Chapter 9

_Faust_. There sit an old one and a young together; They've skipped it well along the heather!

_Mephistopheles_. No rest from that till night is through. Another dance is up; come on! let us fall to.

_Faust_ [_dancing with the young one_]. A lovely dream once came to me; In it I saw an apple-tree; Two beauteous apples beckoned there, I climbed to pluck the fruit so fair.

_The Fair one_. Apples you greatly seem to prize, And did so even in Paradise. I feel myself delighted much That in my garden I have such.

_Mephistopheles_ [_with the old hag_]. A dismal dream once came to me; In it I saw a cloven tree, It had a ------ but still, I looked on it with right good-will.

_The Hog_. With best respect I here salute The noble knight of the cloven foot! Let him hold a ------ near, If a ------ he does not fear.

_Proctophantasmist_.[38] What's this ye undertake? Confounded crew! Have we not giv'n you demonstration? No spirit stands on legs in all creation, And here you dance just as we mortals do!

_The Fair one_ [_dancing_]. What does that fellow at our ball?

_Faust_ [_dancing_]. Eh! he must have a hand in all. What others dance that he appraises. Unless each step he criticizes, The step as good as no step he will call. But when we move ahead, that plagues him more than all. If in a circle you would still keep turning, As he himself in his old mill goes round, He would be sure to call that sound! And most so, if you went by his superior learning.

_Proctophantasmist_. What, and you still are here! Unheard off obstinates! Begone! We've cleared it up! You shallow pates! The devilish pack from rules deliverance boasts. We've grown so wise, and Tegel[39] still sees ghosts. How long I've toiled to sweep these cobwebs from the brain, And yet--unheard of folly! all in vain.

_The Fair one_. And yet on us the stupid bore still tries it!

_Proctophantasmist_. I tell you spirits, to the face, I give to spirit-tyranny no place, My spirit cannot exercise it. [_They dance on_.] I can't succeed to-day, I know it; Still, there's the journey, which I like to make, And hope, before the final step I take, To rid the world of devil and of poet.

_Mephistopheles_. You'll see him shortly sit into a puddle, In that way his heart is reassured; When on his rump the leeches well shall fuddle, Of spirits and of spirit he'll be cured. [_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_.] Why let the lovely girl slip through thy fingers, Who to thy dance so sweetly sang?

_Faust_. Ah, right amidst her singing, sprang A wee red mouse from her mouth and made me cower.

_Mephistopheles_. That's nothing wrong! You're in a dainty way; Enough, the mouse at least wan't gray. Who minds such thing in happy amorous hour?

_Faust_. Then saw I--

_Mephistopheles_. What?

_Faust_. Mephisto, seest thou not Yon pale, fair child afar, who stands so sad and lonely, And moves so slowly from the spot, Her feet seem locked, and she drags them only. I must confess, she seems to me To look like my own good Margery.

_Mephistopheles_. Leave that alone! The sight no health can bring. it is a magic shape, an idol, no live thing. To meet it never can be good! Its haggard look congeals a mortal's blood, And almost turns him into stone; The story of Medusa thou hast known.

_Faust_. Yes, 'tis a dead one's eyes that stare upon me, Eyes that no loving hand e'er closed; That is the angel form of her who won me, Tis the dear breast on which I once reposed.

_Mephistopheles_. 'Tis sorcery all, thou fool, misled by passion's dreams! For she to every one his own love seems.

_Faust_. What bliss! what woe! Methinks I never My sight from that sweet form can sever. Seeft thou, not thicker than a knife-blade's back, A small red ribbon, fitting sweetly The lovely neck it clasps so neatly?

_Mephistopheles_. I see the streak around her neck. Her head beneath her arm, you'll next behold her; Perseus has lopped it from her shoulder,-- But let thy crazy passion rest! Come, climb with me yon hillock's breast, Was e'er the Prater[40] merrier then? And if no sorcerer's charm is o'er me, That is a theatre before me. What's doing there?

_Servibilis_. They'll straight begin again. A bran-new piece, the very last of seven; To have so much, the fashion here thinks fit. By Dilettantes it is given; 'Twas by a Dilettante writ. Excuse me, sirs, I go to greet you; I am the curtain-raising Dilettant.

_Mephistopheles_. When I upon the Blocksberg meet you, That I approve; for there's your place, I grant.

WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM, OR OBERON AND TITANIA'S GOLDEN NUPTIALS.

_Intermezzo_.

_Theatre manager_. Here, for once, we rest, to-day, Heirs of Mieding's[41] glory. All the scenery we display-- Damp vale and mountain hoary!

_Herald_. To make the wedding a golden one, Must fifty years expire; But when once the strife is done, I prize the _gold_ the higher.

