Part 3
But ah! already I feel, with the best of wills, No satisfaction welling from my breast. But why must the stream so soon run dry, And we lie again in thirst? Of this I have had much experience. Yet this lack can be supplied, We learn to prize the supernatural, We long for revelation, Which burns nowhere more worthily and beautifully Than in the New Testament. I am impelled to open the original text, And with honest feeling once To translate the holy original Into my beloved German. (He opens a volume and prepares himself.)
It is written: 'In the beginning was the Word!' Here I already stick! Who helps me further? I cannot prize the Word so highly, I must translate it otherwise, If I am rightly enlightened by the spirit. It is written: In the beginning was the Meaning. Consider well the first line, That your pen may not hurry! Is it the Meaning that works and creates all? It should stand: In the beginning was the Power! Yet, even as I write this down, Something warns me not to remain with it. The spirit helps me! Suddenly I see counsel And write boldly: In the beginning was the Deed!
Shall I share the room with you, poodle, Then cease your howling, Cease your barking! Such a disturbing companion I will not endure in my vicinity. One of us two Must leave the cell. Unwillingly do I revoke the right of hospitality, The door is open, you have free passage. But what must I see! Can this happen naturally? Is it shadow? is it reality? How my poodle grows long and broad! He rises with violence, That is no shape of a dog! What a specter have I brought into the house! Already he looks like a hippopotamus, With fiery eyes, terrible fangs. Oh! you are surely known to me! For such half-hellish brood Solomon's key is good.
SPIRITS (in the passage). One is captured within! Stay outside, follow him not! Like the fox in the iron, An old hellish lynx trembles. But take heed! Float hither, float thither, Up and down, And he has loosened himself. If you can aid him, Let him not sit! For he has already done Us all much pleasure.
FAUST. First to encounter the beast, I need the spell of the Four: Salamander shall glow, Undine shall wind, Sylph shall vanish, Goblin shall toil.
Who knew not The elements, Their force And nature, Would be no master Over the spirits.
Vanish in flames, Salamander! Flow together roaring, Undine! Shine in meteor beauty, Sylph! Bring household help, Incubus! Incubus! Step forth and make the close!
None of the Four Dwells in the beast. He lies quite calm and grins at me; I have not yet hurt him. You shall hear me Conjure more strongly.
Are you, fellow, A fugitive from hell? Then behold this sign Before which they bow, The black hosts!
Already he swells with bristling hairs.
Reprobate being! Can you read him, The never-sprung, The unspoken, Poured through all heavens, Impiously pierced?
Banned behind the stove, He swells like an elephant, Fills the whole room, He would dissolve into mist. Rise not to the ceiling! Lay yourself at the master's feet! You see that I do not threaten in vain. I will scorch you with holy flame! Expect not The thrice-glowing light! Expect not The strongest of my arts! (Mephistopheles steps forth, as the mist falls, dressed like a wandering scholastic, from behind the stove.)
MEPHISTOPHELES. What is the noise for? What is at the gentleman's service?
FAUST. So this was the core of the poodle! A wandering scholar? The case makes me laugh.
MEPHISTOPHELES. I salute the learned sir! You have made me sweat plentifully.
FAUST. What is your name?
MEPHISTOPHELES. The question seems small to me For one who so despises the word, Who, far removed from all appearance, Only strives into the depth of beings.
FAUST. With you, gentlemen, one can usually read the being From the name, Where it shows itself all too clearly, When one calls you fly-god, destroyer, liar. Now then, who are you?
MEPHISTOPHELES. A part of that power Which always wills the evil and always creates the good.
FAUST. What is meant by this riddle-word?
MEPHISTOPHELES. I am the spirit that always denies! And rightly so; for all that comes to be Is worthy to perish; Therefore better were it that nothing came to be. So then all that you call sin, Destruction, in short, the evil, Is my proper element.
FAUST. You call yourself a part, and yet stand wholly before me?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Modest truth do I speak to you. If man, the little fool-world, Usually holds itself for a whole, I am a part of the part that was all in the beginning, A part of the darkness which bore the light, The proud light, which now disputes with mother night Her ancient rank, the space; Yet it succeeds not, for however it strives, It clings fast to the bodies. From bodies it streams, bodies it makes beautiful, A body hinders it on its course; So, I hope, it will not last long, And with the bodies it will perish.
