Part 6
MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). I'll be off in good time now! She'd hold the very devil to his word. (To Gretchen.) Well, how fares it with your heart?
MARGARETE. What does the gentleman mean by that?
MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). You good, innocent child! (Aloud.) Farewell, ladies!
MARGARETE. Farewell!
MARTHE. Oh, do tell me quickly! I should like to have some testimony Where, how, and when my dear departed died and was buried. I have ever been a friend to order, And would even read of his death in the weekly paper.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Yes, good woman, through the mouth of two witnesses Is the truth made known everywhere; I have moreover a fine fellow Whom I will produce before the magistrate. I'll bring him here.
MARTHE. Oh, do so by all means!
MEPHISTOPHELES. And here the maiden is also present?— A worthy lad! has travelled much, Shows all young ladies every courtesy.
MARGARETE. I should blush before the gentleman.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Before no king on earth.
MARTHE. Behind the house, in my garden, We shall await the gentlemen this evening.
Street (II)
Faust. Mephistopheles.
FAUST. How goes it? Will it prosper? Will it soon be done?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Ah bravo! Do I find you in a flame? In a short time Gretchen is yours. This evening you shall see her at neighbour Martha's. That is a woman chosen as if For pimping and gipsy dealings!
FAUST. So much the better!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Yet something is also required of us.
FAUST. One service is surely worth another.
MEPHISTOPHELES. We merely lay a valid testimony That her husband's outstretched limbs Rest in Padua at a holy spot.
FAUST. Very clever! We shall first have to make the journey!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Sancta Simplicitas! that is not the point; Bear witness, without knowing much.
FAUST. If you have nothing better, the plan is torn to pieces.
MEPHISTOPHELES. O holy man! there you are! Is it the first time in your life That you have borne false witness? Have you not, of God, the world and what moves therein, Of man, what stirs in his head and heart, Given definitions with great force? With brazen brow, bold breast? And if you would look deep within, Have you, of that—you must confess it plainly— Known as much as of Mr. Schwerdtlein's death!
FAUST. You are and remain a liar, a sophist.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Yes, if one did not know it a little deeper. For tomorrow, in all honour, You will beguile poor Gretchen And swear her all-soul's love?
FAUST. And from the heart, too.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Good and fine! Then of eternal truth and love, Of solely all-powerful passion— Will that also come from the heart?
FAUST. Leave that! It will!—When I feel, For the emotion, for the throng Seek words and find none, Then roam through the world with all my senses, Grasp at all highest words, And name this glow with which I burn Infinite, eternal, eternal— Is that a devilish lying game?
MEPHISTOPHELES. I am right, after all!
FAUST. Hear! mark this— I beg you, and spare my lungs— Whoever would be right and has but one tongue, Is sure to remain so. And come, I am weary of this prating, For you are right, chiefly because I must be.
Garden
Margarete on Faust's arm, Marthe walking up and down with Mephistopheles.
MARGARETE. I feel well that the gentleman only spares me, Condescends to shame me. A traveller is so accustomed To take kindly out of goodness; I know too well that such an experienced man Cannot be entertained by my poor talk.
FAUST. One glance from you, one word more entertains Than all the wisdom of this world. (He kisses her hand.)
MARGARETE. Do not inconvenience yourself! How can you kiss it? It is so ugly, so rough! What have I not had to do! My mother is too precise. (They pass by.)
MARTHE. And you, my sir, you are always travelling thus?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Alas, that business and duty drive us to it! With what pain one leaves many a place And yet may not stay now.
MARTHE. In swift years it goes well, To roam free through the world thus round about; Yet when the evil time approaches, And to drag oneself alone to the grave as an old bachelor, That has never done anyone good.
MEPHISTOPHELES. With horror I see that from afar.
MARTHE. Therefore, worthy sir, take counsel in time. (They pass by.)
MARGARETE. Yes, out of sight, out of mind! Politeness comes easy to you; Yet you have many friends, They are more sensible than I.
FAUST. O best one! believe, what is called so sensible Is often more vanity and narrowness.
MARGARETE. How?
FAUST. Alas, that simplicity, that innocence never Knows itself and its holy worth! That humility, lowliness, the highest gifts Of loving Nature's hand—
MARGARETE. Think of me but a little moment, I shall have time enough to think of you.
