Auerbach’s Wine-cellar, Leipzig.

A Bout of Merry Fellows.

Frosch.

Will no one sing? none crack a joke?

I’ll teach you to make saucy faces!

Like old wet straw to-day you smoke,

While bright as flame your wonted blaze is.

Brander.

The blame lies with yourself, for you have given us

To-day no fun nor frolic to enliven us.

Frosch. [throwing a glass of wine over his head]

There hast thou both!

Brander.

Double swine!

Frosch.

You asked a joke—I gave it you in wine!

Siebel.

Out at the door with all who dare to quarrel!

Give all your pipes full play! this is no place to snarl.

Up! hollo! ho!

Altmayer.

Woe’s me! the devil and his crew are here!

Some cotton, ho! he makes my ear-drum crack.

Siebel.

Roar on! for, when the vault loud echoes back,

The deep bass notes come thundering on the ear.

Frosch.

Right, right! out with each saucy fellow!

A! tara lara da!

Altmayer.

A tara lara da!

Frosch.

Our throats are now quite mellow.

[Sings.] The holy Roman empire now,

How does it hold together?

A clumsy song!—fie! a political song!

A scurvy song! thank God, with each to-morrow,

The Roman empire can give you small sorrow;

For me, I deem I’m wealthier and wiser

For being neither Chancellor nor Kaiser.

Yet even we must have a head to rule us;

Let’s choose a pope in drinking well to school us,

Come, well you know the qualification

That lifts a man to consideration.

Frosch. [sings]

Mount up, lady nightingale,

Greet my love ten thousand times!

Siebel.

No, sir, not once,—I’ll hear no more of this.

Frosch.

But you shall hear!—A greeting and a kiss!

[He sings.] Ope the door in silent night.

Ope and let me in, I pray;

Shut the door, the morn is bright,

Shut it, love, I must away!

Siebel.

Yes! sing and sing! belaud her, and berhyme!

I’ll have my laugh at that—all in good time!

She jilted me right rarely; soon

She’ll make thee sing to the same tune;

’Twere fit a Kobold with his love should bless her,

On some cross-road to cocker and caress her;

Or that some old he-goat, that tramps away

From merry Blocksberg on the first of May,

Should greet her passing with a lusty baa!

An honest man of genuine flesh and blood

Is for the wench by far too good.

Batter her doors, her windows shiver,

That’s all the serenade I’d give her!

Brander. [striking the table]

Gentlemen, hear! only attend to me,

You’ll see that I know how to live.

If love-sick people here there be,

To honor them, I’m bound to give

A song brimful of the most melting passion.

I’ll sing a ditty of the newest fashion!

Give ear! and with full swell sonorous,

Let each and all ring forth the chorus!

[He sings.] In a pantry-hole there lived a rat,

On bacon and on butter,

It had a paunch as round and fat

As Doctor Martin Luther.

The cook placed poison in its way,

It felt as straitened all the day,

As if it had love in its body.

Chorus. [shouting]

As if it had love in its body.

Brander.

It ran within, it ran without,

And sipped in every puddle;

And scratched and gnawed, but bettered not

The fever of its noddle.

With many a twinge it tossed and tossed,

Seemed ready to give up the ghost,

As if it had love in its body.

Chorus.

As if it had love in its body.

Brander.

It left its hole for very pain,

Into the kitchen crawling,

And snuffling there with might and main,

Upon the earth lay sprawling.

The cook she laughed when she saw it die;

“It squeaks,” quoth she, “with its latest sigh,

As if it had love in its body.”

Chorus.

As if it had love in its body.

Siebel.

How the hard-hearted boys rejoice!

As if it were a trade so choice

To teach the rats and mice to die!

Brander.

Rats find great favor in your eyes.

Altmayer.

The oily paunch! the bald pate! he

Has eyes of sorrow for the creature:

For why? he could not fail to see

In the swoll’n rat his own best feature!

Scene II.

Enter Faust and Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles.

First thing of all I bring you here,

Into a company of jolly cheer,

That you may learn how men contrive

Without much thought or care to live.

These fellows feast their lives away

In a continual holiday;

With little wit and much content

Their narrow round of life is spent,

As playful kittens oft are found

To chase their own tails round and round.

So live they on from day to day,

As long as headache keeps away,

And by no anxious thought are crossed,

While they get credit from the host.

Brander.

These gentlemen are strangers; in their face

One reads they lack the breeding of the place;

They’re not an hour arrived, I warrant thee.

Frosch.

There you are right!—Leipzig’s the place, I say!

It is a little Paris in its way.

Siebel.

What, think you, may the strangers be?

Frosch.

Leave that to me!—I’ll soon fish out the truth.

Fill me a bumper till it overflows,

And then I’ll draw the worms out of their nose,

As easily as ’twere an infant’s tooth.

To me they seem to be of noble blood,

They look so discontented and so proud.

Brander.

Quack doctors both!—Altmayer, what think you?

Altmayer.

’Tis like.

Frosch.

Mark me! I’ll make them feel the screw.

Mephistopheles. [to Faust]

They have no nose to smell the devil out,

Even when he has them by the snout.

Faust.

Be greeted, gentlemen!

Siebel.

With much respect return we the salute.

[Softly, eyeing Mephistopheles from the one side.]

What! does the fellow limp upon one foot?

Mephistopheles.

With your permission, we will make so free,

As to intrude upon your company.

The host’s poor wines may keep us in sobriety,

But we at least enjoy your good society.

Altmayer.

Our wine is good; and, for to speak the truth,

Your mother fed you with too nice a tooth.

Frosch.

When left you Rippach? you must have been pressed

For time. Supped you with Squire Hans by the way?[n7]

Mephistopheles.

We had no time to stay!

But when I last came by, I was his guest.

He spoke much of his cousins, and he sent

To you and all full many a compliment.

[He makes a bow to Frosch.

Altmayer. [softly]

You have him there!—he understands the jest!

Siebel.

He is a knowing one!

Frosch.

I’ll sift him through anon!

Mephistopheles.

As we came in, a concert struck my ear

Of skilful voices in a chorus pealing!