_Oberon_. Spirits, if my good ye mean, Now let all wrongs be righted; For to-day your king and queen Are once again united.

_Puck_. Once let Puck coming whirling round, And set his foot to whisking, Hundreds with him throng the ground, Frolicking and frisking.

_Ariel_. Ariel awakes the song With many a heavenly measure; Fools not few he draws along, But fair ones hear with pleasure.

_Oberon_. Spouses who your feuds would smother, Take from us a moral! Two who wish to love each other, Need only first to quarrel.

_Titania_. If she pouts and he looks grim, Take them both together, To the north pole carry him, And off with her to t'other.

_Orchestra Tutti_.

_Fortissimo_. Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, these, And kin in all conditions, Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees, We take for our musicians!

_Solo_. See, the Bagpipe comes! fall back! Soap-bubble's name he owneth. How the _Schnecke-schnicke-schnack_ Through his snub-nose droneth! _Spirit that is just shaping itself_. Spider-foot, toad's-belly, too, Give the child, and winglet! 'Tis no animalcule, true, But a poetic thinglet.

_A pair of lovers_. Little step and lofty bound Through honey-dew and flowers; Well thou trippest o'er the ground, But soarst not o'er the bowers.

_Curious traveller_. This must be masquerade! How odd! My very eyes believe I? Oberon, the beauteous God Here, to-night perceive I!

_Orthodox_. Neither claws, nor tail I see! And yet, without a cavil, Just as "the Gods of Greece"[42] were, he Must also be a devil.

_Northern artist_. What here I catch is, to be sure, But sketchy recreation; And yet for my Italian tour 'Tis timely preparation.

_Purist_. Bad luck has brought me here, I see! The rioting grows louder. And of the whole witch company, There are but two, wear powder.

_Young witch_. Powder becomes, like petticoat, Your little, gray old woman: Naked I sit upon my goat, And show the untrimmed human.

_Matron_. To stand here jawing[43] with you, we Too much good-breeding cherish; But young and tender though you be, I hope you'll rot and perish.

_Leader of the music_. Fly-snouts and gnat-noses, please, Swarm not so round the naked! Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees, Keep time and don't forsake it!

_Weathercock_ [_towards one side_]. Find better company, who can! Here, brides attended duly! There, bachelors, ranged man by man, Most hopeful people truly!

_Weathercock [towards the other side_]. And if the ground don't open straight, The crazy crew to swallow, You'll see me, at a furious rate, Jump down to hell's black hollow.

_Xenia[_44] We are here as insects, ah! Small, sharp nippers wielding, Satan, as our _cher papa_, Worthy honor yielding.

_Hennings_. See how naïvely, there, the throng Among themselves are jesting, You'll hear them, I've no doubt, ere long, Their good kind hearts protesting.

_Musagetes_. Apollo in this witches' group Himself right gladly loses; For truly I could lead this troop Much easier than the muses.

_Ci-devant genius of the age_. Right company will raise man up. Come, grasp my skirt, Lord bless us! The Blocksberg has a good broad top, Like Germany's Parnassus.

_Curious traveller_. Tell me who is that stiff man? With what stiff step he travels! He noses out whate'er he can. "He scents the Jesuit devils."

_Crane_. In clear, and muddy water, too, The long-billed gentleman fishes; Our pious gentlemen we view Fingering in devils' dishes.

_Child of this world_. Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis clear, "All's grist that comes to their mill;" They build their tabernacles here, On Blocksberg, as on Carmel.

_Dancer_. Hark! a new choir salutes my ear! I hear a distant drumming. "Be not disturbed! 'mong reeds you hear The one-toned bitterns bumming."

_Dancing-master._ How each his legs kicks up and flings, Pulls foot as best he's able! The clumsy hops, the crooked springs, 'Tis quite disreputable!

_Fiddler_. The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear, Like cats and dogs, each other. Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here Binds beast to beast as brother.

_Dogmatist_. You'll not scream down my reason, though, By criticism's cavils. The devil's something, that I know, Else how could there be devils?

_Idealist_. Ah, phantasy, for once thy sway Is guilty of high treason. If all I see is I, to-day, 'Tis plain I've lost my reason.

_Realist_. To me, of all life's woes and plagues, Substance is most provoking, For the first time I feel my legs Beneath me almost rocking.

_Supernaturalist_. I'm overjoyed at being here, And even among these rude ones; For if bad spirits are, 'tis clear, There also must be good ones.

_Skeptic_. Where'er they spy the flame they roam, And think rich stores to rifle, Here such as I are quite at home, For _Zweifel_ rhymes with _Teufel_.[45]

_Leader of the music_. Grass-hid cricket, frogs in trees, You cursed dilettanti! Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, peace! Musicians you, right jaunty!

