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FAUST: A TRAGEDY 
 
FAUST: A TRAGEDY 
 
 BY GOETHE 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE 
 WITH NOTES AND PRELIMINARY REMARKS 
 
 By JOHN STUART BLACKIE 
 
 PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 CAREFULLY REVISED AND LARGELY REWRITTEN 
 
 Hontion 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 1880 
 

 Printed ly '&.&'&■ Clark, Edinburgh. 
 
TRANSLATOR'S DEDICiSlON. 
 
 Versuch ich's mich so Imh/nlich hoch m, heben, 
 
 Zu den Oefilden reiner Lebensstrdhlen ?'* 
 
 Und wag' ich's frech, mit schwacher Hand zu malm 
 
 Was Bir nur ziemt, das bwntlewegtejMen ? 
 
 Wie soil der Kindermmge lallend Strehen 
 
 Aussprechen, was des Marmes Kraft gesungen ? 
 
 Wie soil des Menschen Stimme wiedergeben, 
 
 Was aus der tiefen Ootterbrust entsprungen ? 
 
 ! wenn der Liehe wngestimer Drang 
 
 Mich trieb, doss ich das Meiligste entweihe, 
 
 Und zii bera/uschier, frech^ Siinde awang ; 
 
 So schaue Du, aus der VerMarten Beihe, 
 
 Aus Himrmlsharfen Uebevollem Klang, 
 
 Und, wenn du mich mcht loben karmst, verzdhe ! 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The appearance of this Second Edition of my trans- 
 lation of "Faust," after an interval of more than 
 forty years from the publication of the original edi- 
 tion, may seem to require a word of explanation. 
 Very soon after the issue of the first edition I be- 
 came convinced that with the usual tendency of 
 ambitious young men, I had allowed my enthusiasm 
 to overrule my discretion, and ventured upon a task 
 that demanded a much riper experience of life, and 
 a much more finished dexterity of execution than 
 was to be expected from a person of my age and 
 capacity. I accordingly passed a verdict of con- 
 demnation upon it, and — notwithstanding the more 
 lenient sentence passed on- the work by not a few 
 friendly voices — continued to regard it as a juvenile 
 performance, which had done the best service of 
 which it was capable, by teaching me my ignorance. 
 This verdict was confirmed in my mind by the ap- 
 
 a 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 pearance of the admirable version of the same poem 
 by my accomplished friend, Sir Theodore Martin, 
 with whose laurels, thus nobly earned, I was inclined 
 to think it a sort of impertinence to interfere. But, 
 as time went on, and, while I was employing my 
 whole energies on laborious works in quite another 
 sphere, I still continued to hear people, whose judg- 
 ment I could not altogether despise, praising and 
 quoting my " Faust ;" in which partial estimate they 
 were no doubt confirmed by the approval of the late 
 George Lewes, in his classical Life of Goethe, and of 
 the Germans generally, who, from the close inter- 
 course I have always maintained with that people, 
 are inclined to look on my doings in the field of 
 their literature with a specially favourable eye. 
 Under these circumstances, it was only natural fop 
 me to imagine that the condemnation I had passed 
 on my first juvenile attempt in verse had perhaps 
 been too severe; and that, after all, I owed it to 
 myself, and to Goethe, and to the noble people with 
 whom I had been from my youth so intimately con- 
 nected, to give my translation a thorough revisal, 
 and to republish it in a form which might be as 
 worthy of the ambition that such an attempt implied 
 
PREFACE. ix 
 
 as my literary capability admitted. I accordingly, 
 some four or fire years ago, employed the leisure of 
 the summer months in correcting, and in not a few 
 places carefully rewriting, the whole work in the 
 shape in which it now appears. 
 
 The principal fault which led me to condemn so 
 severely my early work was a certain deficiency in 
 the easy natural grace, which every one who knows 
 the great German poet must recognise as one of the 
 most attractive characteristics of his composition. 
 This deficiency arose in my case partly from want of 
 experience in the dexterous use of poetical expres- 
 sion, partly from the habit of clinging too closely to 
 the words of the original, which is the natural vice 
 of a young and conscientious translator. Long prac- 
 tice in such matters has now convinced me that a 
 literal version of a great poem never can be a grace- 
 ful version ; and poetry without grace is like paint- 
 ing without colour, or preaching without faith; it 
 lacks the very feature which makes it what it pre- 
 tends to be, and gives it a right to exist. Those who 
 rwish<^]§^miiiiiteI^-«urious about the ipsissima verba 
 Oof a great poem should read a prose translation ; the 
 Tmere want of the rhythmical movement never can 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 deprive the work of its ideal character and elevating 
 influence; and in the case of Faust this has been 
 amply proved by the excellent translation of Mr. 
 Hayward, which, I believe, has now reached a twelfth 
 edition. Bfe the problem of the poetical translator 
 is to give, not the words, but the character of the 
 original; to transfer its spirit, its tone, its salient 
 features, and its rhythmical attitude, into another 
 tongue, so far as the capabilities of that other tongue 
 render such a transference possible. (This is the 
 principle on which I have worked.^ It would have 
 been easy foiwa ft c to have made many jjassages more 
 literal ; but, in doine^, 1 shojiy have sacrificed (Hffie 
 l^freedojji-of handling,(without whichll.am convinced 
 that graceful ease andnaturalness m rh^Qimical com- 
 position'1g^!^^^^'^'-^ai«U..^«W^^ 
 There are some peculiarities in the rhythm of 
 Faust to which it may be as well specially to call the 
 attention of the English reader. While the funda- 
 mental metre is the octosyllabic Iambic, there is a libe- 
 ral use of the decasyllabic line, whenever the dignity of 
 the subject seems to require it, and not seldom, too, 
 I fancy, from a fine instinct which Goethe had to avert 
 what Byron calls "the fatal facility" of the octosyl- 
 
PREFACE. xi 
 
 labic stanza. This facility the German poet counter- 
 acts also in another way, by the variety of the places 
 to which he attaches his rhyme ; the couplet being 
 constantly varied with the quatrain, and that either 
 in the way of the alternate lines rhyming, or the first 
 with the fourth, and the second with the third. But 
 a still more characteristic feature in the rhythm of 
 Faust is the frequent use of the Alexandrian line of 
 twelve syllables, and that, not as Pope and Dryden 
 use it, for giving greater volume and swell to a clos- 
 ing line, but simply to indulge an easy motion, such as 
 we may imagine a German to delight in, when smok- 
 ing his pipe and sipping his beer on a mild summer 
 evening, beneath the village lime tree. I request the 
 English reader particularly to note this peculiarity, 
 and generally to tune his ear to the varied flow of 
 Goethe's easy rhythm ; otherwise he will be apt to 
 blame the translator, who certainly is not bound to 
 sacrifice one of the most characteristic features of his 
 author to propitiate the favour of the most ignorant, 
 the most uncultivated, and the most lazy section of 
 his readers. In the strictly lyrical parts of the poem 
 it vidll be found that, if not with curious minute- 
 ness, certainly in general tone and effect, I have care- 
 
xii PREFACE. 
 
 fully followed the movement of the original. To have 
 done otherwise, indeed, would have been difficult for 
 me, to whom the movement of the original, in all its 
 changes, has long been as familiar as the responses of 
 the. Church Service to a devout Episcopalian. Only 
 let the reader not expect from me any attempt to 
 give back on every occasion the trochaic rhymes or 
 double endings, as we call them, of the original. 
 Such an attempt vdll only be made by the writer 
 who is more anxious to gain applause by performing 
 a difficult feat, than to ensure grace by conforming 
 to the plain genius of the language in which he 
 writes. 
 
 J. S. B. 
 
 AiiTNACRAiG, Oban, 
 1st October 1880. 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 The story of Dr. Faustus and the Devil is one of 
 such deep human significance, and, from the Refor- 
 mation downwards, of such large European reputa- 
 tion, that in giving some account of its origin, 
 character, treatment, legendary and poetical, I shall 
 seem to be only gratifying a very natural curiosity on 
 the part of the intelligent reader, r 
 
 We, who live in the nineteenth centuiy,. in a 
 period of the world's intellectual development, which 
 may be called the age of spiritual doubt and scepticism, 
 in contradistinction to the age of faith and reverence 
 in things traditional, which was first shaken to its 
 centre by the violent shock of the Refonnation, can 
 have little sympathy with the opinions as to spiritual 
 beings, demoniacal agency, magic, and theosophy, 
 that were so universally prevalent in the sixteenth 
 century. We believe in the existence of angels and 
 spirits, because the Scriptures make mention of such 
 spiritual beings ; but this belief occupies a place as 
 
xiv PRELIMINAKY. 
 
 little prominent in our theology, as ijs influence is 
 almost null in regard to actual life. \An the sixteenth 
 century, however, Demonology and Angelography 
 were sciences of no common importance ; and were, 
 too, a fruitful root whence the occult lore of the 
 sages, and the witch, ghost, and magic craft of the 
 many took their rise, and spread themselyes out into 
 a tree, whose branches covered the whole earth with 
 their shadow. From the earliest Christian fathers, 
 to the last lingering theosophists of the seventeenth 
 century, we can trace a regular and unshaken system 
 of belief in the existence of infinite demons and 
 angels in immediate connection with this lower world, 
 with whom it was not only possible, but of very 
 frequent occurrence, for men to have familiar inter- 
 course. Psellus,* the " prince of philosophers," does 
 not disdain to enter into a detailed account of the 
 nature and influence of demons, and seems to give 
 full faith to the very rankest old wives' fables of 
 dcemones incubi et succuhi, afterwards so well known 
 in the trials for witchcraft which disgraced the 
 history of criminal law not more than two cen- 
 turies ago. Giordano Bruno, the poet, the philo- 
 sopher, and free-thinker of his day, to whom the 
 traditionary doctrines of the Church were as chaflF 
 
 * De Dcemonibus, Ficini, Aldus ; and Sorst, Zauber-Bibliothek 
 vi. p. 72. 
 
PEBLIMINARY. xv 
 
 before the wind, was by no means free from the belief 
 in magic, the fixed idea of the age in which he lived. 
 " ! quanta virtus," says he, in all the ebullition of 
 his vivid fancy, " quanta virtus est intersectionibus 
 circulorum et quam sensibus hominum occulta ! ! ! 
 cum caput draconis in sagittario exstiterit, diacedio 
 lapide posito in aqua, naturaliter (!) spiritus ad dan- 
 dum responsa veniunt." * The comprehensive mind 
 of Cornelius Agrippa, the companion of kings and of 
 princes, soon sprung beyond the Oabbalistical and 
 Platonical traditions of his youth; but not less is 
 his famous book " De Philosophia Occulta " a good 
 specimen of the intellectual character of the age in 
 which he lived. The noted work ^'De Vanitate 
 Scientiarum " is a child of Agrippa, not of the six- 
 teenth century. The names of Cardan, Campanella, 
 Reuchlin, Tritheim, Pomponatius, Dardi, Mirandula, 
 and many others, might be added as characteristic 
 children of the same spirit-stirring era ; all more or 
 less uniting a strange belief in the most baseless 
 superstitions, with deep profimdity of thought, and 
 comprehensive grasp of erudition. 
 
 To understand fully the state of belief in which 
 the intellect of the sixteenth century stood in regard 
 to magic, astrology, theosophy, etc., it will be neces- 
 
 * Giordano Bruno de Monade, numero et figura, apud Bm-st, 
 Z. B. iii. p. 70. 
 
 h 
 
xvi PEELIMINARY. 
 
 sary to cast an eye back to the early history of Chris- 
 tianity and philosophy. 
 
 There can, in the first place, be no doubt that the 
 genius of the Christian religion is completely adverse 
 to that exaggerated and superstitious belief in the 
 power of the Devil and Evil Spirits, which was so 
 prevalent in the first ages of the Church, and in- 
 creased to such a fearful extent in the Middle Ages. 
 The Jewish religion, too, was founded on the great 
 and fundamental doctrine that there is but one God, 
 as opposed to the Hindoo and Persian notion of 
 conflicting divinities, so universally spread over the 
 East ; and all the wild waste of doctrines concerning 
 demons (SiSacrKaXiai haifjLovtav, 1 Tim. iv. 1), with 
 which the fertility of Rabbinical invention overran 
 the fair garden of Mosaic theology, has been very 
 properly relegated by German divines to its true 
 source, the Babylonish captivity. Such, however, is 
 the proneness of human reason to all sorts of super- 
 stition, that, though the New Testament Scriptures 
 expressly declare* that Jesus Christ came to annihilate 
 the povrer, and destroy the works of the Devil, the 
 monotheism of primitive Christianity was, in a few cen- 
 turies, magnified into a monstrous system of demon- 
 ological theology, little better than Oriental Dualism. 
 
 * John xii. 31 ; 1 John iii. 8 ; and the remarks in Bretschneider's 
 Dogmaiik, § 108. 
 
PRELIMINAEY. xvu 
 
 The declensien to this superstition was so much the 
 more easy, as there were net wanting certain passages 
 of Scripture (Eph. ii. 2, and vi. 12 ; 2 Thess. ii. 9), 
 which ignorant and bigoted priests could easily turn 
 to their own purposes, in magnifying this fancied 
 power of the great enemy of man. A man like Del 
 Rio would find devils within the walls of the New 
 Jerusalem; so wonderfully sharp is his Jesuitical 
 nose to scent out even the slightest motion of infernal 
 agency. 
 
 The Gnostic and Manichsean heresies which in- 
 fested the Church during the first five or six cen- 
 turies could not be without their influence in exalting 
 the power of the principle of evil ; but writers of a 
 far more philosophical character and more sober tone 
 than those Oriental heresiarchs cannot be exempted 
 from the charge of having contributed fairly to the 
 same result. Of those fathers of the Church who did 
 not, like Arnobius and Lactantius, exclaim against 
 all philosophy, as opposed to the simplicity of the 
 gospel, the greater number belonged to the Alexan- 
 drian school of Neo-Platonists, who, with all their 
 sublime idealism, are known to have cherished, with 
 a peculiar fondness, some of the most childish and 
 superstitious notions to which philosophic mysticism 
 has given birth. No loyer of piety and virtue spring- 
 ing from a high and soul-ennobling philosophy, but 
 
xviii PEELIMINAEY. 
 
 must love and reverence the memory of such names 
 as Proclus, Plotinus, and Jamblichus. It cannot, 
 however, be denied that the overstrained ideas of 
 these pure spirits went a great way to promote the 
 grovrth of the prevalent superstitions with regard to 
 theurgy and magic. The life of Plotinus seems, from 
 the account given by Porphyry, to have been consi- 
 dered by himself and his admirers as an uninterrupted 
 intercourse with spiritual intelligences, yea, with the 
 one original Spirit himself; and in the Enneads of 
 this prince of philosophic mystics, we have already 
 fully developed all that system of mutual sympathies 
 and antipathies, of concords and discords, between 
 the all-animated parts of that mighty animal the 
 World, which so readily allowed themselves to be 
 worked into a system of practical theurgy and magic. 
 Jamblichus, again, was not only a mystical philoso- 
 pher, who sought to arrive at union (evcaai'i) with the 
 Divine Being by intellectual contemplation, but a 
 magician and theurgist, as his work on the Egyptian 
 mysteries, and the many legends told of him by his 
 biographers, sufiBciently prove. 
 
 I have been thus particular in holding forth the 
 decidedly magical and theurgic character of the 
 Alexandrian School of Platonists, in the second and 
 third centuries, as it is easy to perceive that the 
 revival of the Platonic, or rather Neo-Platonic philo- 
 
PKELIMINARY. 
 
 XIX 
 
 Sophy, on occasion of the restoration of learning in 
 the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, had a principal 
 share in the formation of the theosophic and magical 
 views of the sixteenth century, which it is my inten- 
 tion here to characterise. The world had become 
 heartily sick of the eternal boom-booming of the 
 Aristotelian bitterns.* The hungry spirit of man, 
 aroused from its lethargic slumber, demanded some 
 more vital nourishment than the skeleton distinctions 
 of a thought-dissecting logic, and the vain pomposity 
 of a learned terminology, could afford; and when 
 such men as Dante, Petrarch, and Boccacio had 
 taught the world to prefer the fulness of poetical life 
 to the nakedness of scholastic speculation, no wonder 
 that Plato, Plotinus, and Proclus, when brought into 
 the West by the learned fugitives of Constantinople, 
 should have received a hearty welcome, and exercised 
 a deep-spread influence over the philosophy of the 
 succeeding centuries. Gemistus Pletho, Bessarion, 
 and Marsilius Ficinus, are well known as the three 
 principal restorers of the Platonic philosophy in the 
 fifteenth century : but it deserves especially to be 
 remarked, that these men were far from being pure 
 worshippers of their great master, but mixed it up 
 
 * " The weary bitterns in the fen 
 Are booming — never mind them." 
 
 Walpwrgis-NigM's Dreomi. 
 
XX PEELIMINAEY. 
 
 with the theurgic dreamings of Jamblichus and Por- 
 phyry, nay, eyen went as far back as Pythagoras and 
 Hermes Trismegistus, and held the simple Platonic 
 doctrines as of comparatively little consequence, unless 
 taken in connection with the mighty system which, 
 out of such strange materials, had been built up by 
 the Neo-Platonists.* 
 
 In connection with the revival of the Platonic 
 philosophy in Italy, we cannot omit to mention the 
 name of Reuchlin, whose zeal for cabbalistical studies 
 is said to have been first excited by the famous 
 Johannes Picus Mirandula.f Reuchlin was a German, 
 and is the more interesting to us as the contemporary, 
 or rather the master and instructor of Agrippa, 
 Melancthon, and many celebrated men of the six- 
 teenth century, whose names stand immediately con- 
 nected with the story of Doctor Faust. To complete 
 the wild dreamings of the Italian Platonists, nothing 
 was now wanting but a revival of the Rabbinical and 
 Talmudistic lore ; and Reuchlin, whom Europe still 
 reveres as the father of Hebrew learning in modem 
 Theology, was precisely the man for this purpose. It 
 was natural that the language of the sacred Book 
 should have been considered as containing something 
 
 * See this particularly proved of Ficinus, in BuUe's GescMchte 
 der Fhilosqphie, vi. tkeil. § 889. 
 + Buhle, ubi mbra, § 897. 
 
PRELIMINARY. xxi 
 
 mystical and transcendental even in its very letters; 
 and we need not wonder that the enthusiasm of the 
 first Hebrew scholars in Germany should have dis- 
 covers the key of all the sciences in that cabbalistic 
 lore, which we are now accustomed to use in common 
 discourse, as a synonym for the most childish and 
 unintelligible jargon. 
 
 Taking, thus, the prevailing theology of the Church, 
 in connection with the impulse which the human 
 mind had received from the revival of the Platonic 
 philosophy, and the strong reaction, which the risings 
 of independent thought in the breasts of men like 
 Telesius, CampaneUa, and Bruno, had raised against 
 the long - established despotism of the Aristotelian 
 philosophy, — and all this worked up to a point by 
 the revival of Cabbalism, through Reuchlin and other 
 cultivators of Oriental literature, — we shall have no 
 diflBculty in perceiving at once the leading features of 
 the! age in which Faust flourished, and the causes 
 which led to their development. We see the human 
 intellect, in being roused into new life from the icy 
 night of scholasticism, surrounded by the glowing 
 but unsubstantial morning-clouds of a philosophy of 
 feeling and imagination. Sufficiently occupied with 
 gazing, child-like, on the hovering shapes that teemed 
 so richly from its new-awakened being, it had no tune, 
 no wish, to enter upon the severe task of (Conscious 
 
xxii PEELIMINAEY. 
 
 manhood, that of criticising its own powers, and 
 defining, with cautious precision, what the mind of 
 man can know, and what it cannot know, — and was 
 thus destined, for a short season, to flounder through 
 the misty regions of theosophy and magic, till it should 
 learn, from experience, to find at once its starting- 
 point and its goal, in the exhaustless fulness of actual 
 Nature. 
 
 In such an age, and under the influence of opinions, 
 religious and philosophical, so different from those 
 now prevalent, flourished the mysterious hero of 
 modem magic, whom the pen of Goethe has made, 
 likewise, one of the principal heroes of modem poetry. 
 That a good deal of obscurity should hare gathered 
 around such a character, — that the love of the mar- 
 vellous should have united with the ignorance of the 
 age, in magnifying juggling tricks into miracles of 
 magic, and clouding with a poetical mistiness that 
 which was clear and definite, — ^is not to be wondered 
 at. But that such a character actually existed, the 
 tradition perpetuated from age to age on its native 
 soil, and found, with little variation, scattered over 
 almost every country, and clothed in almost every 
 language of Europe, is of itself sufficient evidence. 
 Popular legends seldom spring, like the antediluvian 
 and prelapsarian traditions of the Talmudists, or the 
 genealogies of old Celtic families, from mere airy 
 
PRELIMINAEY. xxiii 
 
 nothingness ; and, however contradictory and incon- 
 sistent their integrant parts may appear, they have 
 all formed themselves around a nucleus of substantial 
 reality. Nevertheless, as there is nothing so absurd 
 which has not been asserted by some one of the philo- 
 sophers, so there have not been wanting men of learn- 
 ing and investigation, who have seriously set them- 
 selves to the task of proving away the personality of 
 the renowned Doctor Faust.* But to detect a few 
 chronological inaccuracies in the common popular 
 legend, and to hold out to merited contempt the 
 silliness, and even the impossibility of many things 
 contained in it, may afford an opportunity for the 
 display of a pedantic erudition, but can give no ground 
 for the sweeping conclusion that the person, of whom 
 these stories are told, did actually never exist. The 
 monks were clever fellows ; but, with all their ability, 
 they would have found it difficult to invent such a 
 story as Faust — so generally believed — out of mere 
 nothing. The sceptics themselves are sensible of 
 this ; and, accordingly, Dlirr, the chief of them, while 
 he denies the personality of Faust the magician, en- 
 deavours to give a probable reason for the prevalence 
 
 * The most deliberate attempt of this kind that I have seen, is 
 that of Diirr, in the sixth volume of Schellhom's Amcmitates Lite- 
 rarice ; where the story of Faust is called " Historiola pueris et ani- 
 culis credita;" and thp hero himself, "Doctor Faust jktitius ille 
 et imaginarius." 
 
xxiv PEELIMINAEY. 
 
 of the story, by throwing the whole burden upon the 
 back of Faust the printer, father-in-law of Peter 
 Schoeflfer, and fellow-workers both of Guttenburg, — 
 the famous trio, among whom the honour, of, the in- 
 vention of printing is divided. The envy of the 
 monks, acting on the ignorance of the age, here comes 
 most opportunely into play, to explain how the in- 
 ventor of such a novel art of multiplying books should 
 have been generally accounted a magician. There 
 can, indeed, be little doubt that he was so accounted 
 by many ignorant people ; and as this idea is suffi- 
 ciently poetical, Klingemann has taken advantage of 
 it in his tragedy of Doctor Faust.* The main objec- 
 tion, however, on the face of this theory, is, that all 
 the legends of Faust agree in placing the hero of 
 magic fully half a century later than Faust the printer, 
 who flourished about 1440. It is true, indeed, that 
 some of the Volksbueher {vide Diirr, ut supra) ascribe 
 to the Emperor Maximilian, what is generally told of 
 Charles V., viz. that Doctor Faust conjured up before 
 him the apparitions of Alexander the Great and his 
 queen; but the other tricks, which were played before 
 Cardinal Campegio and Pope Adrian, agree better 
 with the age of Charles y. than with that of Maxi- 
 
 * Faiist, eine Tragcedie, von August Klingemann, Leipzig, 1815 ; 
 of whieh there is a good account in one of tlie numbers of Slack- 
 wood's Magazime, 
 
PKELIMINAEY. xxv 
 
 milian. It is quite possible, however, that Faust 
 may have exhibited his magical skill before both these 
 emperors, whose reigns occupied the space from 
 1492 to 1558, Maximilian dying in 1519; for even 
 the date of Maximilian will never bring us back to 
 the era when Faust the printer was in his glory. 
 
 The personality of Faust, however, is not left to 
 rest upon the mere traditionary evidence of the vulgar 
 legend. The diligence of German antiquaries, even 
 before Goethe's Faust gave importance to the theme, 
 had collected many trustworthy historical testimonies 
 in confirmation of the common belief. Diirr's Letter 
 on this subject is dated 1676 ; and, not seven years 
 afterwards, appeared Neumann's historical disquisi- 
 tion De Faustopraestigiatore. This essay I have not 
 seen at full length ; but from the epitome given of it 
 by Hauber (Bibliotheca Magica, vol. ii. p. 706), I fear 
 that there may be but too much cause for the remark 
 of Heumann,* that " it smacks too much of the young 
 graduate." • It was certainly a very pious motive that 
 induced Neumann, a student of Wittenberg, to at- 
 tempt removing from his ahna mater the shame of 
 having given birth, or even education, to such a noto- 
 rious character as Doctor Faust; but truth often forces 
 
 * Christ. Aug. Huemarm's GlauhvMrdigate Nachricht von D. 
 Fauden. In einem Schreiben an Herm D. Haubern. Bib. Mag. 
 vol. iii. p. 84. 
 
xxvi PEELIMINARY. 
 
 us to admit what fondest prejudice would fain deny. 
 The next critical essay on Faust, is that of Heumann, 
 just quoted, in Hauber's Library of Magic, and it 
 contains the most important of these historical testi- 
 monies to the truth of the Faustish legend, which 
 have since been so comprehensively exhibited in one 
 work by Doctor Stieglitz.* 
 
 As all the traditions agree in representing Faust 
 as haying studied at Wittenberg, and there, too, ex- 
 hibited a number of magical tricks to his good friends 
 the students, it was natural to suspect that Luther or 
 Melancthon should, somewhere or other, make men- 
 tion of such a notorious character. And, accordingly, 
 Stieglitz follows Horst (Zauber-Bibliotheck, vi. 87) 
 in asserting that Melancthon actually does make men- 
 tion of Doctor Faust in one of his epistles ; but as 
 neither of these writers cites the passage, or mentions 
 in what particular part of Melancthon's work it is to 
 be found, I barely mention this circmnstance on their 
 authority. There is, however, very great probability 
 that the testimony of Joannes Manlius, in his Col- 
 lectanea, the principal one relied on both by Heumann 
 and Stieglitz, is, in reality, to be considered as a testi- 
 mony of Melancthon. Manlius himselff says of his 
 
 * Die Sage von Doctor Faust, von D. Christian Ludwig Stieglitz, 
 in Baumer's ffistoriches TaschenJmch, 5ter Jahrgang, Leipzig, 1834. 
 The same number contains a dissertation on "Wallenstein. 
 + Apud Heumann. 
 
PRELIMINAEY. xxvii 
 
 Collectanea, " Labor Mc noster coUectus ex ore D. 
 Phillijopi Melanchthonis aUisque clarissimis viris," 
 and might, on this account, as Heumann remarks, 
 have fitly been named Melancthoniana, or Melanc- 
 thon's Table-Talk. But be this as it may, Manlius' 
 testimony is most decided, and runs as follows : — " I 
 was acquainted with a certain person, called Faust 
 of Kundling, a small town iu Wurtemberg. He was 
 a Cracorian Scholasticus, and read lectures on magic 
 in the university there. He was a great rambler 
 {vagahatwr passim), and possessed many secrets. At 
 Venice, wishing to amuse the populace, he boasted 
 that he would fly up to heaven. The devil accord- 
 ingly wafted him up a certain height, but dashed him 
 down again in such a plight, that he lay half-dead on 
 the ground. A few years ago, the same John Faust, 
 on the last day of his life, was found sitting in the 
 common inn of a certain village in the Duchy of 
 Wittenberg. He was, indeed, a most vile blackguard 
 (turpissimus nebula), of a most filthy life, so much 
 so, indeed, that he once and again almost lost his life 
 on account of his excesses. The landlord of the inn 
 asked him why he sat there so sad, contrary to his 
 wont ? " Be not terrified if you shall hear anything 
 on this night," was his short answer. And at mid- 
 night the house was shaken. Next morning, near 
 mid-day, as Faust did not make his appearance, the 
 
xxviii PEELIMINARY. 
 
 landlord entered into his chamber, and found him 
 lying beside his bed, with his face on the ground, 
 having been so slain by the devil. When he was yet 
 alive, he was accompanied by a dog, which was the 
 devil. . . . This Faust the magician, a most vile 
 beast, and a common sewer of many devils {cloaca 
 multorwrn diabolorum), was also a great boaster, and 
 pretended that all the victories of the Imperial armies 
 in Italy were gained by the help of his magic."* 
 With this account agrees exactly that given bj- Wier,-f- 
 the disciple and confidant of the celebrated Cornelius 
 Agrippa von Nettesheim. Del Rio,J who wrote at 
 the end of the sixteenth century, introduces him along 
 with the same Agrippa, playing tricks on the poor 
 landlords, vvdth whom they sojourned in their vaga- 
 bond excursions, by paying them with money which 
 turned into crumbs and chaff, whenever the magicians, 
 were out of sight; but his connection with such a 
 philosopher as Agrippa is much to be doubted, as 
 Wier has not even hinted at it in the passage where 
 he treats expressly of the Doctor. 
 
 * From the Latin of Manliua. Apud Heumann, ut supra. 
 
 t Wierii Opera, Amstelodami, 1660. De Magis Znfamibus, p. 
 105. He is as little favourable to our liero as Manlius. He says, 
 indeed, that he practised magic oyer the whole of Germany, " cum 
 multorum admiratione ;" and that "nihil non potuit," but it was 
 all " inani jaotantia et pollicitationihus." 
 
 J Disquisit. Mag., lib. ii. dissert. 12. 
 
PEELIMINARY. xxix 
 
 The only other contemporary writer from whom I 
 shall quote at length, is Begardi * whose book, 
 Zeyger der Oemndhdt," was published in 1539, and 
 contains the following interesting testimony to the 
 age and character of Faust, which I give here from 
 the German, as it stands in Dr. Stieglitz's essay. 
 
 "There is yet a celebrated character whom I 
 would rather not have named; but since I must 
 mention him, I will tell what I know of him in a 
 few words. Some years ago this man passed through 
 almost all lands, princedoms, and kingdoms, making 
 his name known to everybody, and making great 
 show of his skill, not in medicine only, but in chiro- 
 mancy, necromancy, physiognomy, visions in crystals, 
 and such like. And in these things he not only 
 acquired great notoriety, but also obtained the name 
 of a famous and experienced master. He did not 
 conceal his name, but called himself Faust, and used 
 to subscribe \\vo.'&(\i phihsopJms philosophorwm. But 
 of those who were cheated by him, and complained 
 of the same to me, there is a great multitude. His 
 promise was great like that of Thessalus in Galen's 
 days, as also his fame like that of Theophrastusjf 
 but his deeds, as I have heard, were almost always 
 
 * Apvd Stieglitz, uU supra, p. 130. 
 t I suppose Begardi alludes to the world-renowned Philippus 
 Aureolus Theophrastus Paracelsus Bombastus von Hohenheim. 
 
XXX PRELIMINARY. 
 
 found to be very petty and deceitful, thougli he was, 
 to speak plainly, not slow at giving, and especially 
 taking, money, as many a worthy person had cause 
 to know. But now the matter is not to be remedied ; 
 past is past, and gone is gone. I must even leave 
 the matter as it is ; and see thou to it, that thou treat 
 it as a good Christian ought to do." 
 
 Thus far Begardi in his honest naive language. 
 Heumann cites further a long passage from Tritheim's 
 Epistolae Familiares,* describing a character alto- 
 gether similar to that above described by Manlius 
 and Begardi ; with this remarkable diflference, that 
 he is not called Doctor John Faust, as he is by 
 Manlius, and in all the vulgar traditions, but 
 " Magister Georgius FausHs SdbelUcus, Faustus 
 Jwnior." I think Stieglitz has been too precipitate 
 in concluding that diflference in the name must 
 necessarily imply a diflference in the person. The 
 vagabond wonder-workers of those days were wont 
 to have a number of names, as the example of Para- 
 celsus alone is sufl&cient to show. With regard to 
 the denomination of " Faustus jimior," this cannot 
 certainly refer to our John Faust, vsdth whom this 
 George (if he was a different person) must have been 
 contemporary. It probably relates to Faust the 
 printer, who has also been accused of magic, or to 
 * In a letter dated 20th August 1507. 
 
PRELIMINARY. xxsi 
 
 some other Faust of the fifteenth century, whose 
 fame has been now swallowed up in that of Doctor 
 John Faust of Wittenberg. 
 
 Camerarius and Gesner* also make mention of 
 Doctor Faust ; but let the passages already quoted 
 suffice to prove the historical reality of our magical 
 hero. 
 
 Joining together these historical testimonies and 
 the popular traditions, it is not difficult to come to a 
 pretty accurate conclusion as to the real character of 
 Doctor Faust. He appears to have been a man of 
 extensive learning, especially in medical and astro- 
 logical, perhaps too in philological and theological, 
 science. But, driven by a restless spirit, and a vain 
 desire of popular applause, he seems to have<eari^j 
 abandoned the calm and steady path that leadsro 
 professional eminence, and sought after that noisy 
 but less substantial fame, which his scientific skill 
 was fitted to procure for him in the eyes of the 
 gazing multitude. Many of the greatest philosophers, 
 indeed, as Solomon, Roger Bacon, and Cornelius 
 Agrippa, have been accounted magicians for no other 
 reason than their uncommon vsdsdom, far surpassing 
 that of the age in which they lived ; but there is too 
 much reason to suspect that Faust's fame as a 
 
 * Camerarius, Hor. Suceessiv. cent. 2. page 314. Conrad 
 Gesner, Onomasticon apud Stieglitz, Sage von Faust. 
 
 C 
 
xxxii PKELIMINAEY. 
 
 magician rests upon much more questionable grounds, 
 and the whole account of his life and exploits leaves 
 upon our mind the impression that he was a very 
 clever vagabond quack, rather than a retired and 
 contemplative philosopher. There is much in all 
 that is told of him that recalls to our mind the bio- 
 graphy of Paracelsus, a man certainly of great genius, 
 but of much greater impudence, who gained his 
 living by acting upon the folly of mankind.* By all 
 accounts, indeed, Faust was a man of much more 
 distinguished academic learning than Paracelsus, of 
 whom historians even question whether he ever 
 studied at any university; but as a vagabond, a 
 boaster, and a wonder-promiser, the one is perhaps 
 only not superior to the other. With a little know- 
 ledge of medicine, a little classical lore, some dex- 
 terity in performing sleight-of-hand wonders, and a 
 panoply of assurance, a clever man like Faust or 
 Paracelsus may easily obtain a livelihood, and, what 
 is more, an imperishable name. For such characters 
 a strolling life is at once a pleasure and a necessity. 
 Paracelsus soon lost his chair at Basle, — for a man 
 is never a hero to his valet-de-chambre, — and, if we 
 may believe the common legend, Faust scarcely left 
 a comer of the earth unvisited, and filled Asia and 
 Europe with his renown. 
 
 * The life of Paracelsus is very characteristic of the age, and may- 
 he seen in Sprengel's Histoire de Medecine, § 9. art. iii. 
 
PEELIMINAEY. xxxiii 
 
 And verily he has had his reward. Since the time 
 of his death, not only Germany, but England, France, 
 and Holland, have swarmed with "prodigious and 
 lamentable histories" of the "great magician John 
 Faust, with his testament and his terrible death." 
 Magical books under his name have become as famous 
 as those of Solomon;* artists and poets have vied 
 with one another in rendering his name immortal 
 in the annals of Art ; tragedies and comedies, puppet- 
 plays and operas, ballads and novels, essays, and dis- 
 sertations and commentaries, prologues and epilogues, 
 
 * That Faust might attain universal oelehrity, the fame of author- 
 ship could not he wanting. Besides heing the reputed author of 
 his own life and exploits, published hy his executor "Wagner after 
 his death, there are extant magical works under his own name, — 
 perhaps not more authentic than those ascrihed to Solomon, — of 
 which one of the most curious is reprinted by Horst, Zauher Biblio- 
 thek, vol. iii. p. 86, with the following title, "Doctor J. Faust's 
 Book of Miracles, Art, and Wonders, or the Black Raven, — also 
 called the Threefold Hell-compulsion ; wherewith I compelled the 
 Spirits to bring me whatsoever things I pleased, whether gold or 
 silver, treasure great and small, and the springroot (a magic plant), 
 and whatever other such things are upon the earth ; all this have 
 I brought to pass by means of this book, and was also able to dis- 
 miss the spirits as often as I pleased." The introduction to this 
 book by Doctor Faust himself is curious, but too long for insertion. 
 The warning, however, with which it concludes is too serious to 
 be omitted, " Above all things, ieware of entering into compacts 
 with these Spirits, that it may not fare with you as it has fared 
 with me." 
 
xxxiv PKELIMINAEY. 
 
 and all the varied paraphernalia of genius and erudi- 
 tion, have been heaped on one another, to adorn the 
 trophy of Doctor John Faustus, the great German 
 quack. The vrondrous exploits of Faust are endless, 
 and it would be an endless task to recount the tithe 
 of them. Were I to enter upon an exposition of how 
 Doctor Faust first cited Mephistopheles on a cross- 
 road in the midst of a dark fearful wood near Witten- 
 berg, — how the Devi} visited him frequently in his ovm 
 study in all shapes and sizes, — how the Doctor was, 
 after some hesitation, prevailed on to sell his soul to 
 Lucifer, and to that effect signed a formal bond with 
 blood drawn from his own arm, — ^how he neglected 
 all the warnings of his good genius, and even the 
 terrible writing that appeared on his wounded arm, 
 Homo Fuge ! — ^how the wily Devil dissuaded him 
 from the quiet of a domestic life, when he wished to 
 marry, that he might drag him into all kinds of licen- 
 tiousness, — how he forced Mephistopheles to answer 
 all his importunate interrogatories, as to the state of 
 Hell, and the condition of the damned, which the 
 Devil painted in colours as terrible as if he had been 
 an Evangelist of the north-west Highland type, — 
 how Faust was transported into Hell upon the back 
 of Beelzebub, and left floundering through the chaos 
 of the abyss, — ^how he travelled from star to star, and 
 surveyed all the infinity of worlds, with as much ex- 
 
PRELIMINAEY. xxxv 
 
 pedition as the imagination of a modern poet, — how 
 he turned astrologer, and vied with the fame of 
 Nostradamus, — ^how he wandered over the whole 
 world, and saw Rome, which is a city where there is 
 a river called Tiber, and Naples, which is the birth- 
 place of Virgil, who was also a great magician, and 
 caused a passage to be made through the rock of 
 Posilippo, in one night, a whole mile long, — how he 
 played the devil in the Sultan's seraglio, and passed 
 himself off for Mahomet with the ladies of the palace, 
 — how he sat invisible at the Pope's banquet, and 
 whipped away all the tit-bits from the plates of Pope 
 Adrian and his assessors of the scarlet stockings, so 
 that his Holiness was obliged to believe that some 
 tormented soul from Purgatory was haunting the 
 Vatican, and ordered prayers to be made accord- 
 ingly,^ — ^how he further showed his enmity to the 
 Church by making secret broaches in the wine-casks 
 of the Bishop of Saltzburg's cellar, and being on one 
 occasion surprised by the butler, perched the poor 
 wretch upon a tree, where he sprawled like a limed 
 bird for the whole length of a frosty night, — ^how he 
 called up the apparition of Alexander the Great and 
 his Queen before the Emperor Charles V., who as- 
 sured himself of the reality of this vision by touching 
 the wart which history reports to have been upon the 
 hero's neck, — ^how in like manner he frightened the 
 
xxxvi PEELIMINARY. 
 
 students of Erfurt by raising the ghost of Polypheme, 
 and bewitched his good friends the students, and hini- 
 self to boot, by the apparition of the beautiful Helena, 
 — how he bamboozled a boor by promising him a penny 
 for as much hay as he could eat from his waggon, and 
 then swallowing the whole cart-load down, as easily 
 as it had been a spoonful of Sauerkraut, — how he 
 sold a fine horse for a small price to a jockey, who, 
 delighted with the bargain, set off galloping upon 
 this wightest of steeds, till he came to a running 
 stream, in the middle of which, and just where the 
 water was deepest, the animal all at once changed 
 into a bottle of straw, and left the poor rider flounder- 
 ing up to the neck in the flood, — how he caused horns 
 to grow out of a certain freebom gentleman's temples, 
 when he was sleeping with his head out of the window, 
 in such a manner that, when he awoke, like an ox in 
 a stile, he could neither move backwards nor for- 
 wards, — and how, finally, he at last met with the 
 death which his shameful life merited, and was torn 
 in pieces by the Devil with such violence, that the 
 whole house was shaken as by an earthquake. — To 
 narrate all, or one tithe of these wonderful events, 
 would require more pages than the circulating libraries 
 would tolerate, and far exceed the limits of these in- 
 troductory remarks. I, however, the less regret that 
 I am unable to enter at length upon this theme, as 
 
PRELIMINARY. xxxvii 
 
 the task has been already performed, partly by Kit 
 Marlow, and partly by Mr. Roscoe,* in a collection 
 of German tales, which I may presume to be accessible 
 to most of my readers. 
 
