THE NEIGHBOR’S HOUSE
MARTHA (alone)
God pardon my dear husband, he
Doth not in truth act well by me!
Forth in the world abroad to roam,
And leave me on the straw at home.
And yet his will I ne’er did thwart,
God knows, I lov’d him from my heart.
[She weeps.]
Perchance he’s dead!—oh wretched state!—
Had I but a certificate!
(MARGARET comes.)
MARGARET
Dame Martha!
MARTHA
Gretchen?
MARGARET
Only think!
My knees beneath me well-nigh sink!
Within my press I’ve found today
Another case, of ebony.
And things—magnificent they are,
More costly than the first, by far.
MARTHA
You must not name it to your mother!
It would to shrift, just like the other.
MARGARET
Nay look at them! now only see!
MARTHA (dresses her up)
Thou happy creature!
MARGARET
Woe is me!
Them in the street I cannot wear,
Or in the church, or anywhere.
MARTHA
Come often over here to me,
The gems put on quite privately;
And then before the mirror walk an hour or so,
Thus we shall have our pleasure too.
Then suitable occasions we must seize,
As at a feast, to show them by degrees:
A chain at first, pearl ear-drops then,—your mother
Won’t see them, or we’ll coin some tale or other.
MARGARET
But, who, I wonder, could the caskets bring?
I fear there’s something wrong about the thing!
[A knock.]
Good heavens! can that my mother be?
MARTHA (peering through the blind)
‘Tis a strange gentleman, I see.
Come in!
[MEPHISTOPHELES enters.]
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ve ventur’d to intrude today.
Ladies, excuse the liberty, I pray.
[He steps back respectfully before MARGARET.]
After dame Martha Schwerdtlein I inquire!
MARTHA
‘Tis I. Pray what have you to say to me?
MEPHISTOPHELES (aside to her)
I know you now,—and therefore will retire;
At present you’ve distinguished company.
Pardon the freedom, Madam, with your leave,
I will make free to call again at eve.
MARTHA (aloud)
Why, child, of all strange notions, he
For some grand lady taketh thee!
MARGARET
I am, in truth, of humble blood—
The gentleman is far too good—
Nor gems nor trinkets are my own.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Oh ’tis not the mere ornaments alone;
Her glance and mien far more betray.
Rejoiced I am that I may stay.
MARTHA
Your business, Sir? I long to know—
MEPHISTOPHELES
Would I could happier tidings show!
I trust mine errand you’ll not let me rue;
Your husband’s dead, and greeteth you.
MARTHA
Is dead? True heart! Oh misery!
My husband dead! Oh, I shall die!
MARGARET
Alas! good Martha! don’t despair!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Now listen to the sad affair!
MARGARET
I for this cause should fear to love.
The loss my certain death would prove.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Joy still must sorrow, sorrow joy attend.
MARTHA
Proceed, and tell the story of his end!
MEPHISTOPHELES
At Padua, in St. Anthony’s,
In holy ground his body lies;
Quiet and cool his place of rest,
With pious ceremonials blest.
MARTHA
And had you naught besides to bring?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Oh yes! one grave and solemn prayer;
Let them for him three hundred masses sing!
But in my pockets, I have nothing there.
MARTHA
No trinket! no love-token did he send!
What every journeyman safe in his pouch will hoard
There for remembrance fondly stored,
And rather hungers, rather begs than spend!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Madam, in truth, it grieves me sore,
But he his gold not lavishly hath spent.
His failings too he deeply did repent,
Ay! and his evil plight bewail’d still more.
MARGARET
Alas! That men should thus be doomed to woe!
I for his soul will many a requiem pray.
MEPHISTOPHELES
A husband you deserve this very day;
A child so worthy to be loved.
MARGARET
Ah no,
That time hath not yet come for me.
MEPHISTOPHELES
If not a spouse, a gallant let it be.
Among heaven’s choicest gifts, I place,
So sweet a darling to embrace.
MARGARET
Our land doth no such usage know.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Usage or not, it happens so.
MARTHA
Go on, I pray!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I stood by his bedside.
Something less foul it was than dung;
‘Twas straw half rotten; yet, he as a Christian died.
And sorely hath remorse his conscience wrung.
“Wretch that I was,” quoth he, with parting breath,
“So to forsake my business and my wife!
Ah! the remembrance is my death.
Could I but have her pardon in this life!”—
MARTHA (weeping)
Dear soul! I’ve long forgiven him, indeed!
MEPHISTOPHELES
“Though she, God knows, was more to blame than I.”
MARTHA
He lied! What, on the brink of death to lie!
MEPHISTOPHELES
If I am skill’d the countenance to read,
He doubtless fabled as he parted hence.—
“No time had I to gape, or take my ease,” he said,
“First to get children, and then get them bread;
And bread, too, in the very widest sense;
Nor could I eat in peace even my proper share.”
MARTHA
What, all my truth, my love forgotten quite?
My weary drudgery by day and night!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Not so! He thought of you with tender care.
Quoth he: “Heaven knows how fervently I prayed,
For wife and children when from Malta bound;—
The prayer hath heaven with favor crowned;
We took a Turkish vessel which conveyed
Rich store of treasure for the Sultan’s court;
Its own reward our gallant action brought;
The captur’d prize was shared among the crew,
And of the treasure I received my due.”