FAUST. Now I know your worthy duties! You cannot annihilate in the great And now begin in the small.
MEPHISTOPHELES. And certainly not much is done with that. What sets itself against nothing, That something, this clumsy world, However much I have undertaken, I knew not how to get at it With waves, storms, shaking, fire; Calm remain at the end sea and land! And from that damned stuff, the brute and human brood, Now nothing at all can be done. How many have I already buried! And ever circulates a new, fresh blood. So it goes on, one might grow mad! From air, from water as from earth A thousand germs escape, In dry, moist, warm, cold! Had I not kept the flame for myself, I should have nothing apart for me.
FAUST. So you set against the eternally active, The wholesomely creating power The cold devil's fist, Which clenches itself in vain and spitefully! Seek to begin something else, Strange son of chaos!
MEPHISTOPHELES. We will indeed consider, Next time more of that! Might I this once withdraw?
FAUST. I see not why you ask. I have now learned to know you, Visit me now as you please. Here is the window, here the door, A chimney is surely also yours.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Confess I must! that I walk out Is forbidden me by a small hindrance, The witch's foot on your threshold—
FAUST. The pentagram gives you pain? Why, tell me, son of hell, If that bans you, how came you in? How was such a spirit deceived?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Look at it closely! it is not well drawn. The one angle, the one toward outside, Is, as you see, a little open.
FAUST. That chance has well struck! And my prisoner would you be then? That has succeeded by accident!
MEPHISTOPHELES. The poodle noticed nothing as he sprang in, The matter now looks different. The devil cannot out of the house.
FAUST. Yet why do you not go through the window?
MEPHISTOPHELES. It is a law of devils and specters: Where they have slipped in, there must they out. The first is free to us, in the second we are slaves.
FAUST. Hell itself has its rights? That I find good, then might a pact, And surely well, be concluded with you, gentlemen?
MEPHISTOPHELES. What one promises, that shall you purely enjoy, Nothing of it shall be withheld from you. Yet that is not so quickly grasped, And we shall discuss that first; But now I beg, high and highest, For this once to dismiss me.
FAUST. Then stay yet one moment, To tell me first good tidings.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Now let me loose! I come soon back; Then may you ask as you like.
FAUST. I did not lie in wait for you, You yourself went into the snare. Hold the devil, who holds him! He will not soon catch him a second time.
MEPHISTOPHELES. If it pleases you, I am also ready To remain here for your company; Yet with the condition, to pass the time Worthily for you through my arts.
FAUST. I like it well, that is free to you; Only that the art be pleasing!
MEPHISTOPHELES. My friend, in this hour you will gain For your senses more Than in the year's monotony. What the tender spirits sing, The beautiful images they bring, Are not an empty magic play. Also your smell shall delight itself, Then shall your palate be refreshed, And then your feeling shall be enraptured. No preparation is needed beforehand, Together we are, begin!
SPIRITS. Vanish, you dark Vaultings above! More charmingly gaze Friendly the blue Ether in! Were the dark Clouds dissolved! Little stars twinkle, Milder suns Shine therein. Heavenly sons' Spiritual beauties, Swaying bendings Float past. Longing inclination Follows over; And the garments' Fluttering bands Cover the lands, Cover the arbor, Where for life, Deep in thoughts, Lovers give themselves. Arbor by arbor! Sprouting tendrils! Burdening grape Plunges into the vessel Of pressing press, Plunges in streams Foaming wines, Trickle through pure, Noble stones, Leave the heights Behind them, Spread to lakes Around the plenty Of greening hills. And the fowl Sip bliss, Fly to the sun, Fly to the bright Islands toward, Which on waves Bobbing move; Where we in choirs Hear jubilant, Over the meadows See dancing, Who in the open All disperse. Some climb Over the heights, Others swim Over the lakes, Others float; All to life, All to the distance Of loving stars, Of blessed grace.