A gleesome song must sound most nobly here,

Re-echoed freely from the vaulted ceiling.

Frosch.

Perhaps you have yourself some skill?

Mephistopheles.

O no! had I the power, I should not want the will.

Altmayer.

Give us a song!

Mephistopheles.

A thousand, willingly!

Siebel.

Only brand-new, I say!—no thread-bare strain!

Mephistopheles.

We are but just come from a tour in Spain,

The lovely land of wine and melody.

[He sings.] There was a king in old times

That had a huge big flea—

Frosch.

Ha, ha! a flea!—he seems a man of taste!

A flea, I wis, is a most dainty guest?

Mephistopheles. [sings again]

There was a king in old times

That had a huge big flea,

As if it were his own son,

He loved it mightily.

He sent out for the tailor,

To get it a suit of clothes;

He made my lord a dress-coat,

He made him a pair of hose.

Brander.

Be sure that Monsieur le Tailleur be told

To take his measure most exact and nice,

And as upon his head he puts a price,

To make the hose without or crease or fold!

Mephistopheles.

In velvet and in silk clad

He strutted proudly then,

And showed his star and garter

With titled gentlemen.

Prime minister they made him,

With cross and ribbon gay,

And then all his relations

At court had much to say.

This caused no small vexation

At court; I tell you true—

The queen and all her ladies

Were bitten black and blue.

And yet they durst not catch them,

Nor crack them, when they might,

But we are free to catch them,

And crack them when they bite.

Chorus. [shouting]

But we are free to catch them

And crack them when they bite!

Frosch.

Bravo, bravo!—his voice is quite divine.

Siebel.

Such fate may every flea befall!

Brander.

Point your nails and crack ’em all!

Altmayer.

A glass to liberty!—long live the vine!

Mephistopheles.

I’d drink to liberty with right good will,

If we had only better wine to drink.

Siebel.

You might have kept that to yourself, I think!

Mephistopheles.

I only fear our host might take it ill,

Else should I give to every honored guest

From our own cellar of the very best.

Siebel.

O never fear!—If you but find the wine,

Our host shall be content—the risk be mine!

Frosch.

Give me a flowing glass, and praise you shall not want,

So that your sample, mark me! be not scant;

I cannot judge of wine, unless I fill

My mouth and throat too with a goodly swill.

Altmayer. [softly]

I see the gentlemen are from the Rhine.

Mephistopheles.

Give me a gimlet here!—I’ll show you wine.

Brander.

What would the fellow bore?

Has he then wine-casks at the door?

Altmayer.

There, in the basket, you will find a store

Of tools, which our good landlord sometimes uses.

Mephistopheles. [Taking the gimlet.]

[To Frosch.] Now every man may taste of what he chooses.

Frosch.

How mean you that? Can you afford?

Mephistopheles.

No fear of that; my cellar is well stored.

Altmayer. [to Frosch]

Aha! I see you smack your lips already.

Frosch.

I’ll have Rhine wine; what fatherland produces

Is better far than French or Spanish juices.

Mephistopheles. [boring a hole in the edge of the table where Frosch is sitting]

Fetch me some wax, to make the stoppers ready.

Altmayer.

He means to put us off with jugglery.

Mephistopheles. [to Brander]

And you, sir, what?

Brander.

Champagne for me!

And brisk and foaming let it be!

[Mephistopheles bores; meanwhile one of the party has got the stoppers ready, and closes the holes.

Brander.

To foreign climes a man must sometimes roam,

In quest of things he cannot find at home;

For Frenchmen Germans have no strong affection,

But to their wines we seldom make objection.

Siebel. [while Mephistopheles is coming round to him]

I have no taste for your sour wines to-day,

I wish to have a swig of good Tokay.

Mephistopheles. [boring]

That you shall have, and of the very best.

Altmayer.

No, gentlemen!—’tis plain you mean to jest;

If so, in me you much mistake your man.

Mephistopheles.

Ha! ha!—no little risk, methinks, I ran,

To venture tricks with noble guests like you.

Come! make your choice, speak boldly out, and I

Will do my best your wish to gratify.

Altmayer.

Give me what wine you please!—only not much ado.

[After having bored and stopped up all the holes.

Mephistopheles. [with strange gestures]

Grapes on the vine grow!

Horns on the goat!

The wine is juicy, the vine is of wood,

The wooden table can give it as good.

Look into Nature’s depths with me!

Whoso hath faith shall wonders see!

Now draw the corks, and quaff the wine!

All. [drawing the corks, and quaffing the out-streaming liquor each as he had desired]

O blessed stream!—O fount divine!

Mephistopheles.

Drink on! only be cautious in your hurry.

[They drink freely.

All. [singing]

No king of cannibals to day

More bravely rules the drinking bout,

Than we, when, like five hundred swine,

We drain the brimming bumpers out!

Mephistopheles. [to Faust]

Look at the fellows now!—are they not merry?

Faust.

I feel inclined to go!—’tis getting late.

Mephistopheles.

Soon shall we have a glorious revelation

Of the pure beast in man, if you but wait.

Siebel. [drinks carelessly; the wine falls to the ground and becomes flame]

Help! fire! the devil’s here! death and damnation!

Mephistopheles. [Addressing himself to the flames]

Peace, friendly element! be still!

[To the company.] This time ’twas but a spurt of purgatorial flame.

Siebel.

What’s that?—you little know your men; we’ll tame

Your impudence, you juggling knave, we will!

Frosch.

’Twere dangerous to repeat such gambols here!

Altmayer.

Methinks ’twere best to whisper in his ear

That he had better leave the room.

Siebel.

What, sirrah? do you then presume

To play your hocus-pocus here?

Mephistopheles.

Peace, old wine-cask!

Siebel.

You broomstick, you!

Must we then bear your insolence too?

Brander.

Wait! wait! it shall rain blows anon!

Altmayer. [draws a stopper from the table, and fire rushes out on him]

I burn! I burn!

Siebel.

There’s witchcraft in his face!

The fellow’s an outlaw! strike him down!

[They draw their knives and attack Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles. [with serious mien]

False be eye, and false be ear!

Change the sense, and change the place!

Now be there, and now be here!

