The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01

She now is judged!

VOICES (from above)

Is saved!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)

Come thou with me!

[vanishes with FAUST.]

VOICE (from within, dying away)

Henry! Henry!END OF PART I

FAUST—SELECTIONS FROM PART II (1832)

ACT THE FIRST

A PLEASING LANDSCAPE

FAUST, reclining upon flowery turf, restless, seeking sleep

TWILIGHT

Circle of spirits, hovering, flit around;—Graceful, tiny forms.

ARIEL

Song, accompanied by Æolian harps When, in vernal showers descending, Blossoms gently veil the earth, When the fields' green wealth, up-tending, Gleams on all of mortal birth; Tiny elves, where help availeth, Large of heart, there fly apace; Pity they whom grief assaileth, Be he holy, be he base.Ye round this head on airy wing careering,Attend, in noble Elfin guise appearing;Assuage the cruel strife that rends his heart,The burning shaft remove of keen remorse,From rankling horror cleanse his inmost part:Four are the pauses of the nightly course;Them, without rest, fill up with kindly art.And first his head upon cool pillow lay,Then bathe ye him in dew from Lethe's stream;His limbs, cramp-stiffen'd, will more freely play,If sleep-refreshed he wait morn's wakening beam.Perform the noblest Elfin-rite,Restore ye him to the holy light!

CHORUS (singly, two or more, alternately and together)

 Softly when warm gales are stealing O'er the green-environed ground, Twilight sheddeth all-concealing Mists and balmy odors round: Whispers low sweet peace to mortals, Rocks the heart to childlike rest, And of day-light shuts the portals To these eyes, with care oppressed. Night hath now descended darkling, Holy star is linked to star; Sovereign fires, or faintly sparkling, Glitter near and shine afar; Glitter here lake-mirror'd, yonder Shine adown the clear night sky; Sealing bliss of perfect slumber, Reigns the moon's full majesty. Now the hours are cancelled; sorrow, Happiness, have passed away: Whole thou shalt be on the morrow! Feel it! Trust the new-born day! Swell the hills, green grow the valleys, In the dusk ere breaks the morn; And in silvery wavelets dallies, With the wind, the ripening corn. Cherish hope, let naught appall thee! Mark the East, with splendor dyed! Slight the fetters that enthrall thee; Fling the shell of sleep aside! Gird thee for the high endeavor; Shun the crowd's ignoble ease! Fails the noble spirit never, Wise to think, and prompt to seize.

[A tremendous tumult announces the uprising of the Sun.]

ARIEL

 Hark, the horal tempest nears, Sounding but for spirit ears, Lo! the new-born day appears; Clang the rocky portals, climb Phoebus' wheels with thund'rous chime: Breaks with tuneful noise the light! Blare of trumpet, clarion sounding, Eye-sight dazing, ear astounding! Hear not the unheard; take flight! Into petaled blossoms glide Deeper, deeper, still to bide, In the clefts, 'neath thickets! ye, If it strike you, deaf will be.

FAUST

 Life's pulses reawakened freshly bound, The mild ethereal twilight fain to greet. Thou, Earth, this night wast also constant found, And, newly-quickened, breathing at my feet, Beginnest now to gird me with delight; A strong resolve dost rouse, with noble heat Aye to press on to being's sovereign height. The world in glimmering dawn still folded lies; With thousand-voicèd life the woods resound; Mist-wreaths the valley shroud; yet from the skies Sinks heaven's clear radiance to the depths profound; And bough and branch from dewy chasms rise, Where they had drooped erewhile in slumber furled; Earth is enamelled with unnumber'd dyes, Leaflet and flower with dew-drops are impearled; Around me everywhere is paradise.Gaze now aloft! Each mountain's giant heightThe solemn hour announces, herald-wise;They early may enjoy the eternal light,To us below which later finds its way.Now are the Alpine slopes and valleys dightWith the clear radiance of the new-born day,Which, downward, step by step, steals onapace.—It blazes forth,—and, blinded by the ray,With aching eyes, alas! I veil my face.So when a hope, the heart hath long held fast,Trustful, still striving toward its highest goal,Fulfilment's portals open finds atlast;—Sudden from those eternal depths doth rollAn over-powering flame;—we stand aghast!The torch of life to kindle we werefain;—A fire-sea,—what a fire!—doth round us close;Love is it? Is it hate? with joy and pain,In alternation vast, that round us glows?So that to earth we turn our wistful gaze,In childhood's veil to shroud us once again!So let the sun behind me pour its rays!The cataract, through rocky cleft that roars,I view, with growing rapture and amaze.From fall to fall, with eddying shock, it pours,In thousand torrents to the depths below,Aloft in air up-tossing showers of spray.But see, in splendor bursting from the storm,Arches itself the many-colored bow,And ever-changeful, yet continuous form,Now drawn distinctly, melting now away,Diffusing dewy coolness all around!Man's efforts there are glassed, his toil and strife;Reflect, more true the emblem will be found:This bright reflected glory pictures life!

