Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832). Faust. Part I.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Faust. Part I
2000–2499
Methinks’twere well we pack’d him quietly away.
What, sir! with us your hocus-pocus play!
Silence, old wine-cask!
How! add insult, too!
Vile broomstick!
Hold, or blows shall rain on you!
(draws a stopper out of the table; fire springs out against him)
I burn! I burn!
’Tis sorcery, I vow!
Strike home! The fellow is fair game, I trow!(They draw their knives and attack M
Visionary scenes appear!
Words delusive cheat the ear!
Be ye there, and be ye here!(They stand amazed and gaze at each other.)
Where am I? What a beauteous land!
Vineyards! unless my sight deceives?
And clust’ring grapes too, close at hand!
And underneath the spreading leaves,
What stems there be! What grapes I see!(He seizes S
Delusion, from their eyes the bandage take!
Note how the devil loves a jest to break!(He disappears with F
What was it?
How?
Was that your nose?
And look, my hand doth thine enclose!
I felt a shock, it went through every limb!
A chair! I’m fainting! All things swim!
Say what has happened, what’s it all about?
Where is the fellow? Could I scent him out,
His body from his soul I’d soon divide!
With my own eyes, upon a cask astride,
Forth through the cellar-door I saw him ride—
Heavy as lead my feet are growing.(Turning to the table.)
I wonder is the wine still flowing!
’Twas all delusion, cheat and lie.
’Twas wine I drank, most certainly.
But with the grapes how was it, pray?
That none may miracles believe, who now will say?
A large caldron hangs over the fire on a low hearth; various figures appear in the vapour rising from it. A F
This senseless, juggling witchcraft I detest!
Dost promise that in this foul nest
Of madness, I shall be restored?
Must I seek counsel from an ancient dame?
And can she, by these rites abhorred,
Take thirty winters from my frame?
Woe’s me, if thou naught better canst suggest!
Hope has already fled my breast.
Has neither nature nor a noble mind
A balsam yet devis’d of any kind?
My friend, you now speak sensibly. In truth,
Nature a method giveth to renew thy youth:
But in another book the lesson’s writ;—
It forms a curious chapter, I admit.
I fain would know it.
Good! A remedy
Without physician, gold, or sorcery:
Away forthwith, and to the fields repair,
Begin to delve, to cultivate the ground,
Thy senses and thyself confine
Within the very narrowest round,
Support thyself upon the simplest fare,
Live like a very brute the brutes among,
Neither esteem it robbery
The acre thou dost reap, thyself to dung;
This is the best method, credit me,
Again at eighty to grow hale and young.
I am not used to it, nor can myself degrade
So far, as in my hand to take the spade.
This narrow life would suit me not at all.
Then we the witch must summon after all.
Will none but this old beldame do?
Canst not thyself the potion brew?
A pretty play our leisure to beguile!
A thousand bridges I could build meanwhile.
Not science only and consummate art,
Patience must also bear her part.
A quiet spirit worketh whole years long;
Time only makes the subtle ferment strong.
And all things that belong thereto,
Are wondrous and exceeding rare!
The devil taught her, it is true;
But yet the draught the devil can’t prepare.(Perceiving the beasts.)
Look yonder, what a dainty pair!
Here is the maid! the knave is there!
It seems your dame is not a home?
Gone to carouse,
Out of the house,
Thro’ the chimney and away!
How long is it her wont to roam?
While we can warm our paws she’ll stay.
What think you of the charming creatures?
I loathe alike their form and features!
Nay, such discourse, be it confessed,
Is just the thing that pleases me the best.
Tell me, ye whelps, accursed crew!
What stir ye in the broth about?
Coarse beggar’s gruel here we stew.
Of customers you’ll have a rout.
Quick! quick! throw the dice,
Make me rich in a trice,
Oh give me the prize!
Alas, for myself!
Had I plenty of pelf,
I then should be wise.
How blest the ape would think himself, if he
Could only put into the lottery!(In the meantime the young M
The world behold;
Unceasingly roll’d,
It riseth and falleth ever;
It ringeth like glass!
How brittle, alas!
’Tis hollow, and resteth never.
How bright the sphere,
Still brighter here!
Now living am I!
Dear son, beware!
Nor venture there!
Thou too must die!
It is of clay;
’Twill crumble away;
There fragments lie.