[They look as thunderstruck, and stare at one another.

Altmayer.

Where am I? in what lovely land?

Frosch.

Vineyards! can it be so?

Siebel.

And grapes too quite at hand!

Brander.

And here beneath this shady tree,

This noble vine, these blushing clusters see!

[He seizes Siebel by the nose. The rest seize one another in the same manner, and lift up their knives.

Mephistopheles. [as above]

Let Error now their eyes unclose,

The devil’s joke to understand!

[He vanishes with Faust. The fellows start back from one another.

Siebel.

What’s the matter?

Altmayer.

How now?

Frosch.

Was that your nose?

Brander. [to Siebel]

And yours is in my hand!

Altmayer.

It was a stroke shot through my every limb!

Give me a chair!—I faint! My eyes grow dim!

Frosch.

Now tell me only what has been the matter?

Siebel.

Where is the fellow? Could I catch him here,

His life out of his body I should batter!

Altmayer.

I saw him just this instant disappear,

Riding upon a wine-cask—I declare

I feel a weight like lead about my feet.

[Turning to the table.]

I wonder if his d——d wine still be there!

Siebel.

There’s not a single drop; ’twas all a cheat.

Frosch.

And yet methinks that I was drinking wine.

Brander.

And I could swear I saw a clustered vine.

Altmayer.

Let none now say the age of miracles is past!

Witches’ Kitchen.

A caldron is seen boiling on a low hearth. Numbers of strange fantastic figures tumbling up and down in the smoke. A Mother-Cat-Ape[n8] sits beside the caldron, taking off the scum, and keeping it from boiling over. An Old Cat-Ape beside her warming himself with his young ones. Roof and walls are covered over with a strange assortment of furniture, and implements used by witches.

Enter Faust and Mephistopheles.

Faust.

I cannot brook this brainless bedlam stuff!

And must it be that I shall cast my slough

In this hotbed of all unreasoned doing?

Shall an old beldam give me what I lack?

And can her pots and pans, with all their brewing,

Shake off full thirty summers from my back?

Woe’s me, if thou canst boast no better scheme!

My brightest hopes are vanished as a dream.

Has Nature then, and has some noble Spirit,

No balsam for the body to repair it?

Mephistopheles.

My friend, with your great sense I cannot but be smitten!

Nature, too, boasts a plan to renovate your age;

But in a wondrous volume it is written,

And wondrous is the chapter and the page.

Faust.

But I must know it.

Mephistopheles.

Good! the poorest man may try it,

Without or witch, or quack, or gold to buy it;

And yet it works a certain cure.

Go take thee with the peasant to the moor,

And straight begin to hew and hack;

Confine thee there, with patient mood,

Within the narrow beaten track,

And nourish thee with simplest food;

Live with the brute a brute, and count it not too low

To dung the corn-fields thine own hands shall mow;

Than this I know on earth no med’cine stronger,

To make, by fourscore years, both soul and body younger!

Faust.

I was not trained to this—was never made

To labor with the pick-axe and the spade;

Such narrow round of life I may not brook.

Mephistopheles.

Then you must look into another book,

And be content to take the witch for cook.

Faust.

But why this self-same ugly Jezebel?

Could you not brew the drink yourself as well?

Mephistopheles.

A precious pastime that indeed! meanwhile

I had built bridges many a German mile.

Not art, and science strict, are here enough,

But patience too, and perseverance tough.

A thoughtful soul toils on through many a silent year.

Time only makes the busy ferment clear,

Besides that the ingredients all

Are passing strange and mystical!

’Tis true the devil taught them how to do it,

But not the devil with his own hands can brew it.

[Looking at the Cat-Apes.] Lo! what a tiny gay parade!

Here’s the man, and there’s the maid!

[Addressing them.] It seems that your good mother has gone out?

The Cat-Apes.

Up the chimney,

Went she out,

To a drinking bout!

Mephistopheles.

Is it her wont to gossip long without?

The Animals.

As long as we sit here and warm our feet.

Mephistopheles. [to Faust]

What think you of the brutes? are they not neat?

Faust.

I never saw such tasteless would-be-drolls!

Mephistopheles.

Pooh! pooh!—I know no greater delectation

On earth, than such a merry conversation.

[To the brutes.] Now let us hear, you pretty dolls,

What are you stirring there in the pot?

The Brutes.

Soup for beggars, hissing and hot,

Thin and watery, that’s the stew.

Mephistopheles.

Your customers will not be few.

The Father Cat-Ape. [comes up and fawns upon Mephistopheles]

Come rattle the dice,

Make me rich in a trice,

Come, come, let me gain!

My case is so bad,

It scarce could be worse:

Were I right in my purse,

I’d be right in my brain!

Mephistopheles.

How happy would the apish creature be,

To buy a ticket in the lottery!

[Meanwhile the young Cat-Apes have been playing with a large globe, and roll it forwards.

The Father Cat-Ape.

Such is the world,

So doth it go,

Up and down,

To and fro!

Like glass it tinkles,

Like glass it twinkles,

Breaks in a minute,

Has nothing within it;

Here it sparkles,

There it darkles,

I am alive!

My dear son, I say,

Keep out of the way!

If you don’t strive,

You will die, you will die!

It is but of clay,

And in pieces will fly!

Mephistopheles.

What make you with the sieve?

The Father Cat-Ape. [bringing down the sieve]

When comes a thief,

On the instant we know him.

[He runs off to the Mother Cat-Ape, and lets her look through the sieve.]

Look through the sieve!

See’st thou the thief,

And fearest to show him?

Mephistopheles. [coming near the fire]

And this pot?

Father Cat-Ape and his Wife.

The silly sot!

He knows not the pot!

And he knows not

The kettle, the sot!

Mephistopheles.

You ill-bred urchin, you!

The Father Cat-Ape.

Come, sit thee down,

We’ll give thee a crown,

And a sceptre too!

[He obliges Mephistopheles to sit down, and gives him a long brush for a sceptre.

Faust. [Who, while Mephistopheles was engaged with the animals, Faust had been standing before a mirror, alternately approaching it and retiring from it.]

What see I here? what heavenly image bright,

Within this magic mirror, chains my sight?