_The Clever ones_. Sans-souci we call this band Of merry ones that skip it; Unable on our feet to stand, Upon our heads we trip it.

_The Bunglers_. Time was, we caught our tit-bits, too, God help us now! that's done with! We've danced our leathers entirely through, And have only bare soles to run with.

_Jack-o'lanterns_. From the dirty bog we come, Whence we've just arisen: Soon in the dance here, quite at home, As gay young _sparks_ we'll glisten.

_Shooting star_. Trailing from the sky I shot, Not a star there missed me: Crooked up in this grassy spot, Who to my legs will assist me?

_The solid men_. Room there! room there! clear the ground! Grass-blades well may fall so; Spirits are we, but 'tis found They have plump limbs also.

_Puck_. Heavy men! do not, I say, Like elephants' calves go stumping: Let the plumpest one to-day Be Puck, the ever-jumping.

_Ariel_. If the spirit gave, indeed, If nature gave you, pinions, Follow up my airy lead To the rose-dominions!

_Orchestra_ [_pianissimo_]. Gauzy mist and fleecy cloud Sun and wind have banished. Foliage rustles, reeds pipe loud, All the show has vanished.

DREARY DAY.[46]

_Field_.

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

_Faust_. In wretchedness! In despair! Long hunted up and down the earth, a miserable fugitive, and caught at last! Locked up as a malefactor in prison, to converse with horrible torments--the sweet, unhappy creature! Even to this pass! even to this!--Treacherous, worthless spirit, and this thou hast hidden from me!--Stand up here--stand up! Roll thy devilish eyes round grimly in thy head! Stand and defy me with thy intolerable presence! Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Given over to evil spirits and to the judgment of unfeeling humanity, and me meanwhile thou lullest in insipid dissipations, concealest from me her growing anguish, and leavest her without help to perish!

_Mephistopheles_. She is not the first!

_Faust_. Dog! abominable monster! Change him, thou Infinite Spirit! change the worm back into his canine form, as he was often pleased in the night to trot before me, to roll before the feet of the harmless wanderer, and, when he fell, to hang on his shoulders. Change him again into his favorite shape, that he may crawl before me on his belly in the sand, and that I may tread him under foot, the reprobate!--Not the first! Misery! Misery! inconceivable by any human soul! that more than one creature ever sank into the depth of this wretchedness, that the first in its writhing death-agony did not atone for the guilt of all the rest before the eyes of the eternally Forgiving! My very marrow and life are consumed by the misery of this single one; thou grinnest away composedly at the fate of thousands!

_Mephistopheles_. Here we are again at our wits' ends already, where the thread of sense, with you mortals, snaps short. Why make a partnership with us, if thou canst not carry it through? Wilt fly, and art not proof against dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves on thee, or thou on us?

_Faust_. Gnash not so thy greedy teeth against me! It disgusts me!--Great and glorious spirit, thou that deignedst to appear to me, who knowest my heart and soul, why yoke me to this shame-fellow, who feeds on mischief and feasts on ruin?

_Mephistopheles_. Hast thou done?

_Faust_. Rescue her! O woe be unto thee! The most horrible curse on thee for thousands of years!

_Mephistopheles_. I cannot loose the bonds of the avenger, nor open his bolts.--Rescue her!--Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I or thou? [FAUST _looks wildly round_.] Grasp'st thou after the thunder? Well that it was not given to you miserable mortals! To crush an innocent respondent, that is a sort of tyrant's-way of getting room to breathe in embarrassment.

_Faust_. Lead me to her! She shall be free!

_Mephistopheles_. And the danger which thou incurrest? Know that the guilt of blood at thy hand still lies upon the town. Over the place of the slain, avenging spirits hover and lurk for the returning murderer.

_Faust_. That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world upon thee, monster! Lead me thither, I say, and free her!

_Mephistopheles_. I will lead thee, and hear what I can do! Have I all power in heaven and on earth? I will becloud the turnkey's senses; possess thyself of the keys, and bear her out with human hand. I will watch! The magic horses shall be ready, and I will bear you away. So much I can do.

_Faust_. Up and away!

NIGHT. OPEN FIELD.

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Scudding along on black horses_.

_Faust_. What's doing, off there, round the gallows-tree?[47]

_Mephistopheles_. Know not what they are doing and brewing.

_Faust_. Up they go--down they go--wheel about, reel about.

_Mephistopheles_. A witches'-crew.

_Faust_. They're strewing and vowing.

_Mephistopheles_. Pass on! Pass on!

PRISON.