MARTHA
How? Where? The treasure hath he buried, pray?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Where the four winds have blown it, who can say?
In Naples as he stroll’d, a stranger there,—
A comely maid took pity on my friend:
And gave such tokens of her love and care,
That he retained them to his blessed end.
MARTHA
Scoundrel! to rob his children of their bread!
And all this misery, this bitter need,
Could not his course of recklessness impede!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Well, he hath paid the forfeit, and is dead.
Now were I in your place, my counsel hear;
My weeds I’d wear for one chaste year,
And for another lover meanwhile would look out.
MARTHA
Alas, I might search far and near,
Not quickly should I find another like my first!
There could not be a fonder fool than mine,
Only he loved too well abroad to roam;
Loved foreign women too, and foreign wine,
And loved besides the dice accurs’d.
MEPHISTOPHELES
All had gone swimmingly, no doubt,
Had he but given you at home,
On his side, just as wide a range.
Upon such terms, to you I swear,
Myself with you would gladly rings exchange!
MARTHA
The gentleman is surely pleas’d to jest!
MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)
Now to be off in time, were best!
She’d make the very devil marry her.
(To MARGARET)
How fares it with your heart?
MARGARET
How mean you, Sir?
MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)
The sweet young innocent!
(aloud)
Ladies, farewell!
MARGARET
Farewell!
MARTHA
But ere you leave us, quickly tell!
I from a witness fain had heard,
Where, how, and when my husband died and was interr’d.
To forms I’ve always been attached indeed,
His death I fain would in the journals read.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Ay, madam, what two witnesses declare
Is held as valid everywhere;
A gallant friend I have, not far from here,
Who will for you before the judge appear.
I’ll bring him straight.
MARTHA
I pray you do!
MEPHISTOPHELES
And this young lady, we shall find her too?
A noble youth, far traveled, he
Shows to the sex all courtesy.
MARGARET
I in his presence needs must blush for shame.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Not in the presence of a crownèd king!
MARTHA
The garden, then, behind my house, we’ll name,
There we’ll await you both this evening.
A STREET
FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
FAUST
How is it now? How speeds it? Is’t in train?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Bravo! I find you all aflame!
Gretchen full soon your own you’ll name.
This eve, at neighbor Martha’s, her you’ll meet again;
The woman seems expressly made
To drive the pimp and gipsy’s trade.
FAUST
Good!
MEPHISTOPHELES
But from us she something would request.
FAUST
A favor claims return, as this world goes.
MEPHISTOPHELES
We have on oath but duly to attest
That her dead husband’s limbs, outstretch’d, repose
In holy ground at Padua.
FAUST
Sage indeed!
So I suppose we straight must journey there!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Sancta simplicitas! For that no need! Without much knowledge we have but to swear.
FAUST
If you have nothing better to suggest,
Against your plan I must at once protest.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Oh, holy man! methinks I have you there!
In all your life, say, have you ne’er
False witness borne, until this hour?
Have you of God, the world, and all it doth contain,
Of man, and that which worketh in his heart and brain,
Not definitions given, in words of weight and power,
With front unblushing, and a dauntless breast?
Yet, if into the depth of things you go,
Touching these matters, it must be confess’d,
As much as of Herr Schwerdtlein’s death you know!
FAUST
Thou art and dost remain liar and sophist too.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Ay, if one did not take a somewhat deeper view!
Tomorrow, in all honor, thou
Poor Gretchen wilt befool, and vow
Thy soul’s deep love, in lover’s fashion.
FAUST
And from my heart.
MEPHISTOPHELES
All good and fair!
Then deathless constancy thou’lt swear;
Speak of one all o’ermastering passion—
Will that too issue from the heart?
FAUST
Forbear!
When passion sways me, and I seek to frame
Fit utterance for feeling, deep, intense,
And for my frenzy finding no fit name,
Sweep round the ample world with every sense,
Grasp at the loftiest words to speak my flame,
And call the glow, wherewith I burn,
Quenchless, eternal, yea, eterne—
Is that of sophistry a devilish play?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yet am I right!
FAUST
Mark this, my friend,
And spare my lungs; who would the right maintain,
And hath a tongue wherewith his point to gain,
Will gain it in the end.
But come, of gossip I am weary quite;
Because I’ve no resource, thou’rt in the right.
GARDEN
MARGARET on FAUST’s arm. MARTHA with MEPHISTOPHELES walking up and down.
MARGARET
I feel it, you but spare my ignorance,
The gentleman to blame me stoops thus low.
[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET From the Painting by Carl Becker]
A traveler from complaisance
Still makes the best of things; I know
Too well, my humble prattle never can
Have power to entertain so wise a man.
FAUST
One glance, one word from thee doth charm me more
Than the world’s wisdom or the sage’s lore.
[He kisses her hand.]
MARGARET
Nay! trouble not yourself! A hand so coarse,
So rude as mine, how can you kiss!
What constant work at home must I not do perforce!
My mother too exacting is.
[They pass on.]
MARTHA
Thus, sir, unceasing travel is your lot?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Traffic and duty urge us! With what pain
Are we compelled to leave full many a spot,
Where yet we dare not once remain!