O Love, the swiftest of thy pinions lend me,

That where she is in rapture I may bend me!

Alas! when I would move one step more near,

To breathe her balmy atmosphere,

She seems to melt and disappear,

And cheats my longing eye.

Oh she is fair beyond all type of human!

Is’t possible; can this be simple woman?

There lies she, on that downy couch reposing,

Within herself the heaven of heavens enclosing!

Can it then be that earth a thing so fair contains?

Mephistopheles.

Of course: for when a god has vexed his brains

For six long days, and, when his work is done,

Says bravo to himself, is it a wonder

He should make one fair thing without a blunder?

For this time give thine eyes their pleasure;

I know how to procure you such an one,

Whence thou mayst drink delight in brimming measure,

And blest the man, for whom Fate shall decide,

To lead home such a treasure as his bride!

[Faust continues gazing on the mirror. Mephistopheles stretches himself on the arm-chair, and, playing with the brush, goes on as follows:]

Here, from my throne, a monarch, I look down:

My sceptre this: I wait to get my crown.

The Animals. [Who had in the interval been wheeling about with strange antic gestures, bring a crown to Mephistopheles, with loud shouts.]

O be but so good,

With sweat and with blood,

Your crown to glue,

As monarchs do!

[They use the crown rather roughly, in consequence of which it falls into two pieces, with which they jump about.]

O sorrow and shame!

’Tis broken, no doubt:

But we’ll make a name,

When our poem comes out!

Faust. [gazing on the mirror]

Woe’s me! her beauty doth my wits confound.

Mephistopheles. [pointing to the Brutes]

And even my good brain is whirling round and round.

The Brutes.

And if we well speed,

As speed well we ought,

We are makers indeed,

We are moulders of thought.

Faust. [as above]

I burn, I burn! this rapturous glow

Consumes me sheer!—come, let us go!

Mephistopheles. [as above]

One must, at least, confess that they

Are honest poets in their way.

[The kettle, which had been neglected by the Mother Cat-Ape begins to boil over: A great flame arises, and runs up the chimney. The Witch comes through the flame, down the chimney, with a terrible noise.

The Witch.

Ow! ow! ow! ow!

Thou damnÈd brute! thou cursÈd sow!

To leave the kettle and singe the frow!

Thou cursed imp, thou!

[Turning to Faust and Mephistopheles.]

What’s this here now?

Who are you? who are you?

What’s here ado?

Ye are scouts! ye are scouts!

Out with the louts!

A fiery arrow

Consume your marrow!

[She plunges the ladle into the kettle, and spurts out flame on Faust, Mephistopheles, and the Brutes. These last whine.

Mephistopheles. [Who, in the meantime, had turned round the butt-end of the brush, now dashes in amongst the pots and glasses.]

In two! in two!

There lies the broth!

The glass and the kettle,

Shiver them both!

’Tis a jest, thou must know,

Thou carrion crow!

’Tis a tune to keep time,

To thy senseless rhyme.

[While the Witch, foaming with rage and fury, draws back.]

What! know’st me not? thou scrag! thou Jezebel!

Thy lord and master? thou should’st know me well.

What hinders me, in all my strength to come

And crush you and your cat-imps ’neath my thumb?

Know’st not the scarlet-doublet, mole-eyed mother?

Bow’st not the knee before the famed cock’s feather?

Use your old eyes; behind a mask

Did I conceal my honest face?

And when I come here must I ask

A special introduction to your Grace?

The Witch.

O my liege lord! forgive the rough salute!

I did not see the horse’s foot:

And where too have you left your pair of ravens?

Mephistopheles.

For this time you may thank the heavens

That you have made so cheap an escape;

’Tis some time since I saw your face,

And things since then have moved apace.

The march of modern cultivation,

That licks the whole world into shape,

Has reached the Devil. In this wise generation

The Northern phantom is no longer seen,

And horns and tail and claws have been.

And for my hoof, with which I can’t dispense,

In good society ’twould give great offence;

Therefore, like many a smart sprig of nobility,

I use false calves to trick out my gentility.

The Witch. [dancing]

Heyday! it almost turns my brain

To see Squire Satan here again!

Mephistopheles.

Woman, you must not call me by that name!

The Witch.

And wherefore not? I see no cause for shame.

Mephistopheles.

That name has had its station long assigned

With Mother Bunch; and yet I cannot see

Men are much better for the want of me.

The wicked one is gone, the wicked stay behind.

Call me now Baron, less than that were rude—

I am a cavalier like other cavaliers;

My line is noble, and my blood is good;

Here is a coat of arms that all the world reveres.

[He makes an indecent gesture.

The Witch. [laughing immoderately]

Ha! ha! now I perceive Old Nick is here!

You are a rogue still, as you always were.

Mephistopheles. [aside to Faust]

My friend, I give you here, your wit to whet,

A little lesson in witch-etiquette.

The Witch.

Now say, good sirs, what would you have with me?

Mephistopheles.

A glass of your restoring liquor,

That makes an old man’s blood run quicker:

And bring the best out from your bins;

With years the juice in virtue wins.

The Witch.

Most willingly. Here I have got a phial

Of which myself at times make trial:

’Tis now a pleasant mellow potion;

You shall not meet with a denial.

[Softly.] Yet if this worthy man drinks it without precaution,

His life can’t stand an hour against its strong infection.

Mephistopheles.

Leave that to me; he’s under my protection,

Ripe for the draught; no harm will come to him.

[The Witch, with strange gestures, draws a circle and places many curious things within it; meanwhile the glasses begin to tinkle, and the kettle to sound and make music. She brings a large book, puts the Cat-Apes into the circle, and makes them serve as a desk to lay the book on, and hold the torches. She motions to Faust to come near.

Faust. [to Mephistopheles]

Now say, what would she with this flummery?

These antic gestures, this wild bedlam-stuff,

This most insipid of all mummery,

I know it well, I hate it well enough.

Mephistopheles.

Pshaw, nonsense! come, give up your sermonizing,

And learn to understand what a good joke is!

Like other quacks, she plays her hocus-pocus;

It gives the juice a virtue most surprising!