MEPHISTOPHELES. He sleeps! So right, you airy tender youths! You have lulled him in faithfully! For this concert I am in your debt. You are not yet the man to hold the devil fast! Encircle him with sweet dream-shapes, Sink him into a sea of delusion; Yet to split this threshold's spell, I need a rat's tooth. Not long need I conjure, Already rustles one here and will soon hear me.
The lord of rats and mice, Of flies, frogs, bugs, lice Commands you to venture forth And gnaw this threshold, As he has touched it with oil— There you already hop forth! Only brisk to work! The point that banned me Sits quite at the front edge. One more bite, and it is done.— Now, Faust, dream on, till we meet again.
FAUST (awakening). Am I then again deceived? Vanishes thus the spirit-rich surge That a dream lied the devil to me, And that a poodle escaped from me?
Study Chamber
Faust. Mephistopheles.
FAUST. It knocks? Come in! Who will plague me again?
MEPHISTOPHELES. It is I.
FAUST. Come in!
MEPHISTOPHELES. You must say it three times.
FAUST. Come in then!
MEPHISTOPHELES. So you please me. We shall, I hope, agree; For to chase your whims away, I am here as noble squire, In red, gold-trimmed coat, The little mantle of stiff silk, The cock's feather on the hat, With a long, pointed rapier, And advise you now, short and good, To put on the like likewise; That you, unbound, free, May experience what life is.
FAUST. In every garment I shall feel well The pain of the narrow earthly life. I am too old to only play, Too young to be without desire. What can the world afford me? You shall renounce! shall renounce! That is the eternal song That rings in every ear, Which, our whole life long, Hoarsely sings to us every hour. Only with horror I wake in the morning, I would weep bitter tears, To see the day, which in its course Will fulfill not one wish, not one, Which even the presentiment of every joy Diminishes with wilful cavil, The creation of my lively breast Hinders with a thousand life-masks. Also must I, when night descends, Anxiously stretch myself on the bed; Also there no rest is granted, Wild dreams shall frighten me. The god, who dwells in my breast, Can deeply move my inmost; He who thrones above all my powers, Can move nothing outward; And so existence is a burden to me, Death desired, life hateful to me.
MEPHISTOPHELES. And yet is death never a quite welcome guest.
FAUST. O blessed he, whom in victory's glory He winds the bloody laurels round the temple, Whom he, after swiftly ravished dance, Finds in a maiden's arms! O were I, before the high spirit's power Enraptured, soulless, sunk away!
MEPHISTOPHELES. And yet someone did not drink A brown juice, in that night.
FAUST. The spying, it seems, is your pleasure.
MEPHISTOPHELES. All-knowing am I not; yet much is known to me.
FAUST. When from the terrible throng A sweet familiar tone drew me, The rest of childlike feeling Deceived with echo of happy time, Then curse I all that with lure And juggling work encompasses the soul, And in this mournful cave Binds it with blinding and flattering forces! Cursed beforehand the high opinion Wherewith the spirit surrounds itself! Cursed the blinding of appearance, That presses on our senses! Cursed what in dreams feigns to us The delusion of fame, of name's duration! Cursed what as possession flatters us, As wife and child, as servant and plough! Cursed be Mammon, when with treasures He stirs us to bold deeds, When he for idle enjoyment Lays the cushions ready for us! Curse be to the balsam-juice of the grape! Curse to that highest love's grace! Cursed be hope! Cursed be faith, And cursed above all be patience!
CHORUS OF SPIRITS (invisible). Woe! woe! You have destroyed The beautiful world, With mighty fist; It falls, it decays! A demigod has shattered it! We bear The ruins into nothingness over, And lament Over the lost beauty. Mightier Of earth's sons, Splendidly Build it again, In your breast build it up! New life's course Begin, With clear sense, And new songs Sound thereon!
MEPHISTOPHELES. These are the little ones Of my own. Hear how to lust and deeds Old-wise they counsel! Into the world wide, Out of the loneliness Where senses and juices stagnate, They would lure you.
Hear, cease to play with your gloom, Which, like a vulture, eats at your life; The worst society lets you feel That you are a man with men. Yet it is not meant thus To thrust you under the rabble. I am none of the great ones; But will you, united with me, Take your steps through life, Then will I gladly accommodate, To be yours, on the spot. I am your companion, And if I please you, Am your servant, am your slave!
