Part 11
EMPEROR: Though a great work proclaim the pious mind, To praise the Lord, as to absolve my sin, Enough! I feel my spirit now refined.
ARCHBISHOP: As chancellor, I'll press the close and form.
EMPEROR: A formal deed, to give the Church her right, You'll lay before me; I shall sign with delight.
ARCHBISHOP: Then likewise to the work, as it proceeds, You dedicate the land's whole revenues: tithes, rents, prayers, Forever. Much is needed for its worthy upkeep, And careful administration costs us heavy sums. For speedy building, even on this waste place, You reach us some gold, from your captured hoard. Besides, one needs—I cannot hide it— Distant wood, and lime, and slate, and suchlike. The people haul, taught from the pulpit; The Church blesses him who serves her with his cart.
EMPEROR: The sin is great and heavy that I bear; That loathsome magic crew brings me to sore hurt.
ARCHBISHOP: Forgive, O Lord! The realm's shore was given To that much-cursed man; but he incurs the ban Unless you, penitent, grant to the high Church's seat There too the tithes, rents, gifts, and revenues.
EMPEROR: The land is not yet there; it lies broad in the sea.
ARCHBISHOP: Who has the right and patience, for him comes the time. May your word abide in strength for us!
EMPEROR: Then I might first mortgage the whole empire.
5. Act—Open Country
WANDERER: Yes! they are there, the dark lindens, There, in the strength of their age. And I shall find them once again After such long wandering! 'Tis surely the old spot, That cottage which sheltered me When the storm-roused wave Cast me on those dunes! My hosts I'd bless, Ready to help, a worthy pair, Who, to meet me today, Were already old in those days. Ah! they were pious folk! Shall I knock? call?—Hail to you, If hospitably even today You enjoy the bliss of doing good!
BAUCIS: Dear comer! Softly! Softly! Peace! let the husband rest! Long sleep gives the old man Short waking's rapid deed.
WANDERER: Say, mother: are you she To receive my thanks, For what you once did with your mate For the young man's life? Are you Baucis, who busily Refreshed the half-dead mouth? You Philemon, who so strongly Snatched my treasure from the flood? Your flames of rapid fire, Your little bell's silver sound, Were entrusted with the solving Of that dread adventure. And now let me step forth, Gaze on the boundless sea; Let me kneel, let me pray, My breast is so oppressed.
PHILEMON: Haste only to set the table Where in the little garden it blooms cheerfully. Let him run, let him be startled, For he believes not what he sees. What roughly mishandled you, Wave on wave, foaming wild, See as garden you now treat, See a paradisal picture. Older, I was not at hand, Helpful not as once ready; And as my strength waned, The wave was already far. The bold servants of clever lords Dug trenches, dammed it in, Diminished the sea's rights, To be masters in its stead. See meadow green on meadow, Pasture, garden, village, wood.— Come now, though, and enjoy, For the sun soon departs.— There in the far distance sail the vessels, Seeking nightly safe port. The birds know their nest; For now the harbor is there. Thus you behold in the distance First the sea's blue rim, Right and left, in all breadth, Densely thronged inhabited space.
BAUCIS: Do you stay silent? and not a bite Do you bring to the thirsty mouth?
PHILEMON: Would he might learn of the wonder; You love to speak, tell him of it.
BAUCIS: Well! a wonder it has been! It leaves me not in peace even today; For the whole business Did not go by rightful means.
PHILEMON: Can the Emperor sin, Who granted him the shore? Would not a herald proclaim it Blaring as he passed by? Not far from our dunes The first footing was taken, Tents, huts!—But in the green Soon a palace rises.
BAUCIS: By day the servants clamored in vain, Hack and shovel, stroke on stroke; Where the little flames wandered by night, Stood a dike the next day. Human sacrifices had to bleed, By night resounded torment's woe; Seaward flowed fiery floods, In the morning it was a canal. Godless is he, he covets Our cottage, our grove; As he boasts as neighbor, Shall one be subservient.
PHILEMON: Yet he offered us Fair goods in the new land!
BAUCIS: Trust not the watery ground, Keep your stand on the height!
PHILEMON: Let us to the chapel step, To see the last sunbeam! Let us ring, kneel, pray And trust the old God!