FAUST. Are you much alone?
MARGARETE. Yes, our household is but small, And yet must be attended to. We have no maid; must cook, sweep, knit And sew and run early and late; And my mother is in all things So exact! Not that she has just to restrict herself so; We could stir far sooner than others. My father left a pretty fortune, A little house and a garden before the town. Yet now I have quite quiet days. My brother is a soldier, My little sister is dead. I had indeed my dear trouble with the child; Yet I would gladly take all the toil again, So dear was the child to me.
FAUST. An angel, if it resembled you.
MARGARETE. I reared it, and it loved me heartily. It was born after my father's death. We gave the mother up, So wretched as she then lay, And she recovered very slowly, by degrees. Then she could not think of Suckling the poor worm herself, And so I reared it quite alone, With milk and water; thus it became mine On my arm, in my lap It was friendly, wriggled, grew.
FAUST. You surely felt the purest happiness.
MARGARETE. Yet surely also many a heavy hour. The little one's cradle stood at night By my bed; it scarce might stir When I awoke; Soon I must suckle it, soon lay it by me, Soon, if it did not hush, rise from bed And, tripping, walk up and down the chamber, And early in the day already stand at the wash-tub; Then at market and at the hearth take care, And ever on, as today so tomorrow. Then it does not always go courageously, my sir; But in return the food tastes, the rest tastes. (They pass by.)
MARTHE. The poor women are indeed badly off. An old bachelor is hardly to be converted.
MEPHISTOPHELES. It would only depend on such as you To teach me better.
MARTHE. Say plainly, my sir, have you found nothing yet? Has the heart nowhere been bound?
MEPHISTOPHELES. The proverb says: one's own hearth, A worthy wife are worth gold and pearls.
MARTHE. I mean: did you never feel the desire?
MEPHISTOPHELES. One has everywhere received me right courteously.
MARTHE. Ah, you do not understand me!
MEPHISTOPHELES. That grieves me heartily! Yet I understand—that you are very kind. (They pass by.)
FAUST. You knew me again, O little angel, As soon as I came into the garden?
MARGARETE. Did you not see, I cast my eyes down.
FAUST. And you forgive the freedom I took? What presumption ventured, When you last went out of the cathedral?
MARGARETE. I was startled, that had never happened to me; No one could speak ill of me. Ah, thought I, has he in your bearing Seen something bold, indecent? It seemed at once to come over him, To deal thus straightforwardly with this wench. I confess it! I knew not what Began here to stir to your advantage; But certainly, I was right angry with myself That I could not be angrier with you.
FAUST. Sweet love!
MARGARETE. Let be! (She plucks a daisy and picks off the petals, one after another.)
FAUST. What is that for? A nosegay?
MARGARETE. No, it is only a game.
FAUST. How?
MARGARETE. Go! You laugh at me. (She plucks and murmurs.)
FAUST. What are you murmuring?
MARGARETE (half aloud). He loves me—loves me not.
FAUST. You heavenly face!
MARGARETE (continues). Loves me—not—loves me—not— (Plucking the last leaf, with sweet joy.) He loves me!
FAUST. Yes, my child! Let this flower-word Be to you a god's pronouncement. He loves you! Do you understand what that means? He loves you! (He takes both her hands.)
MARGARETE. It runs through me!
FAUST. O do not shudder! Let this glance, Let this hand-clasp tell you What is unspeakable. To surrender wholly and to feel a bliss That must be eternal! Eternal!—Its end would be despair; No, no end! No end! (Margarete presses his hands, frees herself, and runs off. He stands a moment in thought, then follows her.)
MARTHE (coming). Night is falling.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Yes, and we would away.
MARTHE. I would beg you to stay longer, But it is a most evil place. It is as if no one had aught to do And naught to busy with, Than to gape at the neighbour's step and tread, And one gets into talk, however one bears oneself. And our pair?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Has flown off yonder path. Wanton summer-birds!
MARTHE. He seems fond of her.
MEPHISTOPHELES. And she of him too. That is the way of the world.
A Garden-House
Margarete springs in, hides behind the door, holds the tip of her finger to her lips and peeps through the crack.