IMPERIAL PALACE. THRONE-ROOM

Council of State, in expectation of the EMPEROR

TRUMPETS

Enter courtiers of every grade, splendidly attired. The Emperor ascends the throne; to the right the ASTROLOGER.

EMPEROR

 I greet you, trusty friends and dear, Assembled thus from far and wide!—I see the wise man at my side, But wherefore is the fool not here?

PAGE

 Entangled in thy mantle's flow. He tripped upon the stair below; The mass of fat they bare away, If dead or drunken—who can say?

SECOND PAGE

 Forthwith another comes apace, With wondrous speed to take his place; Costly, yet so grotesque his gear, All start amazed as he draws near. Crosswise the guards before his face, Entrance to bar, their halberds hold— Yet there he is, the fool so bold.

MEPHISTOPHELES (kneeling before the throne)

 What is accursed and gladly hailed? What is desired and chased away? What is upbraided and assailed? What wins protection every day? Whom darest thou not summon here? Whose name doth plaudits still command? What to thy throne now draweth near? What from this place itself hath banned?

EMPEROR

 For this time thou thy words may'st spare! This is no place for riddles, friend; They are these gentlemen's affair,— Solve them! an ear I'll gladly lend. My old fool's gone, far, far away, I fear; Take thou his place, come, stand beside me here!

[MEPHISTOPHELES ascends and places himself at the EMPEROR'S left.]

Murmur of the Crowd

 Here's a new fool—for plague anew! Whence cometh he?—How passed he through? The old one fell—he squander'd hath.— He was a tub—now 'tis a lath.—

EMPEROR

So now, my friends, beloved and leal,Be welcome all, from near and far!Ye meet 'neath an auspicious star;For us above are written joy and weal.But tell me wherefore, on this day,When we all care would cast away,And don the masker's quaint array,And naught desire but to enjoy,Should we with state affairs ourselves annoy?But if ye think it so must be indeed,Why, well and good, let us forthwith proceed!

CHANCELLOR

The highest virtue circles halo-wiseOur Cæsar's brow; virtue, which from the throne,He validly can exercise alone:Justice!—What all men love and prize,What all demand, desire, and sorely want,It lies with him, this to the folk to grant.But ah! what help can intellect command,Goodness of heart, or willingness of hand,When fever saps the state with deadly power,And mischief breedeth mischief, hour by hour?To him who downward from this height supremeViews the wide realm, 'tis like a troubled dream,Where the deformed deformity o'ersways,Where lawlessness, through law, the tyrant plays,And error's ample world itself displays.One steals a woman, one a steer,Lights from the altar, chalice, cross,Boasts of his deed full many a year,Unscathed in body, without harm or loss.Now to the hall accusers throng;On cushioned throne the judge presides;Surging meanwhile in eddying tides,Confusion waxes fierce and strong.He may exalt in crime and shame,Who on accomplices depends;Guilty! the verdict they proclaim,When Innocence her cause defends.So will the world succumb to ill,And what is worthy perish quite;How then may grow the sense which stillInstructs us to discern the right?E'en the right-minded man, in time,To briber and to flatterer yields;The judge, who cannot punish crime,Joins with the culprit whom he shields.—I've painted black, yet fain had beenA veil to draw before the scene.

Pause

Measures must needs be taken; whenAll injure or are injured, thenE'en Majesty becomes a prey.

FIELD MARSHAL

In these wild days what tumults reign!Each smitten is and smites again,Deaf to command, will none obey.The burgher, safe behind his wall,Within his rocky nest, the knight,Against us have conspired, and allFirmly to hold their own unite.Impatient is the hireling now,With vehemence he claims his due;And did we owe him naught, I trow,Off he would run, nor bid adieu.Who thwarts what fondly all expect,He bath disturbed a hornet's nest;The empire which they should protect,It lieth plundered and oppress'd.Their furious rage may none restrain;Already half the world's undone;Abroad there still are kings who reign—None thinks 'tis his concern, not one.

