MARTHA
I’m she: what does the gentleman desire?
MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside to her_)
It is enough that you are she:
You’ve a visitor of high degree.
Pardon the freedom I have ta’en,—
Will after noon return again.
MARTHA (_aloud_)
Of all things in the world! Just hear—
He takes thee for a lady, dear!
MARGARET
I am a creature young and poor:
The gentleman’s too kind, I’m sure.
The jewels don’t belong to me.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Ah, not alone the jewelry!
The look, the manner, both betray—
Rejoiced am I that I may stay!
MARTHA
What is your business? I would fain—
MEPHISTOPHELES
I would I had a more cheerful strain!
Take not unkindly its repeating:
Your husband’s dead, and sends a greeting.
MARTHA
Is dead? Alas, that heart so true!
My husband dead! Let me die, too!
MARGARET
Ah, dearest dame, let not your courage fail!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Hear me relate the mournful tale!
MARGARET
Therefore I’d never love, believe me!
A loss like this to death would grieve me.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Joy follows woe, woe after joy comes flying.
MARTHA
Relate his life’s sad close to me!
MEPHISTOPHELES
In Padua buried, he is lying
Beside the good Saint Antony,
Within a grave well consecrated,
For cool, eternal rest created.
MARTHA
He gave you, further, no commission?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yes, one of weight, with many sighs:
Three hundred masses buy, to save him from perdition!
My hands are empty, otherwise.
MARTHA
What! Not a pocket-piece? no jewelry?
What every journeyman within his wallet spares,
And as a token with him bears,
And rather starves or begs, than loses?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Madam, it is a grief to me;
Yet, on my word, his cash was put to proper uses.
Besides, his penitence was very sore,
And he lamented his ill fortune all the more.
MARGARET
Alack, that men are so unfortunate!
Surely for his soul’s sake full many a prayer I’ll proffer.
MEPHISTOPHELES
You well deserve a speedy marriage-offer:
You are so kind, compassionate.
MARGARET
O, no! As yet, it would not do.
MEPHISTOPHELES
If not a husband, then a beau for you!
It is the greatest heavenly blessing,
To have a dear thing for one’s caressing.
MARGARET
The country’s custom is not so.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Custom, or not! It happens, though.
MARTHA
Continue, pray!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I stood beside his bed of dying.
’Twas something better than manure,—
Half-rotten straw: and yet, he died a Christian, sure,
And found that heavier scores to his account were lying.
He cried: “I find my conduct wholly hateful!
To leave my wife, my trade, in manner so ungrateful!
Ah, the remembrance makes me die!
Would of my wrong to her I might be shriven!”
MARTHA (_weeping_)
The dear, good man! Long since was he forgiven.
MEPHISTOPHELES
“Yet she, God knows! was more to blame than I.”
MARTHA
He lied! What! On the brink of death he slandered?
MEPHISTOPHELES
In the last throes his senses wandered,
If I such things but half can judge.
He said: “I had no time for play, for gaping freedom:
First children, and then work for bread to feed ’em,—
For bread, in the widest sense, to drudge,
And could not even eat my share in peace and quiet!”
MARTHA
Had he all love, all faith forgotten in his riot?
My work and worry, day and night?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Not so: the memory of it touched him quite.
Said he: “When I from Malta went away
My prayers for wife and little ones were zealous,
And such a luck from Heaven befell us,
We made a Turkish merchantman our prey,
That to the Soldan bore a mighty treasure.
Then I received, as was most fit,
Since bravery was paid in fullest measure,
My well-apportioned share of it.”
MARTHA
Say, how? Say, where? If buried, did he own it?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Who knows, now, whither the four winds have blown it?
A fair young damsel took him in her care,
As he in Naples wandered round, unfriended;
And she much love, much faith to him did bear,
So that he felt it till his days were ended.
MARTHA
The villain! From his children thieving!
Even all the misery on him cast
Could not prevent his shameful way of living!
MEPHISTOPHELES
But see! He’s dead therefrom, at last.
Were I in _your_ place, do not doubt me,
I’d mourn him decently a year,
And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me.
MARTHA
Ah, God! another one so dear
As was my first, this world will hardly give me.
There never was a sweeter fool than mine,
Only he loved to roam and leave me,
And foreign wenches and foreign wine,
And the damned throw of dice, indeed.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Well, well! That might have done, however,
If he had only been as clever,
And treated _your_ slips with as little heed.
I swear, with this condition, too,
I would, myself, change rings with you.
MARTHA
The gentleman is pleased to jest.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ll cut away, betimes, from here:
She’d take the Devil at his word, I fear.