MARTHA
In youth’s wild years, with vigor crown’d,
‘Tis not amiss thus through the world to sweep;
But ah, the evil days come round!
And to a lonely grave as bachelor to creep
A pleasant thing has no one found.
MEPHISTOPHELES
The prospect fills me with dismay.
MARTHA
Therefore in time, dear sir, reflect, I pray.
[They pass on.]
MARGARET
Ay, out of sight is out of mind!
Politeness easy is to you;
Friends everywhere, and not a few,
Wiser than I am, you will find.
FAUST
O dearest, trust me, what doth pass for sense
Full oft is self-conceit and blindness!
MARGARET
How?
FAUST
Simplicity and holy innocence—
When will ye learn your hallow’d worth to know!
Ah, when will meekness and humility,
Kind and all-bounteous nature’s loftiest dower—
MARGARET
Only one little moment think of me!
To think of you I shall have many an hour.
FAUST
You are perhaps much alone?
MARGARET
Yes, small our household is, I own,
Yet must I see to it. No maid we keep,
And I must cook, sew, knit, and sweep,
Still early on my feet and late;
My mother is in all things, great and small,
So accurate!
Not that for thrift there is such pressing need,
Than others we might make more show indeed;
My father left behind a small estate,
A house and garden near the city-wall.
But fairly quiet now my days, I own;
As soldier is my brother gone;
My little sister’s dead; the babe to rear
Occasion’d me some care and fond annoy;
But I would go through all again with joy,
The darling was to me so dear.
FAUST
An angel, sweet, if it resembled thee!
MARGARET
I reared it up, and it grew fond of me.
After my father’s death it saw the day;
We gave my mother up for lost, she lay
In such a wretched plight, and then at length
So very slowly she regain’d her strength.
Weak as she was, ’twas vain for her to try
Herself to suckle the poor babe, so I
Reared it on milk and water all alone;
And thus the child became as ’twere my own;
Within my arms it stretched itself and grew,
And smiling, nestled in my bosom too.
FAUST
Doubtless the purest happiness was thine.
MARGARET
But many weary hours, in sooth, were also mine.
At night its little cradle stood
Close to my bed; so was I wide awake
If it but stirred;
One while I was obliged to give it food,
Or to my arms the darling take;
From bed full oft must rise, whene’er its cry I heard,
And, dancing it, must pace the chamber to and fro;
Stand at the wash-tub early; forthwith go
To market, and then mind the cooking too—
Tomorrow like today, the whole year through.
Ah, sir, thus living, it must be confess’d
One’s spirits are not always of the best;
Yet it a relish gives to food and rest.
[They pass on.]
MARTHA
Poor women! we are badly off, I own;
A bachelor’s conversion’s hard, indeed!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Madam, with one like you it rests alone,
To tutor me a better course to lead.
MARTHA
Speak frankly, sir, none is there you have met?
Has your heart ne’er attach’d itself as yet?
MEPHISTOPHELES
One’s own fire-side and a good wife are gold
And pearls of price, so says the proverb old.
MARTHA
I mean, has passion never stirred your breast?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ve everywhere been well received, I own.
MARTHA
Yet hath your heart no earnest preference known?
MEPHISTOPHELES
With ladies one should ne’er presume to jest.
MARTHA
Ah! you mistake!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’m sorry I’m so blind!
But this I know—that you are very kind.
[They pass on.]
FAUST
Me, little angel, didst thou recognize,
When in the garden first I came?
MARGARET
Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.
FAUST
Thou dost forgive my boldness, dost not blame
The liberty I took that day,
When thou from church didst lately wend thy way?
MARGARET
I was confused. So had it never been;
No one of me could any evil say.
Alas, thought I, he doubtless in thy mien,
Something unmaidenly or bold hath seen?
[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET IN THE GARDEN Liezen-Mayer]
It seemed as if it struck him suddenly,
Here’s just a girl with whom one may make free!
Yet I must own that then I scarcely knew
What in your favor here began at once to plead;
Yet I was angry with myself indeed
That I more angry could not feel with you.
FAUST
Sweet love!
MARGARET
Just wait awhile! [She gathers a star-flower and plucks off the leaves one after another.]
FAUST
A nosegay may that be?
MARGARET
No! It is but a game.
FAUST
How?
MARGARET
Go, you’ll laugh at me!
[She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself.]
FAUST
What murmurest thou?
MARGARET (half aloud)
He loves me—loves me not.
FAUST
Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!
MARGARET (continues)
He loves me—not—he loves me—not— [plucking off the last leaf with fond joy.]
He loves me!
FAUST
Yes!
And this flower-language, darling, let it be
A heavenly oracle! He loveth thee!
Know’st thou the meaning of, He loveth thee?
[He seizes both her hands.]
MARGARET
I tremble so!
FAUST
Nay! do not tremble, love!
Let this hand-pressure, let this glance reveal
Feelings, all power of speech above;
To give oneself up wholly and to feel
A joy that must eternal prove!
Eternal!—Yes, its end would be despair,
No end!—It cannot end!
[MARGARET presses his hand, extricates herself, and runs away. He stands a moment in thought, and then follows her.]
