whirl and whistle, pull and chatter! They shine, and spirt, and stink, and burn! The true witch-element we learn. Keep close! or we are parted, in our turn, Where art thou?

FAUST (_in the distance_)

Here!

MEPHISTOPHELES

What! whirled so far astray? Then house-right I must use, and clear the way. Make room! Squire Voland comes! Room, gentle rabble, room!

Here, Doctor, hold to me: in one jump we’ll resume An easier space, and from the crowd be free: It’s too much, even for the like of me. Yonder, with special light, there’s something shining clearer Within those bushes; I’ve a mind to see. Come on! we’ll slip a little nearer.

FAUST

Spirit of Contradiction! On! I’ll follow straight. ’Tis planned most wisely, if I judge aright: We climb the Brocken’s top in the Walpurgis-Night, That arbitrarily, here, ourselves we isolate.

MEPHISTOPHELES

But see, what motley flames among the heather! There is a lively club together: In smaller circles one is not alone.

FAUST

Better the summit, I must own: There fire and whirling smoke I see. They seek the Evil One in wild confusion: Many enigmas there might find solution.

MEPHISTOPHELES

But there enigmas also knotted be. Leave to the multitude their riot! Here will we house ourselves in quiet. It is an old, transmitted trade, That in the greater world the little worlds are made. I see stark-nude young witches congregate, And old ones, veiled and hidden shrewdly: On my account be kind, nor treat them rudely! The trouble’s small, the fun is great. I hear the noise of instruments attuning,— Vile din! yet one must learn to bear the crooning. Come, come along! It _must_ be, I declare! I’ll go ahead and introduce thee there, Thine obligation newly earning. That is no little space: what say’st thou, friend? Look yonder! thou canst scarcely see the end: A hundred fires along the ranks are burning. They dance, they chat, they cook, they drink, they court: Now where, just tell me, is there better sport?

FAUST

Wilt thou, to introduce us to the revel, Assume the part of wizard or of devil?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’m mostly used, ’tis true, to go incognito, But on a gala-day one may his orders show. The Garter does not deck my suit, But honored and at home is here the cloven foot. Perceiv’st thou yonder snail? It cometh, slow and steady; So delicately its feelers pry, That it hath scented me already: I cannot here disguise me, if I try. But come! we’ll go from this fire to a newer: I am the go-between, and thou the wooer.

(_To some, who are sitting around dying embers_:)

Old gentlemen, why at the outskirts? Enter! I’d praise you if I found you snugly in the centre, With youth and revel round you like a zone: You each, at home, are quite enough alone.

GENERAL

Say, who would put his trust in nations, Howe’er for them one may have worked and planned? For with the people, as with women, Youth always has the upper hand.

MINISTER

They’re now too far from what is just and sage. I praise the old ones, not unduly: When we were all-in-all, then, truly, _Then_ was the real golden age.

PARVENU

We also were not stupid, either, And what we should not, often did; But now all things have from their bases slid, Just as we meant to hold them fast together.

AUTHOR

Who, now, a work of moderate sense will read? Such works are held as antiquate and mossy; And as regards the younger folk, indeed, They never yet have been so pert and saucy.

MEPHISTOPHELES

(_who all at once appears very old_)

I feel that men are ripe for Judgment-Day, Now for the last time I’ve the witches’-hill ascended: Since to the lees _my_ cask is drained away, The world’s, as well, must soon be ended.

HUCKSTER-WITCH

Ye gentlemen, don’t pass me thus! Let not the chance neglected be! Behold my wares attentively: The stock is rare and various. And yet, there’s nothing I’ve collected— No shop, on earth, like this you’ll find!— Which has not, once, sore hurt inflicted Upon the world, and on mankind. No dagger’s here, that set not blood to flowing; No cup, that hath not once, within a healthy frame Poured speedy death, in poison glowing: No gems, that have not brought a maid to shame; No sword, but severed ties for the unwary, Or from behind struck down the adversary.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Gossip! the times thou badly comprehendest: What’s done has happed—what haps, is done! ’Twere better if for novelties thou sendest: By such alone can we be won.

FAUST

Let me not lose myself in all this pother! This is a fair, as never was another!

MEPHISTOPHELES

The whirlpool swirls to get above: Thou’rt shoved thyself, imagining to shove.

FAUST

But who is that?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Note her especially, Tis Lilith.