 Let us ask now what materials this story possesses, 
 which have so recommended it to the genius of modem 
 Europe for a high dramatic treatment ; and for an 
 answer to this question happily we have not far to 
 seek. The moral significance of the legend lies on 
 the surface of the popular chap-book; and the 
 dramatic writer who should have omitted it altogether, 
 would have proved himself unwortlfy of the noble 
 function which he exercises. [JTis the world-old 
 story of the pride of knowledge, and the impatience 
 of limitation with which that knowledge is often ac- 
 companied. " Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonxtm 
 ET MALUM." "Ye shall be as gods, knowing good 
 and evil." The desire to be as God, looking into 
 the soul of things, and commanding the mystical 
 machinery of the universe, is the rank outblossoming 
 of an unchastened intellectual ambition, leading 
 naturally to discontent with the common human 
 limits of the knowable, and to a morbid intermed- 
 
 * Eosooe's German Novelists, vol. i. To which the curious may 
 add (1.) Faust: dans VHistoire et dans la, Legende par Eistelhuler. 
 Didier. 1863. (2.) Faustus : his life, death, and doom, a romance 
 in prose ; from the German. London : Kent and Co., 1864. (3.) 
 Auerhaoh's VolkslmchUin. Miinchen, 1839. 
 
xxxviii PEELIMINARY. 
 
 dling with supernatural powers and forces, in order to 
 lift the lofty speculator, out of the vulgar sphere of 
 confined humanity. This kicking against the bars 
 of finite knowledge is of course rebellion against the 
 constitution of things, disownment of the divine 
 authority which imposed these limitations, and alli- 
 ance with the Evil Spirit, whom popular belief ac- 
 knowledges as the incarnation of that spirit of 
 impatience, pride, and presumption, out of which 
 this rebellion springs. Here we have the real motive 
 which gives moral dignity and human interest to the ' 
 legend of Faust. The compact of the Wittenberg 
 doctor with Mephistopheles is only a striking in- 
 stance of what is constantly taking place in the 
 thinking world before us, especially in these days of 
 curious microscopic prying into the seeds of things, 
 and pretentious parading of all sorts of dogmatic 
 and negative philosophies, ambitiously engaged in 
 the insane attempt to explain the existence of a , 
 reasonable world, independent of a reasonable caus^ 
 " Knowledge pufieth up, but charity edifieth."'^It 
 is the greed of knowledge, where knowledge is not 
 possible, and the lack of love and reverence, the in- 
 dispensable conditions of moral sanity, that in ages 
 of dreamy speculation lead to the practice of magic 
 and necromancy,)ind in days of nice scientific measure- 
 ment, to a hollow and heartless atheism, clothing itself 
 
PKELIMINARY. xxxix 
 
 in the philosopher's mantle and accepted as wisdom by 
 the unthmking. This aspect of the Faust legend, 
 accordingly, did not escape the notice of Marlow, 
 who has set it forth prominently, if not profoundly, in 
 the opening scene of his drama ; a scene which bears, 
 indeed, a striking likeness to the opening scene in 
 Goethe's poem, in the fashion that a rough-hewn 
 Highland hut is the same sort of thing as a neat 
 English cottage, only in a more rude and unscientific 
 style. A secondary element contained in the Faust 
 legend arises out of the reaction which, in certain 
 natures, is apt to plunge disappointed intellectual 
 ambition into a course of sensual indulgence. The 
 key to the invisible world being denied us, let us 
 make what we can of the visible. If we cannot be 
 as gods in our knowledge, at least let us be men in 
 our enjoyments, as largely and as deeply as to our 
 sensuous nature is allowed ; and, to attain this, let 
 us overlook all bounds of vulgar morality and petty 
 propriety ; for to acknowledge these would be only 
 to substitute one kind of cribbing limitation for 
 another; and limitation of any kind is what the 
 proud heart of the intellectually ambitious will not 
 accept. But, to scorn all limit and regulation in the 
 exercise of our social/mstincts is to practice sys- 
 tematic selfishness jt'm other words, to call in the^ 
 aid of the author of Evil, to enable us to gratify our 
 
xl PEELIMINAEY. 
 
 sensual passions in the grandest style; whicli of 
 course leads in the end to the ruin of all parties con- 
 cerned, and of some who are on% accidentally con- 
 nected with the direct ofFendeii/ This is the tragedy 
 of Faust, as handled by the great German poet, and 
 handled in a style which bids fair to keep it promi- 
 nently in the general European eye, as long as 
 Dante's divine comedy and Shakespeare's Hamlet. 
 But there is another element in the popular legend 
 which both Marlow and Goethe have used, and 
 which stands to the moral kernel of the story, 
 pretty much as the witch atmosphere in which Mac- 
 beth moves to Macbeth's personal career. Faust is 
 a magician, as well as a thinker; and his alliance 
 with the Powers of Evil implied not merely that all 
 sources of sensual gratification should be placed at 
 his disposal; but specially that a power over Nature 
 should be granted him, in virtue of which, by assert- 
 ing his superiority over the vulgar conditions of 
 space and time, by which humanity is bound, his 
 vanity might be flattered, and his person raised to a 
 platform of public estimation vdth which neither 
 Pope, nor Kaiser, nor any earthly dignity might con- 
 tend, Faust, therefore, must appear as an exhibitor 
 of magical tricks; and, as this is the vulgar and 
 shallow element of the legend, it naturally plays the 
 principal part both in the common chap-book, and 
 
PEELIMINARY. xli 
 
 in the dramatic adaptation of Marlow, whose handling 
 of the legend altogether is commonplace, and, except 
 in some of the lighter parts of sharp repartee, cer- 
 tainly not worthy of his reputation as one of the 
 heralds of Shakespeare in the early history of the 
 great English drama. Goethe, on the other hand, 
 has wisely given these juggling tricks a very sub- 
 ordinate place in his treatment of the legend ; the 
 scene in Auerbach's cellar being, I think, the only 
 thing of the kind directly taken from the chap-book; 
 and brought in alsj)/<vith great wisdom, in order to 
 make it plain Vnat Faust, with all his strongly 
 sensual tendencies, was essentially an intellectual 
 creature/ who could not be seduced even by the 
 Devil into any sympathetic fellowship with the pot- 
 companions of a public beer-cellar^ He felt, however, 
 strongly, at the same time, that, as in the case of 
 Macbeth, with which he was well acquainted, some 
 wild and grotesque atmosphere was necessary for the 
 magic doctor to figure in when he was not occupied 
 directly with his love adventure ; so he followed our 
 great dramatist in making the witches' cauldron as 
 necessary to his hero's passion as it was to Macbeth's 
 ambition ; and along with this thoroughly medifeval 
 and altogether appropriate adjunct of the vdtches' 
 kitchen, he contrived to bring in afterwards the vdld 
 and weird traditions of a supernatural character 
 
xUi PKELIMINAEY. 
 
 which attach to the famous Brocken mountain, the 
 central and topmost elevation of the great ridge of 
 the Harz in Northern Germany; thus rooting his 
 poem locally in the fatherland as firmly as Walter 
 Scott did for us in Scotland when he made the soft 
 beauties of Tweedside, and the picturesque grandeur 
 of the Perthshire Highlands, inseparably associated 
 with the creations of his poetic fancy. And this 
 brings me to a fourth element in the legend with 
 which Marlow did not require to concern himself 
 particularly, but which, from a great poet of Goethe's 
 character and with Goethe's position, could not 
 receive a perfunctory treatment. If the native home 
 of the whole legend is in all its parts essentially 
 German, most especially German is its connection 
 with Wittenberg, and through it with the German 
 University system. Not only the general speculative 
 tendency so characteristic of our trans-Rhenane 
 brethren, but the special academic and scholastic 
 hue of their learning, is vividly portrayed in this 
 national drama. Not more native to the Cumber- 
 land meres is Wordsworth, and to the banks of Doon 
 is Robert Bums, than Goethe's Faust is to Gbttingen, 
 Leipzig, and Bonn. A university in Germany is 
 socially a more powerful thing, though architecturally 
 and aristocratically by no means so magnificent a 
 thing as Oxford ia England. The German professors 
 
PRELIMINARY. xliii 
 
 are the great representatiyes and leaders of the na- 
 tional mind in all departments of thought ; this is the 
 case only to a certain limited extent in our country. 
 The academical element, therefore, must assert a 
 prominent place in a truly German national poem. 
 And so it is here. The learned Doctor who sells his 
 soul to the Devil was a professor ; a man of books 
 certainly, and a trainer of youth ; and some of the 
 most suggestive scenes in the poem are those in 
 which the contrast between mere acadfimical learn- 
 ing with the wisdom of deeper thought and the 
 living experience of life is hit off with a few rapid 
 but telling strokes; 
 
 I have no desire to preoccupy the judgment of the 
 SB^Wi reader by any detailed criticism of the merits 
 and defects of Faust as a dramatic poem. As 
 a tale of human interest it wUl always be largely 
 appreciated, even beyond the circle of strictly poetical 
 readers ; and readers of a more specially cultivated 
 taste will not allow any small faults that might 
 readily be pointed out, whether in the structure of 
 the poem or in the treatment of the characters, to 
 interfere with their enjoyment of so rare a combina- 
 tion of profound thought, vnse observation, and 
 deep pathos, as this famous production exhibits. ■ _I_ 
 will take the liberty, however, of suggesting to the 
 students of the poem a careful comparison with Lord 
 
xliv PEELIMINARY. 
 
 Byron's Manfred, and our great dramatist's Hamlet, 
 as particularly fruitftil in yaluable conclusions. All 
 Byron's characters, as the oflFspring of pride and 
 unchastened ambition, are in a certain sense Fausts, 
 but Manfred in a particular degree ; and, though the 
 idea that Byron's tragedy was borrowed from Goethe's 
 could proceed only from a superficial knowledge of 
 his lordship's character, and from an ignorance of the 
 circumstances which gave rise to the composition of 
 that poem, it is not the less certain that there is a 
 great resemblance between the character of Manfred 
 and that of Faust. From what this resemblance 
 proceeds Lord Byron has himself most satisfactorily 
 told us : — " It was the Steinbach, and the Jungfrau, 
 and something else, much more than Faust,"* that 
 produced the gigantic Titan-like apparition of Man- 
 fred. That something else here mentioned was Lord 
 Byron himself, who, had he lived in the sixteenth 
 century, would probably enough have been a magician 
 (at all events a Giordano Bruno), and might have 
 been immortalised by some modern poet as the great 
 English Doctor Faust. How, then, does Manfred 
 stand as compared with Faust ? Exactly in the same 
 way, we must assume, as Byron stands when con- 
 trasted with Goethe. Byron is more sublime; Goethe 
 more human. Byron has more wing; Goethe a better 
 
 * See notes to Manfred. 
 
PRELIMINARY. xlv 
 
 use of his wing. Byron is more intense, more 
 impetuous, and more forcible; Goethe more rich, 
 more Tarious, more mellow, and more ripe. But the 
 chief diflference is this, that in all his poetry Goethe 
 is wise ; Byron never. Accordingly, we may say that 
 with all its grandeur Manfred is essentially a mad 
 poem. It overleaps the bounds of aU sane thinking 
 with no apparent purpose, and certainly with little ap- 
 parent effect but the glorification of monstrous pride. 
 Still there is a moral lesson at the root of the story, 
 if the reader will take the trouble to think it out. 
 The man who could find no pleasure in existence, 
 except in the gratification of an unnatural passion, 
 could end only as Manfred ended, and die communing 
 with his own proud soul and the evoked spirits of 
 earth and air, amid the frost-bound ridges of the 
 Alps. But, in order to attain this solitary Titanic 
 sublimity, the poet has sacrificed all huniaH-prQba? 
 bility and all human interest. It is a sublime poem, 
 Manfred; but it is the sublime of monstrosity. The 
 sublime of the Prometheus of ^Eschylus is a very 
 difierent thing : it is the sublime, in the first place, 
 not of an unnatural man, but of a god ; and, in the 
 second place, it is the sublime of a soul inspired by 
 ill-regulated philanthropy, not by unchastened passion. 
 I presume there are few things finer in the English 
 language than that midnight soliloquy in the third 
 
xlvi PRELIMINARY. 
 
 act of Manfred, when the Count, looking forth from 
 his lonely tower on the stars and the snow-shining 
 mountains, recalls a night spent amid the ruins of the 
 Colosseum, and the palace of the Caesars in Eome — 
 a soliloquy which certainly will lose nothing by a 
 detailed comparison with the strikingly similar mono- 
 ■ logue in the fourth act of Goethe's great poem ; but 
 the misfortune is, when admiration has been spent on 
 particular passages, one can take no general impression 
 away from the work except this, that the poet wrote 
 under the influence of some sad disease of morbid 
 sublimity, and his heroes were made in Titanic pro- 
 portions, after his own likeness. In every view, 
 therefore, eicept in regard to the power of one or 
 two indiyidual passages, the study of Manfred can 
 only tend to raise in the mind of the reader a most 
 profound admiration for the more healthy tone, the 
 more ripe wisdom, the more rich material, and the 
 more skilful treatment, of the German writer. With 
 Shakespeare's great work it is quite otherwise. 
 Hamlet unquestionably has many striking points of 
 similarity with Faust. The same moody melancholy, 
 and tendency to contemplation of suicide ; the same 
 lofty discontent with his environment, and misan- 
 thropic contempt for the humanity with which he 
 stood in direct relationship; the same communion 
 with the unseen world, though in a different form ; 
 
PEELIMINARY. xlvii 
 
 the same feebleness and indecision of character in the 
 hero, with occasional blind plunges into strokes that 
 hurry himself and others into ruin. In his morbid 
 state of mind the ghost acts according to the same 
 law on the hero of our great English tragedy that 
 Mephistopheles does on the German doctor; but 
 the ghost in the one case for the Devil, in the 
 other — though both incarnated creations of a diseased 
 mind — indicates in the strongest possible way the 
 diverse character of the disease. Hamlet is an es- 
 sentially noble character sunk into melancholy by 
 the abnormal character of the immediate social ele- 
 ment in which it was his destiny to move ; the moody 
 contemplation of the social wrongs which were rife 
 round about him generated the idea of revenge, or 
 taking the moral law into his own hand ; and of this 
 rash idea of revenge the ghost is dramatically the 
 voice and the spur. But, though plunging himself 
 and his environment into misery by following out his 
 bloody suggestions, Hamlet never forfeits our respect. 
 He is never selfish ; and suffers more from excessive 
 sensibility to the sins, of others than from any faults 
 that may be placed fairly at his own door. >- Other- 
 vdse vidth Faust ; he is at bottom a compound of a 
 sentimentalist and a sensualist ; and, though the me- 
 taphysical perplexities in which at the outset of his 
 career he is found entangled, excite in the reader 
 
 d 
 
xlviii PEELIMINAKY. 
 
 some emotion of pity, yet the feebleness and irresolu- 
 tion of his conduct afterwards, the ease with which 
 he allows himself to be dragged by his fiendish 
 guide through all kinds of selfish indulgence and 
 moral meanness, cannot fail to inoculate the reader 
 with a strong feeling of contempt. This no doubt 
 was meant by the poet; and very properly so; as 
 a noble character never could have fallen into the 
 sifehsual , trap so cunningly laid for him by the 
 Tempter ; still it is a misfortune to the piece, aad 
 imperatively demands the large compensation which 
 it receives from the profound tragic interest with 
 which the consummate art of the dramatist has con- , 
 trived to invest the closing scenes with poor Margaret. 
 It is well known to the literary public that the' 
 author of Faust, as generally read by foreigners, 
 always looked upon this production as only the 
 first part of the great " Divima Comedia," to use 
 the language of Dante's time, with which he was to 
 enrich the literature of his century. The incomplete 
 character of the first part, indeed, is distinctly indi- 
 cated in the introductory scene called the " Prologue 
 to Heaven," which contains the following lines : — 
 
 " Though now he serve me stumblingly, the hour 
 Is nigh, when I shall lead him into light. 
 When the tree buds, the gardener knows that flower 
 And fruit will make the coming season hright."* J 
 
 * Maetin. 
 
PRELIMINARY. xlis 
 
 To a 'idivine comedy," indeed, in the large style, 
 which should contain a vindication of the ways of 
 God to man, a second part of Faust was as necessary 
 as Dante's Paradise was to his Inferno, or the Pro- 
 metheus Unbound of ^schylus to the Prometheus 
 Bound, or the last four chapters of the Book of Job 
 to the rest of the poem ; and when Goethe wrote this 
 Prologue in Heaven — a piece by no means necessary to 
 Faust as an acting play — it is impossible to imagine 
 that he had not then distinctly purposed and dimly 
 planned the singular poem now known as the second 
 part of Faust. For the sake, therefore, of those 
 readers of the great German tragedy, within the scope 
 of whose vision the setwud pd,rL Of Jb'ausl isjlor various 
 reasons, never likely to come, I will set down here a 
 somewhat detailed panoramic view of that remark- 
 able production. A few remarks, then, will enable 
 any person of common intelligence to understand 
 the exact relation which exists between the two 
 
 ^befirsB act opens vdth a pleasmg landscape scene, 
 in the midst of which Faust is discovered reclining 
 upon a flowery turf, weary, restless, and seeking re- 
 pose. The hour is tv\dlight, and round the weary 
 one Ariel and other quaint and pleasant Spirits are 
 hovering in airy circles, entertaining his fancy vdth 
 lovely shows, and lulling him vnth sweet sounds; 
 
1 PEELIMINARY. 
 
 quite a piece of Nature's most Toluptuous and luxuri- 
 ant beauty, such, as Goethe's soul delighted to bathe 
 in. As the Spirits continue their song, accompany- 
 ing the watches of the night, the dawn approaches to 
 the ear of mortal men calmly and gently, but to the 
 sense of Spirits, the march of the hours is heard as a 
 storm : the gigantic rock-gates of the East creak fear- 
 fully ; Phoebus rolls his chariot wheels in thunder ; 
 and eye and ear are startled at the strong coming of 
 the day. Faust then wakens, and gratefully welcomes 
 the fresh tide of a renewed existence which, after the 
 soothing influences of the magic sleep, seems to 
 stream in upon him. A resolution is strongly stirred 
 in his breast to strive after the highest perfection of 
 which human nature is capable. 
 
 The second scene brings us from the fairy into the 
 court atmosphere. The Emperor sits on his throne, 
 surrounded by all sorts of courtiers, ministers, and 
 other appendages of Majesty ; the astrologer and the 
 fool, significantly for those times (for we must suppose 
 the end of the fifteenth or the beginning of the six- 
 teenth century), occupying not the least conspicuous 
 place. Forthwith begins a somewhat prolix dis- 
 course between the Imperial Majesty and his princi- 
 pal ministers— Chancellor, Treasurer, Master of the 
 Household, etc., the burden of which is-^a very 
 common one with great people and people in office — 
 
PEELIMINARY. li 
 
 that they have no money and are at their wit's end 
 how to get it. The fool, into whose shoes Mephi- 
 stopheles has cunningly shuffled himself, is applied 
 to for the aid of his sage counsels, and is not slow 
 with the common resource of German devils and 
 necromancers— hidden treasures. But before the 
 spade and the mattock can be brought into play 
 to unearth this hidden heap, as it happens to 
 be Carnival, there must be a masquerade. The 
 Emperor, too, has just come from Rome, whither he 
 had gone, according to the laudable old custom of 
 the Heinrichs and Ottos and Friedrichs, to get him- 
 self dubbed Holy Roman Emperor, and with his 
 crown on his head, he has brought also the fool's cap. 
 Scene third, accordingly, exhibits a rich show of 
 foolery and masquerading of all sorts. Flower-girls 
 and gardeners; mothers and daughters; fishers, 
 fowlers, and foresters; Pulcinellos, parasites, and 
 dnmkards; poets and critics; the three Graces, 
 Aglaia, Hegemone, and Euphrosyne ; the three Fates, 
 Atropos, Clotho, and Lachesis; the three Furies, 
 Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone; Fear, Hope, and 
 Providence leading in Victory, who stands on the top 
 parapet of a tower — all this moves in motley operatic 
 splendour before the eyes of the spectator ; and the 
 various personages, as they pass, festoon themselves, 
 so to speak, with short speeches and moral reflections 
 
lii PEELIMINAKY. 
 
 in the style of the masques of our old English 
 dramatists — points prettily enough curled and frizded, 
 and agreeable enough, doubtless, to hear with music 
 in an opera, but rather wearisome to read in a long 
 sequence as part of a written play. Then, that 
 Doctor Faust may haye something to do in his own 
 peculiar province of magic, for the command of 
 which, as we know, he has sold his. soul to the Devil, 
 we have a grand chariot brought upon the stage by 
 four horses ; and in this chariot are two allegorical 
 personages, the charioteer boy (Knabenlenker), that 
 is to say. Poetry or intellectual wealth, and Plutus, 
 the god of material wealth, a character fitly sustained 
 by Doctor Faust himself. These two scatter their 
 riches profusely among the mob of masquers — 
 Poetry pearls and spangles, which turn into moths 
 and beetles as soon as snatched; Plutus golden 
 guineas and silver pennies ; but they are red hot, and 
 bum the fingers of the appropriators. A general row 
 takes place, which, however, is only the overture to 
 a greater one, with which the masquerade concludes. 
 Preceded and surrounded by dancing groups of 
 fauns and satyrs, giants, nymphs, and gnomes, the 
 Emperor appears in the character of the great Pan, 
 the AU of the world (-n-av). Plutus, i.e. Faustus, is 
 now ready to close the scene with a fire trick, like to 
 that which, on the first start of his magical career, 
 
PRELIMINARY. liii 
 
 he played off upon Brander, Siebel, Frosch, and the 
 other worthies of Auerbach's cellar. The little 
 dwarfish gnomes take the mighty Pan by the hand 
 and lead him to a hole in the rock, whence a foun- 
 tain of fire wells out with many a freakish spurt of 
 subterranean flame. This the universal haifimv, or 
 mighty Pan, beholds with infinite satisfaction ; but 
 lo ! as he bends forward to contemplate such miracle 
 more near, his beard unglues itself and catches fire ; 
 and the flame begins to play about at a furious rate, 
 cracking like a whip right and left, and with long 
 snaky tongues licking the roof of the welkin. The 
 stage is now one web of confusion and consternation ; 
 all hands are at work to clap extinguishment on the 
 earth-born flame ; but the more they plash and potter 
 in the wild element, the more it blazes, and the cry 
 is raised — Oh treason ! — that the Emperor is burning ; 
 whereupon the herald very appropriately lifts up the 
 moral compMnt : — 
 
 'l^oyouth, Youth ! and wilt thou nearer 
 Learn to rein thy fancies flighty y 
 Highness, Highness ! wilt thou never 
 Be as wise as thou art mighty 1" 
 
 and herewith, and with a conjuration of soft dews 
 and mists convocated by Plutus to lay the flaming 
 devils whom he had raised, ends the spectacle and 
 the scene. 
 
liv PRELIMINARY. 
 
 What next? The fourth scene discoyers the 
 Emperor on his holy Roman throne, as in the second. 
 Faust hopes that his Majesty has readily pardoned 
 the frolic of flame-jugglery with which the preceding 
 day's sport had ended ; and the Emperor expresses 
 his high delight with the exhibition of such tricks ; 
 for nothing could give him greater pleasure than to 
 imagine himself for a season a king of salamanders. 
 Mephistopheles then comes forward with the finished 
 draught of his new scheme for the replenishing of the 
 Imperial exchequer ; and, that his Majesty may not 
 have long to wait for the drudgery of the mattock 
 and spade in bringing to light the hidden treasures 
 before promised, the afiair is to be managed in the 
 meantime by paper money ; and straightway, upon 
 the faith of the to-be-unearthed gold, the Minister of 
 Finance is relieved from his perplexities, and the 
 whole country rises and swells and billows up in a 
 flux of prosperity. This as a prelude ; but the seri- 
 ous work is yet to come- The Emperor requests the 
 great conjuror to produce for his amusement some- 
 thing better than salamanders, and more wonder- 
 ful even than paper money. He wishes to see the 
 famous beauty, the Spartan Helen who set Troy on 
 fire, and Paris the princely shepherd, whose well- 
 trimmed locks and gold-embroidered mantle had pre- 
 vailed to seduce her from her fidelity to her royal 
 
PRELIMINARY. Iv 
 
 husband. Faust engages to gratify the Imperial 
 wishes ; and Mephistopheles, after a little demurring 
 — the shades of the classical world being not within 
 his proper domain — consents. Whereupon the hero, 
 holding in his hand a magic key which he has 
 received from his comrade, descends through the 
 earth into the empty and bodiless realm of the 
 Mothers; and, having abstracted from their presence 
 a mystical tripod, ascends into the upper air, and 
 appears before the Imperial Court, where, habited as 
 a priest, he instantly invokes the shade of the famous 
 pair, to whom Aphrodite has been so lavish of her 
 gifts. They forthwith appear, and, environed by 
 music and mist, exhibit their classical charms, 
 and repeat their storied loves to the modern 
 eye. The exhibition, of course, after the first sur- 
 ^se is over, produces different effects on the specta- 
 tors, according to their different tastes; the Court 
 critics, like other brethren of the same carping frater- 
 nity, must have something to object, even to the queen 
 of beauties ; but Faust is fascinated, and, at the 
 first glance, falls violently in love vnth the phantom 
 which himself had raised. As before the vanishing 
 form which he had seen in the magic mirror, when in 
 the witches' kitchen, so here again he stands trans- 
 fixed with wonder, gazes in ecstasy, glows with passion, 
 and, losing all sense of propriety, raves in jealous 
 
Ivi PKELIMINAEY. 
 
 indignation at Paris, for yenturing to handle too 
 familiarly the obj ect of his adoration. He then rashes 
 insanely to seize the bodiless form ; but no sooner 
 has fleshly touch troubled the spiritual essence than 
 an explosion follows. The Doctor falls down in a 
 swoon ; the fair apparitions vanish ; and Mephisto- 
 pheles, taking the hero on his back, leaves the scene 
 of the luckless conjuration amid darkness and con- 
 fusion. Thus ends the first act. 
 
 The second act displays the old Gothic, high- 
 vaulted, narrow chamber which we remember to have 
 seen in the first scene of the first act of this strange 
 drama. This chamber formerly belonged to Doctor 
 Faust ; it now belongs to his hopeful disciple in the 
 art of alchemy, the learned Doctor Wagner, whom 
 we at once recognise as an old friend. To refresh 
 old memories further, the same young student is 
 introduced, to whom Mephistopheles, masqued in 
 academical cap and gown, had given such admirable 
 instructions on his first entrance to college life. He 
 is now no longer a freshman, but a Bachelor of Arts, 
 well crammed with the customary amount of book 
 lore, notable, also, for a certain heroic dash of scepti- 
 cism, which has taught him to believe that a large 
 amount of what passes for leamiug in the world is 
 humbug, and that the professors of learning, generally, 
 are only a more respectable sort of quacks. He stands 
 
PEELIMINARY. IviJ 
 
 in no need now of a Faust or a Mephistopheles to 
 instruct Mm ; for he knows more than all the most 
 learned doctors can teach him by the simple omni- 
 potence of his own conceit. He has studied theology 
 under some neologic doctor of the age, is a decided 
 disbelieyer in the personality of the Devil, and boasts 
 with the most confident faith in the infallibility of 
 his own Ego — " Unless I mil, no devil may exist !" 
 But the principal character in this scene is the learned 
 Doctor Wagner himself, who is exhibited in his 
 laboratory, bending and blowing over the hot coals 
 of his furnace in the act of making a man. And anon, 
 not so much by the chymick wit of Wagner, of course, 
 as by the magic of Mephistopheles, Homtjnculus 
 does actually come forth, all glovdng and eager, en- 
 closed vdthin a glass phial, a brisk little fellow, brim- 
 ful of elastic energy, and fired vnth the heroic re- 
 solve to be developed into the fulness of the freedom 
 of the perfect man, bursting his vitreous hull vnth 
 all possible expedition. To his chymick "fatherkin" 
 •Wagner he pays little or no respect, but recognises 
 Mephistopheles on the spot as first cousin ; in Faust, 
 and the dreams of Spartan Helen thai occupy his 
 fancy, being, like the Doctor, of a hot and amorous 
 temperament, he takes a wonderful interest; and, 
 spurred on by that lust of intellectual adventure which 
 is characteristic of his nature, after a few preliminary 
 
Iviii PRELIMINAEY. 
 
 remarks, proposes to MepMstopheles that they should 
 all three set themselves afloat on the magic mantle, 
 and balloon oyer to Thessaly, where, amid the haunts 
 of Erichtho and other famous witches, an assembly 
 of old classical ghosts and goblins, heroes and heroines, 
 is that night to be held. On this phantasmal expedi- 
 tion the worthy triad accordingly set out without 
 delay ; Homunculus to enlarge his mind and achicTC 
 development ; Faust to search out Helen ; and Mephi- 
 stopheles from mere curiosity ; for, in fact, he is quite 
 a stranger in the classical Hades, and is not, from 
 anything that has come to his ear, inclined to imagine 
 that there is anything in Olympus which will suit 
 his humour half so well as the witches on the Brocken. 
 We are now prepared for what the poet has 
 evidently dressed up with special care, as the impos- 
 ing spectacle of the second act, intending to over- 
 power the senses of the spectator with a profusion of 
 imaginative wealth, in the same fashion as he 
 managed the Carnival in the first act; with this 
 slight difference, that, whereas there we had a show 
 of masqued realities, here we have a show of real 
 phantoms. To this phantasmal exhibition the poet 
 gives the name of the Classical Walpurgis-Night, or 
 May-Day Night, the counterpart of the Gothic Wal- 
 purgis-Night set forth with such power and variety 
 in the first part of the drama. Like the short inter- 
 
PKELIMINARY. lix 
 
 mezzo of Oberon and Titania's golden wedding on 
 the Bracken, the strange motley dance of figures that 
 are here made to pop up before us with significant 
 saws in their mouths, have little or nothing to do 
 with the main action of the piece. Faust and 
 Homunculus and Mephistopheles appear at intervals 
 merely flitting through its luxuriant variety like 
 fire-flies in a forest full of lions and tigers, and 
 camelopards, and every curious wild beast. The 
 scene is in the Pharsajian Plains — Thessaly being 
 the native ground of classical witchcraft and en- 
 chantment — the time of course midnight. The 
 prologue is spoken by Erichtho, Lucan's famous 
 Avitch, in Iambic trimeters which the poet handles 
 with the fine rhythmical tact so prominent in all his 
 productions. Immediately after her monologue the 
 three magical aeronauts appear ; then colossal ants 
 gathering gold grains; with them gigantic griffins, 
 keepers of the gold, and Arimaspi fighting with the 
 griffins for its possession; then Sphynxes, and Sirens, 
 and Stymphalides, and various, to the classical ear 
 familiar, monsters of the bird genus, who hold much 
 talk, but not of much significance, vdth Faust and 
 his conductor. Suddenly the scene changes to the 
 banks of the Peneus, where the god of the classical 
 flood sits crowned with reeds, surrounded by grace- 
 fully sportive groups of Nymphs, and majestically 
 
Ix PKELIMINAEY. 
 
 sailing swans. Thereafter a hollow tramp of horses' 
 hoofs announces the arrival of the Centaur Chiron, 
 wise pedagogue of Achilles and other renowned 
 classical heroes. Him Faust accosts, and requests a 
 clue to the haunt of the fair Helen, the possession of 
 whom still burns in his inordinate desire as the only 
 thing capable of making him happy. To this request 
 the wise bi-form demi-god is not able, from his own 
 resources, to accede ; but he takes the Doctor on his 
 back ; and off they tramp together to the temple- 
 cave of Manto — the famous prophet -daughter of 
 jEsculapius. With her Faust enters the subterranean 
 regions, the realm of Persephone ; and the possession 
 of Helen, as we shall see in the third act, is the reward 
 of his intrepidity. But, though Faust seems now 
 9,mply provided for, the phantasmal hubbub goes on. 
 The Sirens and the Sphynxes again come to the front, 
 singing and soliloquising as before ; likevrise the ants 
 and the griffins; and to them presently are associated, 
 Seismos (earthquake), the Pygmies or Lilliputians, and 
 the Ideean Dactyles or Tom Thumbs of antiquity; 
 with them — ^in honour of Schiller, we may suppose 
 — the cranes of Ibycus ; then Empusa the foul ass- 
 footed blood-sucking hag, and troops of hideous 
 Lamias to captivate the Gothic taste of Mephi- 
 stopheles ; but even these are not ugly enough for 
 him ; so he wanders on through the Fair, till he en- 
 
PRELIMINARY. Ixi 
 
 counters the three daughters of Phorcys, who had 
 only one eye and one tooth among them ; and from 
 one of these he borrows her hideous mask, that he 
 may perform juggleries behind it in a fature part of 
 the play. Meanwhile Homunculus, in prosecution 
 of his eager desire to be developed, has hunted out 
 two philosophers, Anaxagoras and Thales; and 
 under the guidance of the latter, he proceeds through 
 the peopled air to the adjacent bays of the Mgean 
 Sea, where the marine gods and demi-gods are 
 holding their reyels. To this water-festival the 
 scene finally changes ; and forthwith a new swarm 
 of vocal apparitions begins to buzz around us ; among 
 whom (besides the Sirens, whom we had before) Nereus 
 and Proteus, the Telchins of Rhodes, the Cabiri of 
 Samothrace, with troops of shell-blowing Tritons, and 
 Nereids riding on dolphins and hippocampes, are the 
 most remarkable. With these fair apparitions, and 
 the pleasant aquatic sports in which they are en- 
 gaged, Homunculus, under the appropriate teaching 
 of Thales, the water-phUosopher, seems vastly 
 delighted; and mounting on the dolphin-back of 
 Proteus, careers about from creek to creek, seeking 
 anxiously for a just occasion of being fully developed. 
 This desired consummation, accordingly, happens 
 sooner perhaps than the little man had fancied, and 
 in an unexpected fashion ; for, as he bounds along 
 
Ixii PRELIMINAKY. 
 
 from wave to wave gallantly, on the back of the 
 multiform sea-god, the lovely Galatea, the fairest of 
 the daughters of Doris, suddenly presents herself to 
 his view, all radiant with marine beauty, lite a sea- 
 Venus, drawn in a shell-car. To stand unmoved at 
 such a spectacle was not possible, as we may 
 remember, even to ponderous Polypheme in the 
 Ovidian ballad, much less to a nimble and highly 
 excitable Homunculus. A commotion is immediately 
 observed in the waters close to Galatea's car; the 
 silver foam becomes red and glowing ; the spark of 
 Homunculus dilates itself into a blaze ; a breaking 
 of glass and a plashing of water is heard ; and a 
 bright illumination spreads itself vddely over the 
 festal waves. Hereupon breaks in full and sym- 
 phonious the song of the Sirens. 
 
 " Hail to Ocean, silver plashing, 
 Hail to Fire around it flashing, 
 Hail to pure Air's breezy pinions, 
 Hail to deep Earth's dark dominions ; 
 Blithely to the elements four, 
 Festal notes symphonious pour." 
 
 And with this erotic explosion the Classical Wal- 
 purgis-Night ends, and the third act of the drama 
 commences. This third act is entirely made up of 
 another fanciful piece, exhibiting the phantasmal loves 
 of Faust and Helen. The famous LacedEemonian 
 
PRELIMINARY. Mii 
 
 beauty appears surrounded by a chorus of Trojan 
 captive maids in the palace of Menelaus, at Sparta. 
 Her husband, on the way back from the weary cap- 
 ture of Troy, is still on the broad seas, Helen having 
 been sent before to prepare a sacrifice in honour of 
 his expected arrival. For this sacrifice everythmg 
 had been prescribed by Menelaus, only not the victim; 
 and, while Helen is wondering with herself what 
 might be the cause of this omission, Mephistopheles 
 suddenly appears in the mask of one of the Phorcyades, 
 and, giving himself out for the old housekeeper of 
 the palace, succeeds in filling the mind of Helen with 
 no unreasonable fears, that she is, in fact, herself the 
 victim destined by her death to atone for the decennial 
 toils and troubles of the Greeks before Ilium. From 
 the imminent danger thus impending there is no 
 safety for the fair but to throw herself under the 
 guidance of Mephistopheles, into the arms of Faust, 
 who, by his accustomed magical machinery, has 
 established himself in a grand Gothic castle, hard by, 
 among the ridges of Taygetus. No sooner is this 
 resolution taken, than the scene suddenly changes 
 from a classical palace a thousand years before Christ, 
 to a Gothic castle a thousand years after Christ, where, 
 in the midst of knights and squires, courtiers, cavaliers, 
 and other appropriate supernumeraries, marshalled 
 plentifully around, the thaumatuigic Doctor appears 
 
Ixiv PKELIMINARY. 
 
 as a German prince of the Middle Ages, with dignity 
 and loyal regard, coming forward to pay his homage 
 to the paragon of classical beauty. After a few gallant 
 speeches gracefully made and gracefully responded 
 to, Helen, of course, surrenders at discretion; and 
 the scene changes to a lovely Arcadian district, with 
 wood and water, mountain and mead, richly varie- 
 gating the pastoral solitude, the abode of love. What 
 is there enacted you may guess partly, but not alto- 
 gether ; you may well imagine that Faust and Helen 
 are there depicted as enjoying all the raptures that, 
 to transcendental lovers, in such a place, naturally 
 belong ; but you will not guess that from their phan- 
 tasmal embrace a son is bom, and that this son, under 
 the name of Euphorion, is neither more nor less than 
 impersonated Poetry, the same, or a similar allegorial 
 character, that we were already introduced to in the 
 first act, under the name of the Boy-charioteer. 
 Here, in this third act, he appears brisk and nimble, 
 tricksy as a Mercury, lovely as a Cupid, precocious, 
 impetuous, and elastic as a Chatterton. And, like 
 a Chatterton, he will not run and leap only in the 
 fashion of common boys, but he bounds and skips, 
 right and left, above and below, without reason or 
 measure. Light and agile in every motion, more like 
 a bird than a boy, he is tempted to believe that the 
 air, not the earth, is his proper element, and, not- 
 
PRELIMINARY. Ixv 
 
 withstanding the importunate warnings of his parents, 
 assays, like Icarus, to bestride the air, and, like Icarus, 
 falls and perishes. This mournful catastrophe the 
 poet gladly makes use of to dissolve the spell of 
 Helen's phantasmal existence, and to put a finale on 
 the unsubstantial classical courtship of Doctor Faust. 
 The mother precipitates herself after the son, a second 
 time to find her home in the dim halls of Proser- 
 pine ; and the hero, by the direction of Mephisto- 
 pheles, seizes the dropped mantle of Helen, and, wrap- 
 ping himself in it, is straightway enyeloped in clouds 
 and borne aloft through far space, even back to 
 honest Deutschland, in quest of new adventures. 
 
 The fourth act is very short, merely a stepping- 
 stone to the fifth, it would appear. In the first scene 
 Faust is exhibited in a new character. Pleasures 
 both real and fantastical having been exhausted, he 
 now girds his loins to work, and that neither in the 
 Moon nor in any extra-terrene sphere, but even on 
 this sorry planet, which his high-soaring spirit had so 
 long despised : — 
 
 . " No talk of moons ! this earth for mighty deeds 
 Hath scope enough : the man who dares succeeds ; 
 I've hatched a plan of manful stout adventure, 
 And with brave heart on bold career I enter !" 
 
 This is a great improvement, no doubt ; but, as Faust 
 never does anything to the end of his career without 
 
Ixvi PRELIMINARY. 
 
 magic and the fellowship of the Devil, the activity 
 into wliich he immediately dashes has no effect in 
 exciting the admiration of the spectator. The 
 Emperor, it seems — the same with whom we made 
 acquaintance in the first act — notwithstandiilg the 
 unexpected aid of hidden treasures and paper money, 
 being a lover of pleasure rather than of governing, 
 has fallen into discredit with his subjects; and a 
 counter-Kaiser — according to the not uncommon 
 practice of Popes and Kaisers in the Middle Ages — is 
 set up. Faust, though he professes himself no great 
 admirer of the special sphere of activity which is 
 opened up4)y waj>, nevertheless, for the love he bears 
 to theN^mpero^ who is a good fellow with a thou- 
 sand foiblesVallows himself to be persuaded by 
 Mephistopheles to take part in the war against the 
 counter -Kaiser. This war, as was to be expected 
 with Mephistopheles behind scenes, is brought 
 speedily to a glorious conclusion, and that specially 
 by the intervention of the three mighty men of David 
 (2 Sam. xxiii. 8), and a host of Undenes vidth water 
 juggleries, whom Mephistopheles calls to the rescue : 
 and the Doctor, like Bellerophon in Homer, is re- 
 warded for his heroic soldiership by an extensive grant 
 of land along the sea-coast, great part of which, how- 
 ever, has yet to be redeemed from the waves. So 
 ends act the fourth. 
 
PRELIMINARY. Ixvii 
 
 Act fifth exhibits our hero, uow in extreme old age 
 — wjactlyone hundred years, we learn fromEckermann 
 -^fter some seven or eight decades of mortal life spent 
 first in all sorts of vain speculation, and then in all 
 sorts of idle dissipation and lawless indulgence, at 
 length settled down as a landed proprietor, a great 
 agricultural improver, a redeemer of waste lands from 
 the ^ea, a builder of harbours, and a promoter of 
 tradfc But in the midst of engrossing business and 
 continued occupation, as much, at least, as axe and 
 spade, ditch and dyke can furnish him withal, he is 
 the old man still, discontented and unhappy. The 
 lord of a vast tract of sea-coast, and of uncounted 
 acres, he is miserable, because an old peasant and his 
 old wife — Baucis and Philemon — are the owners of 
 a little cottage near his house, and a few lime trees, 
 which deform his lawn and obstruct his view. 'Tis 
 the old story of Ahab, King of Israel, and Naboth's 
 vineyard (1 Kings xxi.), as Mephistopheles, who is 
 well versed in Scripture, takes occasion to inform us. 
 Well, what is to be done ? The attendant fiend of 
 course undertakes (like certain Highland proprietors 
 whom we hear of) to expel the good old people from 
 their old dwelling ; and Faust, like the same Cale- 
 donian aristocracy, solaces his conscience with the 
 salve that he will provide the good people a far more 
 valuable and more convenient lodging in some remote 
 
Ixviii PRELIMINARY. 
 
 corner of his estate. Meanwhile Mephistopheles, not 
 over scrupulous about means, and not being able to 
 persuade the stiff-necked and timid old snails to creep 
 out of their shell, settles the matter — as .has been 
 practised also in the Scottish Highlands — by apply- 
 ing fire to habitation and habitant at once ; the pious 
 old pair fall a sacrifice to the greed of the master 
 and the violence of the man ; and with this blood on 
 his hands, Faustus now prepares, with all possible 
 heroic confidence, to meet death and to mount up to 
 Heaven. 
 
 We are now arrived at the closing scene of this 
 eventful history. 'Tis midnight : the scene is Faust's 
 castle ; before the door of his chamber four grey old 
 hags appear. " I," says the one, " am called Want." 
 " I," says the second, " Guilt." " I," says the third, 
 " Care." " I," quoth the fourth, " am called Need." 
 Of these four, however, only one can do, or attempt 
 to do, any harm to the magical Doctor, for he is now 
 a rich man ; and rich men can know nothing of Want 
 or Need, nor of Guilt, either, we are told ; but Care 
 leaps in through the keyhole, and annoys him a little 
 before his dismissal. The Doctor, however, is heroic- 
 ally determined not to yield to this demon ; and he 
 finds his sure remedy for all unpleasant cogita:tions in 
 unremitted work. The great pioneers of land im- 
 provement, canals and ditches, must be proceeded 
 
PEELIMINARY. Ixix 
 
 with ; and the indefatigable Doctor, even after pesti- 
 lential Care had blown a blinding blast into his eyes, 
 marches into the grave with the spade and the pick- 
 axe in his hand. Then commences a scene of a most 
 singular character. The terrible jaws of Hell yavra 
 wide pn the left side of the stage, and a contest com- 
 mences between Mephistopheles on the one hand, and 
 the descending angels onjite other, for the possession 
 of the soul of Faust. At first the Evil Spirit seems 
 confident of success, strengthened as he is by a 
 numerous host of multiform imps and devils, who 
 come up in swarms from the steaming mouth of the 
 abyss ; but the fury of this malignant host is soon 
 disarmed in a very simple way, by a band of young 
 blooming boy-angels scattering a shower of celestial 
 blossoms over the heads of the infernals. Beneath the 
 fire of these apparently innocent weapons, the legion 
 of horned, and dumpy, and wizened devils fall head 
 foremost into the pit whence they had issued ; while 
 their mighty master, Mephistopheles, stands so cap- 
 tivated by the bright bloom and the pretty looks of the 
 rosy cherubs, that in the very moment when heroism 
 is most necessary, he loses all his manhood, and a 
 few beardless boys, with psalms and flosculosities, 
 cheat him of the immortal soul which was his by the 
 signature of blood, and by the seal of a lifetime spent 
 in giving free rein to all sorts of foolish fancies and 
 unprincipled iniquities. 
 
Ixx PRELIMINARY. 
 
 After this catastrophe there remains nothing but 
 the formal introduction of Faust to Heaven, for which 
 the closing scene is appropriated. The Virgin Mary, 
 surrounded by pioug Anchorites and fair Penitents, 
 with Fathers seraphic and ecstatic, is revealed in the 
 heavenly glory, awaiting the arrival of redeemed souls 
 from earth ; and immediately the band of angels that 
 had worsted Mephistopheles appear aloft in triumph, 
 bearing the immortal part of Faust, and singing a 
 hymn, the words of which are intended to convey the 
 moral of the piece : — 
 
 " A rescued spirit to the goal 
 We bring of Earth's probation ; 
 The ever-agtive striving soul 
 "Work s out its own_s alvation. 
 '-■"I^ndwhen, in love and mercy~sWlJm^ 
 His God and Saviour meets him, 
 The (mgel-choir, to join their throng, 
 With hearty welcome greets him." 
 
