Part 7
GRETCHEN: (going home). How could I else so bravely scold, When a poor maiden went astray! How could I for another's sins Not find enough of words to say! How black it seemed to me, and blackened still, Yet never black enough to me, And blessed me, and played so great, And now myself am bare of sin! But—all that drove me thereunto, God! was so good! ah, was so dear!
Zwinger
In a niche of the wall an image of devotion, the Mater dolorosa, flower-pots before it. Gretchen puts fresh flowers in the pots.
Ah, incline, Thou full of sorrow, Thy countenance in mercy to my need!
The sword within the heart, With thousand pangs Thou look'st upon thy Son's death.
Unto the Father thou dost gaze, And sighs dost send Up for His and thy distress.
Who feeleth, How gnaweth The pain within my bones? What my poor heart here dreads, What it trembles at, what it longs for, Thou know'st alone, thou alone!
Where'er I go How woe, how woe, how woeful It grows within my breast! I am, alas! scarce all alone, I weep, I weep, I weep, My heart is breaking in me.
The shards before my window I bedewed with tears, alas! When in the early morning I plucked these flowers for thee.
The sun rose bright Into my chamber early, Sat I in all my sorrow Already up in bed.
Help! save me from shame and death! Ah, incline, Thou full of sorrow, Thy countenance in mercy to my need!
Night. Street before Gretchen's door
Valentin, soldier, Gretchen's brother.
When I sat thus at a carouse, Where many a one may boast him proud, And comrades praised before me loud The maidens' favors in full house, With glass o'erflowing praised the fair, Elbow set firm upon the board, I sat in my unruffled ease, Heard all the swaggering talk with care, And stroked my beard with smiling face, Then took the full glass in my hand And said: "Each after his own kind! But is there one in all the land Who to my own dear Gretel's like, Who to my sister water brings?" Clink! clink! ring! rang! it went around; Some shouted: "He is right, She is the jewel of all her race." Then sat the praisers all struck dumb. And now!—well-nigh to tear my hair And climb the walls in my despair! With sneers and scornful toss of head Each knave may now abuse me; Must sit like a bad debtor And sweat at every chance-made word! And would I knock them all together, Yet could I not call them liars.
What comes this way? what sneaks along? If I mistake not, there are two. If it be he, I seize him straight By the skin, shall not leave this spot alive!
Faust. Mephistopheles.
FAUST. How from the sacristy window there Upward the flame of the eternal lamp doth flicker, And faint and fainter gleams to side, And darkness presseth all around! So in my bosom 'tis night.
MEPHISTOPHELES. And I feel like the lean little cat That creeps along the fire-escapes, Then softly round the walls doth glide; I feel quite virtuous the while, A little thief's desire, a little wantonness. Already through my limbs doth haunt The glorious Walpurgis Night. It comes again the day after tomorrow, Then one knows why one wakes.
FAUST. Moves now the treasure up meanwhile That I see glimmering yonder?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Thou soon mayst have the joy To lift the little kettle out. I peeped in lately thus, Fine lion-dollars are within.
FAUST. Not a jewel, not a ring, To adorn my dear sweetheart?
MEPHISTOPHELES. I saw therein, methinks, such a thing As like a sort of pearl-string.
FAUST. 'Tis well! it grieveth me To go to her without gifts.
MEPHISTOPHELES. It should not vex you, surely, To enjoy something for nothing. Now, since the heaven glows with stars, Shall you hear a true feat of art. I'll sing her a moral song, To beguile her more securely. (Sings to the zither.) What mak'st thou here Before thy love's door, Kathrinchen, here At early day's break? Let, let it be! He lets thee in As maiden in, As maiden not back.
Take ye good heed! When it is done, Then good night Ye poor, poor things! If ye love each other, Do no thief Favor naught But with the ring on finger.
VALENTIN (steps forward). Whom lurest thou here? by the elements! Accursed rat-catcher! First to the devil the instrument! Then to the devil behind the singer!
MEPHISTOPHELES. The zither is in pieces! naught to hold thereon.
VALENTIN. Now shall it come to skull-splitting!
MEPHISTOPHELES (to Faust). Sir Doctor, not retreated! brisk! Close to me, as I lead you. Out with your rapier! Only thrust! I parry.
VALENTIN. Parry this!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Why not?
VALENTIN. This too!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Certainly!