TREASURER

Who will depend upon allies!For us their promised subsidiesLike conduit-water, will not flow.Say, Sire, through your dominions vastTo whom hath now possession passed!Some upstart, wheresoe'er we go,Keeps house, and independent reigns.We must look on, he holds his own;So many rights away we've thrown,That for ourselves no right remains.On so-called parties in the stateThere's no reliance, now-a-days;They may deal out or blame or praise,Indifferent are love and hate.The Ghibelline as well as GuelphRetire, that they may live at ease!Who helps his neighbor now? HimselfEach hath enough to do to please.Barred are the golden gates; while eachScrapes, snatches, gathers all within his reach—Empty, meanwhile, our chest remains.

STEWARD

What worry must I, also, bear!Our aim each day is still to spare—And more each day we need; my pains,Daily renewed, are never o'er.The cooks lack nothing;—deer, wild-boar,Stags, hares, fowls, turkeys, ducks and geese,—Tribute in kind, sure payment, theseCome fairly in, and none complains.But now at last wine fails; and if of yoreUp-piled upon the cellar-floor,Cask rose on cask, a goodly store,From the best slopes and vintage; nowThe swilling of our lords, I trow,Unceasing, drains the very lees.E'en the Town-council must give outIts liquor;—bowls and cups they seize;And 'neath the table lies the drunken rout.Now must I pay, whate'er betides;Me the Jew spares not; he providesAnticipation-bonds which feedEach year on that which must succeed;The swine are never fattened now;Pawned is the pillow or the bed,And to the table comes fore-eaten bread.

EMPEROR (after some reflection, to MEPHISTOPHELES)

Say, fool, another grievance knowest thou?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I, nowise. On this circling pomp to gaze,On thee and thine! There can reliance failWhere majesty resistless sways,And ready power makes foemen quail?Where loyal will, through reason strong,And prowess, manifold, unite,What could together join for wrong,For darkness, where such stars give light?

Murmur of the Crowd

 He is a knave—he comprehends— He lies—while lying serves his ends—Full well I know—what lurks behind—What next?—Some scheme is in the wind!—

MEPHISTOPHELES

Where is not something wanting here on earth?Here this,—there that: of gold is here the dearth.It cannot from the floor be scrap'd, 'tis true;But what lies deepest wisdom brings to view.In mountain-veins, walls underground,Is gold, both coined and uncoined, to be found.And if ye ask me,—bring it forth who can?Spirit-and nature-power of gifted man.

CHANCELLOR

Nature and spirit—christians ne'er should hearSuch words, with peril fraught and fear.These words doom atheists to the fire.Nature is sin, spirit is devil; they,Between them, doubt beget, their progeny,Hermaphrodite, mis-shapen, dire.Not so with us! Within our Cæsar's landTwo orders have arisen, two alone,Who worthily support his ancient throne:Clergy and knights, who fearless stand,Bulwarks 'gainst every storm, and theyTake church and state as their appropriate pay.Through lawless men, the vulgar herdTo opposition have of late been stirred;The heretics these are, the wizards, whoThe city ruin and the country too.With thy bold jests, to this high sphere,Such miscreants wilt smuggle in;Hearts reprobate to you are dear;They to the fool are near of kin.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Herein your learned men I recognize!What you touch not, miles distant from you lies;What you grasp not, is naught in sooth to you;What you count not, cannot, you deem, be true;What you weigh not, that hath for you no weight;What you coin not, you're sure is counterfeit.

EMPEROR

Therewith our needs are not one whit the less.What meanest thou with this thy Lent-address?I'm tired of this eternal If and How.'Tis gold we lack; so good, procure it thou!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I'll furnish more, ay, more than all you ask.Though light it seems, not easy is the task.There lies the gold, but to procure it thence,That is the art: who knoweth to commence?Only consider, in those days of terror,When human floods swamped land and folk together,How every one, how great soe'er his fear,All that he treasured most, hid there or here;So was it 'neath the mighty Roman's sway,So on till yesterday, ay, till today:That all beneath the soil still buried lies—The soil is Cæsar's, his shall be the prize.

TREASURER

Now for a fool he speaketh not amiss;Our Cæsar's ancient right, in sooth, was this.

CHANCELLOR

Satan for you spreads golden snares; 'tis clear,Something not right or pious worketh here.

STEWARD

To us at court if welcome gifts he bring,A little wrong is no such serious thing.

FIELD MARSHAL

Shrewd is the fool, he bids what all desire;The soldier, whence it comes, will not inquire.

MEPHISTOPHELES

You think yourselves, perchance, deceived by me;Ask the Astrologer! This man is he!Circle round circle, hour and house, he knows.—Then tell us, how the heavenly aspect shows.