 Among the throng of redeemed Penitents one appears 
 conspicuous, whose name, while she lived on earth, 
 was Margaret ; she is close by the Virgin, interceding 
 for Faust, and ever as she mounts vidth the Queen 
 of Heaven to higher stages of glory, draws the new- 
 comer after her to share in her sempiternal blessed- 
 ness. The curtain then falls ; the redeemed throngs 
 ascend; and the scene resounds with the mystical 
 chorus : — 
 
PRELIMINARY. Ixxi 
 
 " Earth and earthly things 
 
 Type the celestial, 
 
 Shadow and shorn 
 
 Is all glory terrestrial ; 
 
 Beauty immortal 
 
 The rapt spirit hails, Z"*^ 
 
 , Where the eternally- Jr^ 
 
 Female prevails." {/ 
 
 After so detailed an account of this rich and various 
 exhibition of imaginative power, the student of this 
 great world-drama, to use a German phrase, can have 
 no difficulty in understanding the theology and the 
 theodicy of the great Teutonic poet. $fie promise of 
 the Prologue in Heaven is fulfilled ; ther e is no such 
 Hiiing as everlasting punishment ; and the Evil Spirit 
 _is_sure to_be^cheated^ven of the souls for whom he 
 has most surely bargained, ifjhai. soul, after staining 
 ijtself with any number of sins, only perseveres at last 
 in some course of honourable and useful activitjtc 
 This is not according to the common Protestant 
 conception in such cases ; for Protestantism, having 
 abolished Purgatory, lies under a necessity of peopling 
 Tartarus more largely; and besides, after such a 
 solemn compact mth the Evil One, and twenty-four 
 years (for that is the number given in the legend) 
 spent in unrepented indulgence of all sensualities and 
 vanities, it was dramatically as well as theologically 
 
Ixxii PRELIMINARY. 
 
 inconsistent to redeem such a deliberate and persist- 
 ent sinner from the damnation for which he had 
 bargained. But the hell of the mediaeval Catholic 
 Church, though terrible enough in its pictorial pre- 
 sentation (as many an Italian cloister testifies) was 
 more accommodating in its adaptation to the many 
 forms of human weakness ; and so, to magnify the 
 grace of God, and make Christ all in all, after a 
 fashion which the seyere Protestant Calvinist is forced 
 to condemn, the mediaeval form of the Faust legend 
 could afford to save Faust, notwithstanding his blood- 
 sealed transaction with the Devil ; and no one has a 
 right to blame Goethe, morally and theologically, for 
 having adopted this view of the matter. But, though 
 the salvation of Faust, according to the feeling of 
 orthodox mediaeval Christianity, is permissible, and 
 even desirable, the manner in which, and the process 
 by which, his salvation is achieved by the German 
 Protestant poet differs very much from the treatment 
 it receives at the hand of the Catholic Church. In 
 Christian theology — and in any healthy system of 
 human Ethics too, I imagine — the forgiveness of a 
 great sinner always implies confession of guilt, and a 
 process, sometimes painful and protracted, of repent- 
 ance and amendment ; but of this not a hint occurs 
 in the second part of Faust ; and so the moral 
 instincts of man, which had been so strongly appealed 
 
PRELIMINARY. Ixxiii 
 
 to in the first part, are ignored, with a feeling of great 
 moral dissatisfaction as the unavoidable result. So 
 much for the ethico-theological aspect of the case, 
 ^sthetically, and viewed as a dramatic continuation 
 of the first part, the second part of the poem is much 
 more at fault, and must be pronounced, with all its 
 wealth of imaginative reproduction, and all its lux- 
 uriance of rhythmical form, a magnificent failure. If 
 this judgment appears severe, it must be remembered 
 that the very excellence of the first part, considered 
 morally and dramatically, rendered a satisfactory con- 
 tinuation of it, even to the genius of a Goethe, both 
 impolitic and impossible. Who would ever dream 
 of a continuation of Hamlet ? Had it pleased our 
 great dramatic master to keep Hamlet alive amid the 
 general catastrophe of the play, as he might lightly 
 have done, the future fate of his hero would only 
 have been a matter of historical curiosity. For 
 dramatic purposes his course was finished. So with 
 Faust. Though he remains on the stage in the 
 pathetic closing scene, dramatically his part is played 
 out. The " Hither to me ! " of his fiendish compan- 
 ion is quite enough for the satisfaction of the moral 
 feeling which the catastrophe has excited ; all beyond 
 this is a matter, no doubt, for metaphysical specu- 
 lation and theological solution, but with which 
 the dramatist has nothing to do. But even if there 
 
Ixxiv PRELIMINARY. 
 
 were any feeling in the breast of the spectator, causing 
 him to look for some terrestrial continuation of the 
 sad story which he has been witnessing, by the 
 manner in which he has conducted this continuation 
 the poet has altogether cut himself off from the moral 
 sympathy which so spontaneously flowed as a tri- 
 bute to his art in the first part. The histoiy of 
 Faust and Margaret, notwithstanding the magical or 
 diabolic background on which it figures, is a simple 
 story of flesh and blood, a story which would remain 
 equally true and equally affecting were the demon 
 and the witches removed altogether from the scene. 
 But now, in this second part, we are charmed by the 
 wand of the fiendish harlequin into a region of mere 
 fancy and phantasmagoria, into a swarming Fair, so to 
 speak, of multitudinous phantasmal figures, through 
 the midst of which the real actors flit to and fro 
 like a few idle civilians amid the ordered files and 
 motley groups of some gigantic host. The primary 
 here is buried in the secondary ; the actors are lost 
 in their environment ; and the real throughout, in a 
 most unreal fashion, confounded with the ideal. 
 Faust, of course, and Mephistopheles, and even 
 Wagner, peering with glittering eye through the 
 smoke of his alchymical kitchen, are the same 
 creatures of flesh and blood that we were made ac- 
 quainted with in part one ; only all perhaps a little 
 
PRELIMINARY. kxv 
 
 enfeebled in character ; Mephistopheles a little more 
 of the conjuror, and a little less of the Deyil ; Faust 
 much less of a thinker, and not a whit less of \a 
 sensualist; Wagner much less modest, and much 
 more besotted in the disnatured studies and fanciful 
 operations of his chemical kitchen. AU this is real. 
 But this real Faust becomes enamoured of a phantom 
 Helen ; and of this monstrous embrace an ideal poetic 
 child, incarnating, we presume, the contrary beauties 
 of the Classical and the Romantic schools, is the pro- 
 duct. Of such a strange jumble we may say truly, as 
 Jefirey said falsely of Wordsworth's "Excursion," 
 " This will never do." Such a violation of all the prin- 
 ciples of common sense and of good taste cannot be 
 pardoned even to Goethe. The faults of men of genius, 
 it has been said, are the consolation of the dunces ; but 
 whether the dunces choose to console themselves in 
 this way or not, the fact is certain, that on the stern 
 battlefield of public life, and no less in the flowery 
 realms of imaginative construction, a great genius is 
 precisely the man to make occasionally a great blunder. 
 There maybe some few great things, and some wonder- 
 ful things, and not a few wise things (as who could 
 expect otherwise from Goethe) in the second part of 
 Faust ; but it is certainly neither a great drama nor 
 the just sequence of a great drama. I am inclined 
 to compare it with the rich fanciful work familiar to 
 
Ixxvi PEELIMINARY. 
 
 the students of art, in the so-called Loggie, or galleries ^ 
 of Raphael, in the Vatican. In the first part of Faust, 
 Goethe is a great dramatist ; in the second part he is 
 an arabesque painter. It is no small matter to com- 
 pose poetical arabesques, as our poet has done so 
 luxuriantly in the Classical Walpurgis Night, and 
 other parts of this piece ; and a very natural affair, 
 too, one may remark, in the circumstances of the 
 present composition. It is rare, perhaps impossible, | 
 in the history of literary manifestation, that a poet 
 -should commenee-a- great poem in the fervour of 
 youth, continue it through the firmness of middle 
 life, and finish it in the serenity of an advanced old 
 age, vi^ith a homogeneousness of inspiration, and a 
 perfectly consistent handling throughout. Goethe, 
 in particular, was a man who grew, as he advanced, 
 into many new shapes, and, of course, grew out of 
 the old ones ; and, though he was to the end a con- 
 summate artist, and there was no question of decayed 
 powers, much less of dotage, in the grand old octo- 
 genarian, it was an artistic blunder in him to weave 
 the fantastic tissue of fair forms, which amused his 
 later years, into a common web with the tale of 
 strong human passion, which had grown into a well- 
 rounded dramatic shape under the influence of his 
 most fervid youthful inspirations. The error lay in 
 the name and the connection perhaps more than in 
 
PRELIMINARY. Ixxvii 
 
 the matter. A classical Walpurgis Night, or a love 
 adventure with a resuscitated Helen of Troy, might 
 have formed a very pleasing exhibition as a masque 
 or show for an academical celebration — as at 
 Oxford, for instance, in Commemoration season — 
 while, as a second part of Faust, it falls flat. Let 
 it contain as many allegories as the wise old poet- 
 philosopher may have meant to smuggle into it, and 
 as many mysteries as the mystery-loving race of Ger- 
 man commentators may have strained themselves to 
 draw out of it ; as it stands, and where it stands, and 
 with the claims which it necessarily makes, it remains 
 a brilliant blunder and a pnagnificent mistake ; and 
 with this we must be content. Those whose organ 
 of reverence is stronger than their love of truth, 
 will, of course, think otherwise; and this is no 
 doubt the most suitable excuse for any nonsense 
 that may have been thought or written on the sub- 
 ject ; but, if it be a part of the wisdom of life to learn 
 to look calmly on plain facts, even when most dis- 
 agreeable, it belongs no less to an educated literary 
 judgment to admit honestly the special shortcomings 
 of a great genius, without prejudice to his general 
 merits. An ignorant worship is a poor substitute for 
 a just appreciation. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 PREFIXED TO THE LATER EDITIONS OF FAUST. 
 
 Ye hover nigh, dim-floating shapes again, 
 That erst the misty eye of Fancy knew ! 
 Shall I once more your shadowy flight detain, 
 And the fond dreamings of my youth, pursue ? 
 Ye press around ! — resume your ancient reign, — 
 As from the hazy past ye rise to view ; 
 The magic breath that wafts your airy train 
 Stirs in my breast long-slumbering chords again. 
 
 Ye raise the pictured forms of happy days. 
 And many a dear loved shade comes up with you ; 
 Like the far echo of old-memoried lays, 
 First love and early friendship ye renew. 
 Old pangs return ; life's labyrinthine maze 
 Again the plaint of sorrow wanders through, 
 And names the loved ones who from Fate received 
 A bitter call, and left my heart bereaved. 
 
 They hear no more the sequel of my song. 
 Who heard my early chant with open ear ; 
 
 B 
 
2 FAUST. 
 
 Dispersed for ever is the fayouring throng, 
 Dumb the response from friend to friend so dear. 
 My sorrow floats an unknown crowd among, 
 Whose very praise comes mingled with strange fear ; 
 And they who once were pleased to hear my lay, 
 If yet they live, have drifted far away. 
 
 And I recall with long-unfelt desire 
 
 The realm of spirits, solemn, still, serene ; 
 
 My faltering lay, like the ^olian lyre. 
 
 Gives wavering tones with many a pause between ; 
 
 The stern heart glows with youth's rekindled fire, 
 
 Tear follows tear, where long no tear hath been ; 
 
 The thing I am fades into distance grey ; 
 
 And the pale Past stands out a clear to-day. 
 
PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE. 
 
 Manager of a Strolling Company. — Stagk-poet — 
 Meeeyfellow. 
 
 Manager. 
 
 Ye twain, in good and evil day 
 
 So oft my solace and my stay, 
 
 Say, have ye heard sure word, or wandering rumour 
 
 How our new scheme afifects the public humour ? 
 
 Without the multitude we cannot thrive. 
 
 Their maxim is to live and to let live. 
 
 The posts are up, the planks are fastened, and 
 
 Each man's agog for something gay and grand. 
 
 With arched eyebrows they sit already there. 
 
 Gaping for something new to make them stare. 
 
 I know the public taste, and profit by it ; 
 
 But still to-day I've fears of our succeeding : 
 
 'Tis true they're customed to no dainty diet. 
 
 But they've gone through an awful breadth of reading. 
 
 How shall we make our pieces fresh and new, 
 
 And with some meaning in them, pleasing too ? 
 
4 FAUST. 
 
 In sooth, I like to see the people pouriHg 
 Into our booth, like' storm and tempest roaring, 
 While, as the waving impulse onward heaves them, 
 The narrow gate of grace at length receives them, 
 When, long ere it be dark, with lusty knocks 
 They fight their way on to the money-box, 
 And like a starving crowd around a baker's door, 
 For tickets as for bread they roar. 
 So wonder-working is the poet's sway 
 O'er every heart — so may it work to-day ! 
 
 Poet. 
 
 mention not that motley throng to me. 
 Which only seen makes frighted genjus pause; 
 Hide from my view that wild and whirling sea 
 That sucks me in, and deep and downward draws. 
 Ko ! let some noiseless nook of refuge be 
 My heaven, remote from boisterous rude applause, 
 (Where Love and Friendship, as a God inspires, / 
 Create and fan the pure heart's chastened fire^^ 
 
 Alas ! what there the shaping thought did rear. 
 And scarce the trembling lip might lisping say, 
 To Nature's rounded type not always near. 
 The greedy moment rudely sweeps away, 
 jf' Oft-times a work, through many a patient year 
 I Must toil to reach its finished fair display ; 
 
PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE. 
 
 The glittering gaud may fix the passing gaze, 
 But the pure gem gains Time's enduring praise. 
 
 Merryfellow. 
 
 Pshaw ! Time will reap his own ; but in our 
 
 power 
 The moment lies, and we must use the hour. 
 The Future, no doubt, is the Present's heir. 
 But we who live must first enjoy our share. 
 Methinks the present of a goodly boy 
 Has something that the wisest might enjoy. 
 Whose ready lips with easy lightness brim, 
 The people's humour need not trouble him ; 
 He courts a croiyd the surer to impart 
 The quickening word that stirs the kindred heart. 
 Quit ye like men, be honest bards and true. 
 Let Fancy with her many-sounding choruS) 
 Reason, Sense, Feeling, Passion, move before us. 
 But, mark me well — a spice of folly too ! 
 
 Manager. 
 
 Gire what you please, so that you give but plenty ; 
 They come to see, and you must feed their eyes ; 
 Scene upon scene, each act may have its twenty. 
 To keep them gaping still in fresh surprise : 
 This is the royal road to public favour ; 
 You snatch it thus, and it is yours for ever. 
 
6 FAUST. 
 
 A mass of things alone the mass secures ; 
 Each comes at last and culls his own from yours. 
 Bring much, and every one is sure to find, 
 In your rich nosegay, something to his mind. 
 You give a piece, give it at once in pieces ; 
 Such a ragout each taste and temper pleases. 
 And spares, if only they were wise to know it, 
 Much fruitless toil to player and to poet. 
 In vain into an artful whole you glue it ; 
 The public in the long run will undo it. 
 
 Poet. 
 
 What ? feel you not the vileness of this trade ? 
 How much the genuine artist ye degrade ? 
 The bungling practice of our hasty school 
 You raise into a maxim and a rule. 
 
 Manager. 
 
 All very well ! — but when a man 
 
 Has forged a scherhe, and sketched a plan 
 
 He must have sense to use the tool 
 
 The best that for the job is fit. 
 
 Consider what soft wood you ha,ve to split. 
 
 And who the people are for whom you write. 
 
 One comes to kill a few hours o' the night ; 
 
 Another, with his drowsy wits oppressed. 
 
 An over-sated banquet to digest ; 
 
PRELUDE AT THE THEATKE. 7 
 
 And not a few, whom least of all we choose, 
 
 Come to the play from reading the Reviews. 
 
 They drift to us as to a masquerade ; 
 
 Mere curiosity wings their paces ; 
 
 The ladies show themselves, and show their silks 
 
 and laces. 
 And play their parts well, though they are not paid. 
 What dream you of, on your poetic height ? 
 A crowded house, forsooth, gives you delight ! 
 Look at your patrons as you should, 
 You'll find them one half cold, and one half crude. 
 One leaves the play to spend the night 
 Upon a wench's breast in wild delight ; 
 Another sets him down to cards, or calls 
 For rattling dice, or clicking billiard balls. 
 For such like hearers, and for ends like these 
 Why should a bard the gentle Muses tease ? 
 I tell you, give them more, and ever more, and still 
 A little more, if you would prove your skill. 
 And since they can't discern the finer quality, 
 Confound them with broad sweep of triviality — 
 But what's the matter ? — ^pain or ravishment ? 
 
 Poet. 
 
 If such your service, you must be content 
 With other servants who will take your pay ! 
 Shall then the bard his noblest right betray ? 
 
8 FAUST. 
 
 The right of man, which Nature's gift imparts, 
 
 For brainless plaudits basely jest away ? 
 
 What gives him power to move all hearts, 
 
 Each stubborn element to sway. 
 
 What but the harmony, his being's inmost tone. 
 
 That charms all feelings back into his own ? 
 
 Where listless Nature, her eternal thread, 
 
 The unwilling spindle twists around, 
 
 And hostile shocks of things that will not wed 
 
 With jarring dissonance resound, 
 
 Who girides with living pulse the rhythmic flow 
 
 Of powers that make sweet music as they go ? 
 
 Who consecrates each separate limb and soul 
 
 To beat in glorious concert with the whole ? 
 
 Who makes the surgy-swelling billow 
 
 Heave with the wildly heaving breast, 
 
 And on the evening's rosy pillow. 
 
 Invites the brooding heart to rest ? 
 
 Who scatters spring's most lovely blooms upon 
 
 The path of the beloved one ? 
 
 Who plaits the leaves that unregarded grow 
 
 Into a crown to deck the honoured brow ? 
 
 Who charms the gods ? who makes Olympus yield '< 
 
 The power of man in poet's art revealed. 
 
 Merryfellow. 
 Then learn such subtle powers to wield. 
 
PEELUDE AT THE THEATRE. 9 
 
 And on the poet's business enter 
 
 As one does on a love-adventure. 
 
 They meet by chance, are pleased, and stay 
 
 On being pressed, just for a day ; 
 
 Then hours to hours are sw^eetly linked in chain, 
 
 TiU/net-caught by degrees, they find retreat is vain. 
 ^^^ first the sky is bright, then darkly lowers ; 
 
 To-day, fine thrilling rapture wings the hours, / 
 
 To-morrow, doubts and anguish have their chance,^ 
 
 And, ere one knows, they're deep in a romance. 
 
 A play like this both praise and profit brings. 
 
 Plunge yourself boldly in the stream of things — 
 
 What's lived by all, but known to few — 
 
 And bring up something fresh and new. 
 
 No matter what ; just use your eyes. 
 
 And all will praise what all can prize ; 
 
 Strange motley pictures in a misty mirror, 
 QA spark of truth in a thick cloud of error ;'^ 
 
 'Tis thus we brew the genuine beverage. 
 
 To edify and to refresh the age. 
 
 The bloom of youth in eager expectation, 
 
 With gaping ears drinks in your revelation ; 
 
 Each tender sentimental disposition 
 
 Suck's from your art sweet woe-be-gone nutri- 
 tion; 
 
 Each hears a part of what his own heart says. 
 
 While over all your quickening sceptre sways. 
 
10 FAUST. 
 
 These younglings follow where you bid them go. 
 Lightly to laughter stirred, or turned to woe. 
 They love the show, and with an easy swing, 
 Follow the lordly wafture of your wing ; 
 Your made-up man looks cold on everything, 
 But growing minds take in what makes them grow. 
 
 Poet. 
 
 Then give me back the years again, 
 When mine own spirit too was growing. 
 When my whole being was a vein 
 Of thronging songs within me flowing ! 
 Then slept the world in misty blue. 
 Each bud the nascent wonder cherished, 
 And all for me the flowerets grew. 
 That on each meadow richly flourished. 
 Though I had nothing then, I had a treasure. 
 Tire thirst for truth, and in illusion pleasure. 
 l«Give me the free, unshackled pinion. 
 The height of joy, the depth of pain, / 
 
 Strong hate, and stronger love's dominioii^ 
 give me back my youth again ! 
 
 Mekktfellow. 
 
 The fire of youth, good friend, you need, of coiu'se. 
 
 Into the hostile ranks to break. 
 
 Or, when the loveliest damsels hang by force. 
 
PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE. 11 
 
 With amorous clinging, from your neck, 
 When swift your winged steps advance 
 To where the racer's prize invites you, 
 Or, after hours of wheeling dance, 
 The nightly deep carouse invites you. 
 But to awake the well-known lyre 
 With graceful touch that tempers fire, 
 And to a self-appointed goal. 
 With tuneful rambling on to roll, 
 Such are your duties, aged sirs ; nor we 
 Less honour pay for this, nor stint your fee ; 
 Old age, not childish, makes the old; but they 
 Are genuine children of a mellower day. 
 
 Manager. 
 
 Enough of words : 'tis time that we 
 Were come to deeds ; while you are spinning 
 Fine airy phrases, fancy-free, 
 We might have made some good beginning. 
 What stuff you talk of being in the vein ! 
 A lazy man is never in the vein. 
 If once your names are on the poet's roll. 
 The Muses should be under your control. 
 You know our want ; a good stiff liquor 
 To make their creeping blood flow quicker ; 
 Tnen brew the brewst without delay ; 
 l/What was not done to-day, to-morrow 
 
12 FAUST. 
 
 Will leaTe undone for greater sorrow/ 
 
 Don't stand, and stare, and block the way. 
 
 But with a firm, set purpose lay 
 
 Hold of your bright thoughts as they rise to view. 
 
 And bid them stay ; 
 Once caught, they will not lightly run away. 
 Till they have done what in them lies to do. 
 
 Among the sons of German play. 
 Each tries his hand at what he may ; 
 Therefore be brilliant in your scenery, 
 And spare no cost on your machinery. 
 Let sun and moon be at your call. 
 And scatter stars on stars around ; 
 Let water, fire, and rocky wall. 
 And bird and beast and fish abound. 
 Thus in your narrow booth mete forth 
 The wide creation's flaming girth. 
 And wing your progress, pondered well, 
 From heaven to earth, from earth to hell. 
 
PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 
 
 The Loed — The Heavenly Hosts : afterwards 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 The Sun doth chime his ancient music 
 'Mid brothered spheres' contending song. 
 And on his fore-appoitited journey 
 With pace of thimder rolls along. 
 Strength drink the angels from his glory, 
 Mrough none may throughly search his way : 
 i/God's works rehearse their wondrous story/ 
 As bright as on Creation's day, 
 
 Gabeiel. 
 
 And swift and swift beyond conceiving 
 The pomp of earth is wheeled around, 
 Alternating Elysian brightness 
 With awful gloom of night profound. 
 Tip foams the sea, a surging river, 
 
14 FAUST. 
 
 And smites the steep rock's echoing base, 
 And rock and sea, unwearied ever, 
 Spin their eternal circling race. 
 
 Michael. 
 
 And storm meets storm with rival greeting, 
 From sea to land, from land to sea. 
 While from their war a virtue floweth. 
 That thrills with life all things that be. 
 The lightning darts his fury, blazing 
 Before the ihunder's sounding way ; 
 But still^y servants, Lord, aye praising 
 The gentle going of thy day/ 
 
 All the Three. 
 
 Strength drink the angels from thy glory. 
 Though none may search thy wondrous way ; 
 Thy works repeat their radiant story, 
 As bright as on Creation's day. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Sith thou, Lord, approachest near. 
 And how we fare would'st fain have information, 
 And thou of old wert glad to see me here, 
 I stand to-day amid the courtly nation. 
 Pardon ; no words of fine address I know. 
 Nor could, though all should hoot me down with 
 sneers ; 
 
PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 15 
 
 My pathos would move laughter, and not tears, 
 Wert thou not weaned from laughter long ago. 
 Of suns and worlds IVe nought to say, 
 I only see how men must fret their lives away. 
 The little god o' the world jogs and jogs on, the 
 
 same 
 As when from ruddy clay he took his name ; 
 And, sooth to say, remains a riddle, just 
 As much as when you shaped him from the dust. 
 ^Perhaps a little better he had thriven, 
 Had he not got the show of glimmering light from 
 
 heaven : 
 He calls it reason, and it makes him free / 
 To be more brutish than a brute can bey 
 He is, methinks, with reverence of your grace. 
 Like one of the long-leggfed race 
 Of grasshoppers that leap in the air, and spring, 
 And straightway in the grass the same old song they 
 
 sing; 
 'Twere well that from the grass he never rose. 
 On every stubble he must break his nose ! / 
 
 The Lord. 
 
 Hast thou then nothing more to say ? 
 And art thou here again to-day 
 To vent thy grudge in peevish spite 
 Against the earth, still finding nothing right ? 
 
16 FAUST. 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 
 True, Lord; I find things there no better than 
 
 before ; 
 I must confess I do deplore 
 Man's hopeless case, and scarce hare heart myself 
 To torture the poor miserable elf. 
 
 The Lord. 
 Dost thou know Faust ? 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 The Doctor? 
 
 The Lord. 
 
 Ay: my servant. 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 
 Indeed ! and of his master's will observant. 
 In, fashion quite peculiar to himself; 
 His food and drink are of no earthly taste, 
 A restless fever drives him to the waste. 
 Himself half seems to understand 
 How his poor wits have run astrand ; 
 From heaven he asks each loveliest star. 
 Earth's chiefest joy must jump to his demand. 
 And all that's near, and all that's far. 
 Soothes not his deep-moved spirit's war. 
 
PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 17 
 
 The Lord. 
 
 Though for a time he blindly grope his way, 
 Sptfn will I lead him into open day ; 
 ^Vell knows the gardener, when green shoots appear. 
 That bloom and fruit await the ripening year*^ 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 What wager you ? you yet shall lose that soul ! 
 Only give me full license, and you'll see 
 How I shall lead him softly to my goal. 
 
 The Lord. 
 
 As long as on the earth he lives 
 Thou hast my license full and free ; 
 VMan still must stumble while he strives.*' 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 My thanks for that ! the dead for me 
 
 Have little charm ; my humour seeks 
 
 The bloom of lusty life, with plump and rosy cheeks ; 
 
 For a vile corpse my tooth is far too nice, 
 
 I do just as the cat does with the mice. 
 
 The Lord. 
 
 So be it ; meanwhile, to tempt him thou art free ; 
 Go, drag this spirit from his native fount. 
 And lead him on, canst thou his will surmount, 
 
 c 
 
18 FAUST. 
 
 Into perdition down with thee ; 
 But stand ashamed at last, when thou shalt see 
 ^n honest man, 'mid all his strivings dark. 
 Finds the right way, though lit but by a sparla/ 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Well, weU; short time will show; into my net 
 I'll draw the fish, and then I'tc won my bet ; 
 And when I've carried through my measure 
 Loud blast of trump shall blaze my glory ; 
 Dust shall he eat, and that with pleasure. 
 Like my cousin the snake in the rare old story. 
 
 The Lord. 
 
 And thou mayst show thee here in upper sky 
 Unhindered, when thou hast a mind ; 
 I never hated much thee or thy kind ; 
 Of all the spirits that deny. 
 The clever rogue sins least against my mind. 
 For, in good sooth, the mortal generation. 
 When a soft pillow they may haply find. 
 Are far too apt to sink into stagnation ; 
 And therefore man for comrade wisely gets 
 A devil, who spurs, and stimulates, and whets. 
 But you, ye sons of heaven's own choice, 
 In the one living Beautiful rejoice ! 
 The self-evolving Energy divine 
 
PKOLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 19 
 
 Enclasp you round with loye's embrace benign. 
 And on the floating forms of earth and sky 
 Stamp the fair type of thought that may not die. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 From time to time the ancient gentleman 
 I see, and keep on the best terms I can. 
 In a great Lord 'tis surely wondrous civil 
 So face to face to hold talk with the devil. 
 
FAUST. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Night. 
 
 Faust discovered, sitting restless at his desk, in a narrow high- 
 vaulted Gothic chamber. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 There now, I've toiled my way quite through 
 
 Law, Medicine, and Philosophy, 
 
 And, to my sorrow, also thee, 
 
 Theology, with much ado ; 
 
 And here I stand, poor human fool, 
 
 As wise as when I went to school. 
 
 Master, ay. Doctor, titled duly, 
 
 An urchin-brood of boys unruly 
 
 For ten slow-creeping years and mo, 
 
 Up and down, and to and fro, 
 
 I lead by the nose : and this I know. 
 
22 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 That vain is all our boasted lore — 
 
 A thought that bums me to the core ! 
 
 True, I am wiser than all their tribe, 
 
 Doctor, Master, Priest, and Scribe ; 
 
 No scruples nor doubts in my bosom dwell, 
 
 I fear no devil, believe no hell ; 
 
 But with my fear all joy is gone. 
 
 All rare conceit of wisdom won ; 
 
 All dreams so fond, all faith so fair, 
 
 To make men better than they are. 
 
 Nor gold have I, nor gear, nor fame. 
 
 Station, or rank, or honoured name. 
 
 Here like a kennelled cur I lie ! 
 
 Therefore the magic art I'll try. 
 
 From spirit's might and mouth to draw, 
 
 Mayhap, some key to Nature's law ; 
 
 That I no more, with solemn show. 
 
 May sweat to teach what I do not know ; 
 
 That I may ken the bond that holds 
 
 The world, through all its mystic folds ; 
 
 The hidden seeds of things explore. 
 
 And cheat my thought with words no more. 
 
 O might thou shine, thou full moon bright, 
 For the last time upon my woes. 
 Thou whom, by this brown desk alone. 
 So oft my wakeful eyne have known. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 23 
 
 Then over books and paper rose 
 
 On me thy sad familiar light ! 
 
 Oh, that beneath thy friendly ray, 
 
 On peaky summit I might stray, 
 
 Round mountain caves with spirits hover, 
 
 And flit the glimmering meadows over, 
 
 And from all fevered fumes of thinking free, 
 
 Bathe me to health within thy dewy sea. 
 
 In vain ! still pines my prisoned soul 
 Within this curst dank dungeon-hole ! 
 Where dimly finds ev'n heaven's blest ray, 
 Through painted glass, its struggling way. 
 Shut in by heaps of books up-piled, 
 All worm-begnawed and dust-besoiled, 
 With yellowed papers, from the ground 
 To the smoked ceiling, stuck around ; 
 Caged in with old ancestral lumber, 
 Cases, boxes, without number. 
 Broken glass, and crazy chair. 
 Dust and brittleness everywhere ; 
 This is thy world, a world for a man's soul to 
 breathe in ! 
 
 And ask I still why in my breast, 
 My heart beats heavy and oppressed ? 
 And why some secret unknown sorrow 
 
i 
 
 U FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 Freezes my blood, and numbs my marrow ? 
 'Stead of the living sphere of Nature, 
 Where man was placed by his Creator, 
 Surrounds thee mouldering dust alone, 
 The grinning skull and skeleton. 
 
 Arise ! forth to the fields, arise ! 
 
 And this mysterious magic page. 
 
 From Nostradamus' hand so sage, 
 
 Should guide thee well. Thy raptured eyes 
 
 Shall then behold what force compels 
 
 The tuneful spheres to chime together ; 
 
 When, taught by Nature's mightiest spells. 
 
 Thine innate spring of soul upwells. 
 
 As speaks one spirit to another. 
 
 In Tain my thought gropes blindly here. 
 
 To make those sacred symbols clear ; 
 
 Ye unseen Powers that hover near me, 
 
 Answer, I charge ye, when ye hear me ! 
 
 {Me opens the hook, and sees the sign of the 
 ^Macrocosm.) yi(>^^fn^-^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Ha ! what ecstatic joy this page reveals. 
 
 At once through all my thrilling senses flowing ! 
 
 Young holy zest of life my spirit feels 
 
 In every vein, in every nerve, new glowing ! 
 
 Was it a God whose finger drew these signs. 
 
SCENE I. PAUST. 25 
 
 That, -with mild pulse of joy, and breath of rest. 
 Smooth the tumultuous heaving of my breast. 
 And with mysterious virtue spread the lines 
 Of Nature's cipher bare to mortal sight ? 
 Am I a God ? so wondrous pure the light 
 Within me ! in these tokens I behold 
 The powers by which all Nature is besouled. 
 Now may I reach the sage's words aright ; 
 " The world of spirits is not barred ; 
 Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead ! 
 Up, scholars, bathe your hearts so hard, 
 In the fresh dew of morning's red !" 
 
 {He scans carefully the sign.) 
 
 How mingles here in one the soul with soul, 
 And lives each portion in the living whole ! 
 How heavenly Powers, ascending and descending. 
 From hand to hand their golden ewers are lending. 
 And bliss-exhaling swing from pole to pole ! 
 From the high welkin to earth's centre bounding, 
 Harmonious all through the great All resounding ! 
 
 What wondrous show ! but ah ! 'tis but a show ! 
 Where grasp I thee, thou infinite Nature, where ? 
 And you, ye teeming breasts? ye founts whence 
 
 flow 
 All living influences fresh and fair ? 
 
26 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 Whereon the heavens and earth dependent hang, 
 Where seeks relief the withered bosom's pang ? 
 Your founts still well, and I must pine in vain I 
 
 (He twns the hook over impatiently, and beholds 
 the sign of the Spirit of the Earth.) 
 
 What diflferent working hath this sign ? 
 
 Thou Spirit of the Earth, I feel thee nearer ; 
 
 Already sees my strengthened spirit clearer ; 
 
 I glow as I had drunk new wine. 
 
 New strength I feel to plunge into the strife, 
 
 And bear the woes and share the joys of life, 
 
 Buffet the blasts, and where the wild waves dash. 
 
 Look calmly on the shipwreck's fearful crash ! 
 
 Clouds hover o'er me — 
 
 The moon is dim ! 
 
 The lamp's flame wanes ! , 
 
 It smokes ! — Red beams dart forth 
 
 Around my head — and from the vaulted roof 
 
 Falls a cold shudder down. 
 
 And grips me ! — I feel 
 
 Thou hover'st near me, conjured Spirit, now ; 
 
 Reveal thee ! 
 
 Ha ! how swells with wild delight 
 
 My bursting heart ! 
 
 And feelings, strange and new. 
 
 At once through all my ravished senses dart ! 
 
SCENE I. I'AUST. 27 
 
 I feel my inmost soul made thrall to thee ! 
 
 Thou must 1 thou must ! and were my life the fee ! 
 
 (He seizes the hook, and pronounces with a mys- 
 terious air the sign of the Spirit. A red 
 flame darts forth, and the Spirit appears in 
 the flame.) 
 
 Spirit. 
 Who calls me ? 
 
 Faust (turning away). 
 
 Vision of affright ! 
 
 Spirit. 
 
 Thou hast with mighty spells invoked me, 
 And to obey thy call provoked me, 
 And now 
 
 Faust. 
 Hence from my sight ! 
 
 Spirit. 
 
 Thy panting prayer besought my inight to view, 
 To hear my voice, and know my semblance too ; 
 Now bending from my native sphere to please thee, 
 Here am I ! — ^ha ! what pitiful terrors seize thee. 
 
28 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 And overman thee quite ! where now the call 
 Of that proud soul, that scorned to own the thrall 
 Of earth, a world within itself created, 
 And bore and cherished ? that with its fellows sated 
 Swelled with prophetic joy to leave its sphere. 
 And live a spirit with spirits, their rightful peer. 
 Where art thou, Faust ? whose invocation rung 
 Upon mine ear, whose powers all round me clung ? 
 Art thou that Faust ? whom melts my breath away, 
 Trembling even to the life-depths of thy frame, 
 Like a poor worm that crawls into his clay ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Shall I then yield to thee, thou thing of flame ? 
 I am that Faust, and Spirit is my name ! 
 
 Spirit. 
 
 , Where life's floods flow 
 And its tempests rave. 
 Up and down I wave, 
 Flit I to and fro ! 
 Birth and the grave. 
 Life's hidden gloi^, 
 A shifting motion, 
 A boundless ocean 
 Whose waters heave 
 Eternally ; 
 
SCENE II. FAUST. 29 
 
 Thus on the sounding loom of Time I weave 
 The living mantle of the Deity. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 Thou who round the wide v^orld wendest, 
 Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee ! 
 
 Spirit. 
 
 Thou'rt like the spirii whom thou comprehendest, 
 Not me ! (vanishes.) 
 
 Faust. 
 Not thee ! 
 Whom, then ? 
 I, image of the Godhead, 
 Dwarfed by thee ! 
 
 (knockmg is heard.) 
 death ! — 'tis Wagner's knock — I know it well, 
 My famulus ; he comes to mar the spell ! 
 Woe's me that such bright vision of the spheres 
 Must vanish when this pedant-slave appears ! 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 (Enter Wagnee in nigM-govm and night-cap ; a lamp 
 in his hand). 
 
 Wagnek. 
 Your pardon, sir, I heard your voice declaiming. 
 No doubt some old Greek drama, and I came in, 
 
30 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 To profit by your learned recitation ; • 
 For in these d^ys the art of declamation 
 Is held in highest estimation ; 
 And I have heard asserted that a preacher 
 Might wisely have an actor for his teacher. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Yes ; when our parsons preach to make grimaces, 
 As here and there a not uncommon case is. 
 
 Wagnek. 
 
 Alack ! when a poor wight is so confined 
 Amid his books, shut up from all mankind, 
 And sees the world scarce on a holiday. 
 As through a telescope and far away, 
 How may he hope, with nicely tempered skill. 
 To bend the hearts he knows not to his will ? 
 
 Faust. 
 
 What you don't feel, you'll hunt to find in vain. 
 It must gush from the soul, possess the brain, 
 And with an instinct kindly force compel 
 All captive hearts to own the grateful spell ; 
 Go to ! sit o'er your books, and snip and glue 
 Your wretched piece-work, dressing your ragout 
 From others' feasts, your piteous flames still blowing 
 From sparks beneath dull heaps of ashes glowing ; 
 
SCENE 11. FAUST. 31 
 
 Vain wonderment of children and of apes, 
 
 If with such paltry meed content thou art ; 
 
 The human heart to heart he only shapes, 
 
 Whose words flow warm from human heart to heart. 
 
 Wagnee. 
 
 But the deliyery is a chief concern 
 In Ehetoric ; and alas ! here I have much to learn. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Be thine to seek the honest gain. 
 No shallow-tinkling fool ! 
 
 Sound sense finds utterance for itself. 
 Without the critic's rule. 
 If clear your thought, and your intention true. 
 What need to hunt for words with much ado ? 
 The trim orations your fine speaker weavea> 
 Crisping light shred» erf bought for shallow minds. 
 Are unrrfresBing as the foggy winds 
 That whistle through the sapless autumn leaves. 
 
 Wagnee. 
 
 Alas ! how long is art, ' 
 
 And human life how short ! 
 I feel at times with all my learned pains. 
 As if a weight of lead were at my heart, 
 
 And palsy on my brains. 
 
32 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 How high to climb up learning's lofty stair, 
 How hard to find the helps that guide us there ; 
 And when scarce half the way behind him lies, 
 His glass is run, and the poor devil dies ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 The parchment-roll is that the holy river, 
 Fropi which one draught shall slake the thirst for 
 ever? 
 
 'he quickening power of science only he • 
 
 Can know, from whose own soul it gushes free.*^ 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 And yet the spirit of a bygone age, 
 To re-create may well the wise engage ; 
 To know the choicest thoughts of every ancient sage, 
 And think how far above their best we've mounted 
 high! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 yes, I trow, even to the stars, so high ! 
 My friend, the ages that are past 
 Are as a book with seven seals made fast ; 
 And what men call the-spirit of the age. 
 
 Is but the spirit of the gentlemen 
 Who glass their own thoughts in the pliant page. 
 And image back themselves, 0, then, 
 
SCENE II. FAUST. 33 
 
 What precious stuff they dish, and call't a book, 
 
 Your stomach turns at the first look ; 
 
 A heap of rubbish, and a lumber room, 
 
 At best some great state farce with proclamations. 
 
 Pragmatic maxims, protocols, orations. 
 
 Such as from puppet-mouths do fitly come ! 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 But then the world ! — ^the human heart and mind I 
 Somewhat of this to know are all inclined. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Yes ! as such knowledge goes ! but what man dares 
 To call the child by the true name it bears ? 
 The noble few that something better knew. 
 And to the grpss reach of the general view. 
 Their finer feelings bared, and insight true. 
 From oldest times were burnt and crucified. 
 I do beseech thee, friend, — 'tis getting late, 
 'Twere wise to put an end to our debate. 
 
 Wagneb. 
 
 Such learned talk to draw through all the night 
 With Doctor Faust were my supreme delight ; 
 But on the morrow, being Easter, I 
 Your patience with some questions more may try. 
 
34 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 With zeal I've followed Learning's lofty call. 
 Much I have learned, but fain would master all. 
 
 {Exit.) 
 SCENE IIL 
 
 Faust, alone. 
 
 Strange how his pate alone hope never leaves. 
 Who still to shallow husks of learning cleaves ! 
 With greedy hand who digs for hidden treasure, 
 And, when he finds a grub, rejoiceth above measure ! 
 
 Durst such a mortal voice usurp mine ear 
 When all the spirit-world was floating near ? 
 Yet, for this once, my thanks are free. 
 Thou meanest of earth's sons, to thee ! 
 Thy presence drew me back from sheer despair, 
 And shock too keen for mortal nerve to bear ; 
 Alas ! so giant-great the vision came, 
 That I might feel me dwarf, ev'n as I am. 
 
 I, God's own image that already seemed 
 
 To gaze where Truth's eternal mirror gleamed, 
 
 And, clean divested of this cumbering clay. 
 
 Basked in the bliss of heaven's vivific ray ; 
 
 I, more than cherub, with fresh pulses glowing, 
 
 Who well nigh seemed through Nature's deep veins 
 
 flowing 
 Like a pure god, creative virtue knowing, 
 
SCENE in. FAUST. 35 
 
 What sharp reproof my hot presumption found ! 
 
 One word of thunder smote me to the ground. 
 
 Alas I 'tis true ! not I with thee and thine 
 
 May dare to cope ! the strength indeed was mine 
 
 To make thee own my call, but not 
 
 To chain thee to the charmed spot. 
 
 When that blest rapture thrilled my frame, 
 
 I felt myself so small, so great ; 
 
 But thou didst spurn me back with shame, 
 
 Into this crazy human state. 
 
 Where find I aid ? what follow ? what eschew ? 
 
 Shall I that impulse of my soul obey ? 
 
 Alas ! alas ! but I must feel it true. 
 
 The pains we suffer and the deeds we do. 
 
 Are clogs alike in the free spirit's way. 
 
 The godlike essence of our heayen-bom powers 
 Must yield to strange and still more strange intrusion ; 
 Soon as the good things of this world are ours. 
 We deem our nobler self a vain illusion, 
 And heaven-born instincts — very life of life — 
 Are strangled in the low terrestrial strife. 
 
 Young fancy, that once soared with flight sublime. 
 On Tenturous vans, ev'n to th' Eternal's throne, 
 Now schools her down a little space to own. 
 When in the dark engulphing stream of time, 
 
36 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 Our fair-faced pleasures perish one by one. 
 Care nestles deep in every heart, 
 And, cradling there the secret smart. 
 Rocks to and fro, and peace and joy are gone. 
 What though new masks she still may wear. 
 Wealth, house and hall, with acres rich and rare. 
 As wife or child appear she, water, flame, i. 
 Dagger, or poison, she is still the same ; 
 And stni we fear the ill which happens never, 
 And what we lose not are bewailing ever. 
 
 vMe 
 
 !Alas I alas ! too deep 'tis felt ! too deep ! / 
 With gods may vie no son of mortal clajVf 
 More am I like to worms that crawl and creep, 
 And dig, and dig through earth their lightless way. 
 Which, while they feed on dust in narrow room. 
 Find from the wanderer's foot their death-blow and 
 their tomb. 
 
 Is it not dust that this old wall 
 From all its musty benches shows me ? 
 And dust the trifling trumperies aU 
 That in this world of moths enclose me ? 
 Here is it that I hope to find 
 Wherewith to sate my craving mind ? 
 Need I speU out page after page. 
 To know that men in every age 
 
SCENE in. FAUST. 37 
 
 And every clime, have spurred in vain 
 The jaded muBcle and the tortured brain. 
 And here and there, with centuries between, 
 One happy man belike hath been ? 
 
 Thou grinning skull, what wouldst thou say. 
 
 Save that thy brain, in chase of truth, like mine, 
 
 With patient toil pursued its floundering way 
 
 By glimmering lights that through dim twilight-shine ? 
 
 Ye instruments, in sooth, now laugh at me, 
 
 With wheel, and cog-wheel, ring, and cylinder ; 
 
 At Nature's door I stood; ye should have been the 
 
 key, 
 Bjjft though your ward be good, the bolt ye cannot stir. 
 /Mysterious Nature may not choose , 
 
 I To unveil her secrets to the stare of daJ^/ 
 And what from the mind's eye she stores away. 
 Thou canst not force from her with levers and with 
 
 screws. 
 Thou antique gear, why dost thou cumber 
 My chamber with thy useless lumber ? 
 My father housed thee on this spot. 
 And I must keep thee, though I need thee not ! 
 Thou parchment roll that hast been smoked upon 
 Long as around this desk the sorry lamp-light shone ; 
 Much better had I spent my little gear, 
 Thfin with this^ little to sit mouldering here ; 
 
38 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 Why should a man possess ancestral treasures, 
 But by possession to enlarge his pleasures ? 
 /The thing we use not a dead burden lies, 
 HBut what the moment brings the wise man knows to 
 prizej/^ 
 
 But what is this ? there in the comer ; why 
 Does that flask play the magnet to mine eye ? 
 And why within me does this strange light shine. 
 As thesoft nightlymoonthroi^h groves of sombrepine? 
 I greet thee, matchless phial ; and with devotion 
 I take thee down, and in thy mellow potion 
 I reverence human wit and human skUl. 
 Fine essence of the opiate dew of sleep. 
 Dear extract of all subtle powers that kUl, 
 Be mine the first-fruits of thy strength to reap ! 
 I look on thee, and soothed is my heart's pain ; 
 I grasp thee, straight is lulled my racking brain. 
 And wave by wave my soul's flood ebbs away. 
 I see wide ocean's swell invite my wistful eyes. 
 And at my feet her sparkling mirror lies ; 
 To brighter shores invites a brighter day. 
 
 A car of fire comes hovering o'er my head. 
 With gentle wafture ; now let me pursue 
 New flight adventurous, through the starry blue, 
 And be my wingfed steps unburdened sped 
 To spheres of uncramped energy divine ! 
 And may indeed this life of gods be mine. 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 39 
 
 But now a worm, and cased in mortal clay ? 
 Yes ! only let strong will high thought obey, 
 To turn thy back on the blest light of day, 
 And open burst the portals which by most 
 Wjp*h fear,; that fain would pass them by, are crossed. 
 t2Sow is the time by deeds, not words, to prove y, 
 That earth-born man yields not to gods abovo/'^ 
 Before that gloomy cavern not to tremble. 
 Where all those spectral shapes of dread assemble, 
 ^ Which Fancy, slave of every childish fear, 
 '^\^Bids, to the torment of herself, appear ; 
 Forward to strive unto that passage dire. 
 Whose narrow mouth seems fenced with hell's col- 
 lected fire ; 
 With glad resolve this leap to make, even though 
 That thing we call our soul should into nothing flow ! 
 
 Now come thou forth ! thou crystal goblet clear. 
 
 From out thy worshipful old case, 
 
 Where thou hast lain unused this many a year. 
 
 In days of yore right gaily didst thou grace 
 
 The festive meetings of my grey-beard sires. 
 
 When passed from hand to hand the draught that 
 
 glee inspires. 
 Thy goodly round, the figures there 
 Pictured with skill so quaint and rare. 
 Each lusty drinker's duty to declare 
 
40' FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 In ready rhyme what meaning they might bear, 
 
 And at one draught to drain the brimming cup, — 
 
 All this recalls full many a youthful night. 
 
 Now to no comrade shall I yield thee up. 
 
 Nor whet my wit upon thy pictures bright ; 
 
 Here is a juice intoxicates the soiil 
 
 Quickly. With dark brown flood it crowns the bowl. 
 
 Let this last draught, my mingling and my choice. 
 