VALENTIN. I think the devil fights! What is this then? already grows my hand numb.
MEPHISTOPHELES (to Faust). Thrust home!
VALENTIN (falls). Oh woe!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Now is the knave tamed! But now away! we must straight disappear; For already ariseth a murderous outcry. I know myself well with the police, But with the blood-ban to deal with am I ill.
MARTHE (at the window). Out! Out!
GRETCHEN (at the window). Bring a light here!
MARTHE (as above). They scold and scratch, they scream and fight.
PEOPLE. There lies one already dead!
MARTHE (coming out). The murderers, are they then fled?
GRETCHEN (coming out). Who lies here?
PEOPLE. Thy mother's son.
GRETCHEN. Almighty! what distress!
VALENTIN. I die: that is soon said And sooner yet done. Why stand ye women, howl and wail? Come here and hear me speak! (All step round him.) My Gretchen, see! thou art yet young, Not yet discreet enough, Thou mak'st thy matters ill. I tell thee in confidence. Thou art once for all a whore, So be it then right well!
GRETCHEN. My brother! God! what mean'st thou by that?
VALENTIN. Let our Lord God out of the jest! Done is, alas, now done And as it may go, so will it go. Thou began'st with one in secret Soon come more thereto, And when a dozen once have had thee, Then hath thee also the whole town.
When first shame is born, It is brought secretly to light, And one draws the veil of night Over its head and ears; Yea, one would fain murder it. But grows it and makes itself great, Then goeth it also by day bare And yet is not grown fairer. The uglier becomes its face, The more it seeketh the day's light.
I see in truth already the time When all honest citizen-folk, As from a plague-stricken corpse, From thee, thou strumpet! shrink aside. Thy heart shall fail within thy breast, When they look thee in the eyes! Shalt wear no golden chain more! Stand at the altar in church no more! In a fair lace collar Take no pleasure at the dance! In a dark nook of misery Hide thee 'mong beggars and cripples, And, if then God forgive thee too, On earth be accursed!
MARTHE. Commend your soul to God for grace! Would you take yet blasphemy upon you?
VALENTIN. Could I but reach thy withered body, Thou shameful bawd-like wife! Then hoped I of all my sins To find forgiveness rich and full.
GRETCHEN. My brother! what hell-torment!
VALENTIN. I say, let be the tears! When thou didst speak thee free of honor, Gav'st me the heaviest heart-thrust. I go through death's sleep To God as soldier and brave. (Dies.)
Cathedral
Service, organ and song. Gretchen among much people. Evil Spirit behind Gretchen.
EVIL SPIRIT. How different, Gretchen, was it with thee, When thou, still full of innocence, Here to the altar stepped'st From the well-thumbed little book Didst lisp thy prayers, Half childish play, Half God within thy heart! Gretchen! Where stands thy head? In thy heart What misdeed? Pray'st thou for thy mother's soul, who Through thee to long, long pain passed over? On thy threshold whose blood? —And underneath thy heart Stirs it not welling already And anguishes thee and itself With foreboding presence?
GRETCHEN. Woe! woe! Would I were rid of the thoughts That go o'er me and o'er me Against myself!
CHORUS. Dies irae, dies illa Solvet saeclum in favilla. (Organ tone.)
EVIL SPIRIT. Grim fate seizeth thee! The trumpet soundeth! The graves tremble! And thy heart, From ashes-rest To flame-torments Roused up again, Trembleth!
GRETCHEN. Would I were hence! Me thinks the organ Takes away my breath, Song my heart In depths dissolves.
CHORUS. Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet adparebit, Nil inultum remanebit.
GRETCHEN. It grows so strait with me! The pillar-walls Encompass me! The vault Presseth me!—Air!
EVIL SPIRIT. Hide thee! sin and shame Remain not hidden. Air? Light? Woe to thee!
CHORUS. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus? Cum vix justus sit securus.
EVIL SPIRIT. Their faces turn The glorified from thee away. To reach thee the hand, Shuddereth the pure. Woe!
CHORUS. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? GRETCHEN. Neighbor! your little flask! (She falls in a swoon.)
Walpurgis Night
Harz Mountains, region of Schierke and Elend
Faust. Mephistopheles.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Thou longest not for a broomstick? I could wish myself the very stoutest goat. On this path are we yet far from the goal.