Of what use is the sieve?
The sieve would show,
If thou wert a thief or no?(He runs to the S
Look through the sieve!
Dost know him the thief,
And dar’st thou not call him so?
And then this pot?
The half-witted sot!
He knows not the pot!
He know not the kettle!
Unmannerly beast!
Be civil at least!
Take the whisk and sit down in the settle!(He makes M
(who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass, now approaching, and now retiring from it)
What do I see? what form, whose charms transcend
The loveliness of earth, is mirror’d here!
O Love, to waft me to her sphere,
To me the swiftest of thy pinions lend!
Alas! If I remain not rooted to this place,
If to approach more near I’m fondly lur’d,
Her image fades, in veiling mist obscur’d!—
Model of beauty both in form and face!
Is’t possible? Hath woman charms so rare?
In this recumbent form, supremely fair,
The essence must I see of heavenly grace?
Can aught so exquisite on earth be found?
The six days’ labour of a god, my friend,
Who doth himself cry bravo, at the end,
By something clever doubtless should be crown’d.
For this time gaze your fill, and when you please
Just such a prize for you I can provide;
How blest is he to whom kind fate decrees,
To take her to his home, a lovely bride!
(F
Here sit I, like a king upon his throne;
My sceptre this;—the crown I want alone.
Oh, be so good,
With sweat and with blood
The crown to lime!(They handle the crown awkwardly and break it in two pieces, with which they skip about.)
’Twas fate’s decree!
We speak and see!
We hear and rhyme.
Woe’s me! well-nigh distraught I feel!
(pointing to the beasts) And even my own head almost begins to reel. If fitly things blend, Our jargon with thought And with reason is fraught! Let us begone! nor linger here! That poets sometimes are sincere.(The caldron which the S Accursed brute! accursed sow! The caldron dost neglect, for shame! Accursed brute to scorch the dame!(Perceiving F Whom have we here? Who’s sneaking here? Whence are ye come? With what desire? The plague of fire Your bones consume!(She dips the skimming-ladle into the caldron and throws flames at F There lies the glass! There lies the slime! ’Tis but a jest; I but keep time, Thou hellish pest, To thine own chime!(While the W Dost know me! Skeleton! Vile scarecrow, thou! Thy lord and master dost thou know? What holds me, that I deal not now Thee and thine apes a stunning blow? No more respect to my red vest dost pay? Does my cock’s feather no allegiance claim? Have I my visage masked to-day? Must I be forced myself to name? But I perceive no cloven foot. And your two ravens, where are they? For truly I must own that we Each other have not seen for many a day. The culture, too, that shapes the world, at last Hath e’en the devil in its sphere embraced; The northern phantom from the scene hath pass’d, Tail, talons, horns, are nowhere to be traced! As for the foot, with which I can’t dispense, ’Twould injure me in company, and hence, Like many a youthful cavalier, False calves I now have worn for many a year. To see once more the gallant Satan here! But people from the change have nothing won. Rid of the evil one, the evil ones remain. Lord Baron call thou me, so is the matter good; Of other cavaliers the mien I wear. Dost make no question of my gentle blood; See here, this is the scutcheon that I bear!(He makes an unseemly gesture.) The same mad wag that you have ever been! To deal with witches this is still the way. But for the very oldest let me ask; Double its strength with years doth grow. From which I’ve sipp’d myself ere now; What’s more, it doth no longer stink; To you a glass I joyfully will give. If unprepar’d, however, this man drink, He hath not, as you know, an hour to live. I grudge him not the choicest of thy store. Now draw thy circle, speak thy spell, And straight a bumper for him pour!(The W Were will these frantic gestures end? This loathsome cheat, this senseless stuff I’ve known and hated long enough. Pray don’t be so fastidious! She But as a leech, her hocus-pocus plays, That well with you her potion may agree.(He compels F Of one make ten, Pass two, and then Make square the three, So rich thou’lt be. Drop out the four! From five and six, Thus essays the witch, Make seven and eight. So all is straight! And nine is one, And ten is none, This is the witch’s one-time-one! I know it well, so rings the book throughout; Much time I’ve lost in puzzling o’er its pages, For downright paradox, no doubt, A mystery remains alike to fools and sages, Ancient the art and modern too, my friend. ’Tis still the fashion as it used to be, Error instead of truth abroad to send By means of three and one, and one and three. ’Tis ever taught and babbled in the schools. Who’d take the trouble to dispute with fools? When words men hear, in sooth, they usually believe, That there must needs therein be something to conceive. Of wisdom’s dower, From all the world conceal’d! Who thinketh not, To him I wot, Unsought it is reveal’d. My brain it doth well-nigh confound. A hundred thousand fools or more, Methinks I hear in chorus roar. Hand us the liquor without more delay. And to the very brim the goblet crown! My friend he is, and need not be afraid; Besides, he is a man of many a grade, Who hath drunk deep already.(The W No hesitation! It will prove A cordial, and your heart inspire! What! with the devil hand and glove, And yet shrink back afraid of fire?(The W
If good luck attend,
A flame is kindled in my breast!