(_To_ MARGARET)
How fares the heart within your breast?
MARGARET
What means the gentleman?
MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
Sweet innocent, thou art!
(_Aloud_.)
Ladies, farewell!
MARGARET
Farewell!
MARTHA
A moment, ere we part!
I’d like to have a legal witness,
Where, how, and when he died, to certify his fitness.
Irregular ways I’ve always hated;
I want his death in the weekly paper stated.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yes, my good dame, a pair of witnesses
Always the truth establishes.
I have a friend of high condition,
Who’ll also add his deposition.
I’ll bring him here.
MARTHA
Good Sir, pray do!
MEPHISTOPHELES
And this young lady will be present, too?
A gallant youth! has travelled far:
Ladies with him delighted are.
MARGARET
Before him I should blush, ashamed.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Before no king that could be named!
MARTHA
Behind the house, in my garden, then,
This eve we’ll expect the gentlemen.
[Illustration]
XI
A STREET
FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES
FAUST
How is it? under way? and soon complete?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Ah, bravo! Do I find you burning?
Well, Margaret soon will still your yearning:
At Neighbor Martha’s you’ll this evening meet.
A fitter woman ne’er was made
To ply the pimp and gypsy trade!
FAUST
Tis well.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yet something is required from us.
FAUST
One service pays the other thus.
MEPHISTOPHELES
We’ve but to make a deposition valid
That now her husband’s limbs, outstretched and pallid,
At Padua rest, in consecrated soil.
FAUST
Most wise! And first, of course, we’ll make the journey
thither?
MEPHISTOPHELES
_Sancta simplicitas_! no need of such a toil;
Depose, with knowledge or without it, either!
FAUST
If you’ve naught better, then, I’ll tear your pretty plan!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Now, there you are! O holy man!
Is it the first time in your life you’re driven
To bear false witness in a case?
Of God, the world and all that in it has a place,
Of Man, and all that moves the being of his race,
Have you not terms and definitions given
With brazen forehead, daring breast?
And, if you’ll probe the thing profoundly,
Knew you so much—and you’ll confess it roundly!—
As here of Schwerdtlein’s death and place of rest?
FAUST
Thou art, and thou remain’st, a sophist, liar.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yes, knew I not more deeply thy desire.
For wilt thou not, no lover fairer,
Poor Margaret flatter, and ensnare her,
And all thy soul’s devotion swear her?
FAUST
And from my heart.
MEPHISTOPHELES
’Tis very fine!
Thine endless love, thy faith assuring,
The one almighty force enduring,—
Will that, too, prompt this heart of thine?
FAUST
Hold! hold! It will!—If such my flame,
And for the sense and power intense
I seek, and cannot find, a name;
Then range with all my senses through creation,
Craving the speech of inspiration,
And call this ardor, so supernal,
Endless, eternal and eternal,—
Is that a devilish lying game?
MEPHISTOPHELES
And yet I’m right!
FAUST
Mark this, I beg of thee!
And spare my lungs henceforth: whoever
Intends to have the right, if but his
tongue be clever,
Will have it, certainly.
But come: the further talking brings
disgust,
For thou art right, especially since I
must.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XII
GARDEN
(MARGARET _on_ FAUST’S _arm_. MARTHA _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES
_walking up and down_.)
MARGARET
I feel, the gentleman allows for me,
Demeans himself, and shames me by it;
A traveller is so used to be
Kindly content with any diet.
I know too well that my poor gossip can
Ne’er entertain such an experienced man.
FAUST
A look from thee, a word, more entertains
Than all the lore of wisest brains.
(_He kisses her hand_.)
MARGARET
Don’t incommode yourself! How could you ever kiss it!
It is so ugly, rough to see!
What work I do,—how hard and steady is it!
Mother is much too close with me.
[_They pass_.
MARTHA
And you, Sir, travel always, do you not?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Alas, that trade and duty us so harry!
With what a pang one leaves so many a spot,
And dares not even now and then to tarry!
MARTHA
In young, wild years it suits your ways,
This round and round the world in freedom sweeping;
But then come on the evil days,
And so, as bachelor, into his grave a-creeping,
None ever found a thing to praise.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I dread to see how such a fate advances.
MARTHA
Then, worthy Sir, improve betimes your chances!
[_They pass_.
MARGARET
Yes, out of sight is out of mind!
Your courtesy an easy grace is;
But you have friends in other places,
And sensibler than I, you’ll find.
FAUST
Trust me, dear heart! what men call sensible
Is oft mere vanity and narrowness.
MARGARET
How so?
FAUST
Ah, that simplicity and innocence ne’er know
Themselves, their holy value, and their spell!