FAUST. So long as I feel myself fresh on my legs, This knotted staff suffices me. What helps it that one shortens the way! Through the labyrinth of valleys to creep, Then this rock to climb, From which the spring forever bubbling hurls down, That is the joy that seasons such paths! The spring weaves already in the birches, And even the fir-tree feels it; Should it not also work upon our limbs?
MEPHISTOPHELES. In truth, I feel naught of it! 'Tis wintry in my body, I wished snow and frost on my way. How sadly rises the imperfect disc Of the red moon with late glow And shines so ill, that at every step One runs against a tree, against a rock! Allow that I ask a will-o'-wisp! There see I one that burns right merrily. Holloa! my friend! may I bid thee to us? Why wilt thou flare so in vain? Be so good and light us up there!
WILL-O'-WISP. From reverence, hope I, shall it succeed, My light nature to constrain; But zigzag goes usually our course.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Come, come! he thinks to ape the men. Go thou but straight, in the devil's name! Else I blow out his flickering life.
WILL-O'-WISP. I mark well, you are the lord of the house, And will gladly accommodate to you. But consider! the mountain is magic-mad today And if a will-o'-wisp shall show you the ways, You must not take it so exact.
FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, WILL-O'-WISP (in alternation). Into the dream- and magic-sphere We are, it seems, entered in. Lead us well and win thee honor That we forward soon may win Into the wide, empty spaces! See the trees behind the trees, How they swiftly hurry past, And the cliffs that bow themselves, And the long rocky noses, How they snore, how they blow!
Through the stones, through the grass Hasten brook and little brooks. Hear I rustling? hear I songs? Hear I sweet love's lament, Voices of those heavenly days? What we hoped, what we loved! And the echo, like the saga Of old times, soundeth back.
"Uhu! Schuhu!" sounds more near, Owl and plover and the jay, Are they all awake remained? Are those newts through the brushwood? Long legs, thick bellies! And the roots, like the serpents, Wind themselves from rock and sand, Stretch strange bands, Us to frighten, us to catch; From animated sturdy burrs Stretch they polyp-fibers Toward the wanderer. And the mice Thousand-colored, in shoals, Through the moss and through the heath! And the glow-worms fly With thronging swarms To the confusing escort.
But tell me, whether we stand Or whether we onward go? All, all seems to turn, Rock and trees, the faces Make cuts, and the wandering lights, That increase, that swell.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Grasp bravely my skirt-tail! Here is such a middle-peak Whence one sees with wonder How in the mountain Mammon glows.
FAUST. How strangely gleams through the vales A dawn-red, gloomy sheen! And even into the deep abysses Of the chasm it scenteth in. There rises a vapor, there draw mists, Here glows fire from haze and wreath, Then creeps it like a tender thread, Then breaks it forth like a spring. Here winds it a whole stretch With hundred veins through the vale, And here in the crowded corner Disperses it at once. There spark flies in the near Like scattered golden sand. But look! in all its height The rocky wall takes fire.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Illumines not for this feast Lord Mammon princely the palace? A luck that thou hast seen it, I already sense the unruly guests.
FAUST. How rages the wind-blast through the air! With what blows it strikes my neck!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Thou must clutch the old ribs of the rock Else hurls it thee down into this chasm's grave. A mist thickens the night. Hear how it cracks through the woods! Roused, fly the owls. Hear, it splinters the pillars Of eternally green palaces. Cooing and breaking of the boughs! The stems' mighty groaning! The roots' creaking and yawning! In frightful tangled fall Crash they all over one another And through the ruin-cloven clefts Hiss and howl the airs. Hearest thou voices on high? In the distance, in the near? Yea, along the whole mountain Streams a furious magic-song!
WITCHES (in chorus). The witches to the Brocken fare, The stubble is yellow, the corn is green. There gathers the great crowd, Sir Urian sits above on top. So goes it over stone and stock, The witch farts, the goat doth stink.
VOICE. Old Baubo comes alone, She rides on a mother-sow.
CHORUS. So honor then, to whom honor is due! Dame Baubo before! and lead on! A sturdy sow and mother thereon, There follows the whole witch-troop.
VOICE. Which way comest thou?
VOICE. Over the Ilsenstein! There peeped I into the owl's nest, She makes a pair of eyes!
VOICE. O drive to hell! Why ridest thou so fast!
VOICE. She has flayed me, Then look but at the wounds!