[He obliges Faust to enter the circle.

The Witch. [declaiming from the book with great emphasis]

Now be exact!

Of one make ten,

Then two subtract,

And add three then,

This makes thee rich.

Four shalt thou bate,

Of five and six,

So says the Witch,

Make seven and eight,

And all is done.

And nine is one,

And ten is none;

Here take and spell, if you are able,

The Witches’ multiplication table.

Faust.

This is a jargon worse than Babel;

Say, is she fevered? is she mad?

Mephistopheles.

O never fear! the rest is quite as bad;

I know the book, and oft have vexed my brains

With bootless labor on its rhymes and rules;

A downright contradiction still remains,

Mysterious alike for wise men and for fools.

My friend, the art is old and new;

Ancient and modern schools agree

With three and one, and one and three

Plain to perplex, and false inweave with true.

So they expound, discourse, dispute, debate;

What man of sense would plague him with their prate?

Men pin their faith to words, in sounds high sapience weening,

Though words were surely made to have a meaning.

The Witch. [Goes on reading from the book]

The soul to know

Beneath the show,

And view it without blinking;

The simple mind

The craft will find,

Without the toil of thinking.

Faust.

What flood of nonsense now she’s pouring o’er us?

She’ll split my skull with her insensate chatter.

I feel as if I heard the ceaseless clatter

Of thirty thousand idiots in a chorus.

Mephistopheles.

Enough, kind Sibyl; thanks for thy good will!

Now bring your jug here, and the goblet fill

With this prime juice, till it be brimming o’er.

My friend here is a man of high degrees,

And will digest the draught with ease.

He has swilled many a goodly glass before.

[The Witch, with many ceremonies, pours the beverage into a cup. While Faust brings it to his mouth a light flame arises.

Mephistopheles.

Come, quaff it boldly, without thinking!

The draught will make thy heart to burn with love.

Art with the Devil hand and glove,

And from a fire-spurt would’st be shrinking?

[The Witch looses the circle. Faust steps out.

Mephistopheles.

Come quickly out; you must not rest.

The Witch.

I hope the swig will wonders work on thee!

Mephistopheles.

And you, if you have aught to beg of me,

Upon Walpurgis’ night make your request.

The Witch.

Here is a song! at times sung, you will find

It hath a wondrous working on your mind.

Mephistopheles. [to Faust]

Come, yield thee now to my desire;

Be meek for once, and own the bridle.

You must keep quiet, and let yourself perspire,

That through your inmost frame the potent juice may pierce.

When we have time to spare, I will rehearse

Some lessons on the art of being nobly idle;

And soon thy heart with ecstasy shall know,

How Cupid ’gins to stir, and boundeth to and fro.

Faust. [Turning again towards the mirror]

Indulge me with one glance!—one moment spare!

It was a virgin-form surpassing fair!

Mephistopheles.

No! No! with my good aid thou soon shalt see

The paragon of women bodily.

[Aside.] Anon, if this good potion does its duty,

He’ll see in every wench the Trojan beauty.

Scene IV.

A Street.

Faust. Margaret passes over.

Faust.

My fair young lady, may I dare

To offer you my escort home?

Margaret.

Nor lady I, good sir, nor fair,

And need no guide to show me home. [Exit.

Faust.

By heaven, this child is passing fair!

A fairer never crossed my view;

Of such a modest gentle air,

Yet with a dash of pertness too,

And girlish innocent conceit;

Her lips so red, her cheeks so bright,

Forget I could not, if I might.

How she casts down her lovely eyes

Deep graven in my heart it lies,

And how so smartly she replied,

And with a sharp turn stepped aside,

It was most ravishingly sweet!

Enter Mephistopheles.

Faust.

Hark! you must get the girl for me!

Mephistopheles.

Which one?

Faust.

She’s just gone by.

Mephistopheles.

What! she?

She’s only now come from confession,

Where she received a full remission.

I slinked close by the box, and heard

The simple damsel’s every word;

’Tis a most guileless thing, that goes

For very nothing to the priest.

My power does not extend to those.

Faust.

Yet she is fourteen years of age at least.

Mephistopheles.

You speak like Jack the debauchee,

Who thinks each sweet flow’r grows for me;

As if his wish sufficed alone

To make each priceless pearl his own:

But ’tis not so; and cannot be.

Faust.

My good Sir Knight of pedantry,

Lay not thou down the law to me!

And this, for good and all, be told,

Unless, this very night, I hold

The sweet young maid in my embrace,

’Tis the last time that you shall see my face.

Mephistopheles.

Bethink thee!—what with here, and what with there,

The thing requires no little care.

Full fourteen days must first be spent,

To come upon the proper scent.

Faust.

Had I but seven good hours of rest,

The devil’s aid I’d ne’er request,

To mould this fair young creature to my bent.

Mephistopheles.

You speak as if you were a Frenchman born;

But though the end be good, we must not scorn

The means; what boots the mere gratification?

It is the best half of the recreation,

When, up and down, and to and fro,

The pretty doll, through every kind

Of fiddle-faddle sweet flirtation,

You knead out first, and dress up to your mind—

As many an Italian tale can show.

Faust.

I need no tricks to whet my zest.

Mephistopheles.

I tell thee plainly without jest,

As things stand here, we cannot win

The fort by hotly rushing in;

To gain fair lady’s favor, you

Must boldly scheme, and gently do.

Faust.

Fetch me something that breathed her air!

Her home, her chamber, plant me there!

A kerchief of her chaste attire!

A garter of my heart’s desire!

Mephistopheles.

That you may see how I would fain

Do all I can to ease your pain,

We shall not lose a single minute;

I know her room—thou shalt enjoy thee in it.

Faust.

And I shall see her?—have her?

Mephistopheles.

No!

She’ll be with a neighbor—better so.

Meanwhile, unhindered thou may’st go,

And on the hope of joys that wait thee,

Within her atmosphere may’st sate thee.

Faust.

Can we go now?

Mephistopheles.

No; we must wait till night.

Faust.

Go fetch a present for my heart’s delight. [Exit.

Mephistopheles.

Presents already! good!—a lover should not loiter!