MARTHA (approaching)
Night’s closing.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yes, we’ll presently away.
MARTHA
I would entreat you longer yet to stay;
But ’tis a wicked place, just here about;
It is as if the folk had nothing else to do,
Nothing to think of too,
But gaping watch their neighbors, who goes in and out;
And scandal’s busy still, do whatsoe’er one may.
And our young couple?
MEPHISTOPHELES
They have flown up there,
The wanton butterflies!
MARTHA
He seems to take to her.
And she to him. ‘Tis of the world the way!
A SUMMER-HOUSE
[MARGARET runs in, hides behind the door, holds the tip of her finger to her lip, and peeps through the crevice.]
MARGARET
He comes!
FAUST
Ah, little rogue, so thou
Think’st to provoke me! I have caught thee now!
[He kisses her.]
MARGARET (embracing him, and returning the kiss)
Dearest of men! I love thee from my heart!
[MEPHISTOPHELES knocks.]
FAUST (stamping)
Who’s there?
MEPHISTOPHELES
A friend!
FAUST
A brute!
MEPHISTOPHELES
‘Tis time to part.
MARTHA (comes)
Ay, it is late, good sir.
FAUST
Mayn’t I attend you, then?
MARGARET
Oh no—my mother would—adieu, adieu!
FAUST
And must I really then take leave of you?
Farewell!
MARTHA
Good-bye!
MARGARET
Ere long to meet again!
[Exeunt FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES.]
MARGARET
Good heavens! how all things far and near
Must fill his mind—a man like this!
Abash’d before him I appear,
And say to all things only, yes.
Poor simple child, I cannot see
What ’tis that he can find in me.
[Exit.]
FOREST AND CAVERN
FAUST (alone)
Spirit sublime! Thou gav’st me, gav’st me all
For which I prayed! Not vainly hast thou turn’d
To me thy countenance in flaming fire:
Gavest me glorious nature for my realm,
And also power to feel her and enjoy;
Not merely with a cold and wondering glance,
Thou dost permit me in her depths profound,
As in the bosom of a friend to gaze.
Before me thou dost lead her living tribes,
And dost in silent grove, in air and stream
Teach me to know my kindred. And when roars
The howling storm-blast through the groaning wood,
Wrenching the giant pine, which in its fall
Crashing sweeps down its neighbor trunks and boughs,
While hollow thunder from the hill resounds:
Then thou dost lead me to some shelter’d cave,
Dost there reveal me to myself, and show
Of my own bosom the mysterious depths.
And when with soothing beam, the moon’s pale orb
Full in my view climbs up the pathless sky,
From crag and dewy grove, the silvery forms
Of by-gone ages hover, and assuage
The joy austere of contemplative thought.
Oh, that naught perfect is assign’d to man,
I feel, alas! With this exalted joy,
Which lifts me near, and nearer to the gods,
Thou gav’st me this companion, unto whom
I needs must cling, though cold and insolent,
He still degrades me to myself, and turns
Thy glorious gifts to nothing, with a breath.
He in my bosom with malicious zeal
For that fair image fans a raging fire;
From craving to enjoyment thus I reel,
And in enjoyment languish for desire.
[MEPHISTOPHELES enters.]
MEPHISTOPHELES
Of this lone life have you not had your fill?
How for so long can it have charms for you?
‘Tis well enough to try it if you will;
But then away again to something new!
FAUST
Would you could better occupy your leisure,
Than in disturbing thus my hours of joy.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Well! Well! I’ll leave you to yourself with pleasure,
A serious tone you hardly dare employ.
To part from one so crazy, harsh, and cross,
Were not in truth a grievous loss.
The live-long day, for you I toil and fret;
Ne’er from his worship’s face a hint I get,
What pleases him, or what to let alone.
FAUST
Ay truly! that is just the proper tone!
He wearies me, and would with thanks be paid!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Poor Son of Earth, without my aid,
How would thy weary days have flown?
Thee of thy foolish whims I’ve cured,
Thy vain imaginations banished.
And but for me, be well assured,
Thou from this sphere must soon have vanished.
In rocky hollows and in caverns drear,
Why like an owl sit moping here?
Wherefore from dripping stones and moss with ooze embued,
Dost suck, like any toad, thy food?
A rare, sweet pastime. Verily!
The doctor cleaveth still to thee.
FAUST
Dost comprehend what bliss without alloy
From this wild wand’ring in the desert springs?—
Couldst thou but guess the new life-power it brings,
Thou wouldst be fiend enough to envy me my joy.
MEPHISTOPHELES
What super-earthly ecstasy! at night,
To lie in darkness on the dewy height,
Embracing heaven and earth in rapture high,
The soul dilating to a deity;
With prescient yearnings pierce the core of earth,
Feel in your laboring breast the six-days’ birth,
Enjoy, in proud delight what no one knows,
While your love-rapture o’er creation flows—
The earthly lost in beatific vision,
And then the lofty intuition—
(with a gesture)
I need not tell you how—to close!
FAUST
Fie on you!
MEPHISTOPHELES
This displeases you? “For shame!”
You are forsooth entitled to exclaim;
We to chaste ears it seems must not pronounce
What, nathless, the chaste heart cannot renounce.