It now at least must be confessed,
Ough! ough! ough! ough!
Dash! Smash!
Master, forgive this rude salute!
This once I must admit your plea;—
I am beside myself with joy,
Woman, no more that name employ!
But why! what mischief hath it done?
To fable-books it now doth appertain;
Ha! Ha! Just like yourself! You are, I ween,
My friend, learn this to understand, I pray!
Now tell me, gentlemen, what you desire?
Of your known juice a goblet we require.
Most willingly! And here I have a flask,
(Aside.)
He’s my good friend, with whom ’twill prosper well;
Tell me, to what doth all this tend?
Mere mummery, a laugh to raise!
The hag doth as in fever rave.
To these will follow many a stave.
The lofty power
What nonsense doth the hag propound?
Incomparable Sibyl cease, I pray!
Gulp it down!
Now forth at once! thou dar’st not rest.
And much, sir, may the liquor profit you!
And if to pleasure thee I aught can do,
Pray on Walpurgis mention thy request.
Here is a song, sung o’er, sometimes you’ll see,
That ’twill a singular effect produce.
Come, quick, and let thyself be led by me;
Thou must perspire, in order that the juice
Thy frame may penetrate through every part.
Then noble idleness I thee will teach to prize,
And soon with ecstasy thou’lt recognise
How Cupid stirs and gambols in thy heart.
Let me but gaze one moment in the glass!
Too lovely was that female form!
Nay! nay!
A model which all women shall surpass,
In flesh and blood ere long thou shalt survey.
(Aside.)
As works that draught, thou presently shalt greet
A Helen in each woman thou dost meet.
F
F
Fair lady, may I thus make free
To offer you my arm and company?
I am no lady, am not fair,
Can without escort home repair.(She disengages herself and exit.)
By heaven! This girl is fair indeed!
No form like hers can I recall.
Virtue she hath, and modest heed,
Is piquant too, and sharp withal.
Her cheek’s soft light, her rosy lips,
No length of time will e’er eclipse!
Her downward glance in passing by,
Deep in my heart is stamp’d for aye;
How curt and sharp her answer too,
To ecstasy the feeling grew!(M
This girl must win for me! Dost hear?
Which?
She who but now passed.
What! She?
She from confession cometh here,
From every sin absolved and free;
I crept near the confessor’s chair.
All innocence her virgin soul,
For next to nothing went she there;
O’er such as she I’ve no control!
She’s past fourteen.
You really talk
Like any gay Lothario,
Who every floweret from its stalk
Would pluck, and deems nor grace, nor truth,
Secure against his arts, forsooth!
This ne’er the less won’t always do.
Sir Moralizer, prithee, pause;
Nor plague me with your tiresome laws!
To cut the matter short, my friend,
She must this very night be mine,—
And if to help me you decline,
Midnight shall see our compact end.
What may occur just bear in mind!
A fortnight’s space, at least, I need,
A fit occasion but to find.
With but seven hours I could succeed;
Nor should I want the devil’s wile,
So young a creature to beguile.
Like any Frenchman now you speak,
But do not fret, I pray; why seek
To hurry to enjoyment straight?
The pleasure is not half so great,
As when at first around, above,
With all the fooleries of love,
The puppet you can knead and mould
As in Italian story oft is told.
No such incentives do I need.
But now, without offense or jest!
You cannot quickly, I protest,
In winning this sweet child succeed.
By storm we cannot take the fort,
To stratagem we must resort.
Conduct me to her place of rest!
Some token of the angel bring!