 With blithesome heart be quaffed, and joyful voice, 
 
 A solemn greeting to the rising mom ! 
 
 (A sound of bells is heard, and distant qwi/re- 
 
 1-) 
 
 QuiEB OF Angels. 
 
 Christ is arisen ! 
 
 Joy be to mortal man, 
 
 Whom, since the world began, 
 
 Evils inherited. 
 
 By his sins merited, 
 
 Through his veins creeping. 
 
 Sin-bound are keeping. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 What sweet soft peals, what notes, so clear and pure. 
 Draw from my lips the glass perforce away ? 
 Thus early do the bells their homage pay. 
 Of holy hymning to new Easter day ! 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 41 
 
 Already sing the quires the soothing song 
 
 That erst, round the dark grave, an angel throng 
 
 Sang, to proclaim the great salvation sure ! 
 
 Quire of Women. 
 
 With spices and balsams 
 All sweetly we bathed Him ; 
 With cloths of fine linen 
 All cleanly we swathed Him ; 
 In the tomb of the rock, where 
 His body was lain. 
 We come, and we seek 
 Our loved Master, in vain ! 
 
 Quire of Angels. 
 
 Christ is arisen ! 
 Praised be His name ! 
 Whose love shared with sinners 
 Their sorrow and shame ; 
 Who bore the hard trial 
 Of self-denial, 
 And, victorious, ascends to the skies whence 
 He came. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 What seek ye here, ye gently-swaying tones. 
 Sweet seraph-music 'mid a mortal's groans ? 
 
42 FAUST. ACT I. 
 
 ySc 
 
 _oft-natured men may own that soothing chaunt; 
 
 1 I hear the message, but the faith I wantt/ 
 For still the child to Faith most dear 
 Was Miracle : nor I may vaunt 
 To mount, and mingle with the sphere 
 Whence such fair news floats down to mortal ear. 
 And yet, with youthful memories fraught, this strain 
 H^ith power to call me back to life again. 
 
 ')A time there was when Heaven's own kiss. 
 On solemn Sabbath, seemed to fall on me. 
 The minster-bell boomed forth no human bliss. 
 And prayer to God was burning ecstasy. 
 A dim desire of inarticulate good 
 Drove me o'er hill and dale, through wold and wood. 
 And, while hot tears streamed from mine eyes, 
 I felt a world within me riscK 
 This hymn proclaimed the sports of youthful days. 
 And merry-makings when the spring began ; 
 Now Memory's potent speU my spirit sways, 
 And thoughts of childhood rule the full-grown man. 
 ! sound thou on, thou sweet celestial strain. 
 The tear doth gush. Earth claims her truant son again ! 
 
 QUIEE OF THE DiSOIPLES. 
 
 By death untimely, though 
 Laid in the lowly grave. 
 Soars He sublimely now 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 43 
 
 Whence He came us to save. 
 He on His Father's breast, 
 Fountain of life and light ; 
 We on the earth oppressed. 
 Groping through cloudy night ; 
 Comfortless left are we. 
 Toiling through life's annoy. 
 Weeping to envy thee, 
 Master, thy joy ! 
 
 Quire of Angels. 
 
 Christ is risen 
 
 From Death's corrupting thrall, 
 Break from your prison 
 And follow His call ! 
 Praising by deeds of lore 
 Him who now reigns above. 
 Feeding the brethren poor, 
 Preaching salvation sure, 
 Joys that shall aye endure, 
 Knowing nor doubt nor fear. 
 While He is near. 
 
 END OF ACT FIRST. 
 
44 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Before the gate of the town. Motley growps of people crowding 
 out to vialh. 
 
 Some Journbtmeit. 
 Brethren, whither bound ? 
 
 Others. 
 To the Jsegerhaus. 
 
 The First. 
 
 We to the mill. 
 
 A JOTJRNETMAN. 
 
 At Wasserhof best cheer is to be found. 
 
 A Second. 
 • * 
 
 But then the road is not agreeable. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 45 
 
 The Others. 
 And what dost thou ? 
 
 A Third. 
 
 I go where others go. 
 
 . A Fourth. 
 
 Let's go to Burgdorf ; there'll you'll find, I know, 
 The best of beer, and maidens to your mind, 
 And roaring frolics too, if that's your kind. 
 
 A Fifth. 
 
 Thou oTer-wanton losel, thou ! 
 Dost itch again for some new row ? 
 I loathe the place ; and who goes thither, 
 He and I don't go together. 
 
 A Servant Girl. 
 No ! no ! back to the town I'd rather fare. 
 
 Another. 
 We're sure to find him 'neath the poplars there. 
 
 The First. 
 
 No mighty matter that for me. 
 
 Since he will walk with none but thee, 
 
i6 FAUST. ACT 11, 
 
 In every dance, too, lie is thine : 
 What have thy joys to do with mine ? 
 
 The Other. 
 
 To-day he'll not come single ; sure he said 
 That he would bring with him the curly-head. 
 
 Student. 
 
 Blitz, how the buxom wenches do their paces ! 
 Come, let us make acquaintance with their faces. 
 A stiff tobacco, and a good strong beer. 
 And a fine girl well-rigged, that's the true Burschen 
 cheer ! 
 
 BuEGHEEs' Daughters. 
 
 Look only at those spruce young fellows there ! 
 
 In sooth, 'tis more than one can bear ; 
 The best society have they, if they please. 
 And run after such low-bred queans as these ! 
 
 Second Student to the first. 
 
 Not quite so fast ! there comes a pair behind. 
 So smug and trim, so blithe and debonair ; 
 And one is my fair neighbour, I declare ; 
 She is a girl quite to my mind. 
 They pass along so proper and so shy. 
 And yet they'll take us with them by and by. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 47 
 
 First Student. 
 
 No, no ! these girls with nice conceits they bore you, 
 Have at the open game that lies before you ! 
 The hand that plies the busy broom on Monday, 
 Caressed her love the sweetest on the Sunday. 
 
 A Burgher. 
 
 No ! this new burgomaster don't please me, 
 
 Now that he's made, his pride mounts high and higher; 
 
 And for the towD, say, what does he ? 
 
 Are we not deep and deeper in the mire ? 
 
 In strictness day by day he waxes. 
 
 And more than ever lays on taxes. 
 
 A Beggar, singing. 
 
 Ye gentle sirs, and ladies fair. 
 With clothes so fine, and cheeks so red, 
 pass not by, but from your eye 
 Be pity's gracious virtue shed ! 
 Let me not harp in vain ; for blest 
 Is he alone who gives away ; 
 And may this merry Easter-feast 
 Be for the poor no fasting day ! 
 
 Another Burgher. 
 
 Upon a Sunday or a holiday. 
 
 No better talk I know than war and warlike rumours. 
 
48 FAUST. ACT 11. 
 
 When in Turkey far away, 
 
 The nations fight out their ill humours. 
 
 We sit i' the window, sip our glass at ease. 
 
 And see how down the stream the gay ships gently 
 
 glide; 
 Then wend us safely home at even-tide. 
 Blessing our stars we live in times of peace. 
 
 Third Burgheb. 
 
 Yea, neighbour, there you speak right wisely ; 
 
 Ev'n so do I opine precisely. 
 
 They may split their skulls, they may. 
 
 And turn the world upside down. 
 
 So long as we, in our good town. 
 
 Keep jogging in the good old way. 
 
 Old Woman to the Burghers^ Daughters. 
 
 Hey-day, how fine ! these be of gentle .stuff, 
 The eyes that would not look on you are blind. 
 Only not quite so high 1 'Tis well enough — 
 And what you wish I think I know to find. 
 
 First Bttrgheb's Daughter. 
 
 Agatha, come I I choose not to be seen 
 With such old hags upon the public green ; 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 49 
 
 Though on St. Andrew's night she let me see 
 My future lover bodily. 
 
 Second Burgher's Daughter. 
 
 Mine too, bold, soldier-like, she made to pass, 
 With his wild mates, before me in a glass ; 
 I himt him out from place to place, 
 But nowhere yet he shows his face. 
 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Castles with turrets 
 And battlements high. 
 Maids with proud spirits. 
 And looks that defy ! 
 From the red throat of death. 
 With the spear and the glaive. 
 We pluck the ripe glory 
 That blooms for the brave, 
 
 The trumpet invites him. 
 With soul-stirring call. 
 To where joy delights him, 
 Nor terrors appall. 
 On storming maintains he 
 Triumphant the field. 
 Strong fortresses gains he. 
 Proud maidens must yield. 
 Thus carries the soldier 
 
 E 
 
50 FAUST. ACTii. 
 
 The prize of the day, 
 And merrily, merrily 
 Dashes away ! 
 
 SCENE II. 
 (Enter Faust and Wagnee.) 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 The ice is now melted from stream and brook 
 By the Spring's genial life-giving look ; 
 Forth smiles young Hope in the greening Tale, 
 And ancient Winter, feeble and frail, 
 Creeps cowering back to the mountains grey ; 
 And thence he sends, as he hies him away, 
 Fitfullest brushes of icy hail. 
 Sweeping the plain in his harmless flight. 
 But the sun may brook no white; 
 Everywhere stirs he the vegetive strife. 
 Flushing the fields with the glov? of life ; 
 But since few flowers yet deck the mead 
 He takes him gay-dressed folk in their stead. 
 Now from these heights I turn me back 
 To view the city's busy track. 
 Through the dark, deep-throated gate 
 They are pouring and spreading in motley array. 
 AH sun themselves so blithe to-day. 
 The Lord's resurrection they celebrate. 
 For that themselves to life are arisen. 
 
SCENE II. FAUST. '51 
 
 From lowly dwellings' murky prison, 
 
 From labour and business' fetters tight, 
 
 From the press of gables and roofs that meet 
 
 Orer the squeezing narrow street, 
 
 From the churches' solemn night 
 
 Have they all been brought to the light. 
 
 Lo ! how nimbly the multitude 
 
 Through the fields and the gardens hurry, 
 
 How, in its breadth and length, the flood 
 
 Wafts onward many a gleesome wherry, 
 
 And this last skiff moves from the brink 
 
 So laden that it seems to sink. 
 
 Ev'n from the far hills' winding way 
 
 I' the sunshine glitter their garments gay. 
 
 I hear the hamlet's noisy mirth ; 
 
 Here is the people's heaven on earth, 
 
 And great and small rejoice to-day. 
 
 Here may I be a man, here dare 
 
 The joys of men with men to share. 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 With you, Herr Doctor, one is proud to walk, 
 Sharing your fame, improving by your talk ; 
 But, for myself, I shun the multitude. 
 Being a foe to everything that's rude. 
 I may not brook their senseless howling. 
 Their fiddling, screaming, ninepin bowling ; 
 
52 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Like men possessed, they rave along, 
 And call it joy, and call it song. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Peasants beneath a lime-tree. 
 
 The shepherd for the dance was dressed. 
 With ribbon, wreath, and spotted vest. 
 
 Right sprucely he did show. 
 And round and round the linden-tree 
 All danced as mad as mad could be. 
 Juchhe, juchhe ! 
 Juchheisa, heisa, he ! 
 So went the fiddle bow. 
 
 Then with a jerk he wheeled him by. 
 And on a maiden that stood nigh 
 
 He with his elbow came. 
 Quick turned the wench, and, " Sir," quoth she, 
 " Such game is rather rough for me." 
 Juchhe, juchhe ! 
 Juchheisa, heisa, he ! 
 " For shame, I say, for shame 1 " 
 
 Yet merrily went it round and round. 
 And right and left they swept the ground. 
 And coat and kirtle flew ; 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 53 
 
 And they grew red, and they grew warm, 
 And, panting, rested arm in arm ; 
 Juchhe, juchhe I 
 Juchheisa, heisa, he ! 
 And hips on elbows too. 
 
 And " Softly, softly," quoth the quean, 
 " How many a bride hath cheated been 
 
 By men as fair as you !" 
 But he spoke a word in her ear aside, 
 And from the tree it shouted wide 
 Juchhe, juchhe I 
 Juchheisa, heisa, he 1 
 With fife and fiddle too. 
 
 An old Peasant. 
 
 Herr Doctor, 'tis most kind in you, 
 And all here prize the boon, I'm sure, 
 That one so learned should condescend 
 To share the pastimes of the poor. 
 Here, take this pitcher, filled ev'n now 
 With cooling water from the spring. 
 May God with grace to slake your thirst, 
 Bless the libation that we bring ; 
 Be every drop a day to increase 
 Your years in happiness and peace ! 
 
54 faust. act ii. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Your welcome oflfering I receive ; the draught 
 By kind hands given, with grateful heart be 
 quaffed ! 
 
 {The people collect round him, in a circle.) , y* 
 
 Old Peasant. 
 
 Soothly, Herr Doctor, on this tide. 
 
 Your grace and kindness passes praise ; 
 
 Good cause had we whileome to bless 
 
 The name of Faust in evil days. 
 
 Here stand there not a few whose lives 
 
 Your father's pious care attest, 
 
 Saved from fell fever's rage, when he 
 
 Set limits to the deadly pest. 
 
 You were a young man then, and went 
 
 From hospital to hospital ; 
 
 Full many a corpse they bore away. 
 
 But you came scaithless back from all ; 
 
 Full many a test severe you stood 
 
 Helping helped by the Father of Good. 
 
 All the Peasants. 
 
 Long may the man who saved us live. 
 His aid in future need to give ! 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 55 
 
 Faust. 
 
 '^^ive thanks to Him above, who made 
 
 The hand that helped you strong to aid.i,.--'''''^ 
 
 (He goes on farther with Wagner.) 
 
 Wagneh. 
 
 How proud must thou not feel, most learned man, 
 
 To hear the praises of this multitude ; 
 
 Thrice happy he who from his talents can 
 
 Reap such fair harvest of untainted good ! 
 
 The father shows you to his son, 
 
 And all in crowds to see you run ; 
 
 The dancers cease their giddy round. 
 
 The fiddle stops its gleesome sound ; 
 
 They form a ring where'er you go. 
 
 And in the air their caps they throw; 
 
 A little more, and they would bend the knee, 
 
 As if the Holy Host came by in thee ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Yet a few paces, till we reach yon stone. 
 And there our wearied strength we may repair. 
 Here oft I sat in moody thought alone. 
 And vexed my soul with fasting and with prayer. 
 Rich then in hope, in faith then strong. 
 With tears and sobs my hands I wrung; 
 
56 FAUST. ACT 11. 
 
 And weened the end of that dire pest. 
 
 From heaven's high-counselled lord to wrest. 
 
 Now their applause with mockery flouts mine ear. 
 
 could'st thou ope my heart and read it here, 
 
 How little sire and son 
 
 For such huge meed of thanks have done ! 
 
 My father was a grave old gentleman, 
 
 Who o'er the holy secrets of creation. 
 
 Sincere, but after his peculiar plan, 
 
 Brooded, with whimsied speculation. 
 
 Who, with adepts in painful gropings spent 
 
 His days, within the smoky kitchen pent. 
 
 And, after recipes unnumbered, made 
 
 The unnatural mixtures of his trade. 
 
 The tender lily and the lion red, 
 
 A suitor bold, in tepid bath were wed, 
 
 With open fiery flame well baked together, 
 
 And squeezed from one bride-chamber to another ; 
 
 Then, when the glass the queen discovered. 
 
 Arrayed in youthful glistening pride. 
 
 Here was the medicine, and the patient died. 
 
 But no one questioned who recovered. 
 
 Thus in these peaceful vales and hills, 
 
 The plague was not the worst of ills. 
 
 And Death his ghastly work pursued. 
 
 The better for the hellish brewst we brewed. 
 
 Myself to thqusands the curst juice supplied ; 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 57 
 
 They pined away, and I must live to hear 
 The praise of mercy in the murderer's ear. 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 How can you with such whims be grieved ? 
 
 Surely a good man does his part 
 
 With scrupulous care to use the art 
 
 Which from his father he received. 
 
 When we, in youth, place on our sire reliance, 
 
 He opes to us his stores of information ; 
 
 When we, as men, extend the bounds of science, 
 
 Our sons build higher upon our foundation. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 happy he who yet hath hope to float 
 Above this sea of crude distempered thought ! 
 What we know not is what we need to know, 
 And what we know, we might as well let go ; 
 But cease ; cheat not the moment of its right 
 By curious care and envious repining ; 
 Behold how fair, in evening's mellow light. 
 The green-embosomed cottages are shining. 
 The sun slants down, the day hath lived his date. 
 But on he hies to tend another sphere. 
 that no wing upon my wish may wait 
 To follow still and still in his career ! 
 
58 FAUST. ACT 11. 
 
 Upborne on evening's quenchless beams to greet 
 The noiseless world illumined at my feet, 
 ' Each peaceful vale, each crimson-flaming peak, 
 Each silver rill whose tinkling waters seek 
 The golden flood that feeds the fruitful plain. 
 Then savage crags^ and gorges dark, would rein 
 My proud careering course in vain ; 
 Ev'n now the sea spreads out its shimmering 
 
 bays. 
 And charms the sense with ecstasy of gaze. 
 Yet seems the god at length to sink ; 
 But, borne by this new impulse of my mind, 
 I hasten on, his quenchless ray to drink. 
 The day before me, and the night behind, 
 The heavens above me, under me the sea. 
 A lovely dream ! meanwhile the god is gone. 
 Alas ! the soul, in wingM fancy free, 
 Seeks for a corporal wing, and findeth none. 
 vYet in each breast 'tis deeply gravenj 
 Upward and onvrard still to panty/ 
 When over us, lost in the blue of heaven. 
 Her quavering song the lark doth chaunt ; 
 When over piny peaks sublime 
 The eagle soars with easy strain. 
 And over lands and seas the crane 
 Steers homeward to a sunnier clime. 
 
scene iii. faust. 59 
 
 Wagnee. 
 
 I too have had my hours of whim. 
 
 But feeling here runs oyer reason's brim. 
 
 Forest and field soon tire the eye to scan, 
 
 And eagle's wings were never made for man. 
 
 How otherwise the mind and its delights ! 
 
 From book to book, from page to page, we go. 
 
 Thus sweeten we the dreary winter nights. 
 
 Till every limb with new life is aglow ; 
 
 And chance we but unroll some rare old parchment 
 
 scroll, 
 All heaven stoops down, and finds a lodgment in the 
 
 soul. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Thou know'st but the one impulse — it is well ! 
 Tejnpt not the yearning that divides the heart. 
 ;/9Pwo souls, alas 1 within my bosom dwell ! 
 This strives from that with adverse strain to part. 
 The one, bound fast by stubborn might of love. 
 To this low earth with grappling organs clings; 
 The other spurns the clod, and soars on wings 
 To join a nobler ancestry above. 
 Oh ! be there spirits in the air, 
 'Twixt earth and heaven that float with potent sway. 
 Drop from your sphere of golden-glowing day, 
 And waft me hence new varied life to share ! 
 
60 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 MigHt I but own a mantle's fold enchanted, 
 To climes remote to bear me on its wing, 
 More than the costliest raiment I should vaunt iy 
 More than the purple robe that clothes a king.'' 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 Invoke not rash the well-known spirit-throng. 
 That stream unseen the atmosphere along. 
 And dangers thousandfold prepare. 
 Weak men from every quarter to ensnare. 
 From the keen north in troops they float. 
 With sharpest teeth and arrow-pointed tongues ; 
 From the harsh east they bring a blasting drought. 
 And feed with wasting greed upon thy lungs. 
 When from the arid south their sultry powers 
 They send, hot fires upheaping on thy crown. 
 The West brings forth his swarms with cooling 
 
 showers. 
 To end in floods that sweep thy harvests down. 
 Quick-ear'd are they, on wanton mischief bent. 
 And work our will with surer bait to ply us ; 
 They show as fair as heaven's own couriers sent, 
 And lisp like angels when they most belie us. 
 But let us hence ! the air is chill. 
 The cold grey mists are creeping down the hill, 
 Now is the time to seek the bright fireside. 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 61 
 
 Why standest thou with strange eyes opened wide ? 
 What twilight-spectre may thy fancy trouble ? 
 
 Faust, 
 
 See'st thou that swarthy dog sweeping through com 
 and stubble ? 
 
 Wagneb. 
 I saw him long ago — ^not strange he seemed to me. 
 
 Faust. 
 Look at him well — what should the creature be ? 
 
 Wagkeb. 
 
 He seems a poodle who employs his snout 
 Now here, now there, to snuflf his master out. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Dost thou not see how nigher still and nigher 
 His spiral circles round us wind ? 
 And, err I not, he leaves behind 
 His track a train of sparkling fire. 
 
 Wagneb. 
 
 A small black poodle is all I see ; 
 Surely some strange delusion blinds thee ! 
 
62 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Methinks soft magic circles winds he. 
 About, about, a snare for thee and me. 
 
 Wagnee. 
 
 I see him only doubtful springing round. 
 Having two strangers, for his master found. 
 
 • Fatjst. 
 fle draws him closer — ^now he comes quite near ! 
 
 Wagneb. 
 
 A dog, be sure, and riot a ghost, is here. ' 
 He growls, and looks about in fear. 
 And crouches down, and looks to you. 
 And wags his tail — what any dog will do. 
 
 Faust. 
 Come hither, poodle ! 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 'Tis a droUish brute ; 
 When you stand still, then stands he mute, 
 But when you speak, he springs as he would speak to 
 you; 
 
SCENE iv. FAUST. 63 
 
 He will bring back what you let fall, 
 And fetch your stick out of the water. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 You are quite right. There's no such matter. 
 No trace of ghost — a dog well trained, that's all ! 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 A well-trained dog may well engage 
 
 The favour of a man most sage ; 
 
 This poodle well deserves your recognition ; 
 
 Few students learn so much from good tuition. 
 
 {Exeunt, going in through the gate of the city) 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Faust's Study. 
 
 Fatjst entering with the Poodle. 
 
 Now field and meadow lie behind me, 
 Hushed 'neath the veil of deepest night, 
 And thoughts of solemn seeming find me, 
 Too holy for the garish light. 
 Calm now the blood that wildly ran, 
 Asleep the hand of lawless strife ; 
 HNow wakes to life the love of man. 
 The love of God now wakes to \iiey 
 
 Cease, poodle ! why snuff'st and snifflest thou so. 
 Running restless to and fro ? 
 
64 FAUST. ACT 11. 
 
 Behind the stove there lie at rest, 
 And take for bed my cushion the best ! 
 And as without, on our mountain-ramble. 
 We joyed to see thy freakish gambol, 
 So here, my hospitable care, 
 A quiet guest, and welcome share. 
 
 When in our narrow cell confined. 
 The friendly lamp begins to burn. 
 Then clearer sees the thoughtful mind. 
 With searching looks that inward turn. 
 Bright Hope again within us beams. 
 And Reason's voice again is strong. 
 We thirst for life's untroubled streams. 
 For the pure fount of life we long. 
 
 Quiet thee, poodle ! it seems not well 
 
 To break, with thy growling, the holy spell 
 
 Of my soul's music, that refuses 
 
 All fellowship with bestial uses. 
 
 Full well we know that the human brood, 
 
 What they don't understand condemn. 
 
 And murmur in their peevish mood 
 
 At things too fair and good for them ; 
 
 Belikje the cur, as curs are they. 
 
 Thus growls and snarls his bliss away. 
 
 But, aJas ! already I feel it well, 
 No more may peace within this bosom dwell. 
 
SCENE IV. FAUST. 65 
 
 Why must the stream so soon dry up, 
 
 And I lie panting for the cup 
 
 That mocks my lips ? so often why 
 
 Drink pleasure's shallow fount, when scarce yet tasted, 
 
 dry? 
 Yet is this evil not without remeid ; 
 We long for heavenly food to feed 
 Our heaven-bom spirit, and the heart, now bent 
 On things divine, to revelation turns. 
 Which nowhere worthier or purer bums, 
 Than here in our New Testament. 
 I feel strange impulse in my soul 
 The sacred volume to unroll. 
 With honest purpose, once for all. 
 The holy Greek Original 
 Into my honest German to translate. 
 
 {He opens the Bible and reads.) 
 
 " In the beginning was the Word : " thus here 
 The text stands written ; but no clear 
 Meaning shines here for me, and I must wait, 
 A beggar at dark mystery's gate. 
 Lamed in the start of my career. 
 The naked word I dare not prize so high, 
 I must translate it differently. 
 If by the Spirit I am rightly taught. 
 " In the beginning of all things was Thought," 
 
 F 
 
66 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 The first line let me ponder well, 
 
 Lest my pen outstrip my sense ; 
 
 Is it Thought wherein doth dwell 
 
 All-creative omnipotence ? 
 I change the phrase, and write — ^the course 
 Of the great stream of things was shaped by Force. 
 But even here, before I lift my pen, 
 A voice of warning bids me try again. 
 At length, at length, the Spirit helps my need, 
 I write — " In the beginning was the Deed." 
 
 Wilt thou keep thy dainty berth, 
 
 Poodle, use a gentler mirth. 
 
 Cease thy whimpering and howling. 
 
 And keep for other place thy growling. 
 
 Such a noisy inmate may 
 
 Not my studious leisure cumber ; 
 
 You or I, without delay. 
 
 Restless cur, must leave the chamber ! 
 
 Not willingly from thee I take 
 
 The right of hospitality. 
 
 But if thou wilt my quiet break. 
 
 Seek other quarters — thou hast exit free. 
 
 But what must I see ? 
 
 What vision strange 
 
 Beyond the powers 
 
 Of Nature's range ? 
 
SCENE 'IV. FAUST. 67 
 
 Am I awake, or bound with a spell ? 
 
 How wondrously the brute doth swell ! 
 
 Long and broad 
 
 Uprises he, 
 
 In a form that no form 
 
 Of a dog may be ! 
 
 What spectre brought I into the house ? 
 
 He stands already, with glaring eyes. 
 
 And teeth in grinning ranks that rise. 
 
 Large as a hippopotamus ! 
 
 O ! I have thee now ! 
 
 For such half-brood of hell as thou - 
 
 The key of Solomon the wise ^%4^ "^ 
 Is surest spell to exorcise. 
 
 Spirits m the passage without. 
 
 Brother spirits, have a care ! 
 
 One within is prisoned there ! 
 
 Follow him none ! — ^for he doth quail 
 
 Like a fox, trap-caught by the tail. 
 
 But let us watch ! 
 
 Hover here, hover there. 
 
 Up and down amid the air ; 
 
 For soon this sly old lynx of hell 
 
 Will tear him free, and all be well. 
 
 If we can by foul or fair. 
 
 We will free him from the snare, 
 
68 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 And repay good service thus. 
 Done by him oft-times for us. 
 
 Faust. 
 First let the charm of the elements four 
 The nature of the brute explore. iCt^t>^ 
 
 Let the Salamander glow,^^ 
 
 Undene twine her crested ware, 
 
 SUphe into ether flow, 
 
 And Kobold vex him, drudging slave ! 
 
 Whoso knows not 
 The elements four. 
 Their quality. 
 And hidden power. 
 In the magic art 
 Hath he no part. 
 
 Spiring in flames glow 
 
 Salamander ! 
 
 Rushing in waves flow 
 
 Undene 1 
 
 Shine forth in meteor-beauty 
 
 Silphe ! 
 
 Work thy domestic duty 
 
 Incubus Incubus ! 
 
 Step forth and finish the spell. 
 
SCENE IV. FAUST. 69 
 
 None of the four 
 
 In the brute doth dwell. 
 
 It lies quite still mth elfish grinning there. 
 
 It shall know a stronger charm, 
 
 It shall shrink from sharper harm. 
 
 When by a mightier name I swear. 
 
 Art thou a fugitive 
 
 Urchin of hell? 
 
 So yield thee at length 
 
 To this holiest spell ! 
 
 Bend thee this sacred 
 
 Emblem before. 
 
 Which the powers of darkness 
 
 Trembling p,dore. 
 
 Already swells he up with bristling hair. 
 
 Can'st thou read it. 
 The holy sign, 
 Reprobate spirit, 
 The emblem divine ? 
 The unbegotten, 
 Whom none can name, 
 Moving and moulding 
 The wide world's frame, 
 Yet nailed to the cross 
 With a death of shame. 
 
70 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Now behind the stove he Kes, 
 
 And swells him up to an elephant's size, 
 
 And fills up all the space. 
 
 He'll melt into a cloud ; not so ! 
 
 Down, I say, down, proud imp, and know 
 
 Here, at thy master's feet, thy place ! 
 
 In vain, in vain, thou seek'st to turn thee, 
 
 With an holy flame I burn thee ! 
 
 Wait not the charm 
 
 Of the triple-glowing light ! 
 
 Beware the harm 
 
 If thou invite 
 
 Upon thy head- my speU of strongest might ! 
 
 {The clouds vanish, and Mephistopheles 
 comes forward from behind the fireplace, 
 dressed like an itinerant scholar.^} 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Faust and Mephistopheles, 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 What's all the noise about ? I'm here at leisure 
 I To work your worship's will and pleasure. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 So, so ! such kernel cracked from such a shell ! 
 A travelliag scholar 1 the jest likes me well ! 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 71 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 I greet the learned gentleman ! 
 
 I've got a proper sweating 'neath your ban. 
 
 Faust. 
 What is thy name ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 What is my power were better, 
 From one who so despises the mere letter, 
 Who piercing through the coarse material shell, 
 With Being's inmost substance loves to dwell. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Yes, but you gentlemen proclaim 
 Your nature mostly in your name.; 
 Destroyer, God of Flies, the Adversary,* 
 Such names their own interpretation carry. 
 But say, who art thou ? 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 I am a part of that primordial Might, 
 Which always wiUs the wrong, and always works the 
 right. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 You spe£(.k in riddles ; the interpretation ? 
 
 * Apollyon, Beelzebub, Satan. 
 
72 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I am the Spirit of Negation : 
 
 And justly so ; for all that is created 
 
 Deseryes to be annihilated. 
 
 'Twere better, thus, that there were no creation. 
 
 Thus eyerything that you call evil. 
 
 Destruction, ruin, death, the devil. 
 
 Is my pure element and sphere. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 Thou nam'st thyself a part, yet standest wholly 
 here. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I speak to thee the truth exact. 
 The plain, unvarnished, naked fact, 
 Though man, that microcosm of folly deems 
 Himself the compact whole he seems. 
 Part of the part I am that erst was all. 
 Part of the darkness, from whose primal pall 
 Was bom the light, the proud rebellious Light, 
 Which now disputeth with its mother Night, 
 Her rank and room i' the world by ancient right. 
 Yet vainly ; though it strain and struggle much, 
 'Tis bound to body with the closer clutch ; 
 From body it streams, on body paints a hue. 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 73 
 
 And body bends it from its course direct ; 
 
 Thus in dUe season I expect, 
 
 When bodies perish, Light will perish too. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Hold ! now I know thy worthy duties all ! 
 
 Unable to annihilate wholesale. 
 
 Thy mischief now thou workest by retail. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 And even thus, my progress is but small. 
 This something, the big lumpish world, which stands 
 Opposed to nothing, still ties my hands. 
 And spite of all the ground that I seem winning, 
 Remains as firm as in the beginning ; 
 With storms and tempests, earthquakes and burnings. 
 Earth still enjoys its eyenings and mornings. 
 And the accursfed fry of brute and human clay, "^ 
 
 On them my noblest skill seems worse than thrown away. 
 How many thousands have I not buried ! 
 Yet still a new fresh blood is hurried 
 Through fresh young veins, that I must sheer despair. 
 The earth, the water, and. the air. 
 The moist, the dry, the, hot, the cold, 
 A, thousand germs of life unfold ; 
 Kand had I not of flame made reservation, JL 
 I had no portion left in the creation/ \ ^ 
 
74 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 And thus thou seekest to oppose 
 
 The genial power, from which all life and motion flows, 
 
 Against Existence' uniyersal chain, 
 
 Clenching thy icy devil's fist in vain ! 
 
 Try some more profitable feats. 
 
 Strange son of Chaos, full of cross conceits. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 The hint is good, and on occasion, 
 
 May well deserve consideration ; 
 
 Meanwhile, with your good leave, I would withdraw. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 My leave ! do I make devil's law ? 
 The liberty, methinks, is all your own. 
 I see you here to-day with pleasure. 
 Go now, and come back at your leisure. 
 Here is the door, there is the window, and 
 A chimney, if you choose it, is at hand. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Let me speak plain ! there is a small afiair. 
 That, vnthout your assistance, bars my way, 
 The goblin-foot upon the threshold there — 
 
scene v. faust. 
 
 Fatjsx- — ^^^.0-- 
 
 The pentagram stands in your way ! X 
 
 Ha ! tell me then, thou imp of sin, 
 
 If this be such a potent spell 
 
 To bar thy going out, how cam'st thou in ? 
 
 What could have cheated such a son of hell ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Look at it well, the drawing is not true ; 
 One angle, that towards the door, you see, 
 Left a small opening for me. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 So so ! for once dame Fortune has been kind, 
 And I have made a prisoner of you ! 
 Chance is not always blind. 
 
 Mbphistophbles. 
 
 The cur sprang ia before it looked about ; 
 But now the thing puts on a serious air ; 
 The devil is in the house and can't get out. 
 
 Faust. 
 You have the window, why not jump out there \ 
 
76 .FAUST. ACT 11. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 It is a law which, binds all ghosts and sprites; 
 Wherever they creep in, there too they must creep out; 
 I came in at the door, by the door I must go out. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 JSo so ! then hell too has its laws and rights, 
 Thus might one profit by the powers of evil, 
 And make an honest bargain with the devilv 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 The devil, sir, makes no undue exaction, 
 And pays what he has promised to a fraction ; 
 But this affair requires consideration. 
 We'll leave it for some future conversation. 
 For this time, I beseech your grace. 
 Let me be gone ; I've work to do. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Stay but one minute, I've scarce seen your face. 
 Speak ; you should kAow the newest of the new. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I'll answer thee at length some other day ; 
 At present, I beseech thee, let me loose. 
 
scene v. faust. 77 
 
 Faust. 
 
 I laid no trap to snare thee in the way. 
 Thyself didst thrust thy head into the noose ; 
 Whoso hath caught the devil, hold him fast ! 
 Such lucky chance returns not soon again. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 If 'tis your pleasure so, I will remain. 
 But on condition that the time be passed 
 In worthy wise, and you consent to see 
 Some cunning sleights of spirit-craft from me. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Thy fancy jumps with mine. Thou may'st commence, 
 So that thy dainty tricks but please the sense. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Thou shalt, in this one hour, my friend. 
 More for thy noblest senses gain. 
 Than in the year's dull formal train. 
 From stale beginning to stale end. 
 The songs the gentle Spirits sing thee. 
 The lovely visions that they bring thee, 
 Are not an empty juggling show. 
 On thine ear sweet sounds shall fall, 
 Odorous breezes round thee blow. 
 
78 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Taste, and touch, and senses all 
 With delicious tingling glow. 
 No lengthened prelude need we here. 
 Sing, Spirit-imps that hoTer near ! 
 
 Spirits. 
 
 Vanish ye murky 
 Old arches away ! 
 Through the cloud curtain 
 That blinds heaven's ray 
 Mild and serenely 
 Look forth the queenly 
 Eye of the day! 
 Star now and starlet 
 Beam more benign, 
 And purer suns now 
 Softlier shine. 
 In beauty ethereal, 
 A swift-moving throng, 
 Of spirits aerial. 
 Are waving along. 
 And the soul follows 
 On wings of desire ; 
 The fluttering garlands 
 That deck their attire. 
 Cover the meadows. 
 Cover the bowers, 
 
SCENE V, FAUST. 79 
 
 Where lovers with-lovers 
 Breathe rapturous hours. 
 Bower on bower ! 
 The shoots of the vine. 
 With the leaves of the fig-tree, 
 Their tendrils entwine ! 
 Clusters of ripe grapes, 
 Bright-blushing all. 
 Into the wine-press 
 Heavily fall ; 
 From fountains divine 
 Bright rivers of wine 
 Come foaming and swirling; 
 O'er gems of the purest, 
 Sparkling and purling, 
 They flow and they broaden 
 In bright vista seen> 
 To deep-bosomed lakes 
 Lightly fringed with the green, 
 Where leafy woods nod 
 In their tremulous sheen. 
 On light-oaring pinions 
 The birds cut the gale. 
 Through the breezy dominions 
 As sunward they sail ; . 
 They sail on swift wings 
 To the isles of the blest. 
 
80 JAUST. 
 
 On the soft swelling waves 
 
 That are cradled to rest ; 
 
 Where we hear the glad spirits 
 
 In jubilee sing, 
 
 As o'er the green meadows 
 
 Fleet-bounding they spring : 
 
 With light airy footing, 
 
 A numberless throng. 
 
 Like meteors shooting 
 
 The mountains along ; 
 
 Some there are flinging 
 
 Their breasts to the seas, 
 
 Others are swinging 
 
 In undulant ease. 
 
 Lovingly twining 
 
 Life's tissue divine, 
 
 Where pure stars are shining 
 
 In beauty benign ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 He sleeps ! well done, ye airy urchins ! I 
 Remain your debtor for this lullaby. 
 By which so bravely ye have sung asleep 
 This restless spirit, who, with all his wit. 
 Is not yet quite the man with cunning cast, 
 To hook the devil and hold him fast. 
 Around him let your shapes fantastic flit. 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 81 
 
 And in a sea of dreams his senses steep. 
 But now this threshold's charm to disenchant, 
 The tooth of a rat is all I want ; 
 Nor need I make a lengthened conjuration, 
 I hear one scraping there in preparation. 
 
 The lord of the rats and of the mice. 
 Of the flies, and frogs, and bugs, and lice, 
 Commands you with yoiu^ teeth's good saw. 
 The threshold of this door to gnaw ! 
 Forth come, and there begin to file. 
 Where he lets fall this drop of oil. 
 Ha ! there he jumps ! that angle there. 
 With thy sharp teeth I bid thee tear. 
 Which jutting forward, sad disaster, 
 Unwilling prisoner keeps thy master. 
 Briskly let the work go on. 
 One bite more and it is done ! 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 Faust (awakening from his trance). 
 
 Once more the juggler Pleasure cheats my lip. 
 Gone the bright spirit-dream, and left no trace. 
 That I spake with the devil face to face. 
 And that a poodle dog gave me the slip ! 
 
 G 
 
82 FAUST. ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Faust's Study as before. Faust. Mephistopheles. 
 
 Faust. 
 Who's there to break my peace once more ? come in ! 
 
 Mephistophblbs. 
 
 'TisI! 
 
 Faust. 
 Come in ! 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 Thou must repeat it thrice. 
 
 Faust. 
 Come in. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Thus mth good omen we begin ; 
 I come to give you good advice, 
 And hope we'll understand each other. 
 The idle fancies to expel, 
 That in your brain make such a pother. 
 At your service behold me here. 
 Of noble blood, a cavalier, 
 A gallant youth rigged out with grace. 
 In scarlet coat with golden lace, 
 A short silk mantle, and a bonnet. 
 With a gay cock's feather on it, 
 
SCENE vi. FAUST. 83 
 
 And at my side a long sharp sword. 
 Now listen to a well-meant word ; 
 Do thou the like, and follow me, 
 All unembarrassed thus and free. 
 To mingle in the busy scenes 
 Of life, and know what living means. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 Still must I suffer, clothe me as you may, 
 
 This narrow earthly life's inCumbrancy ; 
 
 Too old I am to be content with play. 
 
 Too young from every longing to be free. 
 
 What can the world hold forth for me to gain ? 
 
 Abstain, it saith, and still it saith, Abstain ! 
 
 This is the burden of the song 
 
 That in our ears eternal rings. 
 
 Life's dreary litany lean and long, 
 
 That each dull moment hoarsely sings. 
 
 With terror wake I in the mom from sleep. 
 
 And bitter tears might often weep. 
 
 To see the day, when its dull course is run. 
 
 That brings to fruit not one small wish, — not one ! 
 
 That, with capricious criticising. 
 
 Each taste of joy within ray bosom rising, 
 
 Ere it be bom, destroys, and in my breast 
 
 Chokes every thought that gives existence zest. 
 
 With thousand soulless trifles of an hour. 
 
 And when the dark night-shadows lower. 
 
84 FAUST. ACT 11. 
 
 I seek to ease my aching brain 
 
 Upon a weary couch in vain. 
 
 With throngs of fererish dreams possessed. 
 
 Even in the home of sleep I find no rest ; 
 
 The god, that in my bosom dwells. 
 
 Can stir my being's inmost wells ; 
 
 But he who sways supreme our finer stuflF, 
 
 Moves not the outward world, hard, obdurate, and 
 
 tough. 
 Thus my existence is a load of woes. 
 Death my best friend, and life my worst of foes. 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 And yet methinks this friend you call your best, 
 Is seldom, vrhen he comes, a welcome guest. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Oh ! happy he to whom, in victory's glance, 
 Death round his brow the bloody laurel winds ! 
 Whom, 'mid the circling hurry of the dance. 
 Locked in a maiden's close embrace he finds ; 
 ! would to God that I had sunk that night 
 In tranceful death before the Spirit's might ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Yet, on a certain night, a certain man vras slow 
 To drink a certain brown potation out. 
 
scene vi. faust. 8^ 
 
 Faust. 
 It seems 'tis your delight to play the scout. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Omniscient am I not ; but many things I know. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 If, in that moment's wild confusion, 
 
 A well-known tone of blithesome youth 
 
 Had power, by memory's dear delusion. 
 
 To cheat me with the guise of truth ; 
 
 Then curse I all whate'er the soul 
 
 With luring juggleries entwines. 
 
 And in this gloomy dungeon-hole 
 
 With dazzling flatteries confines I 
 
 Curst be 'fore all the high opinion 
 
 The soul has of its own dominion ! 
 
 Curst all the show of shallow seeming. 
 
 Through gates of sense fallacious streaming 1 
 
 Curst be the hollow dreams of fame. 
 
 Of honour, glory, and a name I 
 
 Curst be the flattering goods of earth, 
 
 Wife, child, and servant, house and hearth ! 
 
 Accursed be Mammon, when with treasures 
 
 To riskful venture he invites us. 
 
 Curst when, the slaves of passive pleasures, 
 
 On soft-spread cushions he delights us ! 
 
86 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Curst be the balsam juice o' the grape ! 
 Accursed be love's deceitful thrall ! 
 Accursed be Hope ! accursed be Faith ! 
 Accursed be Patience above all ! 
 
 Chorus of Spirits, invisible. 
 
 Woe ! woe ! 
 
 Thou hast destroyed it ! 
 
 The beautiful world, 
 
 With mightiest hand, 
 
 A demigod 
 
 In ruin has hurled ! 
 
 We weep. 
 
 And bear its wrecked beauty away, 
 
 Whence it may never 
 
 Return to the day. 
 
 Mightiest one 
 
 Of the sons of earth, 
 
 Brightest one. 
 
 Build it again ! 
 
 Proudly resurgent with lovelier birth 
 
 In thine own bosom build it again 1 
 
 Life's glad career 
 
 Anew commence 
 
 With insight clear. 
 
 And purged sense. 
 
 The while new songs around thee play, 
 
 To launch thee on more hopeful way ! 
 
scene vi. faust. 87 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 These are the tiny 
 
 Spirits that wait on me ; 
 
 Hark how to pleasure 
 
 And action they counsel thee ! 
 
 Into the world wide 
 
 Would they allure thee, 
 
 In solitude dull 
 
 No more to immure thee, 
 
 No more to sit moping 
 
 In mouldy mood. 
 
 With a film on thy sense. 
 
 And a frost in thy blood ! 
 
 Cease then with thine own peevish whim to play, 
 That like a vulture makes thy life its prey. 
 Society, however low. 
 Still gives thee cause to feel and know 
 Thyself a man, amid thy fellow-men. 
 Yet my intent is not to pen 
 Thee up with the common herd ! and though 
 I cannot boast, or rank, or birth 
 Of mighty men, the lords of earth, 
 . Yet do I ofier, at thy side. 
 Thy steps through mazy life to guide ; 
 And, wilt thou join in this adventure, 
 I bind myself by strong indenture. 
 
88 FAUST. ACT n. 
 
 Here, on the spot, with thee to go. 
 Call me companion, comrade brave, 
 Or, if it better please thee so, 
 I am thy servant, am thy slave ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 And in return, say, what the fee 
 Thy faithful service claims from me ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Of that you may consider when you list. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 No, no ! the devil is an Egotist, 
 And seldom gratis sells his labour. 
 For love of God, to serve his neighbour. 
 Speak boldly out, no private clause conceal ; 
 With such as you 'tis dangerous to deal. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I bind myself to be thy servant here, 
 And wait with sleepless eyes upon thy pleasure. 
 If, when we meet again in yonder sphere. 
 Thou wilt repay my service in like measure. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 What yonder is I little reck to know. 
 Provided I be happy here below ; 
 
SCENE Ti. FAUST. 89 
 
 The future world will soon enough arise, ^^^ 
 
 When the present in ruin lies. 
 
 'Tis from this earth my stream of pleasure flows, 
 
 This sun it is that shines upon my woes ; 
 
 And, were I once from this my home away. 
 
 Then happen freely what happen may. 
 
 Nor hope in me it moves, nor fear, 
 
 If then, as now, we hate and love ; 
 
 Or if in yonder world, as here. 
 