I know some dainty spots of ground,

Where hidden treasures can be found;

I will go straight and reconnoitre. [Exit.

Scene V.

A small neat Chamber.

Margaret. [Plaiting and putting up her hair.]

I wonder who the gentleman could be,

That on the street accosted me to-day!

He looked a gallant cavalier and gay,

And must be of a noble family;

That I could read upon his brow—

Else had he never been so free. [Exit.

Enter Faust and Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles.

Come in—but softly—we are landed now!

Faust. [after a pause]

Leave me alone a minute, I entreat!

Mephistopheles. [looking round about]

Not every maiden keeps her room so neat. [Exit.

Faust. [looking round]

Be greeted, thou sweet twilight-shine!

Through this chaste sanctuary shed!

Oh seize my heart, sweet pains of love divine,

That on the languid dew of hope are fed!

What sacred stillness holds the air!

What order, what contentment rare!

[He throws himself on the old leathern arm-chair beside the bed.]

Receive thou me! thou, who, in ages gone,

In joy and grief hast welcomed sire and son.

How often round this old paternal throne,

A clambering host of playful children hung!

Belike that here my loved one too hath clung

To her hoar grandsire’s neck, with childish joy

Thankful received the yearly Christmas toy,

And with the full red cheeks of childhood pressed

Upon his withered hand a pious kiss.

I feel, sweet maid, mine inmost soul possessed

By thy calm spirit of order and of bliss,

That motherly doth teach thee day by day:

That bids thee deck the table clean and neat,

And crisps the very sand strewn at thy feet.

Sweet hand! sweet, lovely hand! where thou dost sway,

The meanest hut is decked in heaven’s array.

And here! [He lifts up the bed-curtain.]

O Heaven, what strange o’ermastering might

Thrills every sense with fine delight!

Here might I gaze unwearied day and night.

Nature! in airy dreams here didst thou build

The mortal hull of the angelic child;

Here she reposed! her tender bosom teeming

With warmest life, in buoyant fulness streaming,

And here, with pulse of gently gracious power,

The heaven-born bud was nursed into a flower!

And thou! what brought thee here? why now backshrinks

Thy courage from the prize it sought before?

What wouldst thou have? Thy heart within thee sinks;

Poor wretched Faust! thou know’st thyself no more.

Do I then breathe a magic atmosphere?

I sought immediate enjoyment here,

And into viewless dreams my passion flows!

Are we the sport of every breath that blows?

If now she came, and found me gazing here,

How for this boldfaced presence must I pay!

The mighty man, how small would he appear,

And at her feet, a suppliant, sink away!

Mephistopheles. [coming back]

Quick! quick! I see her—she’ll be here anon.

Faust.

Yes, let’s be gone! for once and all be gone!

Mephistopheles.

Here is a casket, of a goodly weight;

Its former lord, I ween, bewails its fate.

Come, put it in the press. I swear

She’ll lose her senses when she sees it there.

The trinkets that I stowed within it

Were bait meant for a nobler prey:

But child is child, and play is play!

Faust.

I know not—shall I?

Mephistopheles.

Can you doubt a minute?

Would you then keep the dainty pelf,

Like an old miser, to yourself?

If so, I would advise you, sir,

To spare your squire the bitter toil,

And with some choicer sport the hour beguile

Than looking lustfully at her.

I scratch my head and rub my hands that you—

[He puts the casket into the cupboard, and locks the door again.]

Come, let’s away!—

With this sweet piece of womanhood may do,

As will may sway;

And you stand there,

And gape and stare,

As if you looked into a lecture-room,

And there with awe

The twin grey spectres bodily saw,

Physics and Metaphysics! Come!

[Exeunt.

Enter Margaret, with a lamp.

Margaret.

It is so sultry here, so hot! [She opens the window.]

And yet so warm without ’tis not.

I feel—I know not how—oppressed;

Would to God that my mother came!

A shivering cold runs o’er my frame—

I’m but a silly timid girl at best!

[While taking off her clothes, she sings.]

There was a king in Thule,

True-hearted to his grave:

To him his dying lady

A golden goblet gave.

He prized it more than rubies;

At every drinking-bout

His eyes they swam in glory,

When he would drain it out.

On his death-bed he counted

His cities one by one;

Unto his heirs he left them;

The bowl he gave to none.

He sat amid his barons,

And feasted merrily,

Within his father’s castle,

That beetles o’er the sea.

There stood the old carouser,

And drank his life’s last glow;

Then flung the goblet over

Into the sea below.

He saw it fall, and gurgling

Sink deep into the sea;

His eyes they sank in darkness;

No bumper more drank he.

[She opens the cupboard to put in her clothes, and sees the casket.]

How came the pretty casket here? no doubt

I locked the press when I went out.

’Tis really strange!—Belike that it was sent

A pledge for money that my mother lent.

Here hangs the key; sure there can be no sin

In only looking what may be within.

What have we here? good heavens! see!

What a display of finery!

Here is a dress in which a queen

Might on a gala-day be seen.

I wonder how the necklace would suit me!

Who may the lord of all this splendor be?

[She puts on the necklace, and looks at herself in the glass.]

Were but the ear-rings mine to wear!

It gives one such a different air.

What boots the beauty of the poor?

’Tis very beautiful to be sure,

But without riches little weighs;

They praise you, but half pity while they praise.

Gold is the pole,

To which all point: the whole

Big world hangs on gold. Alas we poor!

Scene VI.

A Walk.

Faust going up and down thoughtfully; then enter Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles.

By all the keen pangs of love! by all the hot blasts of hell!

By all the fellest of curses, if curse there be any more fell!

Faust.

How now, Mephisto? what the devil’s wrong?

I ne’er beheld a face one half so long!

Mephistopheles.

But that I am a devil myself, I’d sell

Both soul and body on the spot to hell!

Faust.

I verily believe you’ve got a craze!

Beseems it you with such outrageous phrase,

To rage like any bedlamite?

Mephistopheles.

Only conceive! the box of rare gewgaws

For Margaret got, is in a parson’s claws!

The thing came to the mother’s sight,

Who soon suspected all was not right:

The woman has got a most delicate nose,

That snuffling through the prayer-book goes,

And seldom scents a thing in vain,

If it be holy or profane.