Palace
LYNCEUS THE WATCHMAN: The sun descends, the last ships Draw merrily into harbor. A great barge is about To be upon this canal. The colored pennants wave gladly, The stiff masts stand ready; In you the boatswain praises himself blessed, Fortune greets you at the highest hour.
FAUST: Accursed ringing! Most shamefully It wounds like a treacherous shot; Before my eyes my realm is endless, Behind me teases the annoyance, Reminds me by envious sounds: My high possession is not pure, The linden space, the brown building, The rotten little church is not mine. And wished I to refresh myself there, Before strange shadow I shudder, Is thorn to the eyes, thorn to the soles; Oh! were I far away from here!
WATCHMAN: How sails joyfully the colored barge With fresh evening wind near! How towers its nimble course In chests, boxes, sacks!
CHORUS: There we land, There we are already. Hail to the lord, The patron!
MEPHISTOPHELES: So we have well proved ourselves, Pleased, if the patron praises it. With but two ships we set forth, With twenty we are now in port. What great things we have done Is seen by our cargo. The free sea frees the spirit, Who there knows what thinking means! There only a quick grab avails, One catches fish, one catches a ship, And once one is master of three, Then one hooks in the fourth; Then goes it badly for the fifth, One has power, so one has right. One asks about the what, not the how. I should know no seafaring: War, trade, and piracy, Three in one, not to be parted.
THE THREE MIGHTY COMPANIONS: No thanks and greeting! No greeting and thanks! As if we brought The lord a stink. He makes a Loathsome face; The royal goods Please him not.
MEPHISTOPHELES: Expect further No reward! You took indeed Your share of it.
THE COMPANIONS: That is only for The boredom; We all demand Equal share.
MEPHISTOPHELES: First order above Hall on hall The precious things All together! And steps he to The rich view, He calculates all More exactly, He surely does not Let himself be shabby And gives the fleet Feast after feast. The colored birds come tomorrow, For them I'll provide the best.
MEPHISTOPHELES: With serious brow, with gloomy look You receive your lofty bliss. High wisdom is crowned, The shore is reconciled with the sea; From the shore takes, to rapid course, The sea the ships willingly; So speak, that here, here from the palace Your arm embraces the whole world. From this place it began, Here stood the first board house; A little ditch was scratched down Where now the oar splashes busily. Your high spirit, your diligence Won the sea's, the earth's prize. From here—+
FAUST: The accursed here! That very thing, grievously weighs on me. To you much-changing one must I say it, It gives me stitch on stitch in the heart, It is impossible for me to bear! And as I say it, I am ashamed. The old folk up there should yield, The lindens I wished for my seat, The few trees, not my own, Spoil me the world's possession. There would I, to look far around, From bough to bough build scaffolds, Open the view a broad path, To see all that I have done, To survey with one glance The masterpiece of human spirit, Achieving with prudent sense The broad dwelling-gain of peoples. So are we most cruelly tormented, In riches feeling what we lack. The little bell's sound, the linden's scent Enfold me as in church and vault. The decree of all-mighty will Breaks on this sand here. How shall I rid my mind of it! The bell rings, and I rage.
MEPHISTOPHELES: Naturally! that a chief annoyance Must embitter your life. Who denies it! To every noble ear The jingling comes disagreeably. And the accursed bim-bam-bimmel, Obscuring the clear evening sky, Mixes into every event, From first bath to burial, As if between bim and bam Life were a forgotten dream.
FAUST: The resisting, the self-will Stunt the most glorious gain, So that, to deep, grim pain, One must weary of being just.
MEPHISTOPHELES: Why would you then constrain yourself here? Must you not long since colonize?
FAUST: Then go and get them to my side!— The fair little estate you know, Which I chose for the old folk.
MEPHISTOPHELES: One carries them off and sets them down, Ere one looks round, they stand again; After endured force A fair abode reconciles.
MEPHISTOPHELES: Come, as the lord commands! And tomorrow there's a fleet feast.
THE THREE: The old lord received us badly, A brisk feast is our due.