MARGARETE. He comes!
FAUST (comes). Ah, rogue, so you tease me! Shall I catch you! (He kisses her.)
MARGARETE (catching him and returning the kiss). Dearest man! I love you from the heart! (Mephistopheles knocks.)
FAUST (stamping). Who's there?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Good friend!
FAUST. A brute!
MEPHISTOPHELES. It is time to part.
MARTHE (comes). Yes, it is late, my sir.
FAUST. May I not escort you?
MARGARETE. My mother would—Farewell!
FAUST. Must I then go? Farewell!
MARTHE. Adieu!
MARGARETE. Till soon again! (Faust and Mephistopheles exit.)
MARGARETE. Dear God! what such a man Cannot all, all think! Ashamed only I stand before him And say yes to all things. I am indeed a poor ignorant child, Understand not what he finds in me. (Exit.)
Wood and Cave
Faust alone.
Sublime spirit, you gave me, gave me all For which I prayed. You turned your face to me In fire, not in vain. You gave me glorious nature for a kingdom, Power to feel it, to enjoy. Not Cold wondering visit only do you allow, You grant me to look into its deep breast As into the bosom of a friend. You lead the row of the living Before me and teach me to know my brothers In the still bush, in air and water. And when the storm roars and creaks in the wood, The giant fir falling, crushing down Neighbouring boughs and neighbouring trunks, And hollow-muffled the hill thunders at its fall, Then you lead me to the safe cave, show Me then to myself, and my own breast's Secret deep wonders open. And if before my sight the pure moon Rises soothingly, there float to me From rocky walls, from the damp bush The silver shapes of a former world And soften contemplation's stern delight.
O that to man nothing perfect comes, I feel now. You gave to this bliss, Which brings me nearer and nearer to the gods, The companion whom I can no longer Do without, though he, cold and bold, Degrades me before myself and to nothing, With a breath of words transforms your gifts. He kindles in my breast a wild fire Busily after that fair image. Thus I reel from desire to enjoyment, And in enjoyment pine for desire. (Mephistopheles enters.)
MEPHISTOPHELES. Have you had enough of life soon? How can it please you in the long run? It is well, that one tries it once, But then again to something new!
FAUST. I wish you had more to do Than plague me on a good day.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Well, well! I'll gladly let you rest, You need not tell me so in earnest. With you, fellow, surly, rough and mad, There is truly little to lose. The whole day one has one's hands full! What pleases him and what one should leave alone, One can never nose on the gentleman.
FAUST. That is just the right tone! He wants thanks too, that he bores me.
MEPHISTOPHELES. How would you, poor son of earth, Have lived without me? From the crankiness of imagination I have cured you for a long time; And were I not, you would already Have walked off this globe. What do you sit there in caves, rocky clefts Like an owl? What do you slurp from dull moss and dripping stone Like a toad, your food? A fine, sweet pastime! The doctor still sticks in your body.
FAUST. Understand you what for new life-force This wandering in the waste creates in me? Yes, could you but surmise it, You were devil enough not to grudge me my happiness.
MEPHISTOPHELES. A supernatural pleasure. To lie on the mountains in night and dew And clasp earth and heaven blissfully, To swell into a deity, To burrow through earth's marrow with presaging urge, To feel all six days' work in the bosom, In proud force enjoy I know not what, Soon love-blissfully overflow into all, Quite vanished, the son of earth, And then the high intuition— (with a gesture) I may not say how—to conclude.
FAUST. Fie upon you!
MEPHISTOPHELES. That does not please you; You have the right to say fie, decently. One may not name before chaste ears What chaste hearts cannot do without. And short and good, I grant him the pleasure Occasionally to lie to himself; But long he will not hold out. You are already driven away again And, if it lasts longer, worn away In madness or anguish and horror. Enough of that! Your sweetheart sits within, And all becomes narrow and dim to her. You never leave her mind, She loves you overwhelmingly. First your love-frenzy came overflowing, As a brooklet overflows from melted snow; You poured it into her heart, Now your brooklet is shallow again. Methinks, instead of enthroning in woods, It would become the great lord well, To reward the poor ape-like blood For his love. Time drags miserably for her; She stands at the window, sees the clouds drift Over the old town-wall. "If I were a little bird!" thus goes her song Days long, half-nights long. Once she is cheerful, mostly sad, Once she has wept quite out, Then calm again, it seems, And ever in love.