FAUST

Who?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Adam’s first wife is she. Beware the lure within her lovely tresses, The splendid sole adornment of her hair! When she succeeds therewith a youth to snare, Not soon again she frees him from her jesses.

FAUST

Those two, the old one with the young one sitting, They’ve danced already more than fitting.

MEPHISTOPHELES

No rest to-night for young or old! They start another dance: come now, let us take hold!

FAUST (_dancing with the young witch_)

A lovely dream once came to me; I then beheld an apple-tree, And there two fairest apples shone: They lured me so, I climbed thereon.

THE FAIR ONE

Apples have been desired by you, Since first in Paradise they grew; And I am moved with joy, to know That such within my garden grow.

MEPHISTOPHELES (_dancing with the old one_)

A dissolute dream once came to me: Therein I saw a cloven tree, Which had a————————; Yet,——as ’twas, I fancied it.

THE OLD ONE

I offer here my best salute Unto the knight with cloven foot! Let him a—————prepare, If him—————————does not scare.

PROKTOPHANTASMIST

Accurséd folk! How dare you venture thus? Had you not, long since, demonstration That ghosts can’t stand on ordinary foundation? And now you even dance, like one of us!

THE FAIR ONE (_dancing_)

Why does he come, then, to our ball?

FAUST (_dancing_)

O, everywhere on him you fall! When others dance, he weighs the matter: If he can’t every step bechatter, Then ’tis the same as were the step not made; But if you forwards go, his ire is most displayed. If you would whirl in regular gyration As he does in his dull old mill, He’d show, at any rate, good-will,— Especially if you heard and heeded his hortation.

PROKTOPHANTASMIST

You still are here? Nay, ’tis a thing unheard! Vanish, at once! We’ve said the enlightening word. The pack of devils by no rules is daunted: We are so wise, and yet is Tegel haunted. To clear the folly out, how have I swept and stirred! Twill ne’er be clean: why, ’tis a thing unheard!

THE FAIR ONE

Then cease to bore us at our ball!

PROKTOPHANTASMIST

I tell you, spirits, to your face, I give to spirit-despotism no place; My spirit cannot practise it at all.

(_The dance continues_)

Naught will succeed, I see, amid such revels; Yet something from a tour I always save, And hope, before my last step to the grave, To overcome the poets and the devils.

MEPHISTOPHELES

He now will seat him in the nearest puddle; The solace this, whereof he’s most assured: And when upon his rump the leeches hang and fuddle, He’ll be of spirits and of Spirit cured.

(_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_:)

Wherefore forsakest thou the lovely maiden, That in the dance so sweetly sang?

FAUST

Ah! in the midst of it there sprang A red mouse from her mouth—sufficient reason.

MEPHISTOPHELES

That’s nothing! One must not so squeamish be; So the mouse was not gray, enough for thee. Who’d think of that in love’s selected season?

FAUST

Then saw I—.

MEPHISTOPHELES

What?

FAUST

Mephisto, seest thou there, Alone and far, a girl most pale and fair? She falters on, her way scarce knowing, As if with fettered feet that stay her going. I must confess, it seems to me As if my kindly Margaret were she.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Let the thing be! All thence have evil drawn: It is a magic shape, a lifeless eidolon. Such to encounter is not good: Their blank, set stare benumbs the human blood, And one is almost turned to stone. Medusa’s tale to thee is known.

FAUST

Forsooth, the eyes they are of one whom, dying, No hand with loving pressure closed; That is the breast whereon I once was lying,— The body sweet, beside which I reposed!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Tis magic all, thou fool, seduced so easily! Unto each man his love she seems to be.

FAUST

The woe, the rapture, so ensnare me, That from her gaze I cannot tear me! And, strange! around her fairest throat A single scarlet band is gleaming, No broader than a knife-blade seeming!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Quite right! The mark I also note. Her head beneath her arm she’ll sometimes carry; Twas Perseus lopped it, her old adversary. Thou crav’st the same illusion still! Come, let us mount this little hill; The Prater shows no livelier stir, And, if they’ve not bewitched my sense, I verily see a theatre. What’s going on?

SERVIBILIS ’Twill shortly recommence: A new performance—’tis the last of seven. To give that number is the custom here: ’Twas by a Dilettante written, And Dilettanti in the parts appear. That now I vanish, pardon, I entreat you! As Dilettante I the curtain raise.