 An under be, and an above. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Well, in this humour, you bid fair 
 With hope of good result to dare. 
 Close with my plan, and you will see 
 Anon such pleasant tricks from me, 
 As never eyes of man did bliss 
 From father Adam's time to this. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 Poor devil, what hast thou to give. 
 
 By which a human soul may live ? 
 
 By thee or thine was never yet divined 
 
 The thought that stirs the deep heart of mankind ! 
 
 True, thou hast food that sateth never. 
 
 And yellow gold that, restless ever. 
 
 Like quicksilver between the fingers, 
 
90 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Only to escape us, lingers ; 
 
 A game where we are sure to lose our labour, 
 
 A maiden that, while hanging on my breast. 
 
 Flings looks of stolen dalliance on my neighbour ; 
 
 And honour by which gods are blest. 
 
 That, like a meteor, ranishes in air. 
 
 Show me the fruit that rots before 'tis broken, 
 
 And trees that day by day their green repair ! 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 A word of mighty meaning thou hast spoken, 
 Yet such commission makes not me despair. 
 Believe me, friend, we only need to try it. 
 And we too may enjoy our morsel sweet in quiet. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 If ever on a couch of soft repose 
 
 My soul shall rock at ease, 
 
 If thou canst teach with sweet delusive shows 
 
 Myself myself to please. 
 
 If thou canst trick me with a toy 
 
 To say sincerely I enjot. 
 
 Then may my latest sand be run ! 
 
 A wager on it ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Done ! 
 
scene vi. faust. 91 
 
 Faust. 
 
 And done, and done ! 
 When to the moment I shall say, 
 Stay, thou art so lovely, stay ! 
 Then with thy fetters bind me round, 
 Then perish I with cheerful glee ! 
 Then may the knell of death resound. 
 Then from thy service art thou free ! 
 The clock may stand. 
 And the falling hand 
 Mark the time no more for me ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Consider well : in things like these 
 The devil's memory is not apt to slip. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 That I know well ; may'st keep thy heart at ease, 
 No random word hath wandered o'er my lip. 
 Slave I remain, or here, or there, 
 Thine, or another's, I little care. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 My duty I'll commence without delay. 
 When with the graduates you dine to-day. 
 One thing remains ! — ^black upon white 
 A line or two, to make the bargain tight. 
 
92 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 A writing, pedant ! — hast thou never found 
 
 A man whose word was better than his bond ? 
 
 Is't not enough that by my spoken word, 
 
 Of all I am and shall be thou art lord ? 
 
 The world drives on, wild v^ave engulphing wave, 
 
 And shall a line bind me, if I would be a knave ? 
 
 Yet 'tis a whim deep-graven in the heart, 
 
 And from such fancies who would gladly part ? 
 
 Happy within whose honest breast concealed 
 
 There lives a faith, nor time nor chance can shake ; 
 
 Yet still a parchment, written, stamped, and 
 
 sealed, 
 A spectre is before which all must quake. 
 Commit but once thy word to the goose-feather. 
 Then must thou yield the sway to wax and leather. 
 Say, devil — paper, parchment, stone, or brass ? 
 With me this coin or that will pass ; 
 Style, or chisel, or pen shall it be ? 
 Thou hast thy choice of all the three. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 What need of such a hasty flare 
 Of words about so paltry an affair ? 
 Paper or parchment, any scrap will do. 
 Then write in blood your signature thereto. 
 
SCENE VI. FAUST. 93 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 If this be all, there needs but small delay, 
 Such trifles shall not stand long in my way. 
 
 Mephistopheles (while Faust is signing thepaper). 
 Blood is a juice of most peculiar virtue. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 Only no fear that I shall e'er demur to 
 The bond as signed ; my whole heart swears 
 Even to the letter that the parchment bears. 
 Too high hath soared my blown ambition ; 
 I iz(&w take rank with thy condition; 
 Irhe Mighty Spirit of All hath scorned me, 
 And Nature from her secrets spumed me : 
 My thread of thought is rent in twain, 
 All science I loathe with its wranglings vain. 
 In the depths of sensual joy, let us tame 
 Our glowing passion's restless flame f 
 In magic veil, from unseen hand, 
 Be wonders ever at our command ! 
 Plunge we into the rush of Time ! 
 Into Action's rolling main ! 
 Then let pleasure and pain, 
 Loss and gain, 
 Joy and sorrow, alternate chime ! 
 
94 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 L^t bright suns shine, or dark clouds lower, 
 'The man that works is master of the hour, ^ 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 To thee I set nor bound nor measure. 
 
 Every dainty thou may'st snatch, 
 
 Every flying joy may'st catch, 
 
 Drink deep, and drain each cup of pleasure ; 
 
 Only have courage, friend, and be not shy 1 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Content from thee thy proper wares to buy. 
 Thou markest well, I do not speak of joy. 
 Pleasure that smarts, giddy intoxication. 
 Enamoured hate, and stimulant vexation. 
 My bosom healed from hungry greed of science 
 With every human pang shall court alliance ; 
 What all mankind of pain and of enjoyment 
 May taste, with them to taste be my employment ; 
 Their deepest and their highest I will sound. 
 Want when they want, be filled when they abound, 
 My proper self unto their self extend. 
 And with them too be wrecked, and ruined in the end. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Believe thou me, who speak from test severe, 
 Chewing the same hard food from year to year, 
 
SCENE VI. FAUST. 95 
 
 There lives (were but the naked truth confessed) 
 No man who, from his cradle to his bier, 
 The same sour leaven can digest ! 
 Trust one of us — ^this imiverse so bright, 
 Hp made it only for his own delight ; 
 •Supreme He reigns, in endless glory shining, 
 To utter darkness me and mine consigning, 
 And grudges eVn to you the day without the night/ 
 
 Faust. 
 But I will ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 There you are right ! 
 One thing alone gives me concern. 
 The time is short, and we have much to learn. 
 There is a way, if you would know it. 
 Just take into your pay a poet ; 
 Then let the learned gentleman sweep 
 Through the wide realms of imagination 
 And every noble qualification. 
 Upon your honoured crown upheap. 
 The strength of the lion, 
 The wild deer's agility. 
 The fire of the south. 
 With the north's durability. 
 Then let his invention the secret unfold. 
 
96 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 To be crafty and cunning, yet generous and bold ; 
 And teach your youthful blood, as poets can, 
 To fall in love according to a plan. 
 Myself have a shrewd notion where we might 
 Enlist a cunning craftsman of this nature. 
 And Mr. Microcosmus he is hight. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 What am I then, if still I strive in vain 
 
 To reach the crown of manhood's perfect stature, 
 
 The goal for which with all my life of life I strain ? 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 Thou art, do what thou wilt, just what thou art. 
 Heap wigs on wigs by millions on thy head, 
 And upon yard-high buskins tread, 
 StUl thou remainest simply what thou art. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 I feel it well, in vain have I uphoarded 
 
 All treasures that the mind of man afforded. 
 
 And when I sit me down, I feel no more 
 
 A well of life within me than before ; 
 
 Not ev'n one hairbreadth greater is my height, 
 
 Not one inch nearer to the infinite. 
 
scene vi. faust. 97 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 My worthy friend, these things you view, 
 
 Just as they appear to you ; 
 
 Some wiser method we must shape us. 
 
 Ere the joys of life escape us. 
 
 Why, what the devil ! hands and feet, 
 
 Brain and brawn and blood are thine ; 
 
 And what I drink, and what I eat. 
 
 Whose can it be, if 'tis not mine ? 
 
 If I can number twice three horses. 
 
 Are not their muscles mine ? and when I'm moimted, 
 
 I feel myself a man, and wheel my courses, 
 
 Just as if four-and-twenty legs I counted. 
 
 Quick then ! have done with reverie. 
 
 And dash into the world with me ! 
 
 I tell thee plain, a speculating fellow 
 
 Is like an ox on heath all brown and yellow, 
 
 Led in a circle by an evil spirit. 
 
 With roods of lush green pasture smiling near it. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 But how shall we commence ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 We start this minute : 
 Why, what a place of torture is here, 
 And what a life you live within it ! 
 
 H 
 
98 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Yourself and your pack of younkers dear, 
 Killing outright with ennui ! 
 Leave that to honest neighbour Paunch ! 
 Thrashing of straw is not for thee : 
 Besides, into the best of all your knowledge, 
 You know 'tis not permitted you to launch 
 With chicken-hearted boys at College. 
 Ev'n now, methinks, I hear one on the stair. 
 
 Faust. 
 Send him away : I cannot bear — 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Poor boy ! he's waited long, nor must depart 
 Without some friendly word for head and heart ; 
 Come, let me slip into your gown ; the mask 
 WiU suit me well ; as for the teaching task, 
 
 {He puts on Faust's scholastic robes.) 
 
 Leave that to me ! I only ask 
 
 A quarter of an hour ; and you make speed 
 
 And have all ready for our journey's need. 
 
 {Exit.) 
 
 iVlBPHISTOPHELES SoJmS. 
 
 Continue thus to hold at nought 
 
 Man's highest power, his power of thought ; 
 
 Thus let the Father of all lies 
 
SCENE VII. FAUST. 99 
 
 With shows of magic blind thine eyes, 
 
 And thou art mine, a certain prize. 
 
 To him hath Fate a spirit given, 
 
 With reinless impulse ever forwards driven, 
 
 Whose hasty striving overskips 
 
 The joys that flow for mortal lips ; 
 
 Him drag I on through life's wild chase. 
 
 Through flat unmeaning emptiness ; 
 
 He shall cling and cleave to me, 
 
 Like a sprawling child in agony. 
 
 And food and drink, illusive hovering nigh, 
 
 Shall shun his parchfed lips, and cheat his longing 
 
 eye; 
 He shall pine and pant and strain 
 For the thing he may not gain, 
 And, though he ne'er had sold him to do evil, 
 He would have damned himself without help from 
 
 the devil. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 Enter a Student. 
 
 Student. 
 
 I am but fresh arrived to-day. 
 And come my best respects "to pay. 
 To one whose name, from boor to Kaiser, 
 None, without veneration, mention. 
 
100 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I feel obliged by your attention ! 
 
 You see a man than other men no wiser : 
 
 Have you made inquiry elsewhere ? 
 
 Student. 
 
 Beseech you, sir, be my adviser ! 
 
 I come with money to spend and spare, 
 
 With fresh young blood, and a merry heart, 
 
 On my college career to start : 
 
 My mother sent me, not without a tear. 
 
 To get some needful schooling here. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 A better place you could not find. 
 
 Student. 
 
 To speak the truth, 'tis not much to my mind. 
 
 Within these narrow cloister walls, 
 
 These antiquated Gothic halls, 
 
 I feel myself but ill at ease ; 
 
 No spot of green I see, no trees, * 
 
 And 'mid your formal rows of benches, 
 
 I almost seem to lose my senses. 
 
scene vii. faust. 101 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 That all depends on custom. Don't you see 
 
 How a young babe at first is slow 
 
 To know it's mother's breast ; but soon 
 
 With joy it strains the milky boon ; 
 
 So you anon mQ suck nutrition 
 
 From Wisdom's breasts with blest fruition. 
 
 Student. 
 
 I yearn to do so even now ; 
 
 But, in the first place, tell me how ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 My help is yours, or great or small ; 
 But choose your Faculty, first of all. 
 
 Student. 
 
 I aim at culture, learning, all 
 That men call science on the ball 
 Of earth, or in the starry tent 
 Of heaven ; all Nature high and low, 
 Broad and deep, I seek to know. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 There you are on the proper scent ; 
 Only beware of too much distraction. 
 
102 FAUST. ACT n. 
 
 Student. 
 
 With soul and body I'm girt for action, 
 And yet I cannot choose but praise 
 A little freedom and meri-iment. 
 On pleasant, summer holidays. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Redeem the time, for fast it fleets away, 
 
 But order rules the hour it cannot stay. 
 
 Therefore 'tis plain that you must pass 
 
 First of all through the logic class. 
 
 There will your mind be postured rightly. 
 
 Laced up in Spanish buskins tightly, 
 
 That with caution and care, as wisdom ought, 
 
 It may creep along the path of thought, 
 
 And not with fitful flickering glow 
 
 Will o' the wisp it to and fro. 
 
 There, too, if you hear the gentleman through 
 
 The term, to every lecture true. 
 
 You'll learn that a stroke of human thinking, 
 
 Which you had practised once as free 
 
 And natural as eating and drinking, 
 1^ L Cannot be made without one ! two ! three ! 
 
 \ /True, it should seem that the tissue of thought 
 ^ j Is like a web by cunning master wrought, 
 J VWhere one stroke moves a thousand threads. 
 
SCENE vii. FAUST. 103 
 
 The shuttle shoots backwards and forwards be- 
 tween, 
 The slender threads flow together unseen, 
 And one with the others thousand-fold weds : 
 Then steps the philosopher forth to show 
 How of necessity it must be so : 
 If the first be so, the second is so, 
 And therefore the third and the fourth is so ; 
 And unless the first and the second before be, 
 The third and the fourth can neyer more be. 
 So schoolmen teach and scholars beUeve, 
 But none of them yet ever learned to weave. 
 He who strives to know a thing well 
 Must first the spirit within expel. 
 Then can he count the parts in his hand, 
 Only without the spiritual band. 
 Encheiresis naturcB, 'tis clept in Chemistry, 
 Thus laughing at herself, albeit she knows not 
 why. 
 
 Student. 
 I must confess I can't quite comprehend you. 
 
 MePHISTOPHELESj 
 
 In this respect time by and by will mend you, 
 When you havie learned the crude mixed masses 
 To decompose, and rank them in their classes. 
 
104 FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Student. 
 
 I feel as stupid to all he has said, 
 
 As a mill-wheel were whirling round in my head. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 After logic, first of all, 
 
 To the study of metaphysics fall ! 
 
 There strive to know what ne'er was made 
 
 To gp into a human head ; 
 
 For what is within and without its command 
 
 A high-sounding word is always at hand. 
 
 But chiefly, for the first half year. 
 
 Let order in all your studies appear ; 
 
 Five lectures a-day, that no time be lost. 
 
 And with the clock be at your post ! 
 
 Come not, as some, without preparation. 
 
 But con his paragraphs o'er and o'er. 
 
 To be able to say, when you hear his oration. 
 
 That he gives you his book, and nothing more ; 
 
 Yet not the less take down his words in writing, 
 
 As if the Holy Spirit were inditing ! 
 
 Student. 
 
 I shall not quickly give you cause 
 To repeat so weighty a clause ; 
 For what with black on white is written. 
 We cariy it home, a sure possession. 
 
scene vii. faust. 105 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 But, as I said, you must choose a profession. 
 
 Student, 
 With Law, I must confess, I never was much smitten. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I should be loath to force your inclination, 
 
 Myself have some small skill in legislation ; 
 
 For human laws and rights from sire to son, 
 
 Like an hereditary ill, flow on ; 
 
 From generation dragged to generation, 
 
 And creeping slow from place to place. 
 
 Reason is changed to nonsense, good to evil, 
 
 Art thou a grandson, woe betide thy case ! 
 
 Of Law they prate, most falsely clept the Civil, 
 
 But for that right, which from our birth we carry, 
 
 'Tis not a word found in their Dictionary. 
 
 Student. 
 
 Your words have much increased my detestation. 
 happy he, to whom such guide points out the way ! 
 And now, I almost feel an inclination 
 To give Theology the sway. 
 
106 FAUST. ACT 11. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I have no wish to lead you astray. 
 
 As to this science, 'tis so hard to eschew 
 
 The false way, and to hit upon the true, 
 
 And so much hidden poison lurks within. 
 
 That's scarce distinguished from the medicine. 
 
 Methinks that here 'twere safest done 
 
 That you should listen but to one, 
 
 And jwrare in verba magistri 
 
 Is the best maxim to assist thee. 
 
 Upon the whole, I counsel thee 
 
 To stick to words as much as may be. 
 
 For such will still the surest way be 
 
 Into the temple of certainty. 
 
 Student. 
 Yet in a word some sense must surely lurk. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Yes, but one must not go too curiously to work ; 
 
 For, just when our ideas' fail us, 
 
 A well-coined word may best ayail us. 
 
 Words are best weapons in disputing, 
 
 In system-building and uprooting, 
 
 To words most men will swear, though mean they 
 
 ne^er so little, 
 From words one cannot filch a single tittle. 
 
scene vii. faust. 107 
 
 Student. 
 
 Pardon me, if I trespass on your time, 
 
 Though to make wisdom speak seems scarce a 
 
 crime; 
 On medicine, too, I am concerned 
 To hear some pregnant word from one so learned. 
 Three years, God knows, is a short time, 
 And we have far to go, and high to climb ; 
 
 /a wise man's fingers pointing to the goal 
 
 I Will save full many a groan to many a labouring soul, 
 
 ^ 
 
 Mbphistopheles (asi 
 
 I'm weary of this dry pedantic strain, 
 'Tis time to play the genuine devil again. 
 
 (Aloud.) 
 
 The spirit of Medicine 'tis not hard to seize : 
 
 The world, both great and small, you seek to know. 
 
 That in the end you may let all things go 
 
 As God shall please. 
 
 In vain you range around with scientific eyes. 
 
 Each one at length learns only what he can ; 
 
 lut he who knows the passing hour to prize, 
 
 hat is the proper mail. 
 A goodly shape and mien you vaunt. 
 And confidence, I guess, is not your want. 
 
108 FAUST, ACT II. 
 
 Trust but yourself, and, without more ado. 
 
 All other men wiU straightway trust you too. 
 
 But chiefly be intent to get a hold 
 
 0' the women's minds : their endless Oh ! and Ah ! 
 
 So thousandfold, 
 
 In all its change, obeys a single law. 
 
 And, if with half a modest air you come. 
 
 You have them all beneath your thumb. 
 
 A title first must purchase their reliance. 
 
 That you have skill surpassing vulgar science ; 
 
 Thus have you hold at once of all the seven 
 
 ends. 
 Round which another years of labour spends. 
 Study to press the pulse right tenderly. 
 And, with a sly and fiery eye. 
 To hold her freely round the slender waist. 
 That you may see how tightly she is laced. 
 
 Student. 
 
 This seems to promise better ; here we see 
 Where to apply and how to use the knife. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Grey, my good friend, is every theory. 
 But green the golden tree of life. 
 
scene vii. faust. 109 
 
 Student. 
 
 I vow I feel as in a dream ; my brain 
 Contains much more than it can comprehend ; 
 Some other day may I come back again, 
 To hear your wisdom to the end ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 What I can teach all men are free to know. 
 
 Student. 
 
 One little favour grant me ere I go ; 
 
 It were my boast to take home on this page 
 
 (Presenting a leaf from his albv/m.) 
 Some sapient maxim from a man so sage. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Right willingly. 
 
 {He writes, and gives hack the book.) 
 
 Student (reads). . ^ 
 
 L/ERms'siCWDE^ SCIENTE'k'BONUM ET MALUllr 
 
 (He closes the book reverently, and takes his 
 leave.) 
 
 zs^ 
 
riC> FAUST. ACT II. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Follow the ancient saw, and my cousin, the famous 
 
 old Serpent, 
 Right soon shalt thou have cause, at thy godlike 
 
 knowledge to tremble ! 
 
 Enter Faust. 
 
 Faust. 
 Now, whither bound ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Where'er it pleases you ; J 
 The world, both great and small, we view. 
 ! how it will delight, entrance you. 
 The merry reel of life to dance through ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 My beard, I am afraid, is rather long ; 
 And without easy manners, gentle breeding, 
 I fear there is small chance of my succeeding ; 
 I feel so awkward 'mid the busy throng. 
 So powerless and so insignificant. 
 And what all others have I seem to want. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Bah ! never fear ; the simple art of living 
 Is just to live right on without misgiving ! 
 
SCENE VII. FAUST. " 111 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 But how shall we commence our course ? 
 I see nor coach, nor groom, nor horse. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 We only need your mantle to unfold, 
 And it shall waft us on the wind. 
 Who makes with me this journey hold 
 No bulky bundle busks behind ; 
 A single puff of inflammable air, 
 And from the ground we nimbly fare. 
 Lightly we float. I wish the best of cheer 
 To Doctor Faustus on his new career. 
 
 END OF ACT SECOND. 
 
112 FAUST. ACT iti. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 Auerbach's Wine-Gellar. Leipzig. 
 
 A BOUT OF MEREY FELLOWS. 
 
 Feosch. 
 
 Will no one sing ? none crack a joke ? 
 I'll teach you to make saucy faces ! 
 Like old wet straw to-day you smoke, 
 While bright as flame your wonted blaze is. 
 
 Brandeb. 
 
 The blame lies mth yourself, for you have given us 
 To-day no fun nor frolic to enliven us. 
 
 Frosch. 
 
 (throwing a glass of wine over Ais head). 
 There hast thou both 1 
 
SCENE I. FAUST, 113 
 
 Brandek. 
 
 Double swine ! 
 
 Fbosoh. 
 You asked a joke — I gave it you in wine ! 
 
 SlEBBL. 
 
 Out at the door with all who dare to quarrel ! 
 
 Giye all your pipes full play ! this is no placie to snarl. 
 
 Up ! hollo 1 ho ! 
 
 Altmaybr. 
 
 Woe's me ! the devil and his crew are here ! 
 Some cotton, ho ! he makes my ear-drum crack. 
 
 SlEBBL. 
 
 Roar on ! for, when the vault loud echoes back, 1 
 The deep bass notes come thundering on the ear. 
 
 Fkosch. 
 
 Right, right ! out with each saucy fellow ! 
 A ! tara lara da I 
 
 Altmaybr. 
 A tara lara da ! 
 
 Frosch. 
 
 Our throats are now quite mellow. 
 I 
 
114 PAUST. ACT III, 
 
 {Sings.) 
 
 The holy Eomaa empire now, 
 How does it hold together ? 
 
 A clumsy song ! — ^fie ! a political song ! 
 
 A scuryy song ! thank God, with each to-morrow, 
 
 The Roman empire can give you small sorrow ; 
 
 For me, I deem I'm wealthier and wiser 
 
 For being neither Chancellor nor Kaiser. 
 
 Yet even we must have a head to rule us ; 
 
 Let's choose a pope in drinking well to school us. 
 
 Come, well you know the qualification 
 
 That lifts a man to consideration. 
 
 Frosch (sings). 
 
 Mount up, lady nightingale. 
 Greet my love ten thousand times ! 
 
 SiBBEL. 
 
 No, sir, not once, — I'll hear no more of this. 
 
 Fkosoh. 
 But you shall hear ! — A greeting and a kiss ! 
 
 {He sings.) 
 
 Ope the door in silent night. 
 Ope and let me in, I pray ; 
 
SCENE T. FAUST. 115 
 
 Shut the door, the morn is bright, 
 Shut it, love, I must away 1 
 
 SlEBEIi. 
 
 Yes ! sing and sing ! belaud her, and berhyme ! 
 I'll have my laugh at that — all in good time ! 
 She jilted me right rarely ; soon 
 She'll make thee sing to the same tune ; 
 'Twere fit a Kobold with his love should bless her, 
 On some cross road to cocker and caress her ; 
 Or that some old he-goat, that tramps away 
 From merry Blocksberg on the first of May, 
 Should greet her passing with a lusty baa ! 
 An honest man of genuine flesh and blood 
 Is for the wench by far too good. 
 Batter her doors, her windows shiver, 
 That's all the serenade I'd give her ! 
 
 Beandee {striking the table). 
 
 Gentlemen, hear ! only attend to me. 
 You'll see that I know how to live. 
 If love-sick people here there be, 
 To honour them, I'm bound to give 
 A song brim-full of the most melting passion. 
 I'll sing a ditty of the newest fashion ! 
 Give ear ! and with full swell sonorous. 
 Let each and all ring forth the chorus ! 
 
116 PAUST. ACT III. 
 
 (He sings.) 
 
 In a pantry-hole there lived a rat, 
 
 On bacon and on butter, 
 
 It had a paunch as round and fat 
 
 As Doctor Martin Luther. 
 
 The cook placed poison in its way, 
 
 It felt as straitened all the day. 
 
 As if it had love in its body. 
 
 Chorus (shouting). 
 As if it had love in its body. 
 
 Brander. 
 
 It ran within, it ran without. 
 
 And sipped in every puddle ; 
 
 And scratched and gnawed, but bettered not 
 
 The fever of its noddle. 
 
 With many a twinge it tossed and tossed. 
 
 Seemed ready to give up the ghost, 
 
 As if it had love in its body. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 As if it had love in its body. 
 
 Brander. 
 
 It left its hole for very pain. 
 Into the kitchen crawling. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 117 
 
 And snuffling there with might and main, 
 Upon the earth lay sprawling. 
 The cook she laughed when she saw it die ; 
 " It squeaks," quoth she, " with its latest sigh, 
 As if it had love in its body." 
 
 Chorus. 
 As if it had love in its body. 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 How the hard-hearted boys rejoice ! 
 As if it were a trade so choice 
 To teach the rats and mice to die ! 
 
 Brander. 
 Rats find great favour in your eyes. 
 
 Altmater. 
 
 The oily paunch ! the bald pate ! he 
 Has eyes of sorrow for the creature : 
 For why ? he could not fail to see 
 In the swoU'n rat his own best feature ! 
 
118 FAUST. ACTia 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter Faust and Mephistopheles. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I First thing of all I bring you here, 
 Into a company of jolly cheer, 
 That you may learn how men contrive 
 Without much thought or care to live. 
 These feUows feast their lives away 
 In a continual holiday ; 
 With little wit and much content 
 Their narrow round of life is spent, 
 As playful kittens oft are found 
 To chase their own tails round and round. 
 So live they on from day to day, 
 As long as headache keeps away. 
 And by no anxious thought are crossed, 
 While they get credit from the hostj 
 
 Bkander. 
 
 These gentlemen are strangers ; in their face 
 One reads they lack the breeding of the place ; 
 They're not an hour arrived, I warrant thee. 
 
 Fbosch. 
 
 There you are right ! — Leipzig's the place, I say 1 
 It is a little Paris in its way. 
 
SCENE 11. FAUST. 119 
 
 1 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 What, think you, may the strangers be ? 
 
 Fbosoh. 
 
 Leave that to me ! — I'll soon fish out the truth. 
 
 Fill me a bumper till it overflows, 
 
 And then I'll draw the worms out of their nose, 
 
 As easily as 'twere an infant's tooth. 
 
 To me they seem to be of noble blood, 
 
 They look so discontented and so proud. 
 
 Bbandek. 
 Quack doctors both ! — Altmayer, what think you ? 
 
 Altmayer. 
 'Tis like. 
 
 Fkosch, 
 
 Mark me ! I'll make them feel the screw. 
 
 Mephistopheles {to Faust). 
 
 They have no nose to smell thfe devil out. 
 Even when he has them by the snout. 
 
 Faust. 
 Be greeted, gentlemen ! 
 
120 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 SlEBBL. 
 
 With much respect return we the salute. 
 
 {Softly, eyeing Mephistopheles from the one side.) 
 
 What ! does the fellow limp upon one foot ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 With your permission, we will make so free. 
 As to intrude upon your company. 
 The host's poor wines may keep us in sobriety. 
 But we at least enjoy your good society. 
 
 Altmatee. 
 
 Our wine is good ; and, for to speak the truth, 
 Your mother fed you with too nice a tooth. 
 
 Frosch. 
 
 When left you Eippach ? you must have been pressed 
 For time. Supped you with Squire Hans by the way ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 We had no time to stay ! 
 But when I last came by, I was his guest. 
 He spoke much of his cousins, and he sent 
 To you and all full many a compliment. 
 
 [He makes a bow to Fbosoh.) 
 
SCENE II. PAUST. 121 
 
 Altmater (softly). 
 You have him there ! — he understands the jest ! 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 He is a knowing one ! 
 
 Frosch. 
 I'll sift him through anon ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 As we came in, a concert struck my ear 
 Of skilful voices in a chorus pealing ! 
 A gleesome song must sound most nobly here. 
 Re-echoed freely from the vaulted ceiling. 
 
 Frosch. 
 Perhaps you have yourself some skiU ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 O no ! had I the power, I should not want the will. 
 
 Altmater. 
 Give us a song ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 A thousand, willingly ! 
 
122 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 SiBBEL. 
 
 Only brand-new, I say ! — ^no thread-bare strain ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 We are but just come from a tour in Spain, 
 The lovely land of wine and melody. 
 
 {He sings.) 
 
 There was a king in old times 
 
 That had a huge big flea — 
 
 Frosch. 
 
 Ha, ha ! a flea ! — he seems a man of taste ! 
 A flea, I wis, is a most dainty guest ? 
 
 Mephistopheles (sings again). 
 
 There was a king in old times 
 That had a huge big flea. 
 As if it were his own sou. 
 He loved it mightily. 
 He sent out for the tailor. 
 To get it a suit of clothes ; 
 He made my lord a dress-coat. 
 He made him a pair of hose. 
 
 Bbandeb. 
 
 Be sure that Monsieur le Tailleur be told 
 To take his measure most exact and nice. 
 
SCENE II. FAUST. 123 
 
 And as upon his head he puts a price, 
 
 To make the hose without or crease or fold ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 In Telvet and in silk clad 
 He strutted proudly then. 
 And showed his star and garter 
 With titled gentlemen. 
 Prime minister they made him, 
 With cross and ribbon gay, 
 And then all his relations 
 At court had much to say. 
 
 This caused no small vexation 
 At court"; I tell you true-*- 
 The queen and all her ladies 
 Were bitten black and blue. 
 And yet they durst not catch them, 
 Nor crack them, when they might. 
 But we are free to catch them, 
 And crack them when they bite. 
 
 Chorus {shouting). 
 
 But we are free to catch them 
 And crack them when they bite ! 
 
 Feosch. 
 Bravo, bravo ! — his voice is quite divine. 
 
124 FAUST. ACT m. 
 
 SlEBEL, 
 
 Such fate may every flea befall ! 
 
 Brander. 
 Point your nails and crack 'em aU ! 
 
 Altmayer. 
 A glass to liberty ! — long live the vine ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I'd drink to liberty with right good wUl, 
 If we had only better wine to drink. 
 
 Siebel. 
 You might have kept that to yourself, I think ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I only fear our host might take it Ul, 
 Else should I give to every honoured guest 
 From our own cellar of the very best. 
 
 Siebel. 
 
 never fear ! — If you but find the wine. 
 Our host shall be content — the risk be mine I 
 
SCENE II. PAUST. 123 
 
 Frosoh. 
 
 Give me a flowing glass, and praise you shall not want, 
 So that your sample, mark me ! be not scant ; 
 I cannot judge of wine, unless I fill 
 My mouth and throat too with a goodly swill. 
 
 Altmater (softly). 
 I see the gentlemen are from the Rhine. 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 Give me a gimlet here ! — I'll show you wine. 
 
 Brander. 
 
 What would the fellow bore ? 
 
 Has he then wine-casks at the door ? 
 
 Altmater. 
 
 There, in the basket, you will find a store 
 
 Of tools, which our good landlord sometimes uses. 
 
 Mephistopheles (taking the gimlet). 
 (To Frosoh.) 
 Now every man may taste of what he chooses. 
 
 Frosoh. 
 How mean you that ? Can you afibrd ? 
 
126 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 No fear of that ; my cellar is well storfed. 
 
 Altmater (to Frosch). 
 Aha ! I see you smack your lips already. 
 
 Frosch. 
 
 I'll have Rhine wine ; what fatherland produces 
 Is better far than French or Spanish juices. 
 
 Mephistopheles 
 
 (bormg a hole in the edge of the table where 
 Frosch is sitting). 
 
 Fetch me some wax, to make the stoppers ready. 
 
 Altmater. 
 He means to put us off with jugglery. 
 
 Mephistopheles (to Brandbr). 
 
 And you, sir, what ? 
 
 Brander. 
 
 Champagne for me I 
 And brisk and foaming let it be ! 
 
 (Mephistopheles hores; meanwhile one of 
 the party has got the stoppers ready, and 
 closes the holes.) 
 
SCENE II. FAUST. 127 
 
 Brandeb. 
 
 To foreign climes a man must sometimes roam, 
 In quest of things he cannot find at home ; 
 For Frenchmen Germans have no strong aflfection, 
 But to their wines we seldom make objection. 
 
 SlEBEL 
 
 (wA»7e Mephistopheles is coming round to him). 
 
 I have no taste for your sour wines to-day, 
 I wish to have a swig of good Tokay, 
 
 Mbphistopheles {boring). 
 That you shall have, and of the very best. 
 
 Altmayeb. 
 
 No, gentlemen ! — ^"tis plain you mean to jest ; 
 If so, in me you much mistake your man. 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! — ^no little risk, methinks, I ran, 
 To venture tricks with noble guests like you. 
 Come ! make your choice, speak boldly out, and I 
 WUl do my best your wish to gratify. 
 
 Altmayeb. 
 Give me what wine you please ! — only not much ado. 
 
128 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 (After having bored and stopped up all the holes.) 
 
 Mbphistopheles (with strange gestures). 
 
 Grapes on the vine grow ! 
 Horns on the goat ! 
 The wine is juicy, the vine is of wood, 
 The wooden table can give it as good. 
 Look into Nature's depths with me ! 
 Whoso hath faith shall wonders see ! 
 Now draw the corks, and quaff the wine! 
 
 All 
 
 {drawing the corks, and quaffing the out- 
 streaming liquor each as he had desired). 
 
 blessed stream ! — fount divine ! 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 Drink on ! only be cautious in your hurry. 
 
 (They drink freely.) 
 
 All (singing). 
 
 « 
 
 ' No king of cannibals to day 
 
 More bravely rules the drinking bout. 
 Than we, when, like five hundred swine. 
 We drain the brimming bumpers out ! 
 
 Mbphistopheles (to Faust). 
 Look at the fellows now ! — are they not merry ? 
 
scene ii. faust. 129 
 
 Faust. 
 I feel inclined to go ! — 'tis getting late. 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 Soon shall we have a glorious revelation 
 Of the pure beast in man, if you but wait. 
 
 SiBBEL 
 
 (drinks carelessly ; the wine falls to the ground 
 and becomes flame). 
 
 Help ! fire ! the devil's here ! death and damnation ! 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 (Addressing him to the flames.) 
 Peace, friendly element ! be still ! 
 
 (To the company.) 
 This time 'twas but a spurt of purgatorial flame. 
 
 Siebel. 
 
 What's that ? — you little know your men ; we'll tame 
 Your impudence, you juggling knave, we will ! 
 
 Frosoh. 
 , "Twere dangerous to repeat such gambols here ! 
 
 K 
 
130 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Altmaybr. 
 
 Methinks 'twere best to -whisper in his ear 
 That he had better leave the room. 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 What, sirrah ? do you then presume 
 To play your hocus-pocus here ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Peace, old wine-cask ! 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 You broomstick, you ! 
 Must we then bear your insolence too ? 
 
 Brander. 
 Wait ! wait ! it shall rain blows anon ! 
 
 Altmater {draws a stopper from the table, 
 and fire rushes out on him). 
 I burn ! I burn ! 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 There's witchcraft in his face ! 
 The fellow's an outlaw ! strike him down ! 
 
 (They draw their knives and attack 
 Mephistopheles.) 
 
SCENE II. FAUST. 131 
 
 Mephistopheles (with serious mien). 
 
 False be eye, and false be ear ! 
 
 Change the sense, and change the place ! 
 
 Now be there, and now be here ! 
 
 (They look as thunderstruck, and stare at one another.) 
 
 Altmatek. 
 Where am I ? in what lovely land ? 
 
 Frosch. 
 Vineyards ! can it be so ? 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 And grapes too quite at hand ! 
 
 Brander. 
 
 And here beneath this shady tree, 
 
 This noble vine, these blushing clusters see ! 
 
 (He seizes Siebel hy the nose. The rest seize 
 one another in the same manner, and lift up 
 their knives.) 
 
 Mephistopheles (as above). 
 
 Let Error now their eyes unclose. 
 The devil's joke to understand ! 
 
 (He vanishes with Faust. The fellows start back 
 from one another.) 
 
132 FAUST. ACT HI. 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 What's the matter ? 
 
 Altmayer. 
 How now ? 
 
 Frosch. 
 
 Was that your nose ? 
 
 Brandes {to Siebel). 
 And yours is in my hand ! 
 
 Altmayer. 
 
 It was a stroke shot through my every limb ! 
 Give me a chair !— ^I faint ! My eyes grow dim ! 
 
 Frosch. 
 Now tell me only what has been the matter ? 
 
 Siebel. 
 
 Where is the fellow ? Could I catch him here, 
 His life out of his body I should batter ! 
 
 Altmayer. 
 
 I saw him just this instant disappear, 
 Kiding upon a wine-cask — I declare 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 133 
 
 I feel a weight like lead about my feet. 
 
 {Turning to the table.) 
 I wonder if his d d wine still be there ! 
 
 SlEBEL. 
 
 There's not a single drop ; 'twas all a cheat. 
 
 Frosch. 
 And yet methinks that I was drinking wine. 
 
 Brandee. 
 And I could swear I saw a clustered vine. 
 
 Altmayer. 
 Let none now say the age of miracles is past ! 
 
 SCENE III.— Witches' Kitclien. 
 
 A cauldron is seen boiling on a low hearth. Nwmhers of 
 strange fantastic figures tumbling up and down in the smoke. 
 A Mother-GAl-ApE sits beside the cauldron, taking off the scum, 
 and keeping it from boiling over. An Old Cat- Ape beside her 
 warming himself with his young ones. Roof and walls are 
 covered over with a strange assortment of furniture, and imple- 
 ments used by mtches. 
 
 Enter Faust and Mephistopheles. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 I cannot brook this brainless bedlam stuif ! 
 And must it be that I shall cast my slougli 
 
134 FAUST. ACT iii.i 
 
 In this hotbed of all unreasoned doing ? 
 Shall an old beldam give me ■what I lack ? 
 And can her pots and pans, with all their brewing, 
 Shake oif full thirty summers from my back ? 
 Woe's me, if thou canst boast no better scheme ! 
 My brightest hopes are vanished as a dream. 
 Has Nature then, and has some noble Spirit, 
 No balsam for the body to repair it ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 My friend, with your great sense I cannot but be 
 
 smitten ! 
 Nature, too, boasts a plan to renovate your age ; 
 But in a wondrous volume it is written. 
 And wondrous is the chapter and the page. 
 
 Faust. 
 But I must know it. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Good ! the poorest man may try it. 
 Without or witch, or quack, or gold to buy it ; 
 And yet it works a certain cure. 
 Go take thee with the peasant to the moor, 
 And straight begin to hew and hack ; 
 Confine thee there, with patient mood, 
 Within the narrow beaten track. 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 135 
 
 And nourish thee with simplest food ; 
 Live with the brute a brute, and count it not too low 
 To dung the corn-fields thine own hands shall mow ; 
 Than this I know on earth no med'cine stronger, 
 To make, by fourscore years, both soul and body 
 younger ! 
 • Fattst. 
 
 I was not trained to this — ^was never made 
 To labour with the pick-axe and the spade ; 
 Such narrow round of life I may not brook. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Then you must look into another book, 
 And be content to take the witch for cook. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 But why this self-same ugly Jezebel ? 
 
 Could you not brew the drink yourself as well ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 A precious pastime that indeed ! meanwhile 
 
 I had built bridges many a German mile. 
 
 Not art, and science strict, are here enough, 
 
 But patience too, and perseverance tough. 
 
 A thoughtful soul toils on through many a silent year. 
 
 Time only makes the busy ferment clear. 
 
 Besides that the ingredients all 
 
136 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Are passing strange and mystical ! 
 
 'Tis true the devU taught them how to do it, 
 
 But not the devil with his own hands can brew it. 
 
 [Looking at the Cat-Apes.) 
 
 Lo ! what a tiny gay parade ! 
 
 Here's the man, and there's the maid ! 
 
 {Addressing them.) 
 It seems that your good mother has gone out ? 
 
 The Cat-Apes. 
 
 Up the chimney, 
 
 Went she out, 
 
 To a drinking bout ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Is it her wont to gossip long without ? 
 
 The Animals. 
 As long as we sit here and warm our feet. 
 
 Mephistopheles {to Faust). 
 What think you of the brutes ? are they not neat ? 
 
 Faust. 
 I never saw such tasteless would-be-drolls ! 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 137 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Pooh ! pooh ! — I know no greater delectation 
 On earth, than such a merry conversation. 
 
 {To the brutes.) 
 
 Now let us hear, you pretty dolls, 
 What are you stirring there in the pot ? 
 
 The Brutes. 
 
 Soup for beggars, hissing and hot, 
 Thin and watery, that's the stew. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Your customers will not be few. 
 
 The Father Cat- Ape (comes up and fawns upon 
 
 Mephistopheles). 
 Come rattle the dice. 
 Make me rich in a trice. 
 Come, come, let me gain ! 
 My case is so bad, 
 It scarce could be worse : 
 Were I right in my purse, 
 I'd be right in my brain ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 How happy would the apish creature be, 
 To buy a ticket in the lottery ! 
 
/ 138 f FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 (Meanwhile the young Cat-Apes have been 
 playing with a large globe, and roll it for- 
 wards.) 
 
 The Father Cat-Ape. 
 
 Such is the world, 
 
 So doth it go, 
 
 Up and down. 
 
 To and fro ! 
 
 Like glass it tinkles. 
 
 Like glass it twinkles, 
 
 Breaks in a minute, 
 
 Has nothing within it ; 
 
 Here it sparkles, 
 
 There it darkles, 
 
 I am alive ! 
 
 My dear son, I say. 
 
 Keep out of the way ! 
 
 If you don't striye, 
 
 You will die, you will die ! 
 
 It is but of clay. 
 
 And in pieces will fly ! 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 What make you with the sieve ? 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 139 
 
 The Father Cat-Ape (bringing down the sieve). 
 
 When comes a thief, 
 
 On the instant we know him. 
 
 {He runs off to the Mother Cat-Ape, and 
 lets her look through the sieve.) 
 
 Look through the sieve ! 
 See'st thou the thief. 
 And fearest to show him ? 
 
 Mbphistopheles {coming near the fire). 
 
 And this pot ? 
 
 Father Cat- Ape and his Wife. 
 
 The silly sot ! 
 He knows not the pot ! 
 And he knows not 
 The kettle, the sot ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 You ill-bred urchin, you ! 
 
 The Father Cat- Ape. 
 
 Come, sit thee down, 
 We'll give thee a crown. 
 And a sceptre too ! 
 
 {He ohUges Mbphistopheles to sit dovm, 
 and gives him a long brush for a sceptre) 
 
140 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Faust 
 {Who, while Mephistopheles was engaged 
 with'the animals, had been standing before 
 a mirror, alternately apjoroachmg it and re- 
 tiring from it). 
 
 What see I here ? what heavenly image bright, 
 
 Witjiin this magic mirror, chains my sight ? 
 
 (yjjoye, the swiftest of thy pinions lend me, 
 
 That where she is in rapture I may bend meK 
 
 Alas ! when I would move one step more near, 
 
 To breathe her balmy atmosphere. 
 
 She seems to melt and disappear. 
 
 And cheats my longing eye. 
 
 Oh she is fair beyond all type of human ! 
 
 Is't possible ; can this be simple woman ? 
 
 There IJes she, on that downy couch reposing, 
 
 Within herself the heaven of heavens enclosing ! 
 
 Can it then be that earth a thing so fair contains ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Of course : for when a god has vexed his brains 
 
 For six long days, and, when his work is done, 
 
 Says bravo to himself, is it a wonder 
 
 He should make one fair thing without a blunder ? 
 
 For this time give thine eyes their pleasure ; 
 
 I know how to procure you such an one, 
 
 Whence thou mayst drink delightin brimmingmeasure. 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 141 
 
 And blest the man, for whom Fate shall decide, 
 To lead home such a treasure as his bride ! 
 
 (Faust continues, gazing on the mirror. 
 Mbphistopheles stretches himself on the 
 arm-chair, and, playing with the brush, 
 goes on as follows.) 
 
 Here, from my throne, a monarch, I look down : 
 My sceptre this : I wait to get my crown. 
 
 The Animals 
 
 ( Who had in the interval been wheeling about 
 with strange antic gestures, bring a crown 
 to Mephistopheles, with loud shouts) 
 
 be but so good, 
 
 With sweat and with blood, 
 
 Your crown to glue. 
 
 As monarchs do ! 
 
 {They use the crown rather roughly, in conse- 
 quence of which it falls into two pieces, with 
 which they jump about.) 
 
 sorrow and shame ! 
 'Tis broken, no doubt : 
 But we'll make a name, 
 When our poem comes out ! 
 
142 FAUST. _ ACT III. 
 
 Faust {gazing on the mirror). 
 Woe's me ! her beauty doth my wits confound. 
 
 Mephistopheles (^pointing to the Brutes). 
 
 And even my good brain is whirling round and 
 round. 
 
 The Brutes. 
 
 And if we well speed, 
 As speed well we ought, 
 We are makers indeed. 
 We are moulders of thought. 
 
 Faust {as above). 
 
 I bum, I bum ! this rapturous glow 
 Consumes me sheer ! — come, let us go ! 
 
 Mephistopheles {as above). 
 
 One must, at least, confess that they 
 Are honest poets in their way. 
 