MEPHISTOPHELES: Here too happens what long since happened, For Naboth's vineyard was already there. ((Kings I, 21))
Deep Night
LYNCEUS THE WATCHMAN: Born to see, Appointed to gaze, Sworn to the tower, The world pleases me. I look into the distance, I see in the near: The moon and the stars, The wood and the deer. So see I in all The eternal adornment, And as it pleases me, I please myself too. You happy eyes, What e'er you have seen, Be it as it will, It was yet so fair! Not alone to delight myself Am I placed so high; What a ghastly terror Threatens me from the dark world! Spark-gleams I see spring Through the lindens' double night, Ever stronger a glow works, Fanned by the draft. Ah! the inner cottage blazes, Which stood mossy and damp; Quick help is demanded, No rescue is at hand. Ah! the good old folk, Else so careful of the fire, Become they prey to the smoke! What a dread adventure! Flame flames, red in glow Stands the black mossy frame; Did but the good escape From the wildly kindled hell! Tonguing bright flashes rise Between leaves, between branches; Dry boughs, that flickering burn, Glow quickly and crash down. Should you eyes perceive this! Must I be so far-sighted! The chapel breaks together From the boughs' fall and weight. Serpentine, with pointed flames, The tops are already seized. To the root glow the hollow Trunks, purple-red in glow.— What once recommended itself to the view, With centuries is gone.
FAUST: From above what singing wailing? The word is here, the tone too late. My watchman laments; me, within, The impatient deed annoys. Yet be the linden growth destroyed To half-charred trunks' horror, A lookout is soon erected, To gaze into the infinite. There see I too the new dwelling, Which encloses that old pair, Who, in feeling of magnanimous sparing, Enjoy happily their late days.
MEPHISTOPHELES AND THE THREE: There come we at full trot; Forgive! it went not gently. We knocked, we rapped, And ever was not opened; We shook, we knocked on, Then lay the rotten door there; We cried loud and threatened sore, But we found no hearing. And as in such case befalls, They heard not, they would not; But we have not delayed, Nimbly cleared them away for you. The pair did not torment themselves much, From fright they fell lifeless. A stranger, who hid there And would fight, was laid low. In wild combat's short time By coals, strewn all around, Straw ignited. Now it flames free, As pyre of these three.
FAUST: Were they deaf to my words? Exchange I wished, wished no robbery. To the thoughtless wild stroke, I curse it; share it among you!
CHORUS: The old word, the word resounds: Obey willingly the force! And art thou bold and holdest thine, Then risk house and farm and—thee.
FAUST: The stars hide look and shine, The fire sinks and flames small; A shuddering little wind fans it, Brings smoke and haze to me. Commanded quick, too quick done!— What floats shadow-like hither?
Midnight
FIRST: I am called Want. +
SECOND: I am called Guilt.
THIRD: I am called Care. +
FOURTH: I am called Need.
THE THREE: The door is locked, we cannot enter; Within dwells a rich man, we may not go in.
WANT: Then I become shadow. +
GUILT: Then I become naught.
NEED: The spoiled face turns from me.
CARE: You sisters, you cannot and may not enter. Care, she steals in through the keyhole.
WANT: You, gray sisters, withdraw from here.
GUILT: Close at your side I join you.
NEED: Close at the heel accompanies Need.
THE THREE: The clouds draw, the stars vanish! Behind, behind! from far, from far, There comes he, the brother, there comes he, the——Death.
FAUST: Four I saw come, three only go; The sense of the speech could I not understand. It sounded as if it meant—Need, A gloomy rhyme-word followed—Death. It sounded hollow, ghostly muffled. Not yet have I fought into the open. Could I remove magic from my path, Quite and entirely unlearn the spells, Stood I, Nature, before you a man alone, Then 'twere worth the trouble to be a human. That was I erst, ere I sought it in the dark, With impious word cursed myself and the world. Now is the air so full of such haunting, That none knows how he should avoid it. Though a day laughs at us clearly rational, In dream-webs the night entangles us; We return glad from youthful field, A bird croaks; what croaks it? Mischance. By superstition early and late ensnared: It suits, it shows itself, it warns. And so intimidated, we stand alone. The gate creaks, and no one comes in. Is someone here? +
CARE: The question demands Yes!
FAUST: And you, who are you then? +
CARE: Am once here.
FAUST: Remove yourself! +
CARE: I am at the right place.
FAUST: Take heed and speak no magic word.
CARE: Were no ear to perceive me, Yet must it thunder in the heart; In changed shape I exercise grim power. On the paths, on the wave, Eternally anxious companion, Ever found, never sought, So flattered as cursed.— Hast thou never known Care?