MEPHISTOPHELES When I upon the Blocksberg meet you, I find it good: for that’s your proper place.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XXII

WALPURGIS-NIGHT’S DREAM

OBERON AND TITANIA’s GOLDEN WEDDING

INTERMEZZO

MANAGER

Sons of Mieding, rest to-day! Needless your machinery: Misty vale and mountain gray, That is all the scenery.

HERALD

That the wedding golden be. Must fifty years be rounded: But _the Golden_ give to me, When the strife’s compounded.

OBERON

Spirits, if you’re here, be seen— Show yourselves, delighted! Fairy king and fairy queen, They are newly plighted.

PUCK

Cometh Puck, and, light of limb, Whisks and whirls in measure: Come a hundred after him, To share with him the pleasure.

ARIEL

Ariel’s song is heavenly-pure, His tones are sweet and rare ones: Though ugly faces he allure, Yet he allures the fair ones.

OBERON

Spouses, who would fain agree, Learn how we were mated! If your pairs would loving be, First be separated!

TITANIA

If her whims the wife control, And the man berate her, Take him to the Northern Pole, And her to the Equator!

ORCHESTRA. TUTTI.

_Fortissimo_.

Snout of fly, mosquito-bill, And kin of all conditions, Frog in grass, and cricket-trill,— These are the musicians!

SOLO

See the bagpipe on our track! ’Tis the soap-blown bubble: Hear the _schnecke-schnicke-schnack_ Through his nostrils double!

SPIRIT, JUST GROWING INTO FORM

Spider’s foot and paunch of toad, And little wings—we know ’em! A little creature ’twill not be, But yet, a little poem.

A LITTLE COUPLE

Little step and lofty leap Through honey-dew and fragrance: You’ll never mount the airy steep With all your tripping vagrance.

INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER

Is’t but masquerading play? See I with precision? Oberon, the beauteous fay, Meets, to-night, my vision!

ORTHODOX

Not a claw, no tail I see! And yet, beyond a cavil, Like “the Gods of Greece,” must he Also be a devil.

NORTHERN ARTIST

I only seize, with sketchy air, Some outlines of the tourney; Yet I betimes myself prepare For my Italian journey.

PURIST

My bad luck brings me here, alas! How roars the orgy louder! And of the witches in the mass, But only two wear powder.

YOUNG WITCH

Powder becomes, like petticoat, A gray and wrinkled noddy; So I sit naked on my goat, And show a strapping body.

MATRON

We’ve too much tact and policy To rate with gibes a scolder; Yet, young and tender though you be, I hope to see you moulder.

LEADER OF THE BAND

Fly-snout and mosquito-bill, Don’t swarm so round the Naked! Frog in grass and cricket-trill, Observe the time, and make it!

WEATHERCOCK (_towards one side_)

Society to one’s desire! Brides only, and the sweetest! And bachelors of youth and fire. And prospects the completest!

WEATHERCOCK (_towards the other side_)

And if the Earth don’t open now To swallow up each ranter, Why, then will I myself, I vow, Jump into hell instanter!

XENIES

Us as little insects see! With sharpest nippers flitting, That our Papa Satan we May honor as is fitting.

HENNINGS

How, in crowds together massed, They are jesting, shameless! They will even say, at last, That their hearts are blameless.

MUSAGETES

Among this witches’ revelry His way one gladly loses; And, truly, it would easier be Than to command the Muses.

CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE

The proper folks one’s talents laud: Come on, and none shall pass us! The Blocksberg has a summit broad, Like Germany’s Parnassus.

INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER

Say, who’s the stiff and pompous man? He walks with haughty paces: He snuffles all he snuffle can: “He scents the Jesuits’ traces.”

CRANE

Both clear and muddy streams, for me Are good to fish and sport in: And thus the pious man you see With even devils consorting.

WORLDLING

Yes, for the pious, I suspect, All instruments are fitting; And on the Blocksberg they erect Full many a place of meeting.

DANCER

A newer chorus now succeeds! I hear the distant drumming. “Don’t be disturbed! ’tis, in the reeds, The bittern’s changeless booming.”

DANCING-MASTER

How each his legs in nimble trip Lifts up, and makes a clearance! The crooked jump, the heavy skip, Nor care for the appearance.