 {The kettle, which had been neglected by the 
 Mother Cat- Ape begins to boil over: A 
 great flame arises, and runs up the chimney. 
 The Witch comes through the flame, down 
 the chimney, with a terrible noise). 
 
scene iii. faust. 143 
 
 The Witch. 
 
 Ow ! ow ! ow ! ow ! 
 
 Thou damnfed brute ! thou cursfed sow ! 
 To leaTC the kettle and singe the frow ! 
 Thou cursed imp, thou ! 
 
 {Turning to Faust and Mephistopheles.) 
 
 What's this here now ? 
 
 Who are you ? who are you ? 
 
 What's here ado ? 
 
 Ye are scouts ! ye are scouts ! 
 
 Out with the louts ! 
 
 A fiery arrow 
 
 Consume your marrow ! 
 
 {8he plunges the ladle into the kettle, and spwrts 
 out flame on Faust, Mephistopheles, 
 and the Brutes. These last whine.) 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 (Who, in the meantime, had turned round the 
 butt-end of the brush, now dashes in amongst 
 the pots and glasses.) 
 
 In two ! in two ! 
 There lies the broth ! 
 The glass and the kettle. 
 Shiver them both ! 
 
144 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 'Tis a jest, thou must know, 
 Thou carrion crow ! 
 'Tis a tune to keep time, 
 To thy senseless rhyme. 
 
 ( While the Witch, foa/ming with rage and fury, 
 draws hack.) 
 
 What ! know'st me not ? thou scrag ! thou Jezebel ! 
 Thy lord and master ? thou should'st know me well. 
 What hinders me, in all my strength to come 
 And crush you and your cat-imps 'neath my thumb ? 
 Know'st not the scarlet-doublet, mole-eyed mother ? 
 BoVst not the knee before the famed cock's feather ? 
 Use your old eyes ; behind a mask 
 Did I conceal my honest face ? 
 And when I come here must I ask 
 A special introduction to your Grace ? 
 
 The Witch. 
 
 my liege lord ! forgive the rough salute ! 
 
 1 did not see the horse's foot : 
 
 And where too have you left your pair of ravens ? 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 
 For this time you may thank the heavens 
 That you have made so cheap an escape ; 
 'Tis some time since I saw your face. 
 
SCENE III. I'AUST. 146 
 
 And things since then have moved apace. 
 The march of modem cultivation, 
 That licks the whole world into shape, 
 Has reached the Devil. In this wise generation 
 The Northern phantom is no longer seen, 
 And horns and tail and claws have been. 
 And for my hoof, with which I can't dispense. 
 In good society 'twould give great offence ; 
 Therefore, like many a smart sprig of nobility, 
 I use false calves to trick out my gentility. 
 
 The Witch, dancing. 
 
 Heyday ! it almost turns my brain 
 To see Squire Satan here again ! 
 
 JVIephistopheles. 
 Woman, you must not call me by that name ! 
 
 The Witch. 
 And wherefore not ? I see no cause for shame. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 That name has had its station long assigned 
 With Mother Bunch ; and yet I cannot see 
 Men are much better for the want of me. 
 The wicked one is gone, the wicked stay behind. 
 Call me now Baron, less than that were rude — 
 
 h 
 
146 FAUST. ACT III. ' 
 
 I am a cavalier like other cayaliers ; 
 
 My line is noble, and my blood is good ; 
 
 Here is a coat of arms that all the world reveres. 
 
 {He makes an indecent gesture.) 
 
 The Witch (laughimg immoderately). 
 
 Ha ! ha ! now I perceive Old Nick is here ! 
 You are a rogue still, as you always were. 
 
 Mephistophbles (aside to Faust). 
 
 My friend, I give you here, your wit to whet, 
 A little lesson in witch-etiquette. 
 
 The Witch. 
 Now say, good sirs, what would you have with me ? 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 
 A glass of your restoring liquor, 
 That makes an old man's blood run quicker : 
 And bring the best out from your bins ; 
 With years the juice in virtue wins. 
 
 The Witch. 
 
 Most willingly. Here I have got a phial 
 Of which myself at times make trial : 
 'Tis now a pleasant mellow potion ; 
 You shall not meet with a denial. 
 
SCENE III. FAIJST. U7 
 
 {Softly.) 
 
 Yet if this worthy man drinks it without precaution, 
 His life can't stand an hour against its strong infec- 
 tion. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Leave that to me ; he's under my protection, 
 Ripe for the draught ; no harm will come to him. 
 
 {The Witch, with strange gestwres, draws a 
 circle and places mawy curious things within 
 it; meanwhile the glasses begin to tinkle, 
 and the kettle to sound and make music. She 
 brings a large book, puts the Cat- Apes into 
 the circle, and makes them serve as a desk to 
 lay the book on, and hold the torches. She 
 motions to Fafst to come near.) 
 
 Faust (to Mephistopheles). 
 
 Now say, what would she with this flummery ? 
 These antic gestures, this wild bedlam-stuflj 
 This most insipid of all mummery, 
 I know it well, I hate it well enough. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Pshaw, nonsense ! come, give up your sermonising. 
 And learn to understand what a good joke is ! 
 
148 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Like other quacks, she plays her hocus-pocus ; 
 It gives the juice a virtue most surprising ! 
 
 {He obliges Faust to enter the circle.) 
 
 {The Witch begins to declaim from the book 
 with great emphasis.) 
 
 Now be exact ! 
 
 Of one make ten, 
 
 Then two subtract, 
 
 And add three then. 
 
 This makes thee rich. 
 
 Four shalt thou bate, 
 
 Of five and six, 
 
 So says the Witch, 
 
 Make seven and eight, 
 
 And all is done. 
 
 And nine is one. 
 
 And ten is none ; 
 
 Here take and spell, if you are able, 
 
 The Witches' multiplication table. 
 
 Faust. 
 This is a jargon worse than Babel ; 
 Say, is she fevered ? is she mad ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 never fear ! the rest is quite as bad ; 
 
 1 know the book, and oft have vexed my brains 
 
SCENE iiL FAUST. 149 
 
 With bootless labour on its rhymes and rales ; 
 
 A do'wnright contradiction still remains, 
 
 Mysterious alike for wise men and for fools. 
 
 My friend, the art is old and new ; 
 
 Ancient and modern schools agree 
 
 With three and one, and one and three 
 
 Plain to perplex, and false inweave with true. 
 
 So they expound, discourse, dispute, debate ; 
 
 What man of sense would plague him with their prate ? 
 
 Men pin their faith to words, in sounds high sapience 
 
 weening, 
 Though words were surely made to have a meaning. 
 
 The Witch 
 
 {Goes on reading from the book). 
 
 The soul to know 
 
 Beneath the show, 
 
 And view it without blinking ; 
 
 The simple mind 
 
 The craft will find. 
 
 Without the toil of thinking. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 What flood of nonsense now she's pouring o'er us ? 
 She'll split my skull with her insensate chatter. 
 I feel as if I heard the ceaseless clatter 
 Of thirty thousand idiots in a chorus. 
 
150 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Enough, kind Sibyl ; thanks for thy good will ! 
 Now bring your jug here, and the goblet fill 
 With this prime juice, till it be brimming o'er. 
 My friend here is a man of high degrees. 
 And will digest the draught with ease. 
 He has swilled many a goodly glass before. 
 
 {The Witch, with mamy ceremonies, povTS the 
 beverage into a cup. While Faust brings 
 it to his mouth a light flame arises.) 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Come, quaff it boldly, without thinking ! 
 
 The draught will make thy heart to burn, with love. 
 
 Art with the Devil hand and glove, 
 
 And from a fire-spurt would'st be shrinking ? 
 
 The Witch looses the circle. Fatjst steps out. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Come quickly out ; you must not rest. 
 
 The Witch. 
 I hope the swig will wonders work on thee ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 And you, if you have aught to beg of me. 
 Upon Walpurgis' night make your request. 
 
scene iii. faust. 151 
 
 The Witch. 
 
 Here is a s»ng ! at times sung, yeu will find 
 It hath a waniraus wprking »n y«ur mind. 
 
 Mephistopheles {to Faust). 
 Come, yield thee now to my desire ; 
 Be meek for once, and own the bridle. 
 You must keep quiet, and let yourself perspire, 
 That through your inmost frame the potent juice may 
 
 pierce. 
 When we have time to spare, I will rehearse 
 Some lessons on the art of being nobly idle; 
 And soon thy heart with ecstasy shall know. 
 How Cupid 'gins to stir, and boundeth to and fro. 
 
 Faust 
 
 (Turning again towards the mirror). 
 
 Indulge me with one glance ! — one moment spare ! 
 It was a virgin-form surpassing fair ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 No ! No ! with my good aid thou soon shalt see 
 The paragon of women bodily. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 Anon, if this good potion does its duty. 
 He'll see in every wench the Trojan beauty. 
 
152 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 A Street. 
 
 Faust. Margaret passes over. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 My fair young lady, may I dare 
 To offer you my escort home ? 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Nor lady I, good sir, nor fair. 
 
 And need no guide to show me home. (Exit.) 
 
 Faust. 
 
 By heaven, this child is passing fair ! 
 A fairer never crossed my view ; 
 Of such a modest gentle air, 
 Yet with a dash of pertness too. 
 And girlish innocent conceit ; 
 Her lips so red, her cheeks so bright, 
 Forget I could not, if I might. 
 How she casts down her lovely eyes 
 Deep graven in my heart it lies. 
 And how so smartly she replied. 
 And with a sharp turn stepped aside. 
 It was most ravishingly sweet ! 
 
SCENE IV. FAUST. 153 
 
 Enter Mephistophelbs. 
 
 Fattst. 
 Hark ! you must get the girl for me ! 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 Which one ? 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 She's just gone by. 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 What! she? 
 She's only now come from confession. 
 Where she received a full remission. 
 I slinked close by the box, and heard 
 The simple damsel's every word ; 
 'Tis a most guileless thing, that goes 
 For very nothing to the priest. 
 My power does not extend to those. 
 
 FaIjst. 
 Yet she is fourteen years of age at least. 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 You speak like Jack the debauchee. 
 
 Who thinks each sweet flow'r grows for me ; 
 
 As if his wish sufficed alone 
 
154 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 To make each priceless pearl his own : 
 But 'tis not so ; and cannot he. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 My good Sir Knight of pedantry^ 
 
 Lay not thou down the law to me ! 
 
 And this, for good and all, he told. 
 
 Unless, this Tery night, I hold 
 
 The sweet young maid in my embrace, 
 
 'Tis the last time that you shall see my face. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Bethink thee ! — ^what with here, and what with there. 
 The thing requires no little care. 
 Full fourteen days must first be spent. 
 To come upon the proper scent. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Had I but seven good hours of rest. 
 
 The devil's aid I'd ne'er request. 
 
 To mould this fair young creature to my bent. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 You speak as if you were a Frenchman born ; 
 But though the endbe good, we must not scorn 
 The means ; what boots the mere gratification ? 
 It is the best half of the recreation. 
 
SCENE IV. PAUST. 155 
 
 When, up and down, and to and fro. 
 
 The pretty doll, through every kind 
 
 Of fiddle-faddle sweet flirtation. 
 
 You knead out first, and dress up to your mind — 
 
 As many an Italian tale can show. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 I need no tricks to whet my zest. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I tell thee plainly without jest. 
 As things stand here, we cannot win 
 The fort by hotly rushing in ; 
 To gain fair lady's favour, you 
 Must boldly scheme, and gently do. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 Fetch me something that breathed her air ! 
 Her home, her chamber, plant me there ! 
 A kerchief of her chaste attire ! 
 A garter of my heart's desire ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 That you may see how I would fain 
 
 Do all I can to ease your pain. 
 
 We shall not lose a single minute ; 
 
 I know her room — ^thou shalt enjoy thee in it. 
 
156 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Faust. 
 And I shall see her ? — ^have her ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 No! 
 She'll be with a neighboiir — ^better so. 
 Meanwhile, unhindered thou may'st go, 
 And on the hope of joys that wait thee. 
 Within her atmosphere may'st sate thee. 
 
 Faust. 
 Can we go now ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 No ; we must wait till night. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Go fetch a present for my heart's delight. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Presents already ! good ! — a lover should not loiter ! 
 I know some dainty spots of ground, 
 Where hidden treasures can be found ; 
 I will go straight and reconnoitre. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 1S7 
 
 SCENE V. 
 A small neat Ohamher. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 (Plaiting and putting up her hair.) 
 
 I wonder who the gentleman could be, 
 That on the street accosted me to-day ! 
 He looked a gallant cavalier and gay, 
 And must be of a noble family ; 
 That I could read upon his brow — 
 Else had he never been so free. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 Enter Faust and Mephistopheles. 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 Come in — but softly — we are landed now ! 
 
 Faust (after a pause). 
 Leave me alone a minute, I entreat ! 
 
 Mephistopheles (looking round about). 
 
 Not every maiden keeps her room so neat. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 Faust (looking round). 
 Be greeted, thou sweet twilight-shine ! 
 
158 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Through this chaste sanctuary shed ! 
 Oh seize my heart, sweet pains of love diyine, 
 That on the languid dew of hope are fed ! 
 What sacred stillness holds the air ! 
 What order, what contentment rare ! 
 
 (Se throws hi/mself on the old leathern arm- 
 chair beside the bed.) 
 
 Receive thou me ! thou, who, in ages gone. 
 
 In joy and grief hast welcomed sire and son. 
 
 How often round this old paternal throne, , 
 
 A clambering host of playful children hung ! 
 
 Belike that here my loved one too hath clung 
 
 To her hoar grandsire's neck, with chUdish joy 
 
 Thankful received the yearly Christmas toy. 
 
 And with the full red cheeks of childhood pressed 
 
 Upon his withered hand a pious kiss. 
 
 I feel, sweet maid, mine inmost soul possessed 
 
 By thy calm spirit of order and of bliss. 
 
 That motherly doth teach thee day by day : 
 
 That bids thee deck the table clean and neat. 
 
 And crisps the very sand strewn at thy feet. 
 
 Sweet hand ! sweet, lovely hand ! where thou dost 
 
 sway. 
 The meanest hut is decked in heaven's array. 
 And here ! 
 
 . (He lifts up the bed-curtain.) 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 159 
 
 Heaven, what strange o'ermastering might 
 Thrills every sense with fine delight ! 
 
 Here might I gaze unwearied day and night. 
 Nature ! in airy dreams here didst thou build 
 The mortal hull of the angelic child ; 
 Here she reposed ! her tender bosom teeming 
 With warmest life, in buoyant fulness streaming, 
 And here, with pulse of gently gracious power, 
 The heaven-born bud was nursed into a flower ! 
 
 And thou ! what brought thee here ? why now 
 
 backshrinks 
 Thy courage from the prize it sought before ? 
 What wouldst thou have ? Thy heart within thee 
 
 sinks ; 
 Poor wretched Faust ! thou know'st thyself no more. 
 
 Do I then breathe a magic atmosphere ? 
 
 1 sought immediate enjoyment here, 
 
 And into viewless dreams my passion flows ! 
 Are we the sport of every breath that blows ? 
 If now she came, and found me gazing here, 
 How for this boldfaced presence must I pay ! 
 The mighty man, how small would he appear. 
 And at her feet, a suppliant, sink away ! 
 
 Mephistophbles (coming lack). 
 Quick ! quick ! I see her — she'll be here anon. 
 
160 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Faust. 
 Yes, let's be gone ! for once and all be gone ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Here is a casket,- of a goodly weight ; 
 
 Its former lord, I ween, bewails its fate. 
 
 Come, put it in the press. I swear 
 
 She'll lose her senses when she sees it there. 
 
 The trinkets that I stowed within it 
 
 Were bait meant for a nobler prey : 
 
 But child is child, and play is play ! 
 
 Fatjst. 
 I know not — shall I ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Can you doubt a minute ? 
 Would you then keep the dainty pelf, 
 Like an old miser, to yourself? 
 If so, I would advise you, sir. 
 To spare your squire the bitter toil. 
 And with some choicer sport the hour beguile 
 Then looking lustfully at her. 
 I scratch my head and rub my hands that you — ' 
 
 {He puts the casket into the cupboard, and locks 
 the door again.) 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 161 
 
 Come, let's away ! — 
 
 With this sweet piece of womanhood may do, 
 
 As will may sway ; 
 
 And you stand there, 
 
 And gape and stare. 
 
 As if you looked into a lecture-room. 
 
 And there with awe 
 
 The twin grey spectres bodily saw. 
 
 Physics and Metaphysics ! Come ! 
 
 {Exemit.) 
 
 {Enter Margaret, with a lamp.) 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 It is so sultry here, so hot ! 
 
 {8he opens the mndow.) 
 
 And yet so warm without 'tis not. 
 I feel — I know not how — oppressed ; 
 Would to God that my mother came ! 
 A shivering cold runs o'er my frame — 
 I'm but a silly timid girl at best ! 
 
 (While taking off her clothes, she sings.) 
 
 There was a king in Thule, 
 True-hearted to his grave : 
 To him his dying lady 
 A golden goblet gave. 
 
 M 
 
162 FAUST. ACT in. 
 
 He prized it more than rubies ; 
 At every drinking-bout 
 His eyes they swam in glory. 
 When he would drain it out. 
 
 On his death-bed he counted 
 His cities one by one ; 
 Unto his heirs he left them ; 
 The bowl he gave to none. 
 
 He sat amid his barons, 
 And feasted merrily, 
 Within his father's castle. 
 That beetles o'er the sea. 
 
 There stood the old carouser. 
 And drank his life's last glow ; 
 Then flung the goblet over 
 Into the sea below. 
 
 He saw it fall, and gurgling 
 Sink deep into the sea ; 
 His eyes they sank in darkness ; 
 No bumper more drank he. 
 
 (She opens the clipboard to put in her clothes, 
 and sees the casket.) 
 
 How came the pretty casket here ? no doubt 
 I locked the press when I went out. 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 163 
 
 'Tis really strange ! — ^Belike that it was sent 
 
 A pledge for money that my mother lent. 
 
 Here hangs the key ; sure there can be no sin 
 
 In only looking what may be within. 
 
 What have we here ? good heavens ! see ! 
 
 What a display of finery ! 
 
 Here is a dress in which a queen 
 
 Might on a gala-day be seen. 
 
 I wonder how the necklace would suit me ! 
 
 Who may the lord of all this splendour be ? 
 
 {She pits on the necklace, and looks at herself 
 in the glass.) 
 
 Were but the ear-rings mine to wear ! 
 
 It gives one such a different air. 
 
 What boots the beauty of the poor ? 
 
 "lis very beautiful to be sure. 
 
 But without riches little weighs ;. 
 
 They praise you, but half pity while they praise. 
 
 Gold is the pole. 
 
 To which all point : the whole 
 
 Big world hangs on gold. Alas we poor ! 
 
164 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 A Walk 
 
 FAtrsx going wp and dovm thoughtfully ; then enter 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 
 Mephistopheles, 
 
 By all the keen pangs of love ! by all the hot blasts 
 
 of hell! 
 By all the fellest of curses, if curse there be any more 
 
 fell! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 How now, Mephisto ? what the dcTil's wrong ? 
 I ne'er beheld a face one half so long ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 But that I am a devil myself, I'd sell 
 Both soul and body on the spot to hell ! 
 
 ^ Faust. 
 
 I verily believe you've got a craze I 
 Beseems it you with such outrageous phrase. 
 To rage like any bedlamite ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Only conceive ! the box of rare gewgaws 
 For Margaret got, is in a parson's claws ! 
 
SCENE VI. FAUST. 165 
 
 The thing came to the mother's sight, 
 Who soon suspected all was not right : 
 The woman has got a most delicate nose, 
 That snuffling through the prayer-book goes, 
 And seldom scents a thing in vain, 
 If it be holy or profane. 
 Your jewels, she was not long in guessing. 
 Were not like to bring a blessing, 
 " My child," quoth she, " ill-gotten gear 
 Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood ; 
 We'll give it to Mary-mother dear, 
 And she will feed us with heavenly food ! " 
 Margaret looked blank — " 'tis hard," thought she, 
 " To put a gift-horse away from me ; 
 And surely godless was he never 
 Who lodged it here, a gracious giver." 
 The mother then brought in the priest ; 
 He quickly understood the jest. 
 And his eyes watered at the sight. 
 " Good dame," quoth he, " you have done right ! 
 (He conquers all the world who wins 
 A victory o'er his darling sins. ) 
 The Church is a most sharp-set lady, ' 
 And her stomach holds good store. 
 Has swallowed lands on lands already. 
 And, still unglutted, craves for more ; 
 The Church alone, my ladies dear. 
 Can digest ill-gotten gear." 
 
166 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 That is a general fashion — Jew, 
 And King, and Kaiser have it too. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Then ring and ear-ring, and necklace, and casket. 
 Like a bundle of toad-stools away he bore ; 
 Thanked her no less, and thanked her no more. 
 Than had it been so many nuts in a basket ; 
 On heavenly treasures then held an oration. 
 Much, of course, to their edification. 
 
 Faust. 
 And Margaret ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Sits now in restless mood. 
 Knows neither what she would, nor what she should ; 
 Broods o'er the trinkets night and day, 
 And on him who sent them, more. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Sweet love ! her grief doth vex me sore. 
 Mephisto, mark well what I say ! 
 Get her another set straightway ! 
 The first were not so very fine. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 yes ! with you all things are mere child's play. 
 
scene vii. faust. 167 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Quick hence ! and match your will with mine ! 
 Throw thee oft in her neighbour's way. 
 Be not a devU of milk and water, 
 And for another gift go cater. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Yes, gracious sir ! most humbly I obey. 
 
 {Eodt Faust.) 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Such loTe-sick fools as these would blow 
 Sun, moon, and stars, like vilest stuff. 
 To nothing with a single puff. 
 To make their lady-love a show ! 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 Martha's House. 
 
 Martha alone. - 
 
 In honest truth, it was not nobly done. 
 In my good spouse to leave me here alone ! 
 May God forgive him ! while he roams at large, 
 O'er the wide world, I live at my own charge. 
 
168 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Sure lie could have no reason to complain ! 
 Sb good a wife he'll not find soon again. 
 
 (8he weeps) 
 He may be dead ! — ^Ah me ! — could I but know, 
 By a certificate, that 'tis really so ! 
 
 Enter Margaret. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Martha ! 
 
 Martha. 
 
 What wouldst thou, dear ? 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 My knees can scarcely bear me ! — only hear ! 
 
 I found a second box to-day 
 
 Of ebon-wood, just where the first one lay, 
 
 Brimfiil of jewels passing rare, 
 
 Much finer than the others. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 Have a care 
 You keep this well masqued from your mother — ' 
 'Twould fare no better than the other. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Only come near, and see ! look here ! 
 
SCENE vii. FAUST. 169 
 
 Mabtha (decking her vnih the jewels). 
 Thou art a lucky little dear ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 And yet I dare not thus be seen 
 In church, or on the public green. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 Just come across when you've an hour to spare. 
 And put the gauds on here with none to see ! 
 Then promenade a while before the mirror there ; 
 'Twill be a joy alike to thee and me. 
 Then on a Sunday, or a holiday. 
 Our riches by degrees we can display. 
 A necklace first, the drops then in your ear ; 
 Your mother sees it not ; and should she hear, 
 'Tis easy to invent some fair pretence or other. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 But whence the pretty caskets came ? I fear 
 There's something in it not right altogether. 
 
 {Knocking.) 
 Good God ! — I hear a step — is it my mother ? 
 
 Martha {looking through the casement). 
 'Tis a strange gentleman. Come in ! 
 
170 ' FAUST. ACT ni. 
 
 Enter Mephistopheles. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I hope the ladies will not think me rude, 
 That xminyited thus I here intrude. 
 
 {Observing Margabet, he drams hack respect- 
 fully.) 
 I have commands for Mistress Martha Schwerdtlein. 
 
 Martha. 
 For me ? what has the gentleman to say ? 
 
 Mephistopheles {softly to her). 
 
 Excuse my freedom. I perceive that you 
 
 Have visitors of rank to-day ; 
 
 For this time I shall bid adieu, 
 
 And after dinner do myself the pleasure 
 
 To vrait upon you, when you're more at leisure. 
 
 Martha {aloud). 
 
 Think, child ! of aU things in the world the last ! 
 My Gretchen for a lady should have passed ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 The gentleman is far too good ; 
 
 I'm a poor girl — ^boast neither wealth nor blood. 
 
 This dress, these jewels, are not mine. 
 
SCENE vir. FAUST. 171 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 "lis not the dress alone that I admire ; 
 
 She has a mien, a gait, a look so fine. 
 
 That speak the lady more than costliest attire. 
 
 Martha. 
 And now your business, sir ? I much desire - 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Would God I had a better tale to tell ! 
 Small thanks I should receive, I knew it well. 
 Your husband's dead — ^his last fond words I bear. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 Is dead ! the good fond soul ! woe ! 
 My man is dead 1 flow, sorrow, flow ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 Beseech thee, dearest Martha, don't despair. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Now hear my mournful story to the end. 
 
 Margaret. 
 I would not love a man on earth, to rend 
 Me thus with grief, when he might hap to die. 
 
172 FAUST. ACT ra. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Joy hath its sorrow, sorrow hath its joy ; 
 Twin sisters are they, as the proverb saith. 
 
 Martha. 
 Now let me hear the manner of his death. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Where Padua's sacred turrets rise. 
 Above the grave of holy Antony, 
 On consecrated ground thy husband Ues, 
 And slumbers for eternity. 
 
 Martha. 
 No farther message ? is this all ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Yes ! one request, and that not small. 
 For his soul's peace, your good man wanted 
 Three hundred masses to be chanted. 
 This is the whole of my commission. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 What ! not a jewel ? not a coin ? 
 
 No journeyman, however poor. 
 
 However wild, could make such an omission. 
 
 But in the bottom of his pouch is sure 
 
SCENE VII. FAUST. 173 
 
 To keep some small memorial for his wife, 
 And rather beg, and rather pine 
 Away the remnant of his life 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Madam ! for your hard case I greatly grieve. 
 But your good husband had no gold to leave. 
 His sins and follies he lamented sore — 
 Yes ! and bewailed his own mishap much more. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Alas for all the miseries of mankind I 
 He shall not want my oft-repeated prayer. 
 
 Mephistopheles {to Margaret). 
 
 Thou, gentle heart, dost well deserve to find 
 A husband worthy of a bride so fair. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Ah no ! — for that, it is too soon. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 A lover, then, might in the mean time do. 
 
 'Tis bounteous Heaven's choicest boon 
 
 To fondle in one's arm so sweet a thing as you, 
 
 Margaret. 
 Such things are never done with us. 
 
174 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Done or not done ! — ^it may be managed thus : — 
 
 Martha. 
 Now let me hear ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 By his death-bed I stood. 
 It was a little better than of dung, 
 Of movddy straw ; there, as a Christian should, 
 With many a sin repented on his tongue, 
 He died. — " Oh I how must I," he said, 
 " Myself detest so to throw up my trade, 
 And my dear wife abandon so ! 
 It kills me with the simple memory, oh ! 
 Might she but now forgive me, ere I die ! " 
 
 Martha {wwging). 
 Good soul ! I have forgiven him long ago. 
 
 Mephistopheles (continuing his interrwpted 
 
 narrative). 
 
 And yet was she, God knows, much more to blame 
 than I. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 What ! did he lie ? on the grave's brink to lie ! 
 
scene vii. faust. 175 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 He fabled to the last, be sure, 
 
 If I am half a connoisseur. 
 
 " In sooth, I had no time to gape," he said, 
 
 " First to get children, then to get them bread. 
 
 To clothe them, and to put them to a trade, 
 
 From toil and labour I had no release. 
 
 And could not even eat my own thin slice in peace." 
 
 Martha. 
 
 Can it then be ? has he forgotten quite 
 My fag and drudgery, by day and night ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Not quite ! attend the sequel of my tale. 
 
 " When last we sailed fram Malta " — so he said, 
 
 " For wife and children fervently I prayed, 
 
 And Heaven then blew a favourable gale. 
 
 We came across a Turkish ship that bore 
 
 Home bullion to increase the Sultan's store. 
 
 And soon, by valour's right, were masters 
 
 Of all the Infidel piastres ; 
 
 The precious spoil was shared among the crew, 
 
 And I received the part that was my due." 
 
 Martha. 
 But where and how ?— has he then buried it ? 
 
176 FAUST. ACT iir. 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 
 Who kno.ws where the four winds hare hurried it ! 
 A lady took him under her protection 
 At Naples, as he wandered to and fro ; 
 She left him many a mark of her affection, 
 As to his life's end he had cause to know. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 The knave, to treat his helpless orphans so ! 
 To all our misery and all our need. 
 Amid his reckless life, he gave no heed ! 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 
 And for that cause he's dead. If I were you, 
 Now mark me well, I tell you what I'd do ; 
 I'd mourn him decently for one chaste year. 
 Then look about me for another dear. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 Alas ! God knows it would be hard to find 
 Another so completely to my mind. 
 A better-hearted fool you never knew, 
 A love of roving was his only vice ; 
 And foreign wine, and foreign women too. 
 And the accursed gambling dice. 
 
 #* 
 
SCENE viL FAUST. 177 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Such marriage-articles were most convenient, 
 Had he to you been only half so lenient. 
 On terms like these myself had no objection 
 To change with you the ring of conjugal affection. 
 
 Martha. 
 You jest, mein Herr ! 
 
 Mephistopheles {aside). 
 
 A serious jest forjme ! 
 I'd better go ; for, if I tarry here. 
 She'll take the devil at his word, I fear. 
 
 (To Margaret.) 
 How stands it with your heart then ? — is it free ? 
 
 Margaret. 
 I scarce know what you mean. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Sweet guileless heart ! 
 Ladies, farewell ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Farewell ! 
 
 Martha. 
 
 - ' One word before we part ! 
 
 I fam would have it solemnly averred, 
 
178 FAUST. .. ACT III. 
 
 How my dear husband died, and where he was interred. 
 Order was aye my special virtue ; and 
 'Tis right both where and when he died should stand 
 In the newspapers. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Yes, when two attest, 
 As Scripture saith, the truth is manifest. 
 I have a friend, who, at your requisition, 
 Before the judge will make a deposition. 
 I'll bring him here. 
 
 Martha. 
 Yes, bring him with you, do ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 And we shall meet your fair young lady too ? 
 
 (To Margaret.) 
 A gallant youth ! — has been abroad, and seen 
 The world — a perfect cavalier, I trow. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 'Twould make me blush, should he bestow 
 A single look on one so mean. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 ' You have no cause to be ashamed before 
 1 The proudest king that ever sceptre bore. 
 
scene viii. faust. 179 
 
 Martha. 
 
 This evening, in the garden then, behind 
 
 The house, you'll find warm hearts and welcome kind ! 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 A Street. 
 
 Faust. 
 How now ? what news ? how speed your labours ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Bravo ! 'tis well you are on fire ; 
 Soon shall you have your heart's desire. 
 This evening you shall meet her at her neighbour's ; 
 A dame 'tis to a nicety made 
 For the bawd and gipsy trade. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 'Tis well. 
 
 Mephistopheles. , 
 
 But you must lend a hand, and so must I. 
 
 Faust. 
 One good turn deserves another. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 We must appear before a judge together, 
 
180 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 And solemnly there testify 
 
 That stiff and stark her worthy spouse doth lie, 
 
 Beside the shrine of holy Antony. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 Most wise ! we must first make a goodly travel ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Sancfa simpUcitas ! what stuff you drivel ! 
 
 We may make oath, and not know much about it. 
 
 Faust. 
 If that's your best, your best is bad, I scout it. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 holy man that would outwit the devil ! 
 Is it the first time in your life that you 
 Have sworn to what you knew could not be true ? 
 Of God, the world, and all that it contains, 
 Of man, and all that circles in his veins. 
 Or dwells within the compass of his brains. 
 Have you not pompous definitions given. 
 With swelling breast and dogmatising brow, 
 As if you were an oracle from heaven ? 
 And yet, if the plain truth you will avow. 
 You knew as much of all these things, in faith. 
 As now you know of Master Schwerdtlein's death ! 
 
scene viii. faust. 181 
 
 Faust. 
 Thou art, and wert, a sophist and a liar. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Yes, unless one could mount a little higher. 
 To-morrow I shall hear you pour 
 False TOWS that silly girl before. 
 Swear to do everything to serve her, 
 And love her with a quenchless fervour. 
 
 Faxtst. 
 And from my heart too. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Oh ! of course, of course ! 
 Then will you speak, till you are hoarse. 
 Of love, and constancy, and truth, 
 And feelings of eternal youth — 
 Will that too be the simple sooth ? 
 
 Faust. 
 
 It will ! it wUl ! — ^for, when I feel, 
 And for the feeling, the confusion 
 Of feelings, that absorbs my mind, 
 Seek for names, and none can find. 
 Sweep through the universe's girth 
 For every highest word to give it birth ; 
 
182 FAUST. ACT III. 
 
 And then this soid-pervading.flame, 
 
 Infinite, endless, endless name. 
 
 Call you this nought but devilish delusion ? 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 Still I am right ! 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 Hold ! mark me, you 
 re right indeed ! for this is true, 
 7ho will be right, and only has a tongue, 
 Is never wrong. ^/ 
 Come, I confess thee master in debating. 
 That I may be delivered from thy prating. 
 
 END OF ACT THIRD. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 183 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Martha's Garden. Maegaeet on Faust's arm ; Maetha 
 with Mephistopheles, walking up and down. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 I feel it well, 'tis from pure condescension 
 
 You pay to one like me so much attention. 
 
 With travellers 'tis a thing of course, 
 
 To be contented with the best they find ; 
 
 For sure a man of cultivated mind 
 
 Can have small pleasure in my poor discourse. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 One look from thee, one word, delights me more 
 Than all the world's high-vaunted lore. 
 
 {He kisses her hand.) 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 trouble not yourself! how could you kiss it so ? 
 It is so coarse, so rough ! for I must go 
 
184 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Through all the work above stairs and below, 
 Mother will have it so. {Th&y pass on.) 
 
 Martha. 
 
 And you, sir, will it still 
 Be your delight from place to place to roam ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 In this our duty guides us, not our vrill. 
 With what sad hearts from many a place we go, 
 . Where we had almost learned to be at home ! 
 
 Martha. 
 When one is young it seems a harmless gambol. 
 Thus round and round through the wide world to 
 
 ramble : 
 But soon the evil day comes on. 
 And as a stiff old bachelor to die 
 Has never yet done good to any one. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 I see ahead, and fear such wretched fate. 
 
 Martha. 
 Then, sir, take warning ere it be too late ! 
 
 {They pass on.) 
 Margaret. 
 Yes, out of sight, and out of mind ! 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 185 
 
 You see me now, and are so kind : 
 
 But you have friends at home of station high, 
 
 With far more wit and far more sense than I. 
 
 Faust. 
 Their sense, dear girl, is often nothing more 
 Than vain conceit of vain short-sighted lore. / 
 
 Margaret. 
 How mean you that ? 
 
 Faust. 
 Oh that the innocent heart 
 And sweet simplicity, unspoiled by art. 
 So seldom knows its own rare quality ! 
 That fair humility, the comeliest grace 
 Which bounteous Nature sheds on blooming face 
 
 Margaret. 
 Do thou bestow a moment's thought on me, 
 I shall have time enough to think of thee. 
 
 Faust. 
 You are then much alone ? 
 
 Margaret. 
 Our household is but small, I own, 
 And yet must be attended to. 
 We keep no maid ; I have the whole to do, 
 
186 FAUST. A^CT IV. 
 
 Must wash and brash, and sew and knit, 
 
 And cook, and early 'ran and late ; 
 
 And then my mother is, in every whit. 
 
 So accurate ! 
 
 Not that she needs to pinch her household ; we 
 
 Might do much more than many others do : 
 
 My father left a goodly sum, quite free 
 
 From debt, with a neat house and garden too, 
 
 Close by the town, just as you pass the gate ; 
 
 But we have lived retired enough of late. 
 
 My brother is a soldier : he 
 
 Is at the wars : my little sister's dead : 
 
 Poor thing ! it caused me many an hour of pain 
 
 To see it pine, and droop its little head, 
 
 But gladly would I suffer all again. 
 
 So much I loved the child ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 An angel, if like thee ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 I nursed it, and it loved me heartily. 
 My father died before it saw the light. 
 My mother was despaired of quite. 
 So miserably weak she lay. 
 Yet she recovered slowly, day by day ; 
 And as she had not strength herself 
 
scEHE I. FAUST. 187 
 
 To suckle the poor helpless elf, 
 
 She gave't in charge to me, and I 
 
 With milk and water nursed it carefully. 
 
 Thus in my arm, and on my lap, it grew. 
 
 And smiled and crowed, and flung its legs about, 
 
 And called me mother too. 
 
 Faust. 
 To thy pure heart the purest joy, no doubt. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Ay ! but full many an hour 
 Heavy with sorrow, and with labour sour. 
 The infant's cradle stood beside 
 My bed, and when it stirred or cried, 
 I must awake ; 
 
 Sometimes to give it drink, sometimes to take 
 It with me to my bed, and fondle it : 
 And when all this its fretting might not stay, 
 I rose, and danced about, and dandled it ; 
 And after that I must away 
 To wash the clothes by break of day. 
 I make the markets too, and keep house for my mother, 
 One weary day just like another ; 
 Thus drudging on, the day might lack delights, 
 But food went lightly down, and sleep was sweet o' 
 nights. {They pass on.) 
 
188 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 A woman's case is not much to be vaunted ; 
 A hardened bachelor is hard to mend. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 A few apostles such as you were wanted, 
 From evil ways their vagrant steps to bend. 
 
 Martha. 
 
 Speak plainly, sir, have you found nothing yet ? 
 Are you quite disentangled from the net ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 A house and hearth, we have been often told. 
 With a good wife, is worth its weight in gold. 
 
 Martha. 
 I mean, sir, have you never felt the want ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 A good reception I have always found. 
 
 Martha. 
 I mean to say, did your heart never pant ? 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 189 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 
 For ladies my respect is too profound 
 To jest on such a serious theme as this. 
 
 Martha. 
 My meaning still you strangely miss ! 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 
 Alas, that I should be so blind ! 
 
 One thing I plainly see, that you are very kind ! 
 
 {They pass mi.) 
 
 Faust. 
 
 You knew me, then, you little angel ! straight, 
 When you beheld me at the garden-gate ? 
 
 Margaret. 
 Marked you it not ? — You saw my downward look. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 And you forgive the liberty I took. 
 When from the minster you came out that day. 
 And I, with forward boldness more than meet. 
 Then ventured to address you on the street ? 
 
190 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 I was surprised, I knew not what to say ; 
 
 No one could speak an evil word of me. 
 
 Did he, perchance, in my comportment see 
 
 Aught careless or improper on that day. 
 
 That he should take me for a worthless girl. 
 
 Whom round his little finger he might twirl ? 
 
 Not yet the favourable thoughts I knew, 
 
 That even then were rising here for you ; 
 
 One thing I know, myself I sharply chid, 
 
 That I could treat you then no harshlier than I did. 
 
 Faust. 
 Sweet love ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 Let go ! 
 {She plucks a star-flower, and pulls the petals 
 off one after another.) 
 
 Faust. 
 What's that ? a nosegay ? let me see ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 'Tis but a game. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 How so ? 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 191 
 
 Margaret. 
 Go ! you would laugh at me. 
 (She continues pulling the petals, and murmur- 
 ing to herself.) 
 
 Faust. 
 What are you murmuring now, so sweetly low ? 
 
 MARGfARET (half loud), 
 He loves me, yes ! — he loves me, no ! 
 
 Faust. 
 Thou sweet angelic face ! 
 
 Margaret 
 
 (murmuring as before). 
 
 He loves me, yes ! — he loves me, no ! 
 
 (Pulling out the last petal with manifest delight) 
 
 He loves me, yes ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Yes, child ! the fair flower-star hath answered Yes ! 
 In this the judgment of the gods approves thee ; 
 He loves thee ! know'st thou what it means ? — He 
 loves thee ! 
 
 (He seizes her by both hands.) 
 
192 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Margaret. 
 I scarce can speak for joy ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Fear thee not, love ! But let this look proclaim, 
 
 This pressure of my hand declare 
 
 What words can never name : 
 
 To yield us to an ecstasy of joy, 
 
 And feel this tranceful bliss must be 
 
 Eternal ! yes ! its end would be despair ! 
 
 It hath no end ! no end for thee and me ! 
 
 " (Margaret presses Ms hands, makes herself 
 free, and runs away, tie stands still for a 
 moment thoughtfully, then follows her.) 
 
 Martha (commg up). 
 'Tis getting late. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Yes, and we must away, 
 
 Martha. 
 
 I fain would have you stay ; 
 
 But 'tis an evil neighbourhood. 
 
 Where idle gossips find their only good. 
 
 Their pleasure and their business too. 
 
 In spying out all that their neighbours do. 
 
SCENE II. FAUST. 193 
 
 And thus, the whole town in a moment knows 
 The veriest trifle. But where is our young pair ? 
 
 Mbphistophelbs. 
 
 Like wanton birds of summer, through the air 
 I saw them dart away. 
 
 Martha. 
 He seems well pleased with her. 
 
 Mbphistophbles. 
 And she with him. 'Tis thus the world goes. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 A Swmmer-honse in the Garden. 
 
 (Margaret comes springing in, and hides her- 
 self behind the door of the summer-house. 
 She places the point of her finger on her 
 lips, and looks through a rent. 
 
 Margaret. 
 He comes ! 
 
 Fattst (coming up). 
 
 Ha ! ha ! thou cunning soul, and thou 
 Would'st trick me thus ; but I have caught thee now ! 
 
 (He kisses her.) 
 o 
 
194 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Maegabet 
 (clasping him and returning the kiss).- 
 Thou best of men, with my whole heart I lore thee ! 
 
 (Mbphistophelbs heard knocking). 
 
 Faust (stamping). 
 Who's there ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Al friend ! 
 
 Faust. 
 A beast ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 'Tis time now to remove thee. 
 
 Maetha (coming up). 
 Yes, sir, 'tis getting late. 
 
 Faust. 
 May I not take you home ? 
 
 Maegabet. 
 My mother would-^farewell ! 
 
SCENE III. 
 
 FAUST. ,]95 
 
 "7" 
 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 Farewell ! 
 
 And must I leave you then ? 
 
 
 Martha. 
 
 Adieu ! 
 
 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Eight soon to meet again ! 
 {Exeunt Faust and Mephistopheles). 
 
 Margaret (alone). 
 Dear God ! what such a man as this 
 Can think on all and every thing ! 
 I stand ashamed, and simple yes 
 Is the one answer I can bring. 
 I wonder what a man, so learned as he, 
 Can find in a poo^ simple girl like me. 
 
 {Exit.) 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Wood and Cavern. 
 
 Faust {alone). 
 
 Spirit Supreme ! thou gav'st me---gav'st me all, 
 For which I asked thee. Not in vain hast thou 
 Turned toward me thy countenance in fire. 
 iThovL gavest me wide Nature for/my kingdom, 
 And power to feel it, to enjoy re. Not 
 
196 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Cold gaze of wonder gav'st thou me alone, 
 
 But even into her bosom's depth to look, 
 
 As it might be the bosom of a friend. 
 
 The grand array of living things thou mad'st 
 
 To pass before me, mad'st me know my brothers 
 
 In silent bush, in water, and in air. 
 
 And when the straining storm loud roars, and raves 
 
 Through the dark forest, and the giant pine. 
 
 Boot- wrenched, tears all the neighbouring branches 
 
 down 
 And neighbouring stems, and strews the ground with 
 
 wreck. 
 And to their fall the hollow mountain thunders ; 
 Then dost thou guide me to the cave, where safe 
 I learn to know myself, and from my breast 
 Deep and mysterious wonders are unfolded. 
 Then mounts the pure white moon before mine eye 
 With mellow ray, and in her softening light. 
 From rocky wall, from humid brake, upfloat 
 The silvery shapes of times by-gone, and soothe 
 The painful pleasure of deep-brooding thought. 
 Alas ! that man enjoys no perfect bliss, 
 I feel it now. Thou gav'st me with this joy, 
 Which brings me near and nearer to the gods, 
 A fellow, whom I cannot do without. 
 AH cold and heartless, he debases me 
 Before myself, and, with a single breath. 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 197 
 
 Blows all the bounties of thy love to nought ; 
 And fans within my breast a raging fire 
 For that fair image, busy to do ill. 
 Thus reel I from desire on to enjoyment/ 
 And in enjoyment languish for desire, j 
 
 Enter Mephistopheles. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 What ! not yet tired of meditation ? 
 Methinks this is a sorry recreation. 
 To try it once or twice might do ; 
 But then, again to something new. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 You might employ your time some better way 
 Than thus to plague me on a happy day. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Well, well ! I do not grudge you quiet, 
 
 You need my aid, and you cannot deny it. 
 
 There is not much to lose, I trow. 
 
 With one so harsh, and gruff, and mad as thou. 
 
 Toil ! moil ! from mom to ev'n, so on it goes ! 
 
 And what one should, and what one should not do, 
 
 One cannot always read it on your nose. 
 
198 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 This is the proper tone for you ! 
 