That meekness, lowliness, the highest graces
Which Nature portions out so lovingly—
MARGARET
So you but think a moment’s space on me,
All times I’ll have to think on you, all places!
FAUST
No doubt you’re much alone?
MARGARET
Yes, for our household small has grown,
Yet must be cared for, you will own.
We have no maid: I do the knitting, sewing, sweeping,
The cooking, early work and late, in fact;
And mother, in her notions of housekeeping,
Is so exact!
Not that she needs so much to keep expenses down:
We, more than others, might take comfort, rather:
A nice estate was left us by my father,
A house, a little garden near the town.
But now my days have less of noise and hurry;
My brother is a soldier,
My little sister’s dead.
True, with the child a troubled life I led,
Yet I would take again, and willing, all the worry,
So very dear was she.
FAUST
An angel, if like thee!
MARGARET
I brought it up, and it was fond of me.
Father had died before it saw the light,
And mother’s case seemed hopeless quite,
So weak and miserable she lay;
And she recovered, then, so slowly, day by day.
She could not think, herself, of giving
The poor wee thing its natural living;
And so I nursed it all alone
With milk and water: ’twas my own.
Lulled in my lap with many a song,
It smiled, and tumbled, and grew strong.
FAUST
The purest bliss was surely then thy dower.
MARGARET
But surely, also, many a weary hour.
I kept the baby’s cradle near
My bed at night: if ’t even stirred, I’d guess it,
And waking, hear.
And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it,
And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake,
And dandling back and forth the restless creature take,
Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning’s break;
And then the marketing and kitchen-tending,
Day after day, the same thing, never-ending.
One’s spirits, Sir, are thus not always good,
But then one learns to relish rest and food.
[_They pass_.
MARTHA
Yes, the poor women are bad off, ’tis true:
A stubborn bachelor there’s no converting.
MEPHISTOPHELES
It but depends upon the like of you,
And I should turn to better ways than flirting.
MARTHA
Speak plainly, Sir, have you no one detected?
Has not your heart been anywhere subjected?
MEPHISTOPHELES
The proverb says: One’s own warm hearth
And a good wife, are gold and jewels worth.
MARTHA
I mean, have you not felt desire, though ne’er so slightly?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ve everywhere, in fact, been entertained politely.
MARTHA
I meant to say, were you not touched in earnest, ever?
MEPHISTOPHELES
One should allow one’s self to jest with ladies never.
MARTHA
Ah, you don’t understand!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’m sorry I’m so blind:
But I am sure—that you are very kind.
[_They pass_.
FAUST
And me, thou angel! didst thou recognize,
As through the garden-gate I came?
MARGARET
Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.
FAUST
And thou forgiv’st my freedom, and the blame
To my impertinence befitting,
As the Cathedral thou wert quitting?
MARGARET
I was confused, the like ne’er happened me;
No one could ever speak to my discredit.
Ah, thought I, in my conduct has he read it—
Something immodest or unseemly free?
He seemed to have the sudden feeling
That with this wench ’twere very easy dealing.
I will confess, I knew not what appeal
On your behalf, here, in my bosom grew;
But I was angry with myself, to feel
That I could not be angrier with you.
FAUST
Sweet darling!
MARGARET
Wait a while!
(_She plucks a star-flower, and pulls off the leaves, one after
the other_.)
FAUST
Shall that a nosegay be?
MARGARET
No, it is just in play.
FAUST
How?
MARGARET
Go! you’ll laugh at me.
(_She pulls off the leaves and murmurs_.)
FAUST
What murmurest thou?
MARGARET (_half aloud_)
He loves me—loves me not.
FAUST
Thou sweet, angelic soul!
MARGARET (_continues_)
Loves me—not—loves me—not—
(_plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight_:)
He loves me!
FAUST
Yes, child! and let this blossom-word
For thee be speech divine! He loves thee!
Ah, know’st thou what it means? He loves thee!
(_He grasps both her hands_.)
MARGARET
I’m all a-tremble!
FAUST
O tremble not! but let this look,
Let this warm clasp of hands declare thee
What is unspeakable!
To yield one wholly, and to feel a rapture
In yielding, that must be eternal!
Eternal!—for the end would be despair.
No, no,—no ending! no ending!
MARTHA (_coming forward_)
The night is falling.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Ay! we must away.
MARTHA
I’d ask you, longer here to tarry,
But evil tongues in this town have full play.
It’s as if nobody had nothing to fetch and carry,
Nor other labor,
But spying all the doings of one’s neighbor:
And one becomes the talk, do whatsoe’er one may.