GOOD FELLOW

The rabble by such hate are held, To maim and slay delights them: As Orpheus’ lyre the brutes compelled, The bagpipe here unites them.

DOGMATIST

I’ll not be led by any lure Of doubts or critic-cavils: The Devil must be something, sure,— Or how should there be devils?

IDEALIST

This once, the fancy wrought in me Is really too despotic: Forsooth, if I am all I see, I must be idiotic!

REALIST

This racking fuss on every hand, It gives me great vexation; And, for the first time, here I stand On insecure foundation.

SUPERNATURALIST

With much delight I see the play, And grant to these their merits, Since from the devils I also may Infer the better spirits.

SCEPTIC

The flame they follow, on and on, And think they’re near the treasure: But _Devil_ rhymes with _Doubt_ alone, So I am here with pleasure.

LEADER OF THE BAND

Frog in green, and cricket-trill. Such dilettants!—perdition! Fly-snout and mosquito-bill,— Each one’s a fine musician!

THE ADROIT

_Sans souci_, we call the clan Of merry creatures so, then; Go a-foot no more we can, And on our heads we go, then.

THE AWKWARD

Once many a bit we sponged, but now, God help us! that is done with: Our shoes are all danced out, we trow, We’ve but naked soles to run with.

WILL-O’-THE WISPS

From the marshes we appear, Where we originated; Yet in the ranks, at once, we’re here As glittering gallants rated.

SHOOTING-STAR

Darting hither from the sky, In star and fire light shooting, Cross-wise now in grass I lie: Who’ll help me to my footing?

THE HEAVY FELLOWS

Room! and round about us, room! Trodden are the grasses: Spirits also, spirits come, And they are bulky masses.

PUCK

Enter not so stall-fed quite, Like elephant-calves about one! And the heaviest weight to-night Be Puck, himself, the stout one!

ARIEL

If loving Nature at your back, Or Mind, the wings uncloses, Follow up my airy track To the mount of roses!

ORCHESTRA

_pianissimo_ Cloud and trailing mist o’erhead Are now illuminated: Air in leaves, and wind in reed, And all is dissipated.

[Illustration]

XXIII

DREARY DAY

A FIELD

FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

In misery! In despair! Long wretchedly astray on the face of the earth, and now imprisoned! That gracious, ill-starred creature shut in a dungeon as a criminal, and given up to fearful torments! To this has it come! to this!—Treacherous, contemptible spirit, and thou hast concealed it from me!—Stand, then,—stand! Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head! Stand and defy me with thine intolerable presence! Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Delivered up to evil spirits, and to condemning, unfeeling Man! And thou hast lulled me, meanwhile, with the most insipid dissipations, hast concealed from me her increasing wretchedness, and suffered her to go helplessly to ruin! [Illustration: _Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head_]

MEPHISTOPHELES

She is not the first.

FAUST

Dog! Abominable monster! Transform him, thou Infinite Spirit! transform the reptile again into his dog-shape? in which it pleased him often at night to scamper on before me, to roll himself at the feet of the unsuspecting wanderer, and hang upon his shoulders when he fell! Transform him again into his favorite likeness, that he may crawl upon his belly in the dust before me,—that I may trample him, the outlawed, under foot! Not the first! O woe! woe which no human soul can grasp, that more than one being should sink into the depths of this misery,—that the first, in its writhing death-agony under the eyes of the Eternal Forgiver, did not expiate the guilt of all others! The misery of this single one pierces to the very marrow of my life; and thou art calmly grinning at the fate of thousands!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Now we are already again at the end of our wits, where the understanding of you men runs wild. Why didst thou enter into fellowship with us, if thou canst not carry it out? Wilt fly, and art not secure against dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves upon thee, or thou thyself upon us?

FAUST

Gnash not thus thy devouring teeth at me? It fills me with horrible disgust. Mighty, glorious Spirit, who hast vouchsafed to me Thine apparition, who knowest my heart and my soul, why fetter me to the felon-comrade, who feeds on mischief and gluts himself with ruin?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Hast thou done?

FAUST

Rescue her, or woe to thee! The fearfullest curse be upon thee for thousands of ages!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I cannot loosen the bonds of the Avenger, nor undo his bolts. Rescue her? Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I, or thou?

(FAUST _looks around wildly_.)