WITCHES, CHORUS. The way is broad, the way is long, What is this for a mad throng? The fork pricks, the broom scratches, The child suffocates, the mother bursts.
WITCH-MASTER, HALF CHORUS. We creep like the snail in the house, The women all are ahead. For, goes it to the Evil One's house, The woman has thousand steps ahead.
OTHER HALF. We take it not so exact, With thousand steps makes it the wife; Yet how she may hasten herself, With one leap makes it the man.
VOICE (above). Come with, come with, from the rocky lake!
VOICES (from below). We would fain with into the height. We wash, and clean are we quite and whole; But also eternally barren.
BOTH CHORUSES. The wind is still, the star flies, The gloomy moon hides gladly. In the rushing sprays the magic-choir Many thousand fire-sparkles forth.
VOICE (from below). Hold! Hold!
VOICE (above). Who calls there from the rocky cleft?
VOICE (from below). Take me with! take me with! I climb already three hundred year, And can the summit not attain I would fain be with my own.
BOTH CHORUSES. The broom carries, carries the staff The fork carries, carries the goat Who today cannot lift himself Is eternally a lost man.
HALF-WITCH (below). I trip after, so long a time; How are the others already so far! I have no rest at home And come here yet not thereto.
CHORUS OF WITCHES. The salve gives the witches courage, A rag is good for a sail A good ship is every trough He flies never, who flew not today.
BOTH CHORUSES. And when we round the summit wind, Then skim along the ground And cover the heath wide and broad With your swarm of witch-kind. (They let themselves down.)
MEPHISTOPHELES. That presses and pushes, that rustles and clatters! That hisses and whirls, that draws and prattles! That shines, sparks, stinks and burns! A true witch-element! Only firm on me! else are we straight parted. Where art thou?
FAUST (in the distance). Here!
MEPHISTOPHELES. What! already torn over there? Then must I use house-right. Room! Squire Voland comes. Room! sweet rabble, room! Here, Doctor, grasp me, and now in one bound Let us from the throng escape; 'Tis too wild, even for my like. Therebeside gleams something with quite peculiar sheen, It draws me toward yonder bushes. Come, come! we'll slip in there.
FAUST. Thou spirit of contradiction! only on! thou mayst lead me. I think yet, that was right wisely done. To the Brocken we wander in the Walpurgis Night, To isolate ourselves here at pleasure.
MEPHISTOPHELES. There see but, what gay flames! It is a merry club together. In the small one is not alone.
FAUST. Yet above would I fain be! Already see I glow and whirling smoke. There streams the crowd to the Evil One; There must many a riddle solve itself.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Yet many a riddle ties itself too. Let thou the great world only roar; We will here in quiet house us. 'Tis long established custom, That in the great world one makes small worlds. There see I young witches, naked and bare, And old ones, who prudently veil themselves. Be friendly, only for my sake; The trouble is small, the fun is great. I hear something sound of instruments! Accursed scraping! one must grow used to it. Come with! come with! it cannot be otherwise, I step up and lead thee in, And I'll bind thee anew. What say'st thou, friend? this is no small room. There look but! thou scarce see'st the end. A hundred fires burn in the row One dances, one chatters, one cooks, one drinks, one loves Now say, where is there better?
FAUST. Wilt thou thyself, to introduce us here, As wizard or devil produce?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Though am I much wont incognito to go, Yet lets one on the gala-day his order show. A garter marks me not out, Yet is the horse's foot here honorable at home. Seest thou the snail there? she comes creeping on; With her feeling face Has she already smelt out something of me. Though I would, I deny me not here. Come only! from fire go we to fire, I am the wooer, and thou art the suitor. (To some, who sit about dying embers:) Ye old gentlemen, what make ye here at the end? I praised you, if I found you finely in the midst, By revel circled and youth's uproar; Alone enough is every one at home.
GENERAL. Who may trust in nations! Though one have done so much for them; For with the people as with the women Stands evermore the youth on top.
MINISTER. Now is one from the right too far, I praise me the good old ones; For surely, when we all did hold, Then was the right golden time.
PARVENU. We were truly also not dumb And did oft, what we should not; But now turns everything upside down, And just when we would hold it fast.
AUTHOR. Who may well at all now a writing Of moderately wise content read! And what the dear young folk concerns, They were never so saucy.
MEPHISTOPHELES (who suddenly appears very old). To the Last Day feels I the people ripe, Since I the witch-mountain climb for the last time, And because my little cask runs turbid, So is the world also on the wane.