Where is our couple now?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Flown up the alley yonder,
The wilful summer-birds!
MARTHA
He seems of her still fonder.
MEPHISTOPHELES
And she of him. So runs the world away!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XIII
A GARDEN-ARBOR
(MARGARET _comes in, conceals herself behind the door, puts her
finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack_.)
MARGARET
He comes!
FAUST (_entering_)
Ah, rogue! a tease thou art:
I have thee!
(_He kisses her_.)
MARGARET
(_clasping him, and returning the kiss_)
Dearest man! I love thee from my heart.
(MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_)
FAUST (_stamping his foot_)
Who’s there?
MEPHISTOPHELES
A friend!
FAUST
A beast!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Tis time to separate.
MARTHA (_coming_)
Yes, Sir, ’tis late.
FAUST
May I not, then, upon you wait?
MARGARET
My mother would—farewell!
FAUST
Ah, can I not remain?
Farewell!
MARTHA
Adieu!
MARGARET
And soon to meet again!
[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.
MARGARET
Dear God! However is it, such
A man can think and know so much?
I stand ashamed and in amaze,
And answer “Yes” to all he says,
A poor, unknowing child! and he—
I can’t think what he finds in me! [_Exit_.
[Illustration]
XIV
FOREST AND CAVERN
FAUST (_solus_)
Spirit sublime, thou gav’st me, gav’st me all
For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain
Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire.
Thou gav’st me Nature as a kingdom grand,
With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou
Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield’st,
But grantest, that in her profoundest breast
I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend.
The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead
Before me, teaching me to know my brothers
In air and water and the silent wood.
And when the storm in forests roars and grinds,
The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs
And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down,
And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,—
Then to the cave secure thou leadest me,
Then show’st me mine own self, and in my breast
The deep, mysterious miracles unfold.
And when the perfect moon before my gaze
Comes up with soothing light, around me float
From every precipice and thicket damp
The silvery phantoms of the ages past,
And temper the austere delight of thought.
That nothing can be perfect unto Man
I now am conscious. With this ecstasy,
Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods,
Thou gav’st the comrade, whom I now no more
Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he
Demeans me to myself, and with a breath,
A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness.
Within my breast he fans a lawless fire,
Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form:
Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment,
And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.
(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.)
MEPHISTOPHELES
Have you not led this life quite long enough?
How can a further test delight you?
’Tis very well, that once one tries the stuff,
But something new must then requite you.
FAUST
Would there were other work for thee!
To plague my day auspicious thou returnest.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Well! I’ll engage to let thee be:
Thou darest not tell me so in earnest.
The loss of thee were truly very slight,—
comrade crazy, rude, repelling:
[Illustration]
One has one’s hands full all the day and night;
If what one does, or leaves undone, is right,
From such a face as thine there is no telling.
FAUST
There is, again, thy proper tone!—
That thou hast bored me, I must thankful be!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Poor Son of Earth, how couldst thou thus alone
Have led thy life, bereft of me?
I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure;
Thy fancy’s rickets plague thee not at all:
Had I not been, so hadst thou, sure,
Walked thyself off this earthly ball
Why here to caverns, rocky hollows slinking,
Sit’st thou, as ’twere an owl a-blinking?
Why suck’st, from sodden moss and dripping stone,
Toad-like, thy nourishment alone?
A fine way, this, thy time to fill!
The Doctor’s in thy body still.
FAUST
What fresh and vital forces, canst thou guess,
Spring from my commerce with the wilderness?
But, if thou hadst the power of guessing,
Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge my soul the blessing.
MEPHISTOPHELES
A blessing drawn from supernatural fountains!
In night and dew to lie upon the mountains;
All Heaven and Earth in rapture penetrating;
Thyself to Godhood haughtily inflating;
To grub with yearning force through Earth’s dark marrow,
Compress the six days’ work within thy bosom narrow,—
To taste, I know not what, in haughty power,
Thine own ecstatic life on all things shower,
Thine earthly self behind thee cast,
And then the lofty instinct, thus—
(_With a gesture_:)
at last,—
daren’t say how—to pluck the final flower!
FAUST
Shame on thee!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yes, thou findest that unpleasant!
Thou hast the moral right to cry me “shame!” at present.
One dares not that before chaste ears declare,
Which chaste hearts, notwithstanding, cannot spare;
And, once for all, I grudge thee not the pleasure
Of lying to thyself in moderate measure.
But such a course thou wilt not long endure;
Already art thou o’er-excited,
And, if it last, wilt soon be plighted
To madness and to horror, sure.