Your jewels, she was not long in guessing,

Were not like to bring a blessing.

“My child,” quoth she, “ill-gotten gear

Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood;

We’ll give it to Mary-mother dear,

And she will feed us with heavenly food!”

Margaret looked blank—“’tis hard,” thought she,

“To put a gift-horse away from me;

And surely godless was he never

Who lodged it here, a gracious giver.”

The mother then brought in the priest;

He quickly understood the jest,

And his eyes watered at the sight.

“Good dame,” quoth he, “you have done right!

He conquers all the world who wins

A victory o’er his darling sins.

The Church is a most sharp-set lady,

And her stomach holds good store,

Has swallowed lands on lands already,

And, still unglutted, craves for more;

The Church alone, my ladies dear,

Can digest ill-gotten gear.”

Faust.

That is a general fashion—Jew,

And King, and Kaiser have it too.

Mephistopheles.

Then ring and ear-ring, and necklace, and casket,

Like a bundle of toad-stools away he bore;

Thanked her no less, and thanked her no more,

Than had it been so many nuts in a basket;

On heavenly treasures then held an oration,

Much, of course, to their edification.

Faust.

And Margaret?

Mephistopheles.

Sits now in restless mood,

Knows neither what she would, nor what she should;

Broods o’er the trinkets night and day,

And on him who sent them, more.

Faust.

Sweet love! her grief doth vex me sore.

Mephisto, mark well what I say!

Get her another set straightway!

The first were not so very fine.

Mephistopheles.

O yes! with you all things are mere child’s play.

Faust.

Quick hence! and match your will with mine!

Throw thee oft in her neighbor’s way.

Be not a devil of milk and water,

And for another gift go cater.

Mephistopheles.

Yes, gracious sir! most humbly I obey.

[Exit Faust.

Mephistopheles.

Such love-sick fools as these would blow

Sun, moon, and stars, like vilest stuff,

To nothing with a single puff,

To make their lady-love a show!

Scene VII.

Martha’s House.

Martha. [alone]

In honest truth, it was not nobly done,

In my good spouse to leave me here alone!

May God forgive him! while he roams at large,

O’er the wide world, I live at my own charge.

Sure he could have no reason to complain!

So good a wife he’ll not find soon again. [She weeps.]

He may be dead!—Ah me!—could I but know,

By a certificate, that ’tis really so!

Enter Margaret.

Margaret.

Martha!

Martha.

What wouldst thou, dear?

Margaret.

My knees can scarcely bear me!—only hear!

I found a second box to-day

Of ebon-wood, just where the first one lay,

Brimful of jewels passing rare,

Much finer than the others.

Martha.

Have a care

You keep this well masked from your mother—

’Twould fare no better than the other.

Margaret.

Only come near, and see! look here!

Martha. [decking her with the jewels]

Thou art a lucky little dear!

Margaret.

And yet I dare not thus be seen

In church, or on the public green.

Martha.

Just come across when you’ve an hour to spare,

And put the gauds on here with none to see!

Then promenade awhile before the mirror there;

’Twill be a joy alike to thee and me.

Then on a Sunday, or a holiday,

Our riches by degrees we can display.

A necklace first, the drops then in your ear;

Your mother sees it not; and should she hear,

’Tis easy to invent some fair pretence or other.

Margaret.

But whence the pretty caskets came? I fear

There’s something in it not right altogether. [Knocking.]

Good God!—I hear a step—is it my mother?

Martha. [looking through the casement]

’Tis a strange gentleman. Come in!

Enter Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles.

I hope the ladies will not think me rude,

That uninvited thus I here intrude.

[Observing Margaret, he draws back respectfully.]

I have commands for Mistress Martha Schwerdtlein.

Martha.

For me? what has the gentleman to say?

Mephistopheles. [softly to her]

Excuse my freedom. I perceive that you

Have visitors of rank to-day;

For this time I shall bid adieu,

And after dinner do myself the pleasure

To wait upon you, when you’re more at leisure.

Martha. [aloud]

Think, child! of all things in the world the last!

My Gretchen for a lady should have passed!

Margaret.

The gentleman is far too good;

I’m a poor girl—boast neither wealth nor blood.

This dress, these jewels, are not mine.

Mephistopheles.

’Tis not the dress alone that I admire;

She has a mien, a gait, a look so fine,

That speak the lady more than costliest attire.

Martha.

And now your business, sir? I much desire—

Mephistopheles.

Would God I had a better tale to tell!

Small thanks I should receive, I knew it well.

Your husband’s dead—his last fond words I bear.

Martha.

Is dead! the good fond soul! O woe!

My man is dead! flow, sorrow, flow!

Margaret.

Beseech thee, dearest Martha, don’t despair.

Mephistopheles.

Now hear my mournful story to the end.

Margaret.

I would not love a man on earth, to rend

Me thus with grief, when he might hap to die.

Mephistopheles.

Joy hath its sorrow, sorrow hath its joy;

Twin sisters are they, as the proverb saith.

Martha.

Now let me hear the manner of his death.

Mephistopheles.

Where Padua’s sacred turrets rise,

Above the grave of holy Antony,

On consecrated ground thy husband lies,

And slumbers for eternity.

Martha.

No further message? is this all?

Mephistopheles.

Yes! one request, and that not small.

For his soul’s peace, your good man wanted

Three hundred masses to be chanted.

This is the whole of my commission.

Martha.

What! not a jewel? not a coin?

No journeyman, however poor,

However wild, could make such an omission,

But in the bottom of his pouch is sure

To keep some small memorial for his wife,

And rather beg, and rather pine

Away the remnant of his life—

Mephistopheles.

Madam! for your hard case I greatly grieve,

But your good husband had no gold to leave.

His sins and follies he lamented sore—

Yes! and bewailed his own mishap much more.

Margaret.

Alas for all the miseries of mankind!

He shall not want my oft-repeated prayer.

Mephistopheles. [to Margaret]

Thou, gentle heart, dost well deserve to find

A husband worthy of a bride so fair.

Margaret.

Ah no!—for that, it is too soon.