Wilt thou grasp the thunder? Well that it has not been given to you, miserable mortals! To crush to pieces the innocent respondent—that is the tyrant-fashion of relieving one’s self in embarrassments.

FAUST

Take me thither! She shall be free!

MEPHISTOPHELES

And the danger to which thou wilt expose thyself? Know that the guilt of blood, from thy hand, still lies upon the town! Avenging spirits hover over the spot where the victim fell, and lie in wait for the returning murderer.

FAUST

That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world upon thee, monster! Take me thither, I say, and liberate her!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I will convey thee there; and hear, what I can do! Have I all the power in Heaven and on Earth? I will becloud the jailer’s senses: get possession of the key, and lead her forth with human hand! I will keep watch: the magic steeds are ready, I will carry you off. So much is in my power.

FAUST

Up and away!

[Illustration]

XXIV

NIGHT

OPEN FIELD

(FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES _speeding onward on black horses_.)

FAUST

What weave they there round the raven-stone?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I know not what they are brewing and doing.

FAUST

Soaring up, sweeping down, bowing and bending!

MEPHISTOPHELES

A witches’-guild.

FAUST

They scatter, devote and doom!

MEPHISTOPHELES

On! on!

[Illustration]

XXV

DUNGEON

FAUST

(_with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_)

A shudder, long unfelt, comes o’er me; Mankind’s collected woe o’erwhelms me, here. She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me, And all her crime was a delusion dear! What! I delay to free her? I dread, once again to see her? On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near.

(_He grasps the lock: the sound of singing is heard inside_.)

_My mother, the harlot, Who put me to death; My father, the varlet, Who eaten me hath! Little sister, so good, Laid my bones in the wood, In the damp moss and clay:_ _Then was I a beautiful bird o’ the wood; Fly away! Fly away_!

FAUST _(unlocking)_

She does not dream her lover listens near; That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear.

_(He enters_.)

MARGARET (_hiding herself on the pallet_) Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness!

FAUST (_whispering_) Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee.

MARGARET (_throwing herself before him_) Art thou a man, then pity my distress!

FAUST Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee! (_He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them_.)

MARGARET (_on her knees_)

Who, headsman! unto thee such power Over me could give? Thou’rt come for me at midnight-hour: Have mercy on me, let me live! Is’t not soon enough when morning chime has run?

(_She rises_.)

And I am yet so young, so young! And now Death comes, and ruin! I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing. My love was near, but now he’s far; Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are. Seize me not thus so violently! Spare me! What have I done to thee? Let me not vainly entreat thee! I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee!

FAUST

Shall I outlive this misery?

MARGARET

Now am I wholly in thy might. But let me suckle, first, my baby! I blissed it all this livelong night; They took ’t away, to vex me, maybe, And now they say I killed the child outright. And never shall I be glad again. They sing songs about me! ’tis bad of the folk to do it! There’s an old story has the same refrain; Who bade them so construe it?

FAUST (_falling upon his knees_)

Here lieth one who loves thee ever, The thraldom of thy woe to sever.

MARGARET (_flinging herself beside him_)

O let us kneel, and call the Saints to hide us! Under the steps beside us, The threshold under, Hell heaves in thunder! The Evil One With terrible wrath Seeketh a path His prey to discover!

FAUST (_aloud_)

Margaret! Margaret!

MARGARET (_attentively listening_)

That was the voice of my lover!

(_She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off_.)

Where is he? I heard him call me. I am free! No one shall enthrall me. To his neck will I fly, On his bosom lie! On the threshold he stood, and _Margaret_! calling, Midst of Hell’s howling and noises appalling, Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision, I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision!

FAUST

’Tis I!

MARGARET

’Tis thou! O, say it once again!

(_Clasping him_.)

’Tis he! ’tis he! Where now is all my pain? The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain? ’Tis thou! Thou comest to save me, And I am saved!— Again the street I see Where first I looked on thee; And the garden, brightly blooming, Where I and Martha wait thy coming.

FAUST (_struggling to leave_)

Come! Come with me!

MARGARET

Delay, now! So fain I stay, when thou delayest!

(_Caressing him_.)

FAUST

Away, now! If longer here thou stayest, We shall be made to dearly rue it.

MARGARET

Kiss me!—canst no longer do it? My friend, so short a time thou’rt missing, And hast unlearned thy kissing? Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast? Where once a heaven thy glances did create me, A heaven thy loving words expressed, And thou didst kiss, as thou wouldst suffocate me— Kiss me! Or I’ll kiss thee!