Well, to be brief, the joy as fit occasions rise,
I grudge you not, of specious lies.
But long this mood thou’lt not retain.
Already thou’rt again outworn,
And should this last, thou wilt be torn
By frenzy or remorse and pain.
Enough of this! Thy true love dwells apart,
And all to her seems flat and tame;
Alone thine image fills her heart,
She loves thee with an all-devouring flame.
First came thy passion with o’erpowering rush,
Like mountain torrent, swollen by the melted snow;
Full in her heart didst pour the sudden gush,
Now has thy brooklet ceased to flow.
Instead of sitting throned midst forests wild,
It would become so great a lord
To comfort the enamor’d child,
And the young monkey for her love reward.
To her the hours seem miserably long;
She from the window sees the clouds float by
As o’er the lofty city-walls they fly.
“If I a birdie were!” so runs her song,
Half through the night and all day long.
Cheerful sometimes, more oft at heart full sore;
Fairly outwept seem now her tears,
Anon she tranquil is, or so appears,
And love-sick evermore.
FAUST
Snake! Serpent vile!
MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)
Good! If I catch thee with my guile!
FAUST
Vile reprobate! go get thee hence;
Forbear the lovely girl to name!
Nor in my half-distracted sense
Kindle anew the smouldering flame!
MEPHISTOPHELES
What wouldest thou! She thinks you’ve taken flight;
It seems, she’s partly in the right.
FAUST
I’m near her still—and should I distant rove,
Her I can ne’er forget, ne’er lose her love;
And all things touch’d by those sweet lips of hers,
Even the very Host, my envy stirs.
MEPHISTOPHELES
‘Tis well! I oft have envied you indeed,
The twin-pair that among the roses feed.
FAUST
Pander, avaunt!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Go to! I laugh, the while you rail;
The power which fashion’d youth and maid
Well understood the noble trade;
So neither shall occasion fail.
But hence!—A mighty grief I trow!
Unto thy lov’d one’s chamber thou
And not to death shouldst go.
FAUST
What is to me heaven’s joy within her arms?
What though my life her bosom warms!—
Do I not ever feel her woe?
The outcast am I not, unhoused, unblest,
Inhuman monster, without aim or rest,
Who, like the greedy surge, from rock to rock,
Sweeps down the dread abyss with desperate shock?
While she, within her lowly cot, which graced
The Alpine slope, beside the waters wild,
Her homely cares in that small world embraced,
Secluded lived, a simple artless child.
Was’t not enough, in thy delirious whirl
To blast the stedfast rocks!
Her, and her peace as well,
Must I, God-hated one, to ruin hurl!
Dost claim this holocaust, remorseless Hell!
Fiend, help me to cut short the hours of dread!
Let what must happen, happen speedily!
Her direful doom fall crushing on my head,
And into ruin let her plunge with me!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Why how again it seethes and glows!
Away, thou fool! Her torment ease!
When such a head no issue sees,
It pictures straight the final close.
Long life to him who boldly dares!
A devil’s pluck thou’rt wont to show;
As for a devil who despairs—
Nothing I find so mawkish here below.
MARGARET’S ROOM
MARGARET (alone at her spinning wheel)
My peace is gone,
My heart is sore,
I find it never,
And nevermore!
Where him I have not,
Is the grave; and all
The world to me
Is turned to gall.
My wilder’d brain
Is overwrought;
My feeble senses
Are distraught.
My peace is gone,
My heart is sore,
I find it never,
And nevermore!
For him from the window
I gaze, at home;
For him and him only
Abroad I roam.
His lofty step,
His bearing high,
The smile of his lip,
The power of his eye,
His witching words,
Their tones of bliss,
His hand’s fond pressure,
And ah—his kiss!
My peace is gone,
My heart is sore,
I find it never,
And nevermore.
My bosom aches
To feel him near;
Ah, could I clasp
And fold him here!
Kiss him and kiss him
Again would I,
And on his kisses
I fain would die.
MARTHA’S GARDEN
MARGARET and FAUST
MARGARET
Promise me, Henry!
FAUST
What I can!
MARGARET
How thy religion fares, I fain would hear.
Thou art a good kind-hearted man,
Only that way not well-disposed, I fear.
FAUST
Forbear, my child! Thou feelest thee I love;
My heart, my blood I’d give, my love to prove,
And none would of their faith or church bereave.
MARGARET
That’s not enough, we must ourselves believe!
FAUST
Must we?
MARGARET
Ah, could I but thy soul inspire!
Thou honorest not the sacraments, alas!
FAUST
I honor them.
MARGARET
But yet without desire;
‘Tis long since thou hast been either to shrift or mass.
Dost thou believe in God?
FAUST
My darling, who dares say?
Yes, I in God believe.
Question or priest or sage, and they
Seem, in the answer you receive,
To mock the questioner.
MARGARET
Then thou dost not believe?
FAUST
Sweet one! my meaning do not misconceive!
Him who dare name,
And who proclaim—
Him I believe?
Who that can feel,
His heart can steel,
To say: I believe him not?
The All-embracer,
All-sustainer,
Holds and sustains he not
Thee, me, himself?
Lifts not the Heaven its dome above?