 Annoy me first, and then my thanks are due. 
 
 MephistopHelbs. 
 
 Poor son of Earth ! without my timed assistance, 
 How had you ever dragged on your existence ? 
 From freakish fancy's fevered effervescence, , 
 I have worked long ago your convalescence, 
 And, but for me, you would have marched away, 
 In your best youth, from the blest light of day. 
 What have you here, in caves and clefts, to do, 
 Like an old owl, screeching to-whit, to-whoo ? 
 Or like a torpid toad, that sits alone 
 Sipping the oozing moss and dripping stone ? 
 A precious condition to be in ! 
 I see the Doctor sticks yet in your skin. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Couldst thou but know what re-born vigour springs 
 From this lone wandering in the wUdemess, 
 Couldst thou conceive what heavenly joy it brings, 
 Then wert thoii fiend enough to envy me my bliss. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 ,A supermundane bliss ! 
 
 In night and dew to lie upon the height. 
 
SCENE HI. FAUST. 199 
 
 And clasp the heaven and earth in wild delight, 
 
 To swell up to the godhead's stature, 
 
 And pierce with clear miraculous sight 
 
 The inmost pith of central Nature, 
 
 To carry in your breast with strange elation. 
 
 The ferment of the whole six days' creation. 
 
 With proud anticipation of — I know 
 
 Not what — to glow in rapturous overflow. 
 
 And melt into the universal mind, 
 
 Casting the paltry son of earth behind ; 
 
 And then, the heaven-sprung intuition 
 
 {with a gesture.) 
 To end — I shall not say in what — fruition. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 Shame on thee ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Yes ! that's not quite to your mind. 
 You have a privilege to cry oiit shame, 
 When things are mentioned by their proper name. 
 Before chaste ears one may not dare to spout 
 AVhat chastest hearts yet cannot do without. 
 I do not envy you the pleasure 
 Of palming lies upon yourself at leisure ; 
 But long it cannot last, I warrant thee. 
 You are returned to your old whims, I see. 
 
200 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 And, at this rate, you soon will wear 
 
 Your strength away, in madness and despair. 
 
 Of this enough ! thy love sits waiting thee, 
 
 In doubt and darkness, cabined and confined. 
 
 By day, by night, she has thee in her mind ; 
 
 I trow she loves thee in no common kind. 
 
 Thy raging passion 'gan to flow. 
 
 Like a torrent in spring from melted snow ; 
 
 Into her heart thy tide gushed high. 
 
 Now is thy shallow streamlet dry. 
 
 Instead of standing here to overbrim 
 
 With fine ecstatic rapture to the trees, 
 
 Methinks the mighty gentleman might please 
 
 To drop some words of fond regard, to ease 
 
 The sweet young chick who droops and pines for him. 
 
 Poor thing, she is half dead of ennui. 
 
 And at the window stands whole hours, to see 
 
 The clouds pass by the old town-wall along. 
 
 Were I a little bird ! so goes her song 
 
 The live-long day, and half the night to boot. 
 
 Sometimes she wUl be merry, mostly sad. 
 
 Now, like a child, weeping her sorrows out, 
 
 Now calm again to look at, never glad ; 
 
 Always in love. 
 
 Faust. 
 Thou snake ! thou snake ! 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 201 
 
 Mephistopheles (to himself). 
 So be it! that my guile thy stubborn will may break ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Hence and begone, thou son of filth and fire ! 
 
 Name not the lovely maid again ! 
 
 Bring not that overmastering desire 
 
 Once more to tempt my poor bewildered brain ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 What then ? she deems that you are gone for ever ; 
 And half and half methinks you are. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 No ! I am nigh, and Were I ne'er so far, 
 
 I could forget her, I could lose her never ; ' 
 
 I envy ev'n the body of the Lord, 
 
 When on the sacred cake her lips she closes. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Yes ! to be honest, and confess my sins, 
 I oft have envied thee the lovely twins 
 That have their fragrant pasture among roses. 
 
 Faust. 
 Avaunt, thou pimp ! 
 
202 FAUST. ACT iv. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Rail you, and I will laugh ; 
 The God who made the human stuff 
 Both male and female, if the book don't lie, 
 Himself the noblest trade knew well enough, 
 How to carve out an opportunity. 
 But come, why peak and pine you here ? 
 I lead you to the chamber of your dear, 
 Not to the gallows. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Ah ! what were Heaven's supremest blessedness 
 
 Within her arms, upon her breast, to me ! 
 
 Must I not still be wrung vdth agony. 
 
 That I should plunge her into such distress ? 
 
 I, the poor fugitive ! outlaw from my kind, 
 
 Without a friend, without a home. 
 
 With restless heart, and aimless mind, 
 
 Unblest, unblessing, ever doomed to roam ; 
 
 Who, like a waterfall, from rock to rock came roaring, 
 
 With greedy rage into the cauldron pouring ; 
 
 While she, a heedless infant, rears 
 
 Sidewards her hut upon the Alpine field, 
 
 With all her hopes, and all her fears, 
 
 Within this little world concealed. 
 
 And I — the God-detested — not content 
 
 To sei^e the rocks, and in my headlong bent 
 
SCENE III. FAUST. 203 
 
 To shatter them to dust, with ruthless tide 
 
 Her little shieling on the mountain side 
 
 Bore down, and wrecked her life's sweet peace with 
 
 mine. 
 And such an offering, Hell, must it be thine ? 
 Help, Deyil, to cut short the hour of ill ! 
 What happen must, may happen when it will ! 
 May her sad fate my crashing fall attend, 
 And she with me he ruined in the end ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Lo ! how it boils again and blows 
 
 Like furnace, wherefore no man knows. 
 
 Go in, thou fool, and let her borrow 
 
 From thee, sweet solace to her sorrow ! 
 
 When such a brainsick dreamer sees 
 
 No road, where he to walk may please. 
 
 He stands and stares like Balaam's ass, 
 
 As if a god did block the pass. 
 
 A man's a man who does and dares ! 
 
 In other points you're spiced not scantly with the devil; 
 
 Nothing more silly moves on earth's wide level. 
 
 Than is a devil who despairs. 
 
f<iff--' FAUST. ' ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Margaret's Room. 
 
 Margaret alom, at a Spinning-wheel. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 My rest is gone, 
 My heart is sore ; 
 Peace find I never, 
 And never more. 
 
 Where he is not 
 Life is the tomb, 
 The world is bitterness 
 And gloom. 
 
 Crazed is my poor 
 Distracted brain, 
 My thread of thought 
 Is rent in twain. 
 
 My rest is gone. 
 My heart is sore ; 
 Peace find I never, 
 And never more. 
 
 I look from the window 
 For none but him. 
 
SCENE IV. FAUST. 206 
 
 I go abroad 
 For only him. 
 
 His noble air, 
 His bearing high, 
 The smile of his mouth. 
 The might of his eye. 
 
 And, when he speaks. 
 What flow of bliss ! 
 The clasp of his hand, 
 And ah ! his kiss ! 
 
 My rest is gone. 
 My heart is sore ; 
 Peace find I never. 
 And never more. 
 
 My bosom swells. 
 
 And pants for him. 
 
 that I might clasp him, 
 
 And cling to him ! 
 
 And kiss him, and kiss him 
 
 The live-long day. 
 
 And on his kisses 
 
 Melt away ! 
 
206 FAUST. ACT iv. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Martha's Garden. 
 
 Maegaket cmd Faust. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Promise me, Henry ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 What I can. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Of your religion I am fain to hear ; 
 
 I know thou art a most kind-hearted man, 
 
 But as to thy belief I fear 
 
 Fatjst. 
 Fear not ! thou know'st I love thee well : and know 
 For whom I love my life's last drop shall flow ! 
 For other men, I have nor wish nor need 
 To rob them of their church, or of their creed. 
 
 Margaret. 
 That's not enough ; you must believe it too ! 
 
 Faust. 
 Must I ? 
 
scene v. faust. , 207 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Alas ! that I might work some change on you ! 
 Not even the holy mass do you revere. 
 
 Faust. 
 I do revere 't. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Yes, but without desire. 
 At mass and at confession, too, I fear, 
 Thou hast not shown thyself this many a year. 
 Dost thou believe in God ? 
 
 Fattst. 
 My love, who dares aspire 
 To sa,y he doth believe in God ? 
 May'st ask thy priests and sages all, 
 Their ansvrer seems like mockery to fall 
 Upon the asker's ear. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Then thou dost not believe ? 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Misunderstand me not, thou sweet, angelic face ! 
 Who dares pronounce His name ? 
 And who proclaim — 
 I do believe in Him ? 
 
208 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 And who dares presume 
 To utter — I believe Him not ? 
 The AU-embracer, 
 The All-upholder, 
 Grams and upholds He not 
 Toki, me, Himself? 
 
 M' aults not the Heaven his vasty dome above thee ? 
 Stand not the earth's foundations firm beneath thee? 
 And climb not, with benignant beaming. 
 Up heaven's slope the eternal stars ? 
 Looks not mine eye now into thine ? 
 And feel'st thou not an innate force propelling 
 Thy tide of life to head and heart, 
 A power that, in eternal mystery dwelling, 
 Invisible visible moves beside thee ? 
 Go, fill thy heart therewith, in all its greatness. 
 And when thy heart brims with this feeling. 
 Then call it what thou wilt. 
 Heart ! Happiness ! Love ! God ! 
 I have no name for that which passes all revealiag ! 
 Feeling is all in all ; 
 Name is but smoke and sound, / 
 Enshrouding heaven's pure glow."^ 
 
 Margaret. 
 All that appears most pious and profound ; 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 209 
 
 Much of the same our parson says, 
 Only he clothes it in a different phrase. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 All places speak it forth ; 
 
 All hearts, from farthest South to farthest North, 
 
 Proclaim the tale divine. 
 
 Each in its proper speech ; 
 
 Wherefore not I in mine ? 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 When thus you speak it does not seem so bad, 
 And yet is your condition still most sad : 
 Unless you are a Christian, all is vain. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Sweet love ! 
 
 / 
 Margaret. C 
 
 Henry, it gives me pain, 
 More than my lips can speak, to see 
 Thee joined to such strauge company. 
 
 , Faust. 
 How so ? 
 
210 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Margaret. 
 The man whom thou hast made thy mate, 
 Deep in my inmost soul I hate j 
 Nothing in all my life hath made me smart , 
 So much as his disgusting leer. 
 His face stabs like a dagger through my heart ! 
 
 Fatjst. 
 Sweet doll ! thou hast no cause to fear. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 It makes my blood to freeze when he comes near. 
 
 To other men I have no lack 
 
 Of kindly thoughts ; but as I long 
 
 To see thy face, I shudder back 
 
 From him. That he's a knave I make no doubt ; 
 
 May God forgive me, if I do him wrong ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Such grim old owls must be ; without 
 Their help the world could not get on, I fear. 
 
 Margaret. 
 With men like him I would have nought to do ! 
 As often as he shows him here, 
 He looks in at the door with such a scornful leer. 
 Half angry too ; 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 211 
 
 Wliate'er is done, he takes no kindly part ; 
 And one can see it written on his face, 
 He never loved a son of Adam's race. 
 Henry, within thy loving arm 
 I feel so free, so trustful-warm ; 
 But when his foot comes near, I start. 
 And feel a freezing grip tie up my heart. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 thou prophetic angel, thou ! 
 
 Makgabet. 
 This overpowers me so 
 That, when his icy foot may cross the door, 
 
 1 feel as if I could not love thee more. 
 When he is here, too, I could never pray ; 
 This eats my very heart. Now say, 
 Henry, is't not the same with thee ? 
 
 Faust. 
 Nay now, this is mere blind antipathy ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 I must be gone. 
 
 Faust. 
 Oh ! may it never be 
 That I shall spend one qidet hour with thee. 
 
212 FAUST. ACT IT. 
 
 One single little hour, and breast on breast. 
 And soul on soul, with panting love, be pressed ? 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Alas ! did I but sleep alone, this night 
 The door unbarred thy coming should invite ; 
 But my good mother has but broken sleep ; 
 And, if her ears an inkling got. 
 Then were I dead upon the spot ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Sweet angel ! that's an easy fence to leap. 
 
 Here is a juice, whose grateful power can steep 
 
 Her senses in a slumber soft and deep ; 
 
 Thred drops mixed with her evening draught will do. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 I would adventure this and more for you. 
 
 Of course, there's nothing hurtful in the phial ? 
 
 Faust. 
 If so, would I advise the trial ? 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Thou best of men, if I but look on thee. 
 All will deserts me to thy vnsh untrue ; 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 213 
 
 So much already have I done for thee 
 That now scarce aught remains for me to do. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 Enter Mephistopheles. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Well, is the monkey gone ? 
 
 Faust. 
 
 And you — must I 
 Submit again to see you play the spy ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I liave been duly advertised 
 
 How Doctor Faust was catechised : 
 
 I hope it will agree with you. 
 
 The girls are wont — they have their reasons too — 
 
 To see that one, in every point, believes 
 
 The faith, that from his fathers he receives. 
 
 They think, if little mettle here he shows. 
 
 We too may lead him by the nose. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Thou monster ! dost not know how this fond soul, 
 
 Who yields her being's whole 
 
 To God, and feels and knows 
 
 That from such faith alone her own salvation flows. 
 
214 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 With many an anxious holy fear is tossed. 
 
 Lest he, whom best she loves, should be for ever lost ? 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 
 Thou super-sensual sensual fool, 
 A silly girl takes thee to school ! 
 
 Fatist. 
 Thou son of filth and fire, thou monster, thou ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 And then her skUJi in reading faces 
 
 Is not the least pf all her graces ! 
 
 When I come near, she feels, she knows not how. 
 
 And through/my mask can read it on my brow 
 
 That I must be, if not the very Devil, 
 
 A genius far above the common level. 
 
 And now to-night 
 
 FAT7ST. 
 
 What's that to thee? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 What brings my master joy, brings joy to me. 
 
SCENE VI. FAUST. 215 
 
 SCENE VI, 
 
 At the Well. 
 Maegaeet and Eliza, with water-pitchers. 
 
 Eliza. 
 Have you heard nought of Barbara ? 
 
 Mabgaret. 
 
 Nothing at all. I seldom stray 
 
 From home, to hear of other folk's affairs. 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 You may believe me every whit ; 
 
 Sibylla told it me to-day. 
 
 She too has been befooled : that comes of it, 
 
 When people give themselves such airs ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 How so ? 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 'Tis rank ! 
 She eats and drinks for two, not now for one. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Poor girl ! 
 
21.6 FAUST. ACT IV, 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 Well, well ! she has herself to thank. 
 How long did she not hang upon 
 The fellow !— Yes ! that was a parading, 
 A dancing and a promenading ! 
 Must always be before the rest ! 
 And to wines and pasties be pressed ; 
 Began then to be proud of her beauty, 
 And was so reckless of her duty 
 As to take presents from him too. ; 
 That was a cooing and a caressing ! 
 No wonder if the flower too be amissing ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 I pity her. 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 Methinks you have not much to do. 
 When we were not allowed to venture o'er 
 The threshold, night and day kept close at spinning, 
 There stood she, with her paramour, 
 Upon the bench, before the door, 
 Or in the lane, and hour for hour 
 Scarce knew the end from the beginning. 
 'Tis time that she should go to school 
 And learn — on the repentance-stool ! 
 
SCENE. yi. FAUST, 217 
 
 Mabgabet. 
 But he will take her for his wife. 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 He marry her ! not for his life ! 
 An active youth like him can find, 
 Where'er he pleases, quarters to his mind. 
 Besides, he's gone ! 
 
 Mabgaeet. 
 That was not fair, 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 And if he should come back, she'll not enjoy him more. 
 
 Her marriage wreath the boys will tear, 
 
 And we will strew chopped straw before the door. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 Maegabet (going homewards). 
 
 How could I once so boldly chide 
 When a poor maiden stepped aside. 
 And scarce found words enough to name 
 The measure of a sister's shame ! 
 If it was black, I blackened it yet more. 
 And with that blackness not content. 
 More thickly still laid on the paint. 
 And blessed my stars, as cased in mail. 
 Against all frailties of the frail ; 
 
.^rs FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 And now myself am what I chid before ! — 
 Yet was each step that lured my slippery feet 
 So good, 80 lovely, so enticing sweet ! 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 An enclosed Area. 
 
 (^In a niche of the wall an image of the Maier dolorosa, with 
 jlower-jugs before it.) 
 
 Margaret 
 (jalacing fresh flowers in the jugs). 
 
 mother rich in sorrows. 
 Bend dovra to hear my cry ! 
 bend thee, gracious mother, 
 To my sore agony ! 
 
 Thy heart with swords is piercfed, 
 And tears are in thine eye. 
 Because they made thy dear Son 
 A cruel death to die. 
 
 Thou lookest up to heaven. 
 And deeply thou dost sigh ; 
 His God and thine beholds thee. 
 And heals thine agony. 
 
SCENE vii. FAUST. 219 
 
 Oh ! who can know 
 
 What bitter woe 
 
 Doth pierce me through and through ? 
 
 The fear, the anguish of my heart, 
 
 Its every pang, its every smart, 
 
 Know'st thou, and only thou. 
 
 And wheresoever I wend me, 
 What woes, what woes attend me. 
 And how my bosom quakes ! 
 And in my chamber lonely. 
 With weeping, weeping only^ 
 My heart for sorrow breaks. 
 
 These flower-pots on the window 
 I wet with tears, ah me ! 
 -When with the early morning, 
 I plucked these flowers for thee. 
 
 And when the morn's first sunbeam 
 Into my room was shed, 
 I sat, in deepest anguish. 
 And watched it on my bed. 
 
 save me, Mother of Sorrows ! 
 Unto my prayer give heed. 
 By all the swords that pierced thee, 
 save me in my need ! 
 
220 FAUST. ACT iv. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 
 Night. 
 
 Street before MAKGAitET's door. 
 
 Enter Valentin. 
 
 When I sat with our merry men, 
 
 At a carousal, now and then, 
 
 Where one may be allowed a boast. 
 
 And my messmates gave toast for toast 
 
 To the girl they prized the most. 
 
 And with a bumper then swilled o'er 
 
 Their praise, when they could praise no more ; 
 
 I'd sit at ease, and lean upon 
 
 My elbow, while they prated on. 
 
 Till all the swaggerers had done. 
 
 And smile and stroke my beard, and fill 
 
 The goodly rummer to my hand, 
 
 And say, All that is very well ! 
 
 But is there one, in all the land. 
 
 That with my Margaret may compare. 
 
 Or even tie the shoe to her ? 
 
 Rap, rap ! cling, clang ! so went it round ! 
 
 From man to man, with gleesome sound, 
 
 And one cried out with lusty breath, 
 
 " Yes, Gretchen ! Gretchen ! she's the girl. 
 
SCENE VIII. EAUST. 221 
 
 Of womanhood the perfect pearl ! " 
 
 And all the braggarts were dumb as death. 
 
 And now, — the devil's in the matter ! 
 
 It is enough to make one clatter, 
 
 Like a rat, along the walls ! 
 
 Shall every boor, with gibe and jeer. 
 
 Turn up his nose when I appear ? 
 
 And every pettiest word that falls 
 
 Me, like a purseless debtor, torture ? 
 
 And though I bruised them in a mortar, 
 
 I could not say that they were wrong. 
 
 What comes apace ? — ^what creeps along ? 
 
 A pair of them comes slinking by. 
 
 If 'tis the man I look for, I 
 
 Will dust his coat so well he'll not, 
 
 By Jove ! go living from the spot ! 
 
 (Betires.) 
 
 Enter Faust and Mephistophei/ES. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 As from the window of the vestry there. 
 
 The light of the undying lamp doth glare, 
 
 And sidewards gleameth, dimmer still and dimmer. 
 
 Till darkness closes round its fitful glimmer, 
 
 So murky is it in my soul. 
 
222 FAUST. act iv. 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 
 And I've a qualmish sort of feeling, 
 
 Like a cat on a rainy day, 
 
 Creeping round the wall, and stealing 
 
 Near the fireplace, if it may. 
 
 Yet am I in most yirtuous trim 
 
 For a small turn at stealing, or at lechery ; 
 
 So jumps already through my every limb 
 
 Walpurgis-Night, with all its glorious witchery. 
 
 The day after to-morrow brings again 
 
 The Feast, with fun and frolic in its train. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Is it not time that you were raising 
 
 The treasure there in the distance blazing ? 
 
 MEPHISTOPHEIiES. 
 
 Soon shall you sate your eyes with gazing. 
 And lift up from the urn yourself 
 A little mine of precious pelf. 
 I gave it a side-glance before — 
 Saw lion-dollars by the score. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 
 Is there no gaud ? — ^no jewel at all ? 
 To deck my sweet little mistress vdthal. 
 
scene viii. faust. 223 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 yes ! I saw some trinkets for the girls, — 
 A sort of necklace strung with pearls. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 'Tis well that we have this to give her, 
 For empty-handed go I never. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 And yet a wise man ought to learn 
 
 To enjoy gratis, as well as to earn. 
 
 Now, that the stars are bright and clear the sky, 
 
 I'll give you a touch of choicest melody ; 
 
 A moral song — that, while we seem to school her. 
 
 With the more certainty we may befool her. 
 
 (Sings to the guitar.) 
 
 Why stands before 
 
 Her lover's door, < 
 
 Young Catherine here. 
 
 At early break of day ? 
 
 Beware, beware 1 
 
 He lets thee in, 
 
 A maiden in, 
 
 A maiden not away ! 
 
 When fuU it blows. 
 He breaks the rose. 
 
224 FAUST. act iv. 
 
 And leaves thee then, 
 
 A wretched outcast thing ! 
 
 Take warning, then, 
 
 And yield to none 
 
 But who hath shown. 
 
 And changed with thee the ring. 
 
 Valentin {advancing). 
 
 Ho, serenaders ! by the Element ! 
 You whoreson rascals ! you rat-catchers, you ! 
 First, to the devil with the instrument. 
 And, after it, the harper too ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Conner and blitz ! my good guitar is broken ! 
 
 Valentin. 
 And your skull, too, anon : by this sure token ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Quick, Doctor ! here's no time to tarry ! 
 Keep close, as I shall lead the way. 
 Out with your goosewing 1* out, I say! 
 Make you the thrusts, and I will parry. 
 
 Valentin. 
 Then parry that ! 
 
 * A cant word for a sword. 
 
SCENE VIII. FAUST. 225 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Why not ? 
 
 Valentin. 
 
 And that ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Of course ! 
 
 Valentin. 
 
 I deem the devil is here, or something worse. 
 Good God ! what's this ? — my arm is lamed ! 
 
 Mephistopheles {to Faust). 
 Have at him there ! 
 
 Valentin (falls). 
 woe ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Now is the lubber tamed ! 
 But let's be gone ! why stand you gaping there ? 
 They'll raise a cry of murder ! I can play 
 A game with the policeman, any day ; 
 But blood spilt is a dangerous affair. 
 
 (Exeunt Mephistopheles and Faust.) 
 
226 FAUST. act it. 
 
 Martha {at the window). 
 Ho ! murder, ho ! 
 
 Margaret {at the window). 
 A light ! a light ! 
 
 Martha {as above). 
 They bawl, they brawl, they strike, they fight. 
 
 The People. 
 And here lies one already dead ! 
 
 Martha {appearing below). 
 Where are the murderers ? are they fled ? 
 
 Gretchen {below). 
 Who's this lies here ? 
 
 The People. 
 Thy mother's son. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Almighty God ! my brother dead ! 
 
 Valentin. 
 
 I die ! I die ! — 'tis quickly said, 
 And yet more quickly done. 
 
SCENE VIII. FAUST. 227 
 
 Why stand you, women, and weep and wail ? 
 Draw near, and listen to my tale ! 
 
 {They all come round him.) 
 
 My Margaret, mark me, you are young. 
 
 And in sense not overstrong ; 
 
 You manage matters ill. 
 
 I tell thee in thine ear, that thou 
 
 Art, once for all, a strumpet, — now 
 
 Mayst go and take thy fill. 
 
 Margaret. 
 My brother ! God ! what do you mean ? 
 Valentin. 
 
 Leave the Lord God out of the jest ; 
 Said is said, and done is done ; 
 Now you may manage, as you best 
 Know how to help the matter on. 
 You commenced the trade with one, 
 We shall have two, three, four, anon, 
 Next a dozen, and next a score. 
 And then the whole town at your door. 
 
 When sin is born it shuns the light 
 (For conscience guilt may not abide it), 
 And they draw the veil of night 
 Over head and ears, to hide it ; 
 
228 FAUST. act iv. 
 
 Yea, they would murder it, if they might. 
 
 But anon it waxes bolder, 
 
 And walks about in broad day-light, 
 
 And, uglier still as it grows older. 
 
 The less it offers to invite. 
 
 The more it courts the public sight. 
 
 Even now, methinks, I see the day. 
 
 When every honest citizen. 
 
 As from a corpse of tainted clay. 
 
 From thee, thou whore ! will turn away. 
 
 Thy very heart shall fail thee then. 
 
 When they shall look thee in the face ! 
 
 No more shall golden chain thee grace ! 
 
 The Church shall spurn thee from its door ! 
 
 The altar shall not own thee more ! 
 
 Nor longer, with thy spruce lace-tippet. 
 
 Where the dance wheels, shalt thou trip it ! 
 
 In some vile den of want and woe. 
 
 With beggars and cripples thou shalt bed ; 
 
 And, if from Heaven forgiveness flow, 
 
 Earth shall rain curses on thy head ! 
 
 Martha. 
 
 Speak softly, and prepare thy soul for death, 
 Nor mingle slander vdth thy parting breath ! 
 
SCENE IX. FAUST. 229 
 
 Valentin. 
 Could I but reach thy withered skin, 
 Thou hag, thou bawd, so vile and shameless ! 
 For such fair deed I might pass blameless. 
 To score the black mark from my blackest sin. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Brother, thou mak'st me feel a hell of pain ! 
 
 Valentin ! 
 I tell thee, all thy tears are vain ! 
 When with thy honour thou didst part. 
 Thou dealt the blow that pierced my heart. 
 I go through death, with fearless mood, 
 To meet my God, as a soldier should. 
 
 {Dies.) 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 
 A Cathedral. 
 
 Mass, Organ, ami Song. 
 
 Maegaret amid a crowd of people, EviL SpiEIi: behind her. 
 
 Evil Spirit. 
 
 How different, Margaret, was thy case, 
 When, in thine innocence, thou didst kneel 
 
230 FAUST. ACT IV. 
 
 Before the altar, 
 
 And from the well-worn book 
 
 Didst lisp thy prayers, 
 
 Half childish play, 
 
 Half God in thy heart ! 
 
 Margaret ! 
 
 Where is thy head ? 
 
 Within thy heart 
 
 What dire misdeed ? 
 
 Prayest thou for thy mother's soul, whom thou 
 
 Didst make to sleep a long, long sleep of sorrow ? 
 
 Whose blood is on thy threshold ? 
 
 — And, underneath thy heart. 
 
 Moves not the swelling germ of life already. 
 
 And, with its boding presence 
 
 Thee tortures, and itself ? 
 
 Mabgaret. 
 Woe, woe ! 
 
 That I might shake away the thoughts. 
 That hither flit and thither. 
 Against me ! 
 
 Quire. 
 
 Dies ircB, dies ilia, 
 Sohet saeclum imfavilla. 
 
 (The organ sounds.) 
 
scene ix. faust. 231 
 
 Evil Spirit. 
 
 Terror doth seize thee ! 
 
 The trumpet sounds ! 
 
 The graves quake ! 
 
 And thy heart, 
 
 From its rest of ashes, 
 
 To fiery pain , 
 
 Created again, 
 
 Quivers to life ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Would I were hence ! 
 
 I feel as if the organ stopped 
 
 My breath, 
 
 And, at the hymn, 
 
 My inmost heart 
 
 Melted away ! 
 
 Quire. 
 
 Judex ergo cum sedebit, 
 Quidquid latet adparebit, 
 Nil inultum remanebit. 
 
 Margaret. 
 I feel so straitened ! 
 The pillar shafts 
 Enclasp me round ! 
 
232 FAUST. act iv. 
 
 The vault 
 
 Is closing o'er me ! — Air ! 
 
 Evil Spirit. 
 
 Yea ! let them hide thee ! but thy sin and shame 
 No vault can hide ! 
 Air? Light? No! 
 Woe on thee ! woe ! 
 
 Quire. 
 
 Quid sum miser time dictwus ? 
 Quern patronum rogaturus ? 
 Cum vix Justus sit securus. 
 
 Evil Spirit. 
 The blessfed turn 
 Their looks away, 
 And the pure shudder 
 From touch of thee ! 
 Woe! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Neighbour, help ! help I I faint ! 
 
 ' {8he falls dovm in a swoon.) 
 
 END OF ACT FOUETH. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 233 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Walpurffis-Night. 
 
 The Hartz Mountains. 
 
 Neighbourhood of Schirke cmd Elend. 
 
 Faust and, Mephistopheles. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Would you not like a broomstick to bestride ? 
 Would God I had a stout old goat to ride ! 
 The way is long ; and I would rather spare me 
 This uphill work. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 While my good legs can bear me, 
 This knotted stick will serve my end. 
 What boots it to cut short the way ? 
 Through the long labyrinth of vales to wend, 
 These rugged mountain-steeps to climb. 
 And hear the gushing waters' ceaseless chime, 
 
234 FAUST. act v. 
 
 No better seasoning on my wish to-day 
 Could wait, to make the Brocken banquet prime ! 
 The Spring is waving in the birchen bower, 
 And eVn the pine begins to feel its power ; 
 Shall we alone be strangers to its sway ? 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 No whifF I feel that hath a smell of May ; 
 
 I am most wintry cold in every limb ; 
 
 I'd sooner track my road o'er frost and snow. 
 
 How sadly mounts the imperfect moon ! — so dim 
 
 Shines forth its red disk, with belated glow, 
 
 We run the risk, at every step, on stones 
 
 Or stumps of crazy trees, to break our bones. 
 
 You must allow me to request the aid 
 
 Of a Will-o-the-Wisp ; — I see one right ahead, 
 
 And in the bog it blazes merrily. 
 
 Holla ! my good friend ! dare I be so free ? 
 
 Two travellers here stand much in need of thee ; 
 
 Why should'st thou waste thy flickering flame in vain? 
 
 Pray be so good as light us up the hill ! 
 
 \yox 
 
 WiLL-O-THE-WlSP. 
 
 Out of respect to you, I will restrain. 
 
 If possible, my ever-shifting will ; 
 
 But all our natural genius, and our skill 
 
 Is zigzag ; straight lines go against the grainy 
 
scene i. faust. 235 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! hast learned from men how to declaim ? 
 March on, I tell thee, in the Devil's name ! 
 Else will I blow thy flickering life-spark out. 
 
 WiLL-O-THE-WlSP. 
 
 You are the master of the house, no doubt, 
 
 And therefore I obey you cheerfully. 
 
 Only remember ! 'tis the first of May, 
 
 The Brocken is as mad as mad can be ; 
 
 And when an ignis fatuus leads the way, 
 
 You have yourselves to blame, if you should stray. 
 
 Faust, Mephistophelbs, and Will-o-the-Wisp, 
 in reciprocal song. 
 
 Through the realms of fairy dreaming, 
 Through the air with magic teeming, 
 Guide us forward, guide us fairly, 
 Thanks to thee be rendered rarely ; 
 Guide us quick, and guide us sure. 
 O'er the wide waste Brocken moor. 
 
 Trees on trees thick massed before us 
 Flit, and fling dark shadows o'er us, 
 Clifis on clifis in rugged masses 
 Nod above the narrow passes. 
 
236 FAUST. act v. 
 
 And each rock from jagged nose, 
 How it snorts, and how it blows ! 
 
 Over turf and stone are pouring 
 Stream and streamlet, wildly roaring ; 
 Is it rustling ? is it singing ? 
 Love's sweet plaint with gentle winging ! 
 Voices of those days, the dearest, 
 When our light of hope was clearest ! 
 And the echo, like the sounds 
 Of ancient storj', back rebounds. 
 
 Oohoo ! Shoohoo ! what a riot ! 
 Owl and pewit, jay and piet ! 
 Will no bird to-night be quiet ? 
 What is this ? red salamanders, 
 With long legs and swoU'n paunches, 
 Weaving wreathy fire-meanders 
 Through the thicket's bristling branches ! 
 And the trees, their roots outspreading 
 From the sand and rocky bedding, 
 Winding, stretching, twisting grimly. 
 Through the dun air darting dimly 
 Seek to seize us, seek to grasp us, 
 And with snaky coils enclasp us ! 
 And the mice in motley muster, 
 Red and white, and blue and grey. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 237 
 
 Thick as bees that hang in cluster, 
 Crowd along the heathy way. 
 And the fire-flies shooting lightly 
 Through the weirdly winding glade, 
 With bewildering escort, brightly 
 Lead the streaming cavalcade ! 
 
 But tell me, in this strange confusion. 
 What is real, what delusion ? 
 Do we walk with forward faces. 
 Or stand and halt with baffled paces ? 
 All things seem to change their places. 
 Rocks and trees to make grimaces. 
 And the lights in witchy row, 
 Twinkle more and more they blow ! 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 
 Hold me tightly by the cue ! 
 
 From this hillock, we may view, 
 
 At leisure, with admiring gaze, 
 
 How Mammon in the mount doth bla^e! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 How strangely through the glooming glens 
 Dim sheen, like morning redness, glimmers ! 
 EVn to the darkest, deepest dens 
 With its long streaky rays it shimmers. 
 
238 FAUST. act v. 
 
 Here mounts the smoke, there rolls the steam, 
 There flames through the white vapours gleam. 
 Here like a thread along the mountain 
 It creeps ; there gushes in a fountain ! 
 Here stretching out, in many a rood. 
 Along the vale, its veinM flood, 
 And here at once it checks its flight. 
 And bursts in globes of studded light. 
 There sparks are showering on the ground. 
 Like golden sand besprinkled round. 
 And lo ! w^here all the rocky height, 
 From head to foot is bathed in light ! 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 
 Hath not old Mammon lit with goodly flame 
 His palace for the jubilee ? 
 Thou art in luck to see the game ; 
 Even now I scent the lusty company. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 How the mad storm doth howl and hiss 
 And beats my neck with angry buffeting ! 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 To the old mountain's hard ribs cling, 
 Or the strong blast will hurl thee down the abyss ; 
 The night with clouds is overcast ; 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 239 
 
 Hear in the woods the grinding of the blast ! 
 
 How the frightened owlets flit ! 
 
 How the massive pillars split 
 
 Of the dark pine-palaces ! 
 
 How the branches creak and break ! 
 
 How the riven stems are groaning ! 
 
 How the gaping roots are moaning ! 
 
 In terrible confusion all, 
 
 One on another clashing, they fall. 
 
 And through the clefts, where their wrecks are buried, 
 
 Hissing and howling the winds are hurried. 
 
 Sounds of voices dost thou hear ? 
 
 Voices far, and voices near ? 
 
 And, all the mountain side along, 
 
 Streams a raving wizard song. 
 
 Witches in chorus. 
 
 The witches to the Brocken ride, 
 The stubble is yellow, the corn is green ; 
 A merry crew^to ,^ merry scene, 
 And good gif''tffian is the guide. 
 Over stock and stone we float. 
 Wrinkled hag and rank old goat. 
 
 A Voice. 
 
 Old mother Baubo comes up now. 
 Alone, and riding on a sow. 
 
240 FAUST. ACT v. 
 
 Ohoetts. 
 
 Honour to him to whom honour is due ! 
 
 Lady Baubo heads the crew ! 
 
 On the back of a sow, with the wings of the wind, 
 
 And all the host of witches behind. 
 
 A Voice. 
 Sister, which way came you ? 
 
 A Voice. 
 
 By Ilsenstein ! and I looked into 
 
 An owlet's nest, as on I fared. 
 
 That with its two eyes broadly stared ! 
 
 A Voice. 
 
 The deuce ! at what a devil's pace 
 You go ; this march is not a race. 
 
 A Voice. 
 
 It tore me, it flayed me ! 
 These red wounds it made me ! 
 
 Witches in chorus. 
 
 The road is broad, the road is long. 
 Why crowd you so on one another ? 
 Scrapes the besom, pricks the prong, 
 Chokes the child, and bursts the mother. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 241 
 
 Wizards (semi-chorus). 
 
 We trail us on, like very snails, 
 The •women fly with flaunting sails ; 
 For, when we run Squire Satan's races, 
 They always win by a thousand paces. 
 
 Semi-chorus. 
 
 Not quite so bad : the women need 
 A thousand paces to help their speed ; 
 But let them speed what most they can, 
 With one spring comes up the man. 
 
 Voice {from above). 
 Come up ! come up from the lake with me. 
 
 Voices {from below). 
 
 Right gladly would we mount with thee ; 
 
 We wash, and wash, and cease from washing never ; 
 
 Our skins are as white as white can be. 
 
 But we are as dry and barren as ever. 
 
 Both Choruses. 
 
 The wind is hushed, the stars take flight, 
 The sullen moon hath veiled her light. 
 The magic choir from whizzing wings, 
 Long lines of sparkling glory flings. 
 
 R 
 
242 FAUST. act v. 
 
 Voice {from below). 
 Stop, stop ! 
 
 Voice (from above). 
 Who bawls so loud from the cleft ? 
 
 Voice {from below). 
 
 Let me go with you ! let me not be left ! 
 Three hundred years I grope and grope 
 Round the base and up the slope, 
 But still the summit cheats my hope. 
 I fain would be a merry guest 
 At Satan's banquet with the rest. 
 
 Both Choruses. 
 
 On broomstick, and on lusty goat, 
 On pitchfork, and on stick, we float ; 
 And he, to-day who cannot soar. 
 Is a lost man for evermore. 
 
 Half- Witch (below). 
 
 I hobble on behind them all. 
 The others scarcely hear my call ! 
 I find no rest at home : and here, 
 I limp on lamely in the rear. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 343 
 
 Chorus of Witches. 
 
 The omtment gives our sinews might, 
 For us each rag is sail enough, 
 We find a ship in every trough ; *~ 
 
 Whoso will fly must fly to-night. 
 
 Both Choruses. 
 
 WhUe we upon the summit ride. 
 Be yours to sweep along the side ; 
 Up and down, and far and wide, 
 On the left, and on the right. 
 Witch and wizard massed together. 
 Scour the moor and sweep the heather. 
 Bravely on Walpurgis night ! 
 
 {They alight.) 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 What a thronging, and jolting, and rolling, and 
 
 rattling ! 
 What a whizzing, and whirling, and jostling, and 
 
 battling ! 
 What a sparkling, and blazing, and stinking, and 
 
 burning ! 
 And witches that all topsy-turvy are turning ! — 
 Hold fast by me, or I shall lose you quite, 
 Where are you ? 
 
244 FAUST. act v. 
 
 Faust {at a distance). 
 Here! 
 
 Mephistophbles. 
 
 What ! so far' in the rear ! 
 Why then 'tis time that I should use my right, 
 As master of the house, tojgight. 
 Make way ! Sq uire "N^an d comes, sweet mob, make 
 
 way! 
 Here, Doctor, hold by me ! — and now, I say. 
 
 We must cut clear 
 Of this wild hubbub, while we may ; 
 Even my cloth is puzzled here. 
 See'st thou that light on yonder mound quite near, 
 It hath a most peculiar glare. 
 
 We'll slip in there. 
 And watch behind the bush the humours of the Fair. 
 
 Fattst, 
 Strange son of contradiction ! — may'st even guide us ! 
 A rare conceit ! of course you must be right ; 
 This weary way we march on famed Walpurgis night. 
 Like hermits in a corner here to hide us ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Lo ! where the flames mount up with bickering glee ; 
 In sooth it is a goodly company. 
 In such a place one cannot be alone. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. '245 
 
 Fatjst. 
 And yet a place I'd rather own 
 Upon the top, where whirling smoke I see ; 
 There thousands to the evil Spirit hie, 
 And many a riddle there he will untie. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Yes : and for every knot he disentangles, 
 He'll make another to produce new wrangles. 
 Let the great world rant and riot, 
 We'll know to house us here in quiet ; 
 In the great world 'tis a sanctioned plan, 
 Each makes a little world the best he can. 
 Look there ; you see young witches without cover. 
 And old ones prudently veiled over ; 
 Yield but to me, and I can promise thee. 
 With little labour, mickle glee. 
 I hear their noisy instruments begin ! 
 Confound their scraping ! — one must bear the din. 
 Come, come ! what must be must be — diet's go in ! 
 With my good introduction on this night. 
 Thou shalt have laughter to thy heart's delight. 
 What say'st thou, friend ? this is no common show, 
 A hundred lights are burning in a row. 
 You scarce may see the end ; 
 They dance, they talk, they cook, they drink, they court; 
 Now tell me, saw you ever better sport ? 
 
246 TAUST. act v. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Say, in what character do you intend 
 
 To appear here, and introduce your friend ? 
 
 Devil or conjurer ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I love incognito. 
 Yet on a gala-day my order I may show ; 
 And, though a garter here is but of small avail. 
 The famous horse's foot I ne'er yet knew to fail. 
 See even now that cautious creeping snail ! 
 With her long feeling visage, she 
 Has smelt out something' of hell in me. 
 Do what I can, they have a snout. 
 In this keen air to scent me out ; 
 Come ! come ; from fire to fire we roam ; the game 
 Be mine to start, and yours to woo the dame. 
 
 {To some who are sitting round a glimmering 
 coal-fire.) 
 Why mope you here, old sirs, toasting your toes ? 
 Methinks your Brocken hours were better spent 
 Amid the youthful roar and merriment ; 
 One is enough alone at home, God knows. 
 
 General. 
 
 Who would rely upon the faith of nations ! 
 
 They leave you thankless, when their work is done ; 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 247 
 
 The people, like the women, pour libations 
 Only in honour of the rising sun. 
 
 Minister. 
 The liberties these modern changes bring, 
 I must confess I cannot praise ; 
 The good old times, when we were everything, 
 These were the truly golden days. 
 
 Parvenu. 
 
 We, too, pushed forward with the pushing crew, 
 And for the need could stretch a point or two ; 
 But now all's changed ; and with the whirling bucket. 
 We lose the fruit, just when our baud would pluck it. 
 
 Author. 
 
 No solid work now suits the reading nation. 
 And year by ^ear the world more shallow grows ; 
 And, for the glib-tongued rising generation, 
 They hang their wisdom on their up-turned nose ! 
 
 Mephistopheles 
 
 {Who all at once appears very old). 
 
 The people here seem ripe for Doom's day ; I 
 Suspect the world is now on its last legs ; 
 And, since mine own good cask is running dry, 
 Men and their ways, I guess, are near the dregs ! 
 
248 FAUST. act v. 
 
 Pedlab-Witch. 
 
 Good sirs, I pray you pass not by, 
 
 Cast on my wares a friendly eye ! 
 
 One cannot see such rich display 
 
 Of curious trinkets every day. 
 
 Yet is there nothing in my store 
 
 (Which far all other stores excels), 
 
 That hath not done some mischief sore 
 
 To earth, and all on earth that dwells ; 
 
 No dagger by which blood hath not been shed, 
 
 No cup from which, through sound and healthy life, 
 
 Corroding fiery juice hath not been spread. 
 
 No gaud but hath seduced some loyely wife. 
 
 No sword that hath not made a truce miscarry. 
 
 Or stabbed behind the back its adversary. 
 
 Mephistophelbs. 
 
 Good lady cousin ! you come rather late. 
 Your wares, believe me, are quite out of date ; 
 Deal in the new and newest ; that 
 Our palate smacks ; all else is flat. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 This is a fair that beats the Leipzig hollow I 
 My head is so confused, I scarce can follow. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 249 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 To the top the stream is rushing, 
 And we are pushed, when we think we are pushing. 
 
 Faust. 
 Who, then, is that ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Look at her well. 
 'Tis Lilith. ^^iX^ a -, ,,^, trlyC^^ ^,w,v«^. 
 
 Fattst. 
 
 Who? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Adam's first wife. Beware, 
 Art thou a wise man, of her glossy hair ! 
 'Tis fair to look on, but its look is fell. 
 Those locks with which she outshines all the train, 
 When she hath bound a young man with that chain, 
 She'll hold him fast ; he'll scarce come back again. 
 
 Faust. 
 There sit an old and young one on the sward ; 
 They seem to have been dancing somewhat hard. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 ! once begun, they'll go on like the devil. 
 Come, come ! they rise again — let's join the revel. 
 
250 FAUST. ACT v. 
 
 (Faust and Mephistopheles join the dance ; 
 the former with the Yowtig Witch as his 
 partner ; the latter with the Old one.) 
 
 Faust {dancing with the young Witch). 
 
 A lovely dream once came to me, 
 I saw in my sleep an apple-tree ; 
 Two lovely apples on it did shine ; 
 I clomb the pole to make them mine. 
 
 The Young Witch. 
 
 For apples your sire in Paradise 
 And primal dame had longing eyes : 
 And, if your eyes are wise to see, 
 You'll find such apples on my tree. 
 
 Mephistopheles {dancing with the old Witch). 
 