FAUST: I have only run through the world; Each desire I seized by the hair, What satisfied not, let I go, What escaped me, let I depart. I have only desired and only achieved And again wished and so with might Stormed through my life; first great and mighty, Now but it goes wisely, goes considerately. The earth's circle is known to me enough, Toward beyond the prospect is barred us; Fool, who thither blinks the eyes, O'er clouds imagines his like! He stand firm and look about him here; To the capable is this world not dumb. What needs he to roam into eternity! What he recognizes, lets itself be grasped. He walk thus along the earthly day; When spirits haunt, let him go his way, In onward-striding find he pain and bliss, He, unsatisfied every instant!
CARE: Whom I once possess, To him all the world is of no use; Eternal gloom rises down, Sun rises not nor sets, With perfect outer senses Dwell darknesses within, And he knows of all treasures Not to take possession. Luck and ill-luck becomes caprice, He starves in the fullness; Be it joy, be it plague, Shoves he to the other day, Is only of the future expectant, And so becomes he never finished.
FAUST: Hush! so comest thou not near me! I like not to hear such nonsense. Away! the wretched litany, It could beguile the wisest man.
CARE: Shall he go, shall he come? The resolve is taken from him; On the midst of the paved way He reels groping half-steps. He loses himself ever deeper, Sees all things askew, Himself and others oppressively pressing; Breathing and suffocating; Not suffocated and without life, Not despairing, not resigned. Such an unhalting rolling, Painful letting, odious must, Soon freeing, soon crushing, Half-sleep and poor refreshment Fastens him to his place And prepares him for hell.
FAUST: Unblest ghosts! so do you treat The human race a thousand times; Indifferent days themselves transform you Into loathsome tangle of torments. Demons, one knows, are hardly rid of, The spirit-strict bond is not to part; But your power, Care, creeping great, I shall not acknowledge.
CARE: Experience it, as I swiftly Turn from you with cursing! Men are blind their whole life, Now, Faust, become thou it at the end!
FAUST: The night seems to pierce deeper within, But in the inner shines clear light; What I have thought, I hasten to fulfill; The lord's word, it alone gives weight. From the couch up, you servants! man for man! Let happily behold what I boldly planned. Seize the tools, shovel stir and spade! The staked-out must straightway succeed. On strict ordering, rapid diligence Follows the fairest prize; That the greatest work complete, One spirit for a thousand hands suffices.
Great Forecourt of the Palace
MEPHISTOPHELES: Hither, hither! In, in! You shivering lemures, From bands, sinews and bone Patched half-natures.
LEMURES: We step at once to your hand, And as we half heard, It concerns perhaps a wide land, Which we are to get. Sharpened stakes, they are there, The long chain for measuring; Why upon us the call was made, That have we forgotten.
MEPHISTOPHELES: Here no artistic endeavor avails; Proceed only by your own measure! The longest lay himself length-long down, You others lift the turf all around; As was done for our fathers, Dig out a oblong square! From the palace into the narrow house, So stupidly it ends yet.
LEMURE: How young I was and lived and loved, Methought, that was surely sweet; Where it sounded merry and went joyous, There moved my feet. Now has treacherous age Struck me with its crutch; I stumbled o'er the grave's door, Why stood it just open!
FAUST: How the clatter of spades delights me! It is the multitude that serves me, Reconciles the earth with itself, Sets the waves their bound, Girds the sea with strict band.
MEPHISTOPHELES: You are yet only busy for us With your dikes, your piers; For you prepare already Neptune, The water-devil, great feast. In every way are you lost;— The elements are sworn with us, And to destruction it runs.
FAUST: Overseer! +
MEPHISTOPHELES: Here! +
FAUST: However it may be possible, Procure workers crowd on crowd, Encourage by pleasure and strictness, Pay, lure, press on! Each day I will have report, How the undertaken ditch extends.
MEPHISTOPHELES: One speaks, as report was given me, Of no ditch, but of the grave.
FAUST: A marsh draws along the mountain, Already taints all won; To drain the foul pool too, That last were the highest won. I open spaces for many millions, Not secure, yet actively-free to dwell. Green the field, fruitful; man and herd Straightway comfortable on the newest earth, Settled close at the hill's force, Which boldly-industrious folk piled up. Here within a paradisal land, There rave without the flood up to the rim, And as it nibbles, violently to push in, Community-impulse hastens the gap to close. Yea! to this sense am I wholly given, That is wisdom's final conclusion: Only he deserves freedom like life Who daily must conquer it. And so spends, surrounded by danger, Here childhood, man and graybeard his capable year. Such a swarm would I see, Stand on free ground with free folk. To the moment might I say: Tarry yet, thou art so fair! The trace of my earthly days Cannot in aeons perish.— In presentiment of such high bliss I enjoy now the highest moment.