Doth not the firm-set earth beneath us lie?
And, beaming tenderly with looks of love,
Climb not the everlasting stars on high?
Do we not gaze into each other’s eyes?
Nature’s impenetrable agencies,
Are they not thronging on thy heart and brain,
Viewless, or visible to mortal ken,
Around thee weaving their mysterious chain?
Fill thence thy heart, how large soe’er it be;
And in the feeling when thou utterly art blest,
Then call it, what thou wilt—
Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!
I have no name for it!
‘Tis feeling all;
Name is but sound and smoke
Shrouding the glow of heaven.
MARGARET
All this is doubtless good and fair;
Almost the same the parson says,
Only in slightly different phrase.
FAUST
Beneath Heaven’s sunshine, everywhere,
This is the utterance of the human heart;
Each in his language doth the like impart;
Then why not I in mine?
MARGARET
What thus I hear
Sounds plausible, yet I’m not reconciled;
There’s something wrong about it; much I fear
That thou art not a Christian.
FAUST
My sweet child!
MARGARET
Alas! it long hath sorely troubled me,
To see thee in such odious company.
FAUST
How so?
MARGARET
The man who comes with thee, I hate,
Yea, in my spirit’s inmost depths abhor;
As his loath’d visage, in my life before,
Naught to my heart e’er gave a pang so great.
FAUST
Him fear not, my sweet love!
MARGARET
His presence chills my blood.
Toward all beside I have a kindly mood;
Yet, though I yearn to gaze on thee, I feel
At sight of him strange horror o’er me steal;
That he’s a villain my conviction’s strong.
May Heaven forgive me, if I do him wrong!
FAUST
Yet such strange fellows in the world must be!
MARGARET
I would not live with such an one as he.
If for a moment he but enter here,
He looks around him with a mocking sneer,
And malice ill-conceal’d;
That he with naught on earth can sympathize is clear;
Upon his brow ’tis legibly revealed
That to his heart no living soul is dear.
So blest I feel, within thine arms,
So warm and happy—free from all alarms;
And still my heart doth close when he comes near.
FAUST
Foreboding angel! check thy fear!
MARGARET
It so o’ermasters me that when,
Or wheresoe’er, his step I hear,
I almost think, no more I love thee then.
Besides, when he is near, I ne’er could pray.
This eats into my heart; with thee
The same, my Henry, it must be.
FAUST
This is antipathy!
MARGARET
I must away.
FAUST
For one brief hour then may I never rest,
And heart to heart, and soul to soul be pressed?
MARGARET
Ah, if I slept alone! Tonight
The bolt I fain would leave undrawn for thee;
But then my mother’s sleep is light,
Were we surprised by her, ah me!
Upon the spot I should be dead.
FAUST
Dear angel! there’s no cause for dread.
Here is a little phial—if she take
Mixed in her drink three drops, ’twill steep
Her nature in a deep and soothing sleep.
MARGARET
What do I not for thy dear sake!
To her it will not harmful prove?
FAUST
Should I advise it else, sweet love?
MARGARET
I know not, dearest, when thy face I see,
What doth my spirit to thy will constrain;
Already I have done so much for thee,
That scarcely more to do doth now remain. [Exit.]
(MEPHISTOPHELES enters)
MEPHISTOPHELES
The monkey! Is she gone?
FAUST
Again hast played the spy?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Of all that pass’d I’m well apprized,
I heard the doctor catechized,
And trust he’ll profit much thereby!
Fain would the girls inquire indeed
Touching their lover’s faith and creed,
And whether pious in the good old way;
They think, if pliant there, us too he will obey.
FAUST
Thou monster, dost not see that this
Pure soul, possessed by ardent love,
Full of the living faith,
To her of bliss
The only pledge, must holy anguish prove,
Holding the man she loves fore-doomed to endless death!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Most sensual, supersensualist! The while
A damsel leads thee by the nose!
FAUST
Of filth and fire abortion vile!
MEPHISTOPHELES
In physiognomy strange skill she shows;
She in my presence feels she knows not how;
My mask it seems a hidden sense reveals;
That I’m a genius she must needs allow,
That I’m the very devil perhaps she feels.
So then tonight—
FAUST
What’s that to you?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ve my amusement in it too!
AT THE WELL
MARGARET and BESSY, with pitchers
BESSY
Of Barbara hast nothing heard?
MARGARET
I rarely go from home—no, not a word.
BESSY
‘Tis true: Sybilla told me so today!
That comes of being proud, methinks;
She played the fool at last.
MARGARET
How so?
BESSY
They say
That two she feedeth when she eats and drinks.
MARGARET
Alas!
BESSY
She’s rightly served, in sooth.
How long she hung upon the youth!
What promenades, what jaunts there were
To dancing booth and village fair!
The first she everywhere must shine,
He always treating her to pastry and to wine.
Of her good looks she was so vain,
So shameless too, that to retain
His presents, she did not disdain;
Sweet words and kisses came anon—
And then the virgin flower was gone.
MARGARET
Poor thing!
BESSY
Forsooth dost pity her?
At night, when at our wheels we sat,
Abroad our mothers ne’er would let us stir.