PEDDLER-WITCH. Ye gentlemen, pass not thus by! Let not the occasion escape! Look attentively at my wares, There stands here many a thing. And yet is naught in my shop To which none on earth is like, That not once to the sturdy harm Of men and of the world hath served. No dagger is here, from which blood flowed not, No cup, from which into quite healthy body Consuming hot poison poured not, No jewel, that a lovely wife Seduced not, no sword, that broke not the bond, Not perhaps from behind thrust not the foe through.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Good-aunt! thou understand'st me ill the times. Done, past! past, done! Apply thou to novelties! Only novelties draw us on.
FAUST. That I myself forget not! Call I this not a mass!
MEPHISTOPHELES. The whole whirl strives upward; Thou think'st to push, and art pushed.
FAUST. Who is that then?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Consider her well! Lilith is that.
FAUST. Who?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Adam's first wife. Beware of her fair hair, Of this adornment, with which she alone prides her. If she thereby the young man attains, She lets him not soon fare again.
FAUST. There sit two, the old one with the young; Those have already something right sprung!
MEPHISTOPHELES. That has now no rest today. It goes to new dance, now come! we join in.
FAUST (dancing with the young one). Once had I a fair dream Then saw I an apple-tree, Two fair apples glistened thereon, They tempted me, I climbed up.
THE FAIR ONE. The little apples you desire sore, And already from paradise forth. With joy feel I moved, That also my garden such bears.
MEPHISTOPHELES (with the old one). Once had I a wild dream Then saw I a cloven tree, That had an enormous hole; How great it was, yet pleased me.
THE OLD ONE. I offer my best greeting To the knight with the horse's foot! Hold he a right stopper ready, If he the great hole fears not.
PROCTOPHANTASMIST. Accursed folk! what dare ye! Hath one not long since proved to you. A spirit stands ne'er on orderly feet? Now dance ye even, like us other men!
THE FAIR ONE (dancing). What will then the one at our ball?
FAUST (dancing). Eh! he is just everywhere. What others dance, must he esteem. Can he not prate of every step, So is the step as good as not done. Most angers him, as soon as we go forward. If you would turn you in the circle thus, As he in his old mill does, That called he perhaps still good Specially if you should greet him therefor.
PROCTOPHANTASMIST. Ye are still ever there! nay, that is unheard. Vanish yet! we have indeed enlightened! The devil's pack, it asks after no rule We are so wise, and yet it haunts in Tegel. How long have I not swept out the superstition, And never gets clean; that is yet unheard!
THE FAIR ONE. So cease then, to ennuy us here!
PROCTOPHANTASMIST. I say it to the spirits to the face. The spirit-despotism suffer I not; My spirit can it not exercise. (They dance on.) Today, see I, will naught succeed me; Yet a journey take I ever with And hope yet before my last step The devils and the poets to subdue.
MEPHISTOPHELES. He will soon in a puddle sit, That is the way how he relieves himself, And if blood-leeches on his breech feast, Is he of spirits and of spirit cured. (To Faust, who has stepped out of the dance.) Why lettest thou the fair maiden go, Who sang to thee so sweetly in the dance?
FAUST. Ah! midst in the song there sprang A red little mouse from her mouth.
MEPHISTOPHELES. That is something right! that takes one not too exact; Enough, the mouse was yet not gray. Who asks thereafter in a shepherd-hour?
FAUST. Then saw I—
MEPHISTOPHELES. What?
FAUST. Mephisto, seest thou there A pale, fair child alone and far stand? She moves herself slowly only from the spot, She seems with closed feet to walk. I must confess, that me thinks, That she to the good Gretchen like.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Let that stand! thereby gets no one well. It is a magic-image, is lifeless, an idol. To meet it, is not good. From the rigid look freezes the human blood, And he is near turned to stone; Of the Medusa hast thou heard indeed.
FAUST. In truth, it are the eyes of a dead one, Which a loving hand not closed. That is the breast, which Gretchen offered me, That is the sweet body, which I enjoyed.
MEPHISTOPHELES. That is the witchcraft, thou lightly-seduced fool! For to every one comes she like his sweetheart.
FAUST. What a bliss! what a sorrow! I cannot from this look depart. How strange must this fair neck A single red lace adorn, Not broader than a knife-back!
“Stories of the world, in your language.”