Murmur of the Crowd

 Two rascals—each to other known— Phantast and fool—so near the throne— The old, old song,—now trite with age— The fool still prompts—while speaks the sage.—

ASTROLOGER (speaks, MEPHISTOPHELES prompts)

The sun himself is purest gold; for payAnd favor serves the herald, Mercury;Dame Venus hath bewitched you from above,Early and late, she looks on you with love;Chaste Luna's humor varies hour by hour;Mars, though he strike not, threats you with his power,And Jupiter is still the fairest star;Saturn is great, small to the eye and far;As metal him we slightly venerate,Little in worth, though ponderous in weight.Now when with Sol fair Luna doth unite.Silver with gold, cheerful the world and bright!Then easy 'tis to gain whate'er one seeks;Parks, gardens, palaces, and rosy cheeks;These things procures this highly learned man.He can accomplish what none other can.

EMPEROR

Double, methinks, his accents ring,And yet they no conviction bring.

Murmur

 Of what avail!—a worn-out tale—Calendery—and chemistry—I the false word—full oft have heard—And as of yore—we're hoax'd once more.

MEPHISTOPHELES

The grand discovery they misprize,As, in amaze, they stand around;One prates of gnomes and sorceries,Another of the sable hound.What matters it, though witlings rail,Though one his suit 'gainst witchcraft press,If his sole tingle none the less,If his sure footing also fail?Ye of all swaying Nature feelThe secret working, never-ending,And, from her lowest depths up-tending,E'en now her living trace doth steal.If sudden cramps your limbs surprise,If all uncanny seem the spot—There dig and delve, but dally not!There lies the fiddler, there the treasure lies!

Murmur

  Like lead it lies my foot about— Cramp'd is my arm—'tis only gout— Twitchings I have in my great toe— Down all my back strange pains I know— Such indications make it clear That sumless treasuries are here.

EMPEROR

To work—the time for flight is past.—Put to the test your frothy lies!These treasures bring before our eyes!Sceptre and sword aside I'll cast,And with these royal hands, indeed,If thou lie not, to work proceed.Thee, if thou lie, I'll send to hell!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Thither to find the way I know full well!—Yet can I not enough declare,What wealth unown'd lies waiting everywhere:The countryman, who ploughs the land,Gold-crocks upturneth with the mould;Nitre he seeks in lime-walls old,And findeth, in his meagre hand,Scared, yet rejoiced, rouleaus of gold.How many a vault upblown must be,Into what clefts, what shafts, must heWho doth of hidden treasure know,Descend, to reach the world below!In cellars vast, impervious made,Goblets of gold he sees displayed,Dishes and plates, row after row;There beakers, rich with rubies, stand;And would he use them, close at handWell stored the ancient moisture lies;Yet—would ye him who knoweth, trust?—The staves long since have turned to dust,A tartar cask their place supplies!Not gold alone and jewels rare,Essence of noblest wines are there,In night and horror veiled. The wise,Unwearied here pursues his quest.To search by day, that were a jest;'Tis darkness that doth harbor mysteries.

EMPEROR

What can the dark avail? Look thou to that!If aught have worth, it cometh to the light.Who can detect the rogue at dead of night?Black are the cows, and gray is every cat.These pots of heavy gold, if they be there—Come, drive thy plough, upturn them with thy share!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Take spade and hoe thyself;—dig on—Great shalt thou be through peasant toil—A herd of golden calves anonThemselves shall tear from out the soil;Then straight, with rapture newly born,Thyself thou canst, thy sweet-heart wilt adorn.A sparkling gem, lustrous, of varied dye,Beauty exalts as well as majesty.

EMPEROR

To work, to work! How long wilt linger?

MEPHISTOPHELES

                              Sire,Relax, I pray, such vehement desire!First let us see the motley, joyous show!A mind distraught conducts not to the goal.First must we calmness win through self-control,Through things above deserve what lies below.Who seeks for goodness, must himself be good;Who seeks for joy, must moderate his blood;Who wine desires, the luscious grape must press;Who craveth miracles, more faith possess.

EMPEROR

So be the interval in gladness spent!Ash-Wednesday cometh, to our heart's content.Meanwhile we'll solemnize, whate'er befall,More merrily the joyous Carnival.

[Trumpets. Exeunt.]

MEPHISTOPHELES

That merit and success are link'd together,This to your fools occurreth never;Could they appropriate the wise man's stone,That, not the wise man, they would prize alone.* * * * *

ACT THE SECOND

HIGH-VAULTED, NARROW GOTHIC CHAMBER, FORMERLY FAUST'S, UNALTERED

MEPHISTOPHELES (stepping from behind a curtain. While he raises it and looks back, FAUST is seen, stretched upon an old-fashioned bed)

Lie there, ill-starred one! In love's chain,Full hard to loose, he captive lies!Not soon his senses will regainWhom Helena doth paralyze.