Then with her lover she must chat,
Or on the bench, or in the dusky walk,
Thinking the hours too brief for their sweet talk;
Her proud head she will have to bow,
And in white sheet do penance now!
MARGARET
But he will surely marry her?
BESSY
Not he!
He won’t be such a fool! a gallant lad
Like him can roam o’er land and sea;
Besides, he’s off.
MARGARET
That is not fair!
BESSY
If she should get him, ’twere almost as bad!
Her myrtle wreath the boys would tear;
And then we girls would plague her too,
For we chopp’d straw before her door would strew!
[Exit.]
MARGARET (walking toward home)
How stoutly once I could inveigh,
If a poor maiden went astray;
Not words enough my tongue could find,
‘Gainst others’ sin to speak my mind!
Black as it seemed, I blacken’d it still more,
And strove to make it blacker than before.
And did myself securely bless—
Now my own trespass doth appear!
Yet ah!—what urg’d me to transgress,
God knows, it was so sweet, so dear!
ZWINGER
Inclosure between the City-wall and the Gate. (In the niche of the wall a devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-pots before it.)
MARGARET (putting fresh flowers in the pots)
Ah, rich in sorrow, thou,
Stoop thy maternal brow,
And mark with pitying eye my misery!
The sword in thy pierced heart,
Thou dost with bitter smart
Gaze upwards on thy Son’s death agony.
To the dear God on high
Ascends thy piteous sigh,
Pleading for his and thy sore misery.
Ah, who can know
The torturing woe,
The pangs that rack me to the bone?
How my poor heart, without relief,
Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief
Thou knowest, thou alone!
Ah, wheresoe’er I go,
With woe, with woe, with woe,
My anguish’d breast is aching!
When all alone I creep,
I weep, I weep, I weep,
Alas! my heart is breaking!
The flower-pots at my window
Were wet with tears of mine,
The while I pluck’d these blossoms
At dawn to deck thy shrine!
When early in my chamber
Shone bright the rising morn,
I sat there on my pallet,
My heart with anguish torn.
Help! from disgrace and death deliver me!
Ah! rich in sorrow, thou,
Stoop thy maternal brow,
And mark with pitying eye my misery!
NIGHT. STREET BEFORE MARGARET’S DOOR
VALENTINE (a soldier, MARGARET’s brother)
When seated ‘mong the jovial crowd,
Where merry comrades boasting loud
Each named with pride his favorite lass,
And in her honor drain’d his glass;
Upon my elbows I would lean,
With easy quiet view the scene,
Nor give my tongue the rein, until
Each swaggering blade had talked his fill.
Then smiling I my beard would stroke,
The while, with brimming glass, I spoke;
“Each to his taste!—but to my mind,
Where in the country will you find,
A maid, as my dear Gretchen fair,
Who with my sister can compare?”
Cling! clang! so rang the jovial sound!
Shouts of assent went circling round;
Pride of her sex is she!—cried some;
Then were the noisy boasters dumb.
And now!—I could tear out my hair,
Or dash my brains out in despair!—
Me every scurvy knave may twit,
With stinging jest and taunting sneer!
Like skulking debtor I must sit,
And sweat each casual word to hear!
And though I smash’d them one and all,—
Yet them I could not liars call.
Who comes this way? who’s sneaking here?
If I mistake not, two draw near.
If he be one, have at him;—well I wot
Alive he shall not leave this spot!
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES
FAUST
How far from yon sacristy, athwart the night,
Its beams the ever-burning taper throws,
While ever waning, fades the glimmering light,
As gathering darkness doth around it close!
So night like gloom doth in my bosom reign.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’m like a tom-cat in a thievish vein
That up fire-ladders tall and steep
And round the walls doth slyly creep;
Virtuous withal I feel, with, I confess.
A touch of thievish joy and wantonness.
Thus through my limbs already burns
The glorious Walpurgis night!
After tomorrow it returns;
Then why one wakes, one knows aright!
FAUST
Meanwhile, the treasure I see glimmering there.
Will it ascend into the open air?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Ere long thou wilt proceed with pleasure
To raise the casket with its treasure;
I took a peep, therein are stored
Of lion-dollars a rich hoard.
FAUST
And not a trinket? not a ring?
Wherewith my lovely girl to deck?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I saw among them some such thing,
A string of pearls to grace her neck.
FAUST
‘Tis well! I’m always loath to go,
Without some gift my love to show.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Some pleasures gratis to enjoy
Should surely cause you no annoy.
While bright with stars the heavens appear,
I’ll sing a masterpiece of art:
A moral song shall charm her ear,
More surely to beguile her heart.
(Sings to the guitar.)
Kathrina, say,
Why lingering stay
At dawn of day
Before your lover’s door?
Maiden, beware,
Nor enter there,
Lest forth you fare,
A maiden never more.
Maiden take heed!
Reck well my rede!
Is’t done, the deed?
Good night, you poor, poor thing!
The spoiler’s lies,
His arts despise,
Nor yield your prize,
Without the marriage ring!
VALENTINE (steps forward)
Whom are you luring here? I’ll give it you!
Accursed rat-catchers, your strains I’ll end!
First, to the devil the guitar I’ll send!
Then to the devil with the singer too!
MEPHISTOPHELES
The poor guitar! ’tis done for now.