FAUST. And what shall I fulfill for you in return?
MEPHISTOPHELES. To that you still have a long respite.
FAUST. No, no! the devil is an egoist And does not easily for God's sake What is useful to another. Speak the condition clearly out; Such a servant brings danger into the house.
MEPHISTOPHELES. I will bind myself here to your service, Not to rest and not to cease at your sign; If we find us again yonder, Then shall you do the like to me.
FAUST. The yonder can little concern me; Strike you first this world to ruins, The other may arise thereafter. From this earth well my joys, And this sun shines on my sorrows; Can I first part from them, Then may happen what will and can. Thereof will I hear nothing further, Whether one henceforth hates and loves, And whether there in those spheres There is an above or below.
MEPHISTOPHELES. In this sense you may venture it. Bind yourself; you shall, in these days, See my arts with joy, I give you what no man has yet seen.
FAUST. What will you poor devil give? Was a man's spirit, in its high striving, Ever grasped by your likes? Yet have you food that does not sate, have You red gold, that without rest, Like quicksilver, melts in your hand, A game wherein one never wins, A maiden, who at my breast With glances already binds herself to the neighbor, The honor's beautiful godlike joy, That, like a meteor, vanishes? Show me the fruit that rots ere one breaks it, And trees that daily newly green!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Such an order frightens me not, With such treasures can I serve. Yet, good friend, the time also comes on Where we might feast something good in quiet.
FAUST. Shall I ever lay myself calmly on an idle bed, Then let it be instantly done with me! Can you ever flatteringly deceive me, That I please myself, Can you betray me with enjoyment: That be for me the last day! The wager I offer!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Done!
FAUST. And blow for blow! Shall I say to the moment: Tarry yet! you are so fair! Then may you bind me in fetters, Then will I gladly perish! Then may the death-bell sound, Then are you free of your service, The clock may stand, the pointer fall, It be time for me past!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Consider it well, we shall not forget.
FAUST. To that you have full right; I have not presumptuously presumed. As I persist, I am a slave, Whether yours, what care I, or whose.
MEPHISTOPHELES. I will today already, at the doctor's feast, As servant fulfill my duty. Only one!—For life or death's sake I beg a couple of lines from you.
FAUST. Also written you demand, pedant? Have you not known yet a man, not a man's word? Is it not enough that my spoken word Shall eternally rule with my days? Rests not the world in all streams onward, And me shall a promise hold? Yet this delusion is laid into our heart, Who would gladly free himself from it? Blest, who bears pure faith in the breast, No sacrifice will ever repent him! But a parchment, written and stamped, Is a specter before which all shrink. The word already dies in the pen, Wax and leather wield the mastery. What will you, evil spirit, of me? Brass, marble, parchment, paper? Shall I write with stylus, chisel, pen? I give you every choice free.
MEPHISTOPHELES. How may you overstate Your rhetoric so hotly? Is yet each little leaf good. You sign yourself with a little drop of blood.
FAUST. If this fully suffices you, Then may it remain with the grimace.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Blood is a quite particular juice.
FAUST. Only no fear that I break this bond! The striving of my whole force Is just that which I promise. I have puffed myself too high, Into your rank alone I belong. The great spirit has scorned me, Before me closes itself nature. The thread of thinking is torn, I have long been sick of all knowing. Let in the depths of sensuality Us still glowing passions! In impenetrable magic veils Be every wonder alike ready! Plunge we into the rush of time, Into the rolling of events! There may then pain and enjoyment, Success and annoyance Alternate with each other, as it can; Only restlessly the man proves himself.
MEPHISTOPHELES. To you no measure and goal is set. If it pleases you, everywhere to nibble, In fleeing something to snatch, May well befall you what delights you. Only grasp with me and be not shy!
FAUST. You hear indeed, of joy is not the talk. To intoxication I consecrate myself, to most painful enjoyment, Loving hate, refreshing annoyance. My breast, healed of the thirst for knowledge, Shall close itself to no pains hereafter, And what is allotted to whole humanity, Will I enjoy in my inner self, With my spirit grasp the highest and deepest, Heap its weal and woe on my breast, And so expand my own self to its self, And, like it itself, at the end also shatter.