MEPHISTOPHELES: No pleasure sates him, no bliss contents him, So he courts on after changing shapes; The last, poor, empty moment, The wretch wishes to hold fast. He who so powerfully resisted me, Time becomes master, the graybeard lies in the sand. The clock stands still—+
CHORUS: Stands still! It is silent as midnight. The hand falls. +
MEPHISTOPHELES: It falls, it is fulfilled.
CHORUS: It is over. +
MEPHISTOPHELES: Over! a foolish word. Why over? Over and pure naught, complete sameness! What shall the eternal creating serve us! To sweep away created into nothing! "There 'tis over!" What is there to read in that? It is as good as if it had not been, And yet drives in circle, as if it were. I'd rather the eternal void.
Burial
LEMUR—SOLO: Who built the house so badly, With shovels and with spades?
LEMURES—CHORUS: To thee, dull guest in hempen garb, 'Tis all too good become.
LEMUR—SOLO: Who furnished the hall so badly? Where stayed table and chair?
LEMURES—CHORUS: 'Twas borrowed for short time; The creditors are so many.
MEPHISTOPHELES: The body lies, and would the spirit flee, I show him swiftly the blood-written title;— But sadly one has now so many means To withdraw souls from the devil. On old way one knocks against, On new we are not recommended; Else had I done it alone, Now must I fetch helpers. In all things goes it ill with us! Accustomed habit, old right, One can trust in nothing more. Else with the last breath she flew out, I watched her and, as the swiftest mouse, Snap! held I her in fast-closed claws. Now she hesitates and will not the gloomy place, The loathsome house of the bad corpse forsake; The elements, that hate each other, At end drive her shamefully forth. And if I plague myself days and hours, When? how? and where? is the vexing question; Old Death lost the swift force, The whether? even is long doubtful; Oft looked I lustful on the stiff limbs— 'Twas only seeming, that stirred, that moved again. Only fresh at it! double your step, You lords of the straight, lords of the crooked horn, Of old devil's shot and—grain, Bring you the hell's maw with at once. Though hell has maws many! many! According to rank and worth she swallows; Yet will one at this last game Not be so scrupulous in future. Fangs gape; from the vault of the gullet Springs the fire-stream in rage, And in the seething vapor of the background I see the flame-city in eternal glow. The red surf beats forth up to the teeth, Damned, hoping rescue, swim near; But colossally crunches them the hyena, And they renew anxious hot path. In corners stays much to discover, So much most-terrible in narrowest space! You do full well, to frighten the sinners; They hold it yet for lie and trick and dream. Now, wobbly knaves with the fire-cheeks! You glow so right from hell-sulfur fat; Block-like, short, never-moved necks! Here below lurks, if it gleams like phosphorus: That is the little soul, Psyche with the wings, Those pluck you out, so 'tis a loathsome worm; With my stamp will I seal her, Then off with her in the fire-whirlstorm! Watch the lower regions, You bellows, that is your duty; Whether it pleased her to dwell there, So exactly one knows not. In the navel she is glad to be at home— Take care, she wipes you out there. You flibbertigibbets, wing-man giants, Grasp into the air, try without rest! The arms straight, the claws sharply shown, That you the fluttering, the fleeing seize. 'Tis surely ill for her in the old house, And the genius, it will straight upward.
HEAVENLY HOST: Follow, envoys, Heaven-kindred, Of leisurely flight: To sinners forgiveness, Dust to revive; To all natures Friendly traces Worketh in the hovering Of the lingering train!
MEPHISTOPHELES: I hear discord, loathsome jingling, From above it comes with unwelcome day; 'Tis the roguish-girlish botching, As pietistic taste likes to love. You know how we in deep-cursed hours Planned destruction to the human race; The most shameful we invented, Is just right for their devotion. They come hypocritically, the fops! So have they snatched many from us, War on us with our own weapons; They are also devils, but disguised. Here to lose, were eternal shame to you; Up to the grave and hold fast at the edge!
“Stories of the world, in your language.”