FAUST. Serpent! Serpent!
MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). Aha! that I catch you!
FAUST. Accursed one! remove yourself hence, And name not the fair woman! Bring the desire for her sweet body Not again before the half-mad senses!
MEPHISTOPHELES. What is to be done? She thinks you have fled, And half and half you already have.
FAUST. I am near her, and were I ever so far, I can never forget her, never lose her; Yes, I already envy the body of the Lord, When her lips meanwhile touch him.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Quite well, my friend! I have often envied you The twin pair that pastures among roses.
FAUST. Away, pander!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Fine! You scold, and I must laugh. The God who created lad and maiden Recognized at once the noblest calling, Also himself to make opportunity. Only away, it is a great pity! You shall into your sweetheart's chamber, Not into death, perhaps.
FAUST. What is heaven's joy in her arms? Let me warm at her breast! Feel I not ever her distress? Am I not the fugitive? the homeless? The inhuman without aim and rest, Who like a waterfall roared from rock to rock, Eagerly raging toward the abyss? And beside him, she, with childlike dull senses, In the cottage on the little Alpine field, And all her homely beginning Enfolded in the little world. And I, the God-hated, Had not enough, That I grasped the rocks And dashed them to pieces! Her, her peace must I undermine! You, hell, must have this sacrifice. Help, devil, shorten me the time of anguish. What must happen, let it happen at once! May her fate crash down upon me And she perish with me!
MEPHISTOPHELES. How it seethes again, glows again! Go in and comfort her, you fool! Where such a little head sees no way out, He straightway imagines the end. Long live who holds himself bravely! You are else quite considerably devil-possessed. Nothing more absurd find I in the world Than a devil who despairs.
Gretchen's Chamber
Gretchen (at the spinning-wheel, alone).
GRETCHEN. My peace is gone, My heart is heavy; I find it never And never more.
Where I have him not, Is to me the grave, The whole world Is embittered to me.
My poor head Is distraught, My poor sense Is shattered.
My peace is gone, My heart is heavy; I find it never And never more.
For him only I look Out of the window, For him only I go Out of the house.
His lofty gait, His noble figure, His mouth's smile, His eyes' power,
And his speech's Magic flow, His hand's clasp, And ah! his kiss!
My peace is gone, My heart is heavy; I find it never And never more.
My bosom presses Toward him; Ah, might I clasp And hold him,
And kiss him, As I would, At his kisses Should perish!
Martha's Garden
Margarete. Faust.
MARGARETE. Promise me, Heinrich!
FAUST. What I can!
MARGARETE. Now say, how is it with you and religion? You are a heartily good man, But I believe you do not hold much of it.
FAUST. Let that be, my child! You feel, I am good to you; For my loved ones I'd give body and blood, Would rob no one of his feeling and his church.
MARGARETE. That is not right, one must believe in it.
FAUST. Must one?
MARGARETE. Ah! if I could ever on you! You do not honour the holy sacraments either.
FAUST. I honour them.
MARGARETE. Yet without longing. To mass, to confession you have long not gone. Do you believe in God?
FAUST. My love, who dares say: I believe in God? Ask priest or sage, And their answer seems but mockery Of the questioner.
MARGARETE. Then you do not believe?
FAUST. Mishear me not, you lovely face! Who dares name Him? And who confess, "I believe Him!"? Who feels, And presumes To say, "I believe Him not!"? The All-Embracer, The All-Sustainer, Embraces and sustains He not You, me, Himself? Arches not the heaven there above? Lies not the earth here below firm? And rise not, friendly-gazing, Eternal stars on high? Look I not eye in eye with you, And presses not all To head and heart of you, And weaves in eternal mystery Invisibly visible by you? Fill therewith your heart, so great as it is, And when you are wholly blessed in the feeling, Name it then as you will, Name it Bliss! Heart! Love! God! I have no name For that! Feeling is all; Name is sound and smoke, Obscuring heaven's glow.
MARGARETE. That is all quite fine and good; About so says the parson too, Only with a few other words.