Enough of that! Thy love sits lonely yonder,
By all things saddened and oppressed;
Her thoughts and yearnings seek thee, tenderer, fonder,—
mighty love is in her breast.
First came thy passion’s flood and poured around her
As when from melted snow a streamlet overflows;
Thou hast therewith so filled and drowned her,
That now _thy_ stream all shallow shows.
Methinks, instead of in the forests lording,
The noble Sir should find it good,
The love of this young silly blood
At once to set about rewarding.
Her time is miserably long;
She haunts her window, watching clouds that stray
O’er the old city-wall, and far away.
“Were I a little bird!” so runs her song,
Day long, and half night long.
Now she is lively, mostly sad,
Now, wept beyond her tears;
Then again quiet she appears,—Always
love-mad.
FAUST
Serpent! Serpent!
MEPHISTOPHELES _(aside)_
Ha! do I trap thee!
FAUST
Get thee away with thine offences,
Reprobate! Name not that fairest thing,
Nor the desire for her sweet body bring
Again before my half-distracted senses!
MEPHISTOPHELES
What wouldst thou, then? She thinks that thou art flown;
And half and half thou art, I own.
FAUST
Yet am I near, and love keeps watch and ward;
Though I were ne’er so far, it cannot falter:
I envy even the Body of the Lord
The touching of her lips, before the altar.
MEPHISTOPHELES
’Tis very well! _My_ envy oft reposes
On your twin-pair, that feed among the roses.
FAUST
Away, thou pimp!
MEPHISTOPHELES
You rail, and it is fun to me.
The God, who fashioned youth and maid,
Perceived the noblest purpose of His trade,
And also made their opportunity.
Go on! It is a woe profound!
’Tis for your sweetheart’s room you’re bound,
And not for death, indeed.
FAUST
What are, within her arms, the heavenly blisses?
Though I be glowing with her kisses,
Do I not always share her need?
I am the fugitive, all houseless roaming,
The monster without air or rest,
That like a cataract, down rocks and gorges foaming,
Leaps, maddened, into the abyss’s breast!
And side-wards she, with young unwakened senses,
Within her cabin on the Alpine field
Her simple, homely life commences,
Her little world therein concealed.
And I, God’s hate flung o’er me,
Had not enough, to thrust
The stubborn rocks before me
And strike them into dust!
She and her peace I yet must undermine:
Thou, Hell, hast claimed this sacrifice as thine!
Help, Devil! through the coming pangs to push me;
What must be, let it quickly be!
Let fall on me her fate, and also crush me,—
One ruin whelm both her and me!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Again it seethes, again it glows!
Thou fool, go in and comfort her!
When such a head as thine no outlet knows,
It thinks the end must soon occur.
Hail him, who keeps a steadfast mind!
Thou, else, dost well the devil-nature wear:
Naught so insipid in the world I find
As is a devil in despair.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XV
MARGARET’S ROOM
MARGARET
(_at the spinning-wheel, alone_)
My peace is gone,
My heart is sore:
I never shall find it,
Ah, nevermore!
Save I have him near.
The grave is here;
The world is gall
And bitterness all.
My poor weak head
Is racked and crazed;
My thought is lost,
My senses mazed.
My peace is gone,
My heart is sore:
I never shall find it,
Ah, nevermore!
To see him, him only,
At the pane I sit;
To meet him, him only,
The house I quit.
His lofty gait,
His noble size,
The smile of his mouth,
The power of his eyes,
And the magic flow
Of his talk, the bliss
In the clasp of his hand,
And, ah! his kiss!
My peace is gone,
My heart is sore:
I never shall find it,
Ah, nevermore!
My bosom yearns
For him alone;
Ah, dared I clasp him,
And hold, and own!
And kiss his mouth,
To heart’s desire,
And on his kisses
At last expire!
[Illustration]
XVI
MARTHA’S GARDEN
MARGARET FAUST
MARGARET
Promise me, Henry!—
FAUST
What I can!
MARGARET
How is’t with thy religion, pray?
Thou art a dear, good-hearted man,
And yet, I think, dost not incline that way.
FAUST
Leave that, my child! Thou know’st my love is tender;
For love, my blood and life would I surrender,
And as for Faith and Church, I grant to each his own.
MARGARET
That’s not enough: we must believe thereon.
FAUST
Must we?
MARGARET
Would that I had some influence!
Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments.
FAUST
I honor them.
MARGARET
Desiring no possession
’Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession.
Believest thou in God?
FAUST
My darling, who shall dare
“I believe in God!” to say?
Ask priest or sage the answer to declare,
And it will seem a mocking play,
A sarcasm on the asker.
MARGARET
Then thou believest not!
FAUST