(Looking round)

Above, around, on every sideI gaze, uninjured all remains:Dimmer, methinks, appear the color'd panes,The spiders' webs are multiplied,Yellow the paper, and the ink is dry;Yet in its place each thing I find;And here the very pen doth lie,Wherewith himself Faust to the Devil signed,Yea, quite dried up, and deeper in the bore,The drop of blood, I lured from him of yore—O'erjoyed to own such specimen uniqueWere he who objects rare is fain to seek—;Here on its hook hangs still the old fur cloak,Me it remindeth of that merry joke,When to the boy I precepts gave, for truth,Whereon, perchance, he's feeding now, as youth.The wish comes over me, with thee allied,Enveloped in thy worn and rugged folds,Once more to swell with the professor's pride!How quite infallible himself he holds;This feeling to obtain your savants know;The devil parted with it long ago.

[He shakes the fur cloak which he has taken down; crickets, moths, and chafers fly out.]

CHORUS OF INSECTS

 We welcome thy coming, Our patron of yore! We're dancing and humming, And know thee once more. Us singly, in silence, Hast planted, and lo! By thousands, oh Father, We dance to and fro. The rogue hides discreetly The bosom within; We looseskins fly rather Forth from the fur skin.

MEPHISTOPHELES

O'erjoyed I am my progeny to know!We're sure to reap in time, if we but sow.I shake the old fur-mantle as before,And here and there out flutters one or more.—Above, around, hasten, belovèd elves,In hundred thousand nooks to hide yourselves!'Mid boxes there of by-gone time,Here in these age-embrownèd scrolls,In broken potsherds, foul with grime,In yonder skulls' now eyeless holes!Amid such rotten, mouldering life,Must foolish whims for aye be rife.

[Slips into the fur mantle.]

Come shroud my shoulders as of yore!Today I'm principal once more;But useless 'tis, to bear the name:Where are the folk to recognize my claim?

[He pulls the bell, which emits a shrill penetrating sound, at which the halls shake and the doors spring open.]

FAMULUS (tottering up the long dark passage)

 What a clamor! What a quaking! Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking: Through the windows' quivering sheen, Are the stormful lightnings seen; Springs the ceiling,—thence, below, Lime and mortar rattling flow: And, though bolted fast, the door Is undone by magic power! There, in Faust's old fleece bedight, Stands a giant,—dreadful sight! At his glance, his beck, at me! I could sink upon my knee. Shall I fly, or shall I stay? What will be my fate today?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Come hither, friend!—Your name is Nicodemus?

FAMULUS

Most honor'd Sir, such is my name.—Oremus!

MEPHISTOPHELES

That we'll omit!

FAMULUS

O joy, me you do not forget.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I know it well: old, and a student yet;My mossy friend, even a learned manStill studies on, because naught else he can:Thus a card-house each builds of medium height;The greatest spirit fails to build it quite.Your master, though, that title well may claim—The noble Doctor Wagner, known to fame,First in the learned world! 'Tis he, they say,Who holds that world together; every dayOf wisdom he augments the store!Who crave omniscience, evermoreIn crowds upon his teaching wait;He from the rostrum shines alone;The keys doth like Saint Peter own,And doth of Hell and Heaven ope the gate;As before all he glows and sparkles,No fame, no glory but grows dim,Even the name of Faustus darkles!Inventor there is none like him.

FAMULUS

Pardon, most honor'd Sir, excuse me, pray—If I presume your utterance to gainsay—This bears not on the question any way;A modest mind is his allotted share.The disappearance, unexplained as yet,Of the great man, his mind doth sorely fret;Comfort from his return and health are still his prayer.The chamber, as in Doctor Faustus' day,Maintains, untouched, its former state,And for its ancient lord doth wait.Venture therein I scarcely may.What now the aspect of the stars?—Awe-struck the very walls appear;The door-posts quivered, sprang the bars—Else you yourself could not have entered here.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Where then bestowed himself hath he?Lead me to him! bring him to me!

FAMULUS

Alas! Too strict his prohibition,Scarce dare I, without his permission.Months, on his mighty work intent,Hath he, in strict seclusion spent.Most dainty 'mong your men of books,Like charcoal-burner now he looks,With face begrimed from ear to nose;His eyes are blear'd while fire he blows;Thus for the crisis still he longs;His music is the clang of tongs.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Admittance unto me deny?To hasten his success, the man am I.

[Exit FAMULUS. MEPHISTOPHELES seats himself with a solemn air.]