 An ugly dream once came to me, 
 I dreamed I saw a cloven tree ; 
 In the tree there sat an ugly owl ; 
 I called it fair, though it was foul. 
 
 The Old Witch. 
 
 My best salute this night shall be, 
 Thou knight of the cloven foot, to thee ; 
 A cloven tree with an ugly owl. 
 Am I for thee, or fair, or foul. 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 251 
 
 ProotophantasbIst (to the dancers). 
 
 Listen to order, you presumptuous brood ! 
 Have we not proved beyond disputing, 
 That ghosts on terra firma have no footing ? 
 And yet you dance like any flesh and blood ? 
 
 The Youstg Witch {dancing). 
 What v^rants he here, that rude-like fellow there ? 
 
 Faust {dancing). 
 
 0, he is everywhere ! 
 
 What others dance 'tis his to prize ; 
 
 Each step he cannot criticise 
 
 Had as well not been made. But in the dance 
 
 It grieves him most when we advance. 
 
 If vre vs^ould wheel still round and round in a ring, 
 
 As he is fond to do in his old mill, 
 
 He would not take it half so, ill ; 
 
 Especially if you take care to bring 
 
 Your praiseful ofifering to his master skill. 
 
 Peoctophantasmist. 
 
 What! stUl there, phantoms? this is past endurance! 
 In this enlightened age you have the assurance 
 To show your face and play your tricks undaunted ; 
 We are so wise, and yet a man's own house is haunted. 
 
252 FAUST. act v. 
 
 How long have I not swept the cobwebs of delusion, 
 And still the world remains in the same wild confusion ! 
 
 The Young Witch. 
 Be quiet then, and seek some other place ! 
 
 Proctophantasmist. 
 
 I tell you, Spirits, in your face. 
 
 This intellectual thrall I cannot bear it ; 
 
 I love to have a free unshackled spirit. 
 
 {The dance goes on.) 
 
 To-day I see that all my strength is spent in vain ; 
 I've had a tour, at least, to compensate my evils. 
 And hope, before I come to Blocksberg back again. 
 To crush, with one good stroke, the poets and the devils. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 He will now go, and, bare of breeches. 
 
 Sit in a pool with solemn patience ; 
 
 And, when his buttocks are well sucked by leeches. 
 
 Be cured of ghosts and ghostly inspirations. 
 
 {To Faust, who has just left the dance.) 
 Why do you let the lovely damsel go. 
 That in the dance with sweet song pleased you so ? 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 253 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Alas ! while she so passing sweet was singing, 
 I saw a red mouse from her mouth outspringing. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Pooh ! on the Brocken that's a thing of course ; 
 Let not such trifles mar your sweet discourse. 
 Go, join the crew, and dance away ; 
 Enough, the red mouse was not gray. 
 
 Fafst. 
 Then saw I 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 What? 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Mephisto, see'st thou there 
 A pale yet lovely girl, in lonely distance fare ? 
 From place to place she moveth slow ; 
 With shackled feet she seems to go ; 
 I must confess, she has a cast 
 Of Margaret, when I saw her last. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Let that alone ! it brings thee certain harm ; 
 It is bewitched, a bloodless, breathless form. 
 
254 FAUST. act v. 
 
 For men to look upon it is not good. 
 
 Its fixfed gaze hath power to freeze the blood, 
 
 And petrify thee stark and stiff. 
 
 Of course I need not ask you if 
 
 You've heard of the Medusa's head. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 In truth I see the eyes of one that's dead, 
 On which no closiug hand of love was laid. 
 That is my Margaret's kindly breast. 
 That the sweet body I caressed. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 There lies the witchcraft o't, thou fool ! 
 A phantom takes thy vnt to school : 
 She is the love of every lover's brain. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 What ecstasy ! and yet w^hat pain ! 
 I cannot leave it for my life. 
 How strangely this most lovely neck 
 A single streak of red doth deck, 
 No broader than the back o' a knife ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Quite right ! I see it, just as vrell as you. 
 Sometimes her head beneath her elbow too 
 
SCENE I. FAUST. 255 
 
 She wears ; for Perseus cut it off, you know. 
 What ! will you still a-dreaming go ? 
 Come, let us mount the hillock — there 
 We shall have noble sport, believe me ; 
 For, unless mine eyes deceive me, 
 They have got up a theatre. 
 What make you here ? 
 
 A Servant. 
 
 You are just come in time. 
 'Tis a new piece, the last of all the seven. 
 For such the number that with us is given. 
 A dilettante 'twas that wrote the rhyme. 
 And dilettanti are the actors too. 
 Excuse me, sirs, — no disrespect to you. 
 If I seem curt : I am the dilettante 
 To draw the curtain ; and our time is scanty. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Just so ; I only wish you were so clever 
 To know your home ; 
 
 Then from the Blocksberg you would never 
 Have lust to roam ! 
 
WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM; 
 
 ^htxon nnb %,itmim'8 ^olhzn §igktib£ 
 
 INTEEMEZZO 
 
SCENE iL FAUST. 259 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Director of the Theatre. 
 
 We players here may take our ease ; 
 For all we need for scenery 
 Is mount and mead, and trees, and seas 
 Of Nature's leafy greenery. 
 
 Herald. 
 
 The golden high-tide is it then, 
 When fifty years pass over ; 
 But doubly golden is it when 
 AU brawls and strifes they cover. 
 
 Oberon. 
 
 Ye spirits, who obey my law. 
 Are to this feast invited, 
 When Oberon and Titania 
 In love are reunited. 
 
 Puck. 
 
 Puck comes in first, and turns athwart, 
 His merry circles wheeling ; 
 And hundreds more behind him dart. 
 Loud shouts of laughter pealing. 
 
^60 FAUST. ACT V. 
 
 Ariel. 
 
 I fill the air with thrilling song 
 Of Tirtue quite enchanting ; 
 Though ugly imps I lure along, 
 The fair are neyer wanting ! 
 
 Oberon. 
 
 When man and wife begin to strive, 
 Just give them length of tether ! 
 They will learn in peace to live. 
 When not too much together. 
 
 TiTANIA. 
 
 When pouts the wife, and frets the man, 
 This cure is best in Nature, 
 Him to the Artie circle ban, 
 And her to the Equator. 
 
 Orchestra. Tutti. 
 
 (Fortissimo^ 
 
 Snout of fly, and nose of gnat. 
 Lead on the band before us ! 
 Frog and cricket, cat and bat, 
 Join merry in the chorus ! 
 
scene ii. faust. 261 
 
 Solo. 
 
 A soap-bell for a doodle-sack,* 
 The merry waters troubling ! 
 Hear the snecke-snicke-snack, 
 From its snub-nose bubbling ! 
 
 Embryo-Spirit. 
 
 Legs of spider, paunch of toad. 
 And wings, if you would know it ; 
 Nor fish, nor fowl, but on the road 
 Perhaps to be a poet ! 
 
 A Pair of Dancers. 
 
 With many a nimble pace and spring, 
 Through honey-dew and vapour. 
 Trips o'er the ground the little thing. 
 But higher cannot caper. 
 
 Inquisitive Traveller. 
 
 Do I see a real thing, 
 Or is it all delusion ? 
 Oberon, the fairy king, 
 Amid this wild confusion. 
 
 Orthodox. 
 Though neither tail nor claws are his, 
 'Tis true beyond all cavil, 
 
 * Dvdelsack. A bagpipe. 
 
262 FAUST. act v. 
 
 As devils were the gods of Greece, 
 He too must be a devil. 
 
 Northern Artist. 
 
 'Tis but a sketch, I must admit ; 
 But what I can't unravel 
 To-night, I'U know, with larger v?it, 
 From my Italian travel. 
 
 Purist. 
 
 Alas ! that I should see it too ! 
 Here we a riot rare have ! 
 Of all the crew, there are but two 
 That powder on their hair have. 
 
 Young Witch. 
 
 Powder and petticoat for grey 
 And wrinkled hags are fitting ; 
 But I my lusty limbs display, 
 Upon a he-goat sitting. 
 
 Matron. 
 
 To speak with such a shameless pack 
 We have nor will nor leisure ; 
 Soon may your flesh rot on your back. 
 And we look on with pleasure ! 
 
scene ii. faust. 263" 
 
 Leader of the Orchestra. 
 Snout of fly, and nose of gnat, 
 Sting not the naked beauty ! 
 Frog and cricket, cat and bat, 
 Attend ye to your duty ! 
 
 Weathercock {to the one side). 
 
 A goodly company ! as sure 
 
 As I stand on the steeple ; 
 
 With brides and bridegrooms swarms the moor, 
 
 The hopefulest of people ! 
 
 Weathercock {to the other side). 
 
 And opes not suddenly the ground. 
 To swallow one and all up. 
 Then, with a jerk, I'll Tcer me round, 
 And straight to hell I'll gaUop. 
 
 Xenien. 
 
 We insects keep them all in awe. 
 With sharpest scissors shear we ! 
 Old Mck, our worthy Squire Papa, 
 Here to salute appear we. 
 
 HEirarNGs. 
 
 See ! how in merry circles they 
 Sit gossiping together ; 
 
264 FAIJST. ACTv. 
 
 The graceless crew have hearts, they say, 
 As good as any other. 
 
 , Mfsagetes. 
 
 This witch and wizard crew to lead. 
 My willing fancy chooses ; r 
 More hopeful field is here indeed. 
 Than when I lead the Muses. 
 
 Ci-devant Genius of the Age. 
 
 The Brocken has a good broad back. 
 Like the High-Dutch Parnassus ; 
 The Jury here no man can pack. 
 Or with proud silence pass us. 
 
 Inquisitive Traveller. 
 
 Say, who is he so stiff that goes. 
 That stately-stalking stranger ? 
 He snuffs for Jesuits with sharp nose. 
 And cries — ^the Church in danger ! 
 
 Crane. 
 
 In muddy waters do I fish 
 As well as where it clear is. 
 And only for such cause as this 
 The pious man top here is. 
 
scENa II. FAUST. 265 
 
 Worldling. 
 Yes ! though the saints declare that sin 
 And Blocksberg are identical, 
 Yet here, amid this demon din, 
 They'll set up their com'enticle. 
 
 Dancer, 
 
 A sound of drums ! a sound of men ! 
 That wafted on the wind came ! — 
 The weary bitterns in the fen 
 Are booming — never mind 'em ! 
 
 Dancing-Master. 
 
 Lo ! how they kick, and how they jump ! 
 How well each figure shown is ! 
 Springs the crooked, hops the plump ! 
 Each thinks him an Adonis ! 
 
 A Good Fellow. 
 
 A sorry lot ! What muffled ire 
 Their swelling breasts inflames here ! 
 The beasts were tamed by Orpheus' lyre. 
 And them the bagpipe tames here ! 
 
 Professor of Systematic Theology. 
 
 I let no one bamboozle me 
 With doubts and critic cavils ; 
 
266 FAUST. act v. 
 
 The devil sure must something be, 
 Else whence so many devils ? 
 
 Idealist. 
 
 Imagination travels free 
 Without or rein or rule here ; 
 If I am all that now I see, 
 Myself must be a fool here. 
 
 Realist. 
 
 That on the Brocken ghosts appear 
 Now scarce admits disputing ; 
 Amid this hurly burly here 
 I've fairly lost my footing. 
 
 SUPERNATXJRALIST. 
 
 Into this swarming hellish brood 
 I come, without intrusion ; 
 From evil spirits to the good. 
 It is a just conclusion. 
 
 Sceptic. 
 
 They chase the flame that flits about, 
 And deem them near their treasure ; 
 Best rhymes with doubt this demon-rout, 
 And I look on vdth pleasure. 
 
scene ii. faust. 267 
 
 Leader op the Orchestra. 
 
 Snout of fly, and nose of gnat. 
 Ye stupid Dilettanti ! 
 Frog and cricket, cat and bat, 
 Keep better time, why can't ye ? 
 
 Clever Spirits. 
 
 Sans-souci is bight the crew 
 On limber limbs that ply it ; 
 When on our feet it will not do, 
 Then on our heads we try it. 
 
 Awkward Spirits. 
 
 With once or twice a lucky throw 
 We tramped the road together ; 
 But now we flounder on, and show 
 Our toes outside the leather ! 
 
 luNES Fatui. 
 Though born but with the sultry ray 
 This morn, in the morass all. 
 Yet now, amid the gallants gay. 
 We shine here and surpass all. 
 
 Falling Star. 
 Last night I shot from starry sky 
 And fell upon my nose here ; 
 
268 FAUST. act v. 
 
 Will no one come where flat I lie, 
 And plant me on my toes here ? 
 
 Stout Spirits. 
 
 Make way, make way ! and brush the dew 
 Right bravely from the lawn here ; 
 Spirits we are, but Spirits too 
 Can show both pith and brawn here ! 
 
 Puck. 
 
 Why tramp ye so majestical 
 As cub of river-horse is ? 
 The plumpest spirit of you all 
 Stout Puck himself of course is. 
 
 Ariel. 
 
 If loving Nature's bounteous care 
 Hath fitted you with pinions. 
 Then cleave vrith me the yielding air 
 To rosy bright dominions. 
 
 Orchestra. 
 The mist draws off, and overhead 
 All clear and bright the air is, 
 And vdth the rustling breeze are fled 
 The devils and the fairies ! 
 
 END OF THE INTEKLUDE. 
 
•saT;aH<ioisiHd:aj\[ 
 
 i 9ip 0!} ssanpaqoifaJAi. ssapdoq ut '\p\ st aqs — aqs 
 o\n{jA — j S30M. pgij'BABaSBB aaq agp9|jiionj[ Xui rao^ Sni 
 -pgouoo 'snoiijBdissip pidBA :)sora oqif jo ijsoq b piiuB 
 daajs 0^ :js8|pBio noqi^ 'a^rqAUBain 'ara puB j ppojW. 
 Smpajtm aqi} jo qoiojl guramapnoo aqij o? puB 's:^mdg 
 [ua o:> jaAo uaAiS j ^asitn ajq'eniaapajji m j janosud 
 Y -aonasajd a^qB^jJoddnsm £.i{^ q^iM ara ijnojjnoo 
 puB puBifg j pBaq iiqij ui a^Burgm 'S9^9 qstpnag 
 jfq:} punoi {[oy; — j puBijs j 9J3q:j noq:} P^^^S — i ^^ 
 raoij pa^Baonoo noq:^ :fSBq siq:} j ^uidg ss9^q:jJ0AV puB 
 8nojoqoB3j:j i^oqj, ^ siq^ o:j araoo naq:^ :ji !jsnj\[ j piS 
 aiqBjasini jood — saoAi. ajqujoq !fsoni aqi^ jo tnipiA 
 'noaStmp b m JCKjoBjaiBta b aip^ dn (jnqg j jattosud 
 apBHi !jsBj :}B puB 'q:fjB9 apm aq^j jaAO ssaupaqoi^aiM. 
 gsafadoq ui gauapuB^ j jiBdsap ui ; Tasini uj 
 
 ■sa'iaHd[oisiHd:ffij\[ pun isav^j 
 
 'spin^ ayj •fivp ttpnop y 
 
 ■III HKHOS 
 
 69S "ISnyj "III araos 
 
270' FAUST. ACT v. 
 
 infinite Spirit ! change the reptile back again into his 
 original form — the poodle that ran before me in the 
 twilight, now cowering at the feet of the harmless 
 wanderer, now springing on his shoulders ! — Change 
 him again into his favourite shape, that he may crouch 
 on his belly in the sand before me, and I may tramp 
 him underneath my feet, the reprobate ! — Not the 
 first ! Misery, misery ! by no human soul to be con- 
 ceived ! that more than one creature of God should 
 ever have been plimged into the depth of this woe ! 
 that the first, in the writhing agony of her death, 
 should not have atoned for the guilt of all the rest 
 before the eyes of the All-merciful ! It digs even 
 into the marrow of my life, the misery of this one; 
 and thou — ^thou grinnest in cold composure over the 
 wretchedness of thousands ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Here we are arrived once more at the limit of our 
 wits, where the thread of human reason snaps in 
 sunder. Wherefore seekest thou communion with 
 us, unless thou would'st carry it through ? Would'st 
 fly, and yet art not proof against giddiness ? Did we 
 thrust ourselves on you, or you on us ? 
 
 Faust. 
 Whet not thy rows of voracious teeth at me ! I 
 
SCENE III. PAUST. 271 
 
 Joathe it !— Great and glorious Spirit, who didst con- 
 descend to reveal thyself to me, who knowest my 
 heart and my soul, wherefore didst thou yoke me to 
 this vilest of complices, who feeds on mischief and 
 banquets on destruction ? 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 Art done ? 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Deliver her ! or woe thee ! — the direst of curses 
 lie on thee for ever ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I cannot loose the bonds of the avenger, nor open 
 his bars. — ^Deliver her ! Who was it that plunged 
 her into ruin ? I or thou ? 
 
 (Fattst looks wildly round.) 
 
 Mephistopheles (continues). 
 
 Would'st grasp the thunder ? 'Tis well that you, 
 poor mortals, have it not to vrield ! To smash the 
 innocent in pieces is the proper tyrant's fashion of 
 venting one's spleen in a dilemma. 
 
 Fattst. 
 Bring me to her ! She shall be free ! 
 
272 . FAUST. act v. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 And the danger to which thou exposest thyself ! 
 Know that the guilt of blood from thy hand still lies 
 upon the town. Above the spot where the slain fell, 
 avenging Spirits hover and lie in wait for the return- 
 ing murderer. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 That too from thee ? Murder and death of a world 
 on thee, thou monster ! Bring me to her, I say, and 
 deliver her ! 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 I'll lead thee thither, and what I can do that I will 
 do. Mark me ! Have I all power in heaven and on 
 earth ? I will cloud the wits of the warder, and thou 
 may'st seize the keys, and bring her out with the 
 hand of a man. I wait for you vrith the magic horses 
 to ensure your escape. This I can do. 
 
 Faust. 
 Up and away ! 
 
SCENE IV. FAUST. 273 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Night. The open Field. 
 
 Faust. Mephistopheles. 
 {Galloping past on black horses.) 
 
 Faust. 
 
 What are they about there, bustling round the Rayen- 
 stone ? * 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 Can't say what they are cooking and kitchening. 
 
 Faust. 
 They hover up, they hover down, bending and bowing. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 A corporation of Witches. 
 
 Faust. 
 They seem to be sprinkling and blessing something. 
 
 Mephistopheles. 
 On! on! 
 
 * Bahenstein. Place of Execution. 
 
274 FAUST. act v. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 A Prison. 
 
 Patjst, viith a Iwndle of keys in his hcmd and a lamp, before 
 am iron door. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 A strange cold shuddering dread comes o'er me, all 
 
 The up-heaped wretchedness of time. 
 
 Here dwells she now behind this damp cold waU, 
 
 And dear delusion was her only crime ! 
 
 Fear'st thou to go to her ? 
 
 Tremblest to meet her eye ? 
 
 Quick ! thy delay but brings her death more nigh. 
 
 (He seizes the lock. Singing heard from within.) 
 
 My mother, the wanton. 
 
 That choked my breath ! 
 
 My father, the Tillain, 
 
 That dined on my death ! 
 
 My sister dear, 
 
 In the cool green shade 
 
 My bones she laid ; 
 
 Then was I a glad little bird in the May; 
 
 Fly away ! fly away ! 
 
scEKE V. PAUST. 275 
 
 Faust (opening the door). 
 
 She dreams not that her loved one is so near, 
 The clinking chains and rustling straw to hear. 
 
 Margaret (hiding herself on the bed). 
 Woe, woe ! they come. — To hitter death they call. 
 
 Faust (softly). 
 Hush ! hush ! I come to free thee from their thrall ! 
 
 Margaret (throwi/ng herself at his feet). 
 Art thou a man ? feel for my hapless plight. 
 
 Faust. 
 Thy cries wUl wake the watchers of the night ! 
 
 (He takes hold of the chains to unloose them.) 
 
 Margaret (on her knees). 
 
 Who gave thee, hangman, such a power 
 To drag me from my cell at midnight hour ? 
 Have pity on me ! Be not so harsh !— so rough ! 
 Surely to-morrow morn is soon enough. 
 
 (She stands up.) 
 
 So young, so very young, am I, 
 And must already die ! 
 
276 FAUST. act v. 
 
 Once I was lovely too — 'twas this that caused my fall. 
 
 Near was the friend, but far from me to-day ; 
 
 Torn lies the wreath, the flowers are scattered all. 
 
 Oh tear me not so forciBly away ! 
 
 Spare me ! what have I done to injure thee ? 
 
 Oh hear my prayer ! for once compassion show ! — 
 
 "lis the first time I ever looked on thee. 
 
 Fatjst. 
 That I should live to see such depth of woe ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Thou hast me now completely in thy might. 
 
 Only first give me time to suckle my sweet child. 
 
 I hugged it the whole weary night ; 
 
 They took't from me in very spite ; 
 
 And now they say I murdered the sweet child. 
 
 And never more shall I be glad again. 
 
 They sing songs on me, too ! 
 
 A vricked thing to do ! 
 
 'Tis the refrain 
 
 Of a grim old melody : 
 
 Who taught them that its words were meant for me ? 
 
 Faitst {throwing himself down). 
 
 Here, at thy feet, behold who loves thee fall. 
 To strike thy shackles, and to break thy thrall ! 
 
i I sil, 
 
 •\pM OS M.0U1[ I !JBq; 9A0I JO GOIOA !J39iiS ^q:^ OXUBQ 
 
 'aBOjdn 
 qstpngg aq!j puB uioos Sunign'Bi-pTiot ^q:^ qSnojqx 
 'IPH JO Snissiq puB Smimoq pipw 9q; qSnojqx 
 •joop atp ^JB poo:js aq j n9qo:f9J{3 siq 9ra pan'BO 9H 
 
 j 9IJ niosoq siq UQ 
 
 i ^F 1 11!^ ^'^^^ ^Vl ''1 
 
 i 9ra J9pmq n'?^^ ^™^ P°^ i ^^•'J ™'^ I -^^^^ 
 
 'ara no niso miq pj'B9q j ^ 9J[9qJi ^ 9q si 9a9qj\^ 
 
 i 9010A 8^9U0 paAOI 9q!J SBA ij'Bqx 
 
 •{daitudftw) LLaavoavj\[ 
 
 i Ti9qo:j9aQ i U9qo:j9J[{) 
 
 :(^nof) isavj[ 
 
 i n9i: injiB9j q;iA\. 
 
 's:}n9A Iinj sij£ 
 
 auQ IIA9 gqx 
 
 'pioqsaaq;^ 9q!j q!^'B9n9a; 
 
 i {{9AV !JT JB9q I 
 
 'sd9!J8 9S9q:j q!)'B9U9a 
 
 i s:}ureg 9q:j uodn j^'bo puB p9tii[ sti '\a\ \ 89 j^^ 
 
 •{sd9U3i M'q uo miy 9pisaq Bmifof) i,aavoav]/\[ 
 
278 FAUST; act v. 
 
 Margaret. 
 'Tis thou ! say it yet again ! 
 
 {Clasping him.) 
 
 'Tis he ! 'tis he ! Where now is all my pain ? 
 Where all my prison's woe ? my fetters where ? 
 'Tis he ! he comes to lift me from this lair > 
 Of wretchedness ! I'm free, I'm free ! 
 Already the well-known street I see, 
 Where the first time I spake to thee, 
 And the pleasant garden, where 
 Martha and I did wait for thee. 
 
 Faust {striming forward). 
 
 Come, come ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 stay, stay ! 
 Thou know'st how pleased I stay where thou dost stay. 
 
 {Caressing him.) 
 Faust. 
 Away, away ! 
 Unless we haste. 
 Dearly we'll pay for these few moments' waste. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 How ! giv'st thou me no kiss ? 
 
 My friend, so very short a space away, 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 279 
 
 And hast forgot to kiss ? 
 
 Why feel I now so straitened when I hold 
 
 Thee in my arms ? It was not so of old, 
 
 When from thy words and looks, a heaven of bliss 
 
 Came down ; and thou didst kiss 
 
 As thou would'st smother me. Come, kiss me ! kiss ! 
 
 Else kiss I thee ! (She embraces Mm.) 
 
 woe ! thy lips are cold, 
 
 Are dimib; 
 
 Where is the love thy swelling bosom bore 
 
 WhUome for me ? why are thy lips so cold? 
 
 {She turns away from him.) 
 
 Faust. 
 
 Come with me, sweet love, come ! 
 
 I'll hug thee ten times closer than before, 
 
 Only come with me now ! Come, I implore ! 
 
 Margaret (turning to him). 
 Art thou then he ? Art thou then truly he ? 
 
 Faust. 
 'Tis I, in truth. Come, love, and follow me. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 And these vile chains thou breakest. 
 And me again unto thy bosom takest ? 
 
280 FAUST. ACT v. 
 
 How canst thou dare to turn fond eyes on me ? 
 Know'st thou then, Henry, whom thou com'st to free^ 
 
 Faust. 
 Come, come ! the night sinks fast ; come, follow me ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 My mother slept a sleep profound ! 
 
 I drugged her to't ; 
 
 My little babe I drowned ! 
 
 Was it not heaven's boon to me and thee ? 
 
 Thee, too ! — 'tis thou ! I scarce may deem 
 
 My sense speaks true. Give me thy hand ! 
 
 It is no dream ! 
 
 Thy dear, dear hand ! 
 
 Alas ! but it is wet ! 
 
 Wipe it ; for it is wet 
 
 With blood ! God ! what hast thou done ? 
 
 Put up thy sword ; 
 
 I pray thee put it up. 
 
 Faust. 
 Let gone be gone ! 
 Thou stabbest me with daggers, every word. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 No ! thou shalt survive our sorrow ! 
 I will describe the graves to thee. 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 281 
 
 Where thou shalt bury them and me 
 
 To-morrow. 
 
 The best place thou shalt give my mother ; 
 
 Close beside her lay my brother ; 
 
 Me a little to the side, 
 
 But at distance not too wide ! 
 
 And my child at my right breast. — 
 
 These, and none else with us shall rest ! 
 
 Me on thy loTing side to press. 
 
 That was a heaven of blessedness ! 
 
 But now, I cannot do it more ; 
 
 I feel as I must force my love to thee. 
 
 And thou didst coldly fling me back from thee ; 
 
 And yet 'tis thou ! — as good, as loving as before. 
 
 Faust. 
 'Tis I, even I, come, sweet love, come ! 
 
 Out there ? 
 
 Into the open air. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Faust. 
 Margaret. 
 
 If the grave be there, 
 And death there waits, then come ! 
 Hence to my eternal home, 
 
282 FAUST. act v. 
 
 Not a step more. 
 
 Thou leav'st me now ? — would I might go with thee ? 
 
 Faust. 
 Thou canst, if thou but wilt. I have unbarred the door. 
 
 Margaret. 
 I may not go ; no hope for me remains ; 
 They watch me close — my home is with my chains. 
 It is so sad to beg from door to door ; 
 A guilty thing from human loves outcast, 
 A homeless earth to wander o'er; 
 And they are sure to find me out at last. 
 
 Faust. 
 I will protect thee. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Quick ! Quick ! 
 Save thy poor child ! 
 Away, away ! 
 Keep the path 
 Up the stream. 
 Across the bridge. 
 To the left hand, 
 Where the plank stands. 
 In the pond, 
 Seize it, quick ! 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 283 
 
 It rises up, 
 
 It kicks ! it lives ! 
 
 save it, save it ! 
 
 Faust. 
 Only bethink thee ! 
 One step mores, and thou art free. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Would we were past that mountain gray ! 
 There sits my mother on a stone — 
 
 1 feel a hand that pulls me back 
 As cold as clay ! 
 
 There sits my mother on a stone ; 
 
 Her head sways heavily ; 
 
 She winks not, she nods not, her head she may not raise. 
 
 She slept so long, she never more may wake. 
 
 She slept that we might our enjoyment take. 
 
 these were happy days ! 
 
 j Faust. 
 
 Here words and prayers will only make things worse ; 
 Come ! come ; or I must hale thee hence by force. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Let me alone ! lay no rough hands on me ! 
 
 Nor with such murderous clutches seize me ! 
 
 Thou know'st I have done everything to please thee. 
 
284 FAUST. act v. 
 
 Faust. 
 The day dawns. Gome, my Gretchen, follow me ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 Day ! yes, it is day ! the Judgment-day breaks in ! 
 
 My marriage-day it should have been ! 
 
 Let no one know thou wert before with Margaret. 
 
 Woe to my wreath ! 
 
 'Tis done ! oh, pain ! 
 
 We will meet again ; 
 
 But not at the dance. 
 
 The thronging crowds advance 
 
 With bated bteath ; 
 
 No word is spoken ; 
 
 The squares, the streets, 
 
 Cannot contain them all. 
 
 The bell doth call, 
 
 The staff is broken, 
 
 They bind me with cords, they drag me away. 
 
 And on the bloody block me lay ; 
 
 And every trembling eye doth quake 
 
 At the blade that is brandished o'er my neck. 
 
 Mute lies the world as the grave ! 
 
 Faust. 
 had I ne'er been born ! 
 
SCENE V. FAUST. 285 
 
 Mephistopheles 
 
 (appearing from withmt). 
 Up ! or no help can save ! 
 Profitless whining, whimpering, and prating ! 
 Meanwhile my eager steeds are waiting. 
 Snuffing the scent of the morning air. 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 What's that from the floor uprising there ? 
 'Tis he ! 'Tis he ! send his hateful face 
 Away ! What seeks he in this holy place ? 
 He comes for me ! 
 
 Faust. 
 
 No ! thou shalt live. 
 
 Margaret. 
 Judgment of God ! to thee my soul I give. 
 
 Mephistopheles {to Faust). 
 Come, come ! else will I leave you to your fate ! 
 
 Margaret. 
 Thine am I, Father ! shut not the gate 
 Of mercy on me ! 
 
 Ye angels ! ye most holy Spirits ! now 
 Encamp around me ! and protect me now ! 
 Henry, I tremble when I think on thee. 
 
286 FAUST. aot v. 
 
 Mbphistopheles. 
 She is judged ! 
 
 Voice {from above). 
 Is saved ! 
 
 Mbphistopheles {to Faust). 
 Hither to me ! 
 
 Voice {from witMn, dying awwy). 
 Henry! Henry! 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note I. Page 24. 
 
 And this mysterious magic page 
 From Nostradamms' hand so sage. 
 
 Nostradamus was bora at St. Eemy, a town of Provence, 
 in 1503, and was a great friend of Julius Scaliger. He 
 must thus have been likewise a eotemporary of the famous 
 alchymist Cornelius Agrippa, whom, as we have seen (Vide 
 Introd. Bemarks), Del-Rio makes a companion of Dr. Faust. 
 Like a worthy son of the sixteenth century, Nostradamus 
 was convinced that he could make no progress in the art of 
 healing bodily diseases unless he began ab ovo with the 
 study of the stars ; and this it was that led him away 
 from his own profession of medicine into the sublime regions 
 of astronomy and astrology, to which allusion is made in the 
 text. He was particularly famous for his prophetic al- 
 manacs, which were held in universal estimation. The 
 title of his principal work is " Tlie trite Prophecies and Prog- 
 nostications of Michael Nostradamus, physician to Henry II., 
 Francis II., Charles IX., Kings of France, and one of the best 
 astronomers that ever were, a work full of curiosity and learning." 
 The English translation is from the hand of Theophilus de 
 Garenciennes, a naturalised Frenchman, and Oxonian Doctor 
 of Physic. The common edition is London, 1672. 
 
288 NOTES. 
 
 Note II. Page 24. 
 
 He sees the sign of the Macrocosm. 
 
 The macrocosm is a Greek word signifying the hig world, 
 the universe, as contrasted with the little world, the microcosm 
 or man, made in the likeness of God, and therefore in the 
 likeness of his great manifestation, the universe. The terms 
 were in familiar use with the theosophists of the sixteenth 
 and seventeenth centuries ; as may be seen from the title- 
 page of a great physico-metaphysical book by our [country- 
 man, Robert Fludd, printed at Oppenheim 1617-19, 
 " Vtriusque Cosmi, mcyoris scilicet et rmnoris, Meta/physica, 
 Ph/ysica atque technica Historia, in duo volwmina, secundum, 
 Gosmi differentiam, dvoisa; auctore Bdberto Fhbdd, alias de 
 Fhictibus, Armigero, et in Medicina Doctore Oxoniensi," etc. 
 The book is rare ; but the curious may find a beautiful copy 
 in the Library of the Writers to the Signet, Edinburgh. 
 
 Note III. Page 67. 
 
 The key of Solomon the wise 
 Is surest spell to exorcise. 
 
 Solomon was a magician among the Jews, for the same 
 reason that Eoger Bacon has acquired that reputation 
 amongst us — on account of his great wisdom. The Jewish 
 exorcists, of whom mention is made in several passages of 
 the New Testament (Matthew xii. 27), used to invoke the 
 evil spirit by the name of Solomon (Joseph. Antiq. 8, 2, 5, 
 apud Bretschneider Dogmatik, vol. i. p. 764), and the 
 cabalistic talmudists were, of course, not negligent in taking 
 advantage of this popular belief for giving authority to their 
 occult science of numbers. Accordingly, we find Solomon, 
 in the Middle Ages, looked upon as the patriarch and patron- 
 
NOTES. 289 
 
 saint of the Magic Art; and many curious books, under his 
 name, were in common circulation among its Professors. It 
 is to the title of these books that the text alludes, " Ola/vicula 
 Sohmonis," or Key of Solomon, supposed to be of supreme 
 power in compelling spirits to obey the will of man. They 
 are now become exceedingly rare, but some notice of them 
 will be found in Eeichard's work von Geistern, and in Horst's 
 Zauber-Bibliotheh. 
 
 Note IV. Page 68. 
 
 Let the Salamander glow, 
 
 Undene twine her crested wave, 
 
 SiVphe into ether flow, 
 
 And Kdbold vex him, drudging slave ! 
 
 Here we have the four elemental spirits, of which Mr. 
 Pope has discoursed so learnedly to Mrs. Anabella Fermor 
 in his preface to " The Kape of the Lock." With Silphs and 
 Salamanders I may suppose the English reader sufficiently 
 acquainted, as they have been almost naturalised on British 
 ground ; TJndenes and Kobolds still remain more closely at- 
 tached to their German soil. The former, sometimes called 
 Wasser-Nixen, are a sort of Teutonic Nymphs or Sirens, fami- 
 liar now to a large class of English readers, from Heine's 
 ballad of the Lmley, and Pouque's beautiful extravaganza 
 of Undine; the latter, seemingly from a Greek original, 
 Ko;8aAo9, well known to the readers of Aristophanes, are 
 called GNOMES by Pope, and appear as brownies in many a 
 Scotch ballad. For special details of their character and 
 proceedings the German work of Henning's von Geistern 
 may be consulted, p. 800, and Horst's Zauber-Bibliotheh, 
 vol. iv. p. 250. 
 
 U 
 
290 NOTES. 
 
 Note V. Page 69. 
 
 Bend thee this sacred, 
 Emblem before, 
 Which the powers of da/rkness 
 Trembling adore. 
 
 " Jam experimento comprobatum est milium malum dse- 
 monem, nullum inferiorum vlrtutum, in his quae vexant aut 
 obsident homines, posse huic nomini resistere quando nomen 
 Jestj debits, pronunciatione iUis proponitur venerandum j' nee 
 solum nomen, sed etiam illius signaculum Ceucem pavent." 
 — Agrippa de Occult. Phihs., lib. iii. c. 12. 
 
 Note VI. Page 75. 
 
 The pentagram, stands in yaw way. 
 
 " Inter alios plurimos characteres, duo tantum sunt veri 
 et prsecipui, quorum primus constat ex duobus trigonis Super 
 se invicem ita depictis ut Hexagonum constituant. Alteram 
 dicunt esse priori potentiorem et efficaciorem et esse penta- 
 gonon." — Paracelsus de Characteribus apvd Sgrst, Z. B. vol. 
 iii. p. 74. The figure thus accurately described by the 
 oracular Bombastus occurs almost as frequently as the sign 
 of the cross, in almost all the old books on magic, and is 
 drawn thus : 
 
 The Platonists (let Proclus serve for an example) seem to 
 have derived from the Pythagoreans a strange mixture of re- 
 ligious mysticism with a great enthusiasm for the mathemati- 
 
NOTES. , 291 
 
 cal sciences ; and this same pentagonal figure very probably 
 derives not a little of its supreme efficacy from the fact of 
 its having been transmitted to us from the most ancient 
 times. Poetry is not the only thing that receives a sacred- 
 ness from age. 
 
 Note VII. Page 120. 
 
 WTien kfi you Bippach ? you, must have leeri pressed 
 For time. Supped you with Squire Hans by the way ? 
 
 " Eippach is a village near Leipzig ; and to ask for Hans 
 von Bippach, a fictitious personage, was an old joke amongst 
 the students. The ready reply of Mephistopheles, indicat- 
 ing no surprise, shows Siebel and Altmayer that he is up to 
 it. Hans is the German Jach." — Haywaed. 
 
 Note VIII. Page 133. 
 
 Oat-Apes. 
 
 These nimble little animals, which play such a distin- 
 guished part in this Witch Scene, are denominated in the 
 original " Meer-Jcatzen," literally " Sea-cats ; " of which 
 Adelung (in voce) gives the following account : — " A name 
 given to a certain kind of monkeys with a cat's tail, of which 
 there are many species, — Oehus, LinnseL They are so called 
 from coming across the sea from warm countries." I origin- 
 ally intended to retain the German phrase "Seorcat;" but 
 afterwards had no hesitation to adopt the happy translation 
 given by the writer in Blackwood! s Magazine, \ol. vii There 
 is something mystical in the idea of an animal half cat and 
 half ape, which agrees wonderfully with the witch-like antic 
 character of this whole scene. Besides, the term " Cat-ape" 
 is far more expressive of the nature of the animal than that 
 in the original. 
 
292 NOTES. 
 
 Note IX. Page 217. 
 
 And we leill strew chopped stra/w before the door. 
 
 A German custom prevalent among the common people, 
 ■when they suspect the virginity of a bride. The ceremony 
 is performed on the day before the marriage. — Vide Adelung 
 in voce Hackerling. 
 
 Note X. Page 239. 
 
 And good Sir Urian is the guide, 
 
 " Sir Urian is a name which was formerly used to desig- 
 nate an unknown person, or one whose name, even if it were 
 known, it was not thought proper to mention. In this sense 
 it was sometimes applied to the devil. In the Parzival of 
 Wolfram von Eschenbach, the unprincipled Prince of Par- 
 tartois is called Urian." — Bayaed Tayloe. 
 
 Note XI. Page 243. 
 
 The ointment gives our sinews might. 
 
 " According to the orthodox theory, the witches anointed 
 their whole body with a salve or ointment prepared in the 
 name of the fiend, murmured a few magic sentences into 
 their beard, and then flew up, body and soul, head and hair, 
 actually and corporeally into the air." — Horst's Deemonomagie, 
 vol. ii. p. 203. 
 
 Note XII. Page 244. 
 
 Make way, Sqmre Voland conies. 
 
 'A name of Satan, derived probably from the Latin Volo, 
 
 through the Italian Volante, expressive of that agile quality 
 
 of the old deceiver, whereby he is always " going to and fro 
 
 on the earth, and walking up and down in it." — Job i. 7. 
 
NOTES. 293 
 
 See Eeichard's Geister Beich, vol. i. p. 397. But I rather 
 suspect this appellation is connected with the office of the 
 evil one, as chief of the flies, and other volatile tormentors. 
 In the French edition of the popular story the devil is 
 called " Le Diable volatique," c. vi. ; — or, better still, the 
 devil is so called as being " the prince of the power of the 
 air," and therefore a flying spirit. " Mon Valet, dis moi 
 quel esprit es-tu? — Mon Maistre Faust, je suis un esprit 
 Volant, qui ay mon cours dans I'air sous le ciel " — in the 
 same French history of Doctor Faust. 
 
 Note XIII. Page 249. 
 
 Who then is that 1 — 'Ks Lilith. 
 
 Lilith, from Lil, darkness, is- the name of night-monster 
 (translated screech-owl in Isaiah xxxiv. 14), who, under the 
 deceitful form of a beautiful woman, was believed by the 
 Jews to be most injurious to parturient women, and very 
 often to occasion the death of young persons before they 
 were circumcised. Buxtorf, in his Lexicon Talmudicum, 
 gives a tolerably good account of these Hebrew Lamia; but 
 the most complete and satisfactory information on this, as on 
 all other subjects connected with ancient and modem super- 
 stition, is to be found in Horst, Zauber-Bihliothek, part vi. 
 pp. 42 and 86. 
 
 Note XIV. Page 251. 
 
 ProctophantasiMst, 
 
 It is universally agreed that Nicolai, a noted Berlin pub- 
 lisher, who flourished about the middle and towards the 
 end of the last century, is the person meant here. From 
 his biography by G-ocking, he appears to have been a man 
 of remarkable mental activity and considerable literary 
 
294 NOTES. 
 
 significance in his day ; but, like the Brandenburg sands on 
 which he was located, his ideas seemed to have been, some- 
 what flat and prosaic, and totally inadequate to grasp the 
 significance of the great master spirits of thought, who weie 
 now asserting their rightful place on the platform of German 
 literature. Notwithstanding the prosaic character of his 
 mind, he became subject to a disease of seeing apparitions 
 in clear daylight (see Dr. Hibbert's book on apparitions), 
 an abnormal action of the optic nerves, which was cured by 
 the application of leeches to the part of the body on which 
 the unfeathered biped finds it comfortable to sit. Hence 
 the name, from the Greek TpwKTos. 
 
 Note XV. Page 257. 
 
 Intermezzo. 
 
 Most of the puppet personages who pop up in this curious 
 little piece, and explain their own significance in a stanza, 
 may be presumed to be sufficiently familiar to aU readers 
 capable of appreciating the mind of a poetical thinker such 
 as Goethe. I confine myself to the few following notes : — 
 
 Embryo-Spirit. — German " Oeist der sich erst bildet." A quiz 
 upon young versifiers, — poetlings with whom rhyme and 
 reason are opposite poles. 
 
 Orthodox. — We are indebted to the Fathers of the Church for 
 the pious imagination that the heathen gods weredevUs. 
 Milton foUows the same unfounded idea. The gods of 
 Greece were bad enough ; but we need not make them 
 worse than they were. They had their good side too. 
 Vide Schiller's beautiful poem, " The Gods of Greece," 
 which, by the by, Frantz Horn calls " Ein unendlicher 
 Irrthum," — an infinite error. But a man may admire 
 
NOTES. 2&S 
 
 an Apollo or a Minerva -without meanmg to be a 
 heathen. 
 
 Fwrists. — There are " purists " among the German gramma- 
 rians ; but the allusion here must be to something else 
 — prigs and precisians, I fancy. 
 
 Xenim. — Epigrammatic ppems published by Goethe and 
 Schiller, which were very severe on the half-poets of the 
 day. 
 
 Hennings. — I know nothing of this character. Hay ward 
 says he was one of the victims of the Xenien, and editor 
 of two periodicals, " The Genius of the Age," and the 
 " Musageb." 
 
 The stiff maa is Nicolai ; he of the " old mill," siwpra, p. 251. 
 Nicolai was a great zealot against Catholics and Jesuits ; 
 but, as Frantz Horn hints, his zeal was not always ac- 
 cording to knowledge. — GeschicMe der Bevischen Poesie, 
 vol. iii. 
 
 The Grane, I believe, is Lavater. 
 
 Note XVI. Page 274. 
 
 My mother, the wanton. 
 That choked my breath. 
 
 " This song is founded upon a popular German story, to 
 be found in the Kinder-und Eaus-Mdrchen of the distinguished 
 brothers Grimm, under the title of Van den Machandel-Boom, 
 and in the English selection from that work (entitled German 
 Popular Stories), under the title of The Juniper Tree. — The 
 wife of a rich man, whilst standing under a juniper tree, 
 wishes for a little child as white as snow and as red as 
 blood ; and, on another occasion, expresses a wish to be 
 buried under the juniper when dead. Soon after, a little 
 boy as white as snow and as red as blood is born : the 
 
296 NOTES. 
 
 mother dies of joy at beholding it, and is buried according 
 to her wish. The husband marries again, and has a daughter. 
 The second wife, becoming jealous of the boy, murders him, 
 and serves him up at table for the unconscious father to eat. 
 The father finishes the whole dish, and throws the bones 
 under the table. The little girl, who is made the innocent 
 assistant in her mother's villany, picks them up, ties them 
 in a silk handkerchief, and buries them under the juniper 
 tree. The tree begins to move its branches mysteriously, 
 and then a kind of cloud rises from it, a fire appears in the 
 cloud, and out of the fire comes a beautiful bird, which flies 
 about singing the following song : — 
 
 " ' Min Moder de mi slaclit't 
 Min Vader de me att, 
 Min Swester de Marleenken 
 Socht alle mine Beeniken, 
 Un bindt sie in een syden Dook, 
 Legts unner den Machandelboom ; 
 Ky witt, Kywitt ! aoh watt en achon Vagel ben ich ! ' " 
 
 Hayward's Prose Trwnslation of Faust, 
 2d edition, p. 294. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 FHnted by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.