(_She embraces him_.)

Ah, woe! thy lips are chill, And still. How changed in fashion Thy passion! Who has done me this ill?

(_She turns away from him_.)

FAUST

Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold: I’ll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousand-fold; But follow now! ’Tis all I beg of thee.

MARGARET (_turning to him_)

And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly?

FAUST

’Tis I! Come on!

MARGARET

Thou wilt unloose my chain, And in thy lap wilt take me once again. How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?— Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak’st free?

FAUST

Come! come! The night already vanisheth.

MARGARET

My mother have I put to death; I’ve drowned the baby born to thee. Was it not given to thee and me? Thee, too!—’Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem— Give me thy hand! ’Tis not a dream! Thy dear, dear hand!—But, ah, ’tis wet! Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet There’s blood thereon. Ah, God! what hast thou done? Nay, sheathe thy sword at last! Do not affray me!

FAUST

O, let the past be past! Thy words will slay me!

MARGARET

No, no! Thou must outlive us. Now I’ll tell thee the graves to give us: Thou must begin to-morrow The work of sorrow! The best place give to my mother, Then close at her side my brother, And me a little away, But not too very far, I pray! And here, on my right breast, my baby lay! Nobody else will lie beside me!— Ah, within thine arms to hide me, That was a sweet and a gracious bliss, But no more, no more can I attain it! I would force myself on thee and constrain it, And it seems thou repellest my kiss: And yet ’tis thou, so good, so kind to see!

FAUST

If thou feel’st it is I, then come with me!

MARGARET

Out yonder?

FAUST

To freedom.

MARGARET

If the grave is there, Death lying in wait, then come! From here to eternal rest: No further step—no, no! Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go!

FAUST

Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door.

MARGARET

I dare not go: there’s no hope any more. Why should I fly? They’ll still my steps waylay! It is so wretched, forced to beg my living, And a bad conscience sharper misery giving! It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken, And I’d still be followed and taken!

FAUST

I’ll stay with thee.

MARGARET

Be quick! Be quick! Save thy perishing child! Away! Follow the ridge Up by the brook,

[Illustration: _=If the grave is there, Death lying in wait, then come=_!]

Over the bridge, Into the wood, To the left, where the plank is placed In the pool! Seize it in haste! ’Tis trying to rise, ’Tis struggling still! Save it! Save it!

FAUST

Recall thy wandering will! One step, and thou art free at last!

MARGARET

If the mountain we had only passed! There sits my mother upon a stone,— I feel an icy shiver! There sits my mother upon a stone, And her head is wagging ever. She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o’er; She slept so long that she wakes no more. She slept, while we were caressing: Ah, those were the days of blessing!

FAUST

Here words and prayers are nothing worth; I’ll venture, then, to bear thee forth.

MARGARET

No—let me go! I’ll suffer no force! Grasp me not so murderously! I’ve done, else, all things for the love of thee.

FAUST

The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest!

MARGARET

Day? Yes, the day comes,—the last day breaks for me! My wedding-day it was to be! Tell no one thou has been with Margaret! Woe for my garland! The chances Are over—’tis all in vain! We shall meet once again, But not at the dances! The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken: The square below And the streets overflow: The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken. I am seized, and bound, and delivered— Shoved to the block—they give the sign! Now over each neck has quivered The blade that is quivering over mine. Dumb lies the world like the grave!

FAUST

O had I ne’er been born!

MEPHISTOPHELES (_appears outside_)

Off! or you’re lost ere morn. Useless talking, delaying and praying! My horses are neighing: The morning twilight is near.

MARGARET

What rises up from the threshold here? He! he! suffer him not! What does he want in this holy spot? He seeks me!

FAUST

Thou shalt live.

MARGARET

Judgment of God! myself to thee I give.

MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)

Come! or I’ll leave her in the lurch, and thee!

MARGARET

Thine am I, Father! rescue me! Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me, Camp around, and from evil ward me! Henry! I shudder to think of thee.

MEPHISTOPHELES

She is judged!

VOICE (_from above_)

She is saved!

MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)

Hither to me!

(_He disappears with_ FAUST.)

VOICE (_from within, dying away_)

Henry! Henry!

[illustration]

[Illustration]