A kerchief from her snowy breast,
A garter bring me,—any thing!
That I my anxious zeal may prove,
Your pangs to sooth and aid your love,
A single moment will we not delay,
Will lead you to her room this very day.
And shall I see her?—Have her?
No!
She to a neighbour’s house will go;
But in her atmosphere alone,
The tedious hours meanwhile you may employ,
In blissful dreams of future joy.
Can we go now?
’Tis yet too soon.
Some present for my love procure!(Exit.)
Presents so soon! ’tis well! success is sure!
Full many a goodly place I know,
And treasures buried long ago;
I must a bit o’erlook them now.(Exit.)
M
(braiding and binding up her hair)
I would give something now to know,
Who yonder gentleman could be!
He had a gallant air, I trow,
And doubtless was of high degree:
That written on his brow was seen—
Nor else would he so bold have been.(Exit.)
Come in! tread softly! be discreet!
Begone and leave me, I entreat!
Not every maiden is so neat(Exit.)
Welcome sweet twilight, calm and blest,
That in this hallow’d precinct reigns!
Fond yearning love, inspire my breast,
Feeding on hope’s sweet dew thy blissful pains!
What stillness here environs me!
Content and order brood around.
What fulness in this poverty!
In this small cell what bliss profound!(He throws himself on the leather arm-chair beside the bed)
Receive me thou, who hast in thine embrace,
Welcom’d in joy and grief the ages flown!
How oft the children of a by-gone race
Have cluster’d round this patriarchal throne!
Haply she, also, whom I hold so dear,
For Christmas gift, with grateful joy possess’d,
Hath with the full round cheek of childhood, here,
Her grandsire’s wither’d hand devoutly press’d.
Maiden! I feel thy spirit haunt the place,
Breathing of order and abounding grace.
As with a mother’s voice it prompteth thee,
The pure white cover o’er the board to spread,
To strew the crisping sand beneath thy tread.
Dear hand! so godlike in its ministry!
The hut becomes a paradise through thee!
And here—(He raises the bed-curtain.)
How thrills my pulse with strange delight!
Here could I linger hours untold;
Thou, Nature, didst in vision bright,
The embryo angel here unfold.
Here lay the child, her bosom warm
With life; while steeped in slumber’s dew,
To perfect grace, her godlike form,
With pure and hallow’d weavings grew!
How quails mine inmost being now!
What wouldst thou here? what makes thy heart so sore?
Unhappy Faust! I know thee now no more.
Erewhile, my passion would not brook delay!
Now in a pure love-dream I melt away.
Are we the sport of every passing gale?
How wouldst thou rue thy guilty flame!
Proud vaunter—thou wouldst hide thy brow,—
And at her feet sink down with shame.
Quick! quick! below I see her there.
Away! I will return no more!
Here is a casket, with a store
Of jewels, which I got elsewhere
Just lay it in the press; make haste!
I swear to you, ’twill turn her brain;
Therein some trifles I have placed,
Wherewith another to obtain.
But child is child, and play is play.
I know not—shall I?
Do you ask?
Perchance you would retain the treasure?
If such your wish, why then, I say,
Henceforth absolve me from my task,
Nor longer waste your hours of leisure.
I trust you’re not by avarice led!
I rub my hands, I scratch my head,—(He places the casket in the press and closes the lock.)
Now quick! Away!
That soon the sweet young creature may
The wish and purpose of your heart obey;
Yet stand you there
As would you to the lecture-room repair,
As if before you stood,
Arrayed in flesh and blood,
Physics and metaphysics weird and grey!—
Away!(Exeunt.)
Here ’tis so close, so sultry now,(She opens the window.)
Yet out of doors ’tis not so warm.
I feel so strange, I know not how—
I wish my mother would come home.
Through me there runs a shuddering—
I’m but a foolish timid thing!(While undressing herself she begins to sing.)
There was a king in Thule,
True even to the grave;
To whom his dying mistress
A golden beaker gave.
Naught was to him so dear,
And often as he drained it,
Gush’d from his eyes the tear.
His cities o’er he told;
All to his heir resigning,
Except his cup of gold.
At a royal feast sat he,
In yon proud hall ancestral,
In his castle o’er the sea.
And quaff’d his last life’s glow,
Then hurled the hallow’d goblet
Into the flood below.
And plunging in the sea;