MEPHISTOPHELES. O believe me, who for many thousand years Chews on this hard food, That from the cradle to the bier No man digests the old leaven! Believe one like us, this whole Is made only for a god! He finds himself in an eternal radiance; Us has he brought into the darkness, And for you suits only day and night.
FAUST. But I will!
MEPHISTOPHELES. That is to be heard! But only before one am I afraid. The time is short, the art is long. I thought, you let yourself be taught. Associate yourself with a poet, Let the gentleman roam in thoughts, And all noble qualities Heap on your honor's crest, The lion's courage, The stag's swiftness, The Italian's fiery blood, The North's durability. Let him find for you the secret, To combine magnanimity and guile, And you, with warm youthful impulses, To fall in love according to a plan. Might myself know such a lord, Would call him Mr. Microcosm.
FAUST. What am I then, if it is not possible, To win mankind's crown, Toward which all senses press?
MEPHISTOPHELES. You are at the end—what you are. Set perukes on you of million locks, Set your foot on ell-high sockets, You remain yet what you are.
FAUST. I feel it, in vain have I all treasures Of the human spirit raked toward me, And if I sit down at the end, Wells inwardly yet no new force; I am not a hair's breadth higher, Am not nearer to the Infinite.
MEPHISTOPHELES. My good sir, you see the things As one just sees the things; We must make that cleverer, Ere life's joy flees us. What hangman! certainly hands and feet And head and backside, those are yours; Yet all that I freshly enjoy, Is that therefore less mine? If I can pay for six stallions, Are their forces not mine? I run to and am a proper man, As had I four-and-twenty legs. So fresh! Let all musing be, And straight into the world in! I tell you: a fellow who speculates Is like a beast, on dry heath Led in circles by an evil spirit, And round about lies beautiful green meadow.
FAUST. How do we begin that?
MEPHISTOPHELES. We go just forth. What is that for a torture-place? What is that for a life to lead, To bore oneself and the lads? Leave that to the neighbor paunch! Why will you plague yourself to thresh the straw? The best that you can know, May you yet not tell the boys. Soon hear I one in the passage!
FAUST. It is not possible for me to see him.
MEPHISTOPHELES. The poor boy waits long, He shall not go unconsoled. Come, give me your coat and cap; The mask must become me splendidly. (He changes clothes.) Now leave it to my wit! I need only a quarter-hour's time; Meanwhile make ready for the fair journey! (Faust exits.)
MEPHISTOPHELES (in Faust's long coat). Despise only reason and science, Of man the highest power, Only in blinding and magic works Let the lying spirit strengthen you, So have I you already unconditionally— Him has fate given a spirit, Which unbridled ever presses forward, And whose overhasty striving Leaps over earth's joys. Him I drag through the wild life, Through shallow insignificance, He shall flutter, stare, stick for me, And his insatiability Shall food and drink before greedy lips hover; He shall plead for refreshment in vain, And had he not given himself to the devil, He must yet perish! (A STUDENT enters.)
STUDENT. I am here but a short time, And come with full devotion, To speak and know a man, Whom all name to me with reverence.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Your politeness pleases me greatly! You see a man like many another. Have you otherwise already looked around?
STUDENT. I beg you, take yourself to me! I come with all good courage, Tolerable money and fresh blood; My mother would scarce let me away; Would gladly learn something right out here.
MEPHISTOPHELES. There you are just right in place.
STUDENT. Frankly, I might already away again. In these walls, these halls It likes me in no way. It is a quite confined space, One sees nothing green, no tree, And in the halls, on the benches, Hearing, seeing and thinking pass from me.
MEPHISTOPHELES. That comes only on habit. So takes a child the mother's breast Not immediately willingly at first, Yet soon nourishes itself with pleasure. So will it at wisdom's breasts Lust for you more with every day.
STUDENT. At her neck will I with joy hang; But tell me only, how can I get there?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Explain yourself, ere you go further, What faculty do you choose?
STUDENT. I wish to become right learned, And would gladly, what on earth And in the heaven is, grasp, The science and nature.
“Stories of the world, in your language.”