FAUST. It say all everywhere All hearts beneath the heavenly day, Each in its own tongue; Why not I in mine?
MARGARETE. When one hears it so, it might seem passable, But still it stands ever askew therewith; For you have no Christianity.
FAUST. Dear child!
MARGARETE. It has long pained me That I see you in such company.
FAUST. How so?
MARGARETE. The man whom you have with you there Is hateful to me in deep inner soul; In my life Nothing gave such a stab to my heart As that man's loathsome face.
FAUST. Dear doll, fear him not!
MARGARETE. His presence moves my blood. I am else good to all people; But as I long to see you, I have a secret horror of that man, And hold him for a rogue besides! God forgive me, if I wrong him!
FAUST. Such odd fellows must also exist.
MARGARETE. Would not live with his like! Comes he once in at the door, He always looks so scornful And half enraged; One sees he takes part in nothing; It is written on his brow That he cannot love a soul. It is so well with me in your arm, So free, so surrendered warm, And his presence constricts my inward.
FAUST. You presentient angel you!
MARGARETE. That overpowers me so sore, That, wherever he may join us, I think even I no longer love you. Also, when he is there, I could never pray, And that eats into my heart; To you, Heinrich, it must be so too.
FAUST. You have now the antipathy!
MARGARETE. I must now away.
FAUST. Ah, can I never Hang quietly an hour on your bosom And breast to breast and soul in soul press?
MARGARETE. Ah, if I but slept alone! I would leave the bolt open for you tonight; But my mother sleeps not deep, And were we surprised by her, I were straightway dead on the spot!
FAUST. You angel, that needs no fear. Here is a little flask; three drops only In her drink enfold With deep sleep the kindly nature.
MARGARETE. What do I not do for your sake? It will hopefully harm her not!
FAUST. Would I else, love, advise you to it?
MARGARETE. When I but look at you, best man, I know not what drives me to your will; I have already done so much for you, That scarce anything remains for me to do. (Exit.)
(Mephistopheles enters.)
MEPHISTOPHELES. The grass-ape! is he gone?
FAUST. Have you been spying again?
MEPHISTOPHELES. I have heard it all in detail, The doctor was catechized there; Hope it shall profit you well. The girls are indeed very interested Whether one is pious and plain after old custom. They think: if he ducks there, he follows us too.
FAUST. You monster see not How this true, loving soul, Full of her faith, which alone Is saving to her, torments herself holy, That she should hold the dearest man lost.
MEPHISTOPHELES. You supersensual sensual wooer, A maiden leads you by the nose.
FAUST. You abort of dirt and fire!
MEPHISTOPHELES. And physiognomy she understands masterly. In my presence it comes over her, she knows not how; My little mask there foretells hidden sense; She feels that I am quite surely a genius, Perhaps indeed the devil. Well, tonight—?
FAUST. What is that to you?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Yet I have my joy of it!
At the Well
Gretchen and Lieschen with pitchers.
LIESCHEN. Heard nothing of Bärbelchen?
GRETCHEN. Not a word. I come scarce among people.
LIESCHEN. Certain, Sibylle told me today. She too has at last been beguiled. That is the fine airs!
GRETCHEN. How so?
LIESCHEN. It stinks! She feeds two, when she eats and drinks.
GRETCHEN. Ah!
LIESCHEN. So it has at last gone right with her. How long she hung on the fellow! That was a promenading, To village and dance-floor leading, Must everywhere be the first, He courted her ever with pasties and wine; Thinks something of her beauty, Was yet so shameless, not to be ashamed To take gifts from him. Was a caressing and a licking; Then the little flower is gone!
GRETCHEN. The poor thing!
LIESCHEN. You even pity her! When our sort was at spinning, The mother would not let us down at nights, She stood sweet with her lover; On the threshold-bench and in the dark passage No hour was too long for them. Then let her duck now, In the sinner's smock do church-penance!
GRETCHEN. He will surely take her to wife.
LIESCHEN. He were a fool! A brisk lad Has elsewhere air enough. He is also gone.
GRETCHEN. That is not fair!
LIESCHEN. Gets she him, it shall go ill with her, The lads shall tear her wreath, And we shall strew chaff before her door! (Exit.)
“Stories of the world, in your language.”