VALENTINE
Your skull shall follow next, I trow!
MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)
Doctor, stand fast! your strength collect!
Be prompt, and do as I direct.
Out with your whisk! keep close, I pray,
I’ll parry! do you thrust away!
VALENTINE
Then parry that!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Why not?
VALENTINE
That too!
MEPHISTOPHELES
With ease!
VALENTINE
The devil fights for you!
Why how is this? my hand’s already lamed!
MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)
Thrust home!
VALENTINE (falls)
Alas!
MEPHISTOPHELES
There! Now the lubber’s tamed!
But quick, away! We must at once take wing;
A cry of murder strikes upon the ear;
With the police I know my course to steer,
But with the blood-ban ’tis another thing.
MARTHA (at the window)
Without! without!
MARGARET (at the window)
Quick, bring a light!
MARTHA (as above)
They rail and scuffle, scream and fight!
PEOPLE
One lieth here already dead!
MARTHA (coming out)
Where are the murderers? are they fled?
MARGARET (coming out)
Who lieth here?
PEOPLE
Thy mother’s son.
MARGARET
Almighty God! I am undone!
VALENTINE
I’m dying—’tis a soon-told tale,
And sooner done the deed.
Why, women, do ye howl and wail?
To my last words give heed!
[All gather round him.]
My Gretchen, see! still young art thou,
Art not discreet enough, I trow,
Thou dost thy matters ill;
Let this in confidence be said:
Since thou the path of shame dost tread,
Tread it with right good will!
MARGARET
My brother! God! what can this mean?
VALENTINE
Abstain,
Nor dare God’s holy name profane!
What’s done, alas, is done and past!
Matters will take their course at last;
By stealth thou dost begin with one,
Others will follow him anon;
And when a dozen thee have known,
Thou’lt common be to all the town.
When infamy is newly born,
In secret she is brought to light,
And the mysterious veil of night
O’er head and ears is drawn;
The loathsome birth men fain would slay;
But soon, full grown, she waxes bold,
And though not fairer to behold,
With brazen front insults the day:
The more abhorrent to the sight,
The more she courts the day’s pure light,
The time already I discern,
When thee all honest folk will spurn,
And shun thy hated form to meet,
As when a corpse infects the street.
Thy heart will sink in blank despair,
When they shall look thee in the face!
A golden chain no more thou’lt wear!
Nor near the altar take in church thy place!
In fair lace collar simply dight
Thou’lt dance no more with spirits light!
In darksome corners thou wilt bide,
Where beggars vile and cripples hide,
And e’en though God thy crime forgive,
On earth, a thing accursed, thou’lt live!
MARTHA
Your parting soul to God commend!
Your dying breath in slander will you spend?
VALENTINE
Could I but reach thy wither’d frame,
Thou wretched beldame, void of shame!
Full measure I might hope to win
Of pardon then for every sin.
MARGARET
Brother! what agonizing pain!
VALENTINE
I tell thee, from vain tears abstain!
‘Twas thy dishonor pierced my heart,
Thy fall the fatal death-stab gave.
Through the death-sleep I now depart
To God, a soldier true and brave.
[Dies.]
CATHEDRAL
Service, Organ, and Anthem.
MARGARET amongst a number of people
EVIL-SPIRIT behind MARGARET
EVIL-SPIRIT
[Illustration: VALENTINE’S DEATH Franz Simm]
How different, Gretchen, was it once with thee,
When thou, still full of innocence,
Here to the altar camest,
And from the small and well-con’d book
Didst lisp thy prayer,
Half childish sport,
Half God in thy young heart!
Gretchen!
What thoughts are thine?
What deed of shame
Lurks in thy sinful heart?
Is thy prayer utter’d for thy mother’s soul,
Who into long, long torment slept through thee?
Whose blood is on thy threshold?—
And stirs there not already ‘neath thy heart
Another quick’ning pulse, that even now
Tortures itself and thee
With its foreboding presence?
MARGARET
Woe! Woe!
Oh, could I free me from the thoughts
That hither, thither, crowd upon my brain,
Against my will!
CHORUS
Dies irae, dies illa, Solvet sæclum in favilla.
[The organ sounds.]
EVIL-SPIRIT
Grim horror seizes thee!
The trumpet sounds!
The graves are shaken!
And thy heart
From ashy rest
For torturing flames
Anew created,
Trembles into life!
MARGARET
Would I were hence!
It is as if the organ
Choked my breath,
As if the choir
Melted my inmost heart!
CHORUS
Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet adparebit,
Nil inultum remanebit.
MARGARET
I feel oppressed!
The pillars of the wall
Imprison me!
The vaulted roof
Weighs down upon me!—air!
EVIL-SPIRIT
Wouldst hide thee? sin and shame
Remain not hidden!
Air! light!
Woe’s thee!
CHORUS
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus!
Cum vix justus sit securus.
EVIL-SPIRIT
The glorified their faces turn
Away from thee!
Shudder the pure to reach
Their hands to thee!
Woe!
CHORUS
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus—
MARGARET
Neighbor! your smelling bottle!
[She swoons away.]
[Illustration: MARGARET’S DOWNFALL From the Painting by Wilhelm von
Kaulbach]