Mephistopheles.

A lover, then, might in the meantime do.

’Tis bounteous Heaven’s choicest boon

To fondle in one’s arms so sweet a thing as you.

Margaret.

Such things are never done with us.

Mephistopheles.

Done or not done!—it may be managed thus:—

Martha.

Now let me hear!

Mephistopheles.

By his death-bed I stood.

It was a little better than of dung,

Of mouldy straw; there, as a Christian should,

With many a sin repented on his tongue,

He died.—“Oh! how must I,” he said,

“Myself detest so to throw up my trade,

And my dear wife abandon so!

It kills me with the simple memory, oh!

Might she but now forgive me, ere I die!”

Martha. [weeping]

Good soul! I have forgiven him long ago.

Mephistopheles. [continuing his interrupted narrative]

And yet was she, God knows, much more to blame than I.

Martha.

What! did he lie? on the grave’s brink to lie!

Mephistopheles.

He fabled to the last, be sure,

If I am half a connoisseur.

“In sooth, I had no time to gape,” he said,

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

To clothe them, and to put them to a trade,

From toil and labor I had no release,

And could not even eat my own thin slice in peace.”

Martha.

Can it then be? has he forgotten quite

My fag and drudgery, by day and night?

Mephistopheles.

Not quite! attend the sequel of my tale.

“When last we sailed from Malta”—so he said,

“For wife and children fervently I prayed,

And Heaven then blew a favorable gale.

We came across a Turkish ship that bore

Home bullion to increase the Sultan’s store,

And soon, by valor’s right, were masters

Of all the Infidel piastres;

The precious spoil was shared among the crew,

And I received the part that was my due.”

Martha.

But where and how?—has he then buried it?

Mephistopheles.

Who knows where the four winds have hurried it!

A lady took him under her protection

At Naples, as he wandered to and fro;

She left him many a mark of her affection,

As to his life’s end he had cause to know.

Martha.

The knave, to treat his helpless orphans so!

To all our misery and all our need,

Amid his reckless life, he gave no heed!

Mephistopheles.

And for that cause he’s dead. If I were you,

Now mark me well, I tell you what I’d do;

I’d mourn him decently for one chaste year,

Then look about me for another dear.

Martha.

Alas! God knows it would be hard to find

Another so completely to my mind.

A better-hearted fool you never knew,

A love of roving was his only vice;

And foreign wine, and foreign women too,

And the accursÈd gambling dice.

Mephistopheles.

Such marriage-articles were most convenient,

Had he to you been only half so lenient.

On terms like these myself had no objection

To change with you the ring of conjugal affection.

Martha.

You jest, mein Herr!

Mephistopheles. [aside]

A serious jest for me!

I’d better go; for, if I tarry here,

She’ll take the devil at his word, I fear.

[To Margaret.] How stands it with your heart then?—is it free?

Margaret.

I scarce know what you mean.

Mephistopheles.

Sweet guileless heart!

Ladies, farewell!

Margaret.

Farewell!

Martha.

One word before we part!

I fain would have it solemnly averred,

How my dear husband died, and where he was interred.

Order was aye my special virtue; and

’Tis right both where and when he died should stand

In the newspapers.

Mephistopheles.

Yes, when two attest,

As Scripture saith, the truth is manifest.

I have a friend, who, at your requisition,

Before the judge will make a deposition.

I’ll bring him here.

Martha.

Yes, bring him with you, do!

Mephistopheles.

And we shall meet your fair young lady too?

[To Margaret.] A gallant youth!—has been abroad, and seen

The world—a perfect cavalier, I trow.

Margaret.

’Twould make me blush, should he bestow

A single look on one so mean.

Mephistopheles.

You have no cause to be ashamed before

The proudest king that ever sceptre bore.

Martha.

This evening, in the garden then, behind

The house, you’ll find warm hearts and welcome kind!

Scene VIII.

A Street.

Faust.

How now? what news? how speed your labors?

Mephistopheles.

Bravo! ’tis well you are on fire;

Soon shall you have your heart’s desire.

This evening you shall meet her at her neighbor’s;

A dame ’tis to a nicety made

For the bawd and gipsy trade.

Faust.

’Tis well.

Mephistopheles.

But you must lend a hand, and so must I.

Faust.

One good turn deserves another.

Mephistopheles.

We must appear before a judge together,

And solemnly there testify

That stiff and stark her worthy spouse doth lie,

Beside the shrine of holy Antony.

Faust.

Most wise! we must first make a goodly travel!

Mephistopheles.

Sancta simplicitas! what stuff you drivel!

We may make oath, and not know much about it.

Faust.

If that’s your best, your best is bad. I scout it.

Mephistopheles.

O holy man that would outwit the devil!

Is it the first time in your life that you

Have sworn to what you knew could not be true?

Of God, the world, and all that it contains,

Of man, and all that circles in his veins,

Or dwells within the compass of his brains,

Have you not pompous definitions given,

With swelling breast and dogmatizing brow,

As if you were an oracle from heaven?

And yet, if the plain truth you will avow,

You knew as much of all these things, in faith,

As now you know of Master Schwerdtlein’s death!

Faust.

Thou art, and wert, a sophist and a liar.

Mephistopheles.

Yes, unless one could mount a little higher.

To-morrow I shall hear you pour

False vows that silly girl before,

Swear to do everything to serve her,

And love her with a quenchless fervor.

Faust.

And from my heart too.

Mephistopheles.

Oh! of course, of course!

Then will you speak, till you are hoarse,

Of love, and constancy, and truth,

And feelings of eternal youth—

Will that too be the simple sooth?

Faust.

It will! it will!—for, when I feel,

And for the feeling, the confusion

Of feelings, that absorbs my mind,

Seek for names, and none can find,

Sweep through the universe’s girth

For every highest word to give it birth;

And then this soul-pervading flame,

Infinite, endless, endless name,

Call you this nought but devilish delusion?

Mephistopheles.

Still I am right!

Faust.

Hold! mark me, you

Are right indeed! for this is true,

Who will be right, and only has a tongue,

Is never wrong.

Come, I confess thee master in debating,

That I may be delivered from thy prating.

end of act third.