FAUST [_with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_] A long unwonted chill comes o'er me, I feel the whole great load of human woe. Within this clammy wall that frowns before me Lies one whom blinded love, not guilt, brought low! Thou lingerest, in hope to grow bolder! Thou fearest again to behold her! On! Thy shrinking slowly hastens the blow! [_He grasps the key. Singing from within_.] My mother, the harlot, That strung me up! My father, the varlet, That ate me up! My sister small, She gathered up all The bones that day, And in a cool place did lay; Then I woke, a sweet bird, at a magic call; Fly away, fly away!

_Faust [unlocking_]. She little dreams, her lover is so near, The clanking chains, the rustling straw can hear; [_He enters_.]

_Margaret [burying herself in the bed_]. Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness!

_Faust_ [_softly_]. Hush! hush! I come to free thee; thou art dreaming.

_Margaret_ [_prostrating herself before him_]. Art thou a man, then feel for my distress.

_Faust_. Thou'lt wake the guards with thy loud screaming! [_He seizes the chains to tin lock them._]

_Margaret_ [_on her knees_]. Headsman, who's given thee this right O'er me, this power! Thou com'st for me at dead of night; In pity spare me, one short hour! Wilt't not be time when Matin bell has rung? [_She stands up._] Ah, I am yet so young, so young! And death pursuing! Fair was I too, and that was my undoing. My love was near, far is he now! Tom is the wreath, the scattered flowers lie low. Take not such violent hold of me! Spare me! what harm have I done to thee? Let me not in vain implore thee. Thou ne'er till now sawft her who lies before thee!

_Faust_. O sorrow worse than death is o'er me!

_Margaret_. Now I am wholly in thy power. But first I'd nurse my child--do not prevent me. I hugged it through the black night hour; They took it from me to torment me, And now they say I killed the pretty flower. I shall never be happy again, I know. They sing vile songs at me! 'Tis bad in them to do it! There's an old tale that ends just so, Who gave that meaning to it?

_Faust [prostrates himself_]. A lover at thy feet is bending, Thy bonds of misery would be rending.

_Margaret [flings herself beside him_]. O let us kneel, the saints for aid invoking! See! 'neath the threshold smoking, Fire-breathing, Hell is seething! There prowling, And grim under cover, Satan is howling!

_Faust [aloud_]. Margery! Margery!

_Margaret [listening_]. That was the voice of my lover! [_She springs up. The chains fall off_.]

Where is he? Where? He calls. I hear him. I'm free! Who hinders? I will be near him. I'll fly to his neck! I'll hold him! To my bosom I'll enfold him! He stood on the threshold--called Margery plainly! Hell's howling and clattering to drown it sought vainly,-- Through the devilish, grim scoffs, that might turn one to stone, I caught the sweet, loving, enrapturing tone.

_Faust_. 'Tis I!

_Margaret_. 'Tis thou! O say it once again. [_Clasping again._] 'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain? And where the dungeon's anguish? Joy-giver! 'Tis thou! And come to deliver! I am delivered! Again before me lies the street, Where for the first time thou and I did meet. And the garden-bower, Where we spent that evening hour.

_Faust_ [_trying to draw her away_]. Come! Come with me!

_Margaret_. O tarry! I tarry so gladly where thou tarriest. [_Caressing him._]

_Faust_. Hurry! Unless thou hurriest, Bitterly we both must rue it.

_Margaret_. Kiss me! Canst no more do it? So short an absence, love, as this, And forgot how to kiss? What saddens me so as I hang about thy neck? When once, in thy words, thy looks, such a heaven of blisses Came o'er me, I thought my heart would break, And it seemed as if thou wouldst smother me with kisses. Kiss thou me! Else I kiss thee! [_She embraces him._] Woe! woe! thy lips are cold, Stone-dumb. Where's thy love left? Oh! I'm bereft! Who robbed me? [_She turns from him_]

_Faust_. O come! Take courage, my darling! Let us go; I clasp-thee with unutterable glow; But follow me! For this alone I plead!

_Margaret [turning to him_]. Is it, then, thou? And is it thou indeed?

_Faust_. 'Tis I! Come, follow me!

_Margaret_. Thou break'st my chain, And tak'st me to thy breast again! How comes it, then, that thou art not afraid of me? And dost thou know, my friend, who 'tis thou settest free?

_Faust_. Come! come! The night is on the wane.

_Margaret_. Woe! woe! My mother I've slain! Have drowned the babe of mine! Was it not sent to be mine and thine? Thine, too--'tis thou! Scarce true doth it seem. Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream! Thy blessed hand!--But ah! there's dampness here! Go, wipe it off! I fear There's blood thereon. Ah God! what hast thou done! Put up thy sword again; I pray thee, do!

_Faust_. The past is past--there leave it then, Thou kill'st me too!

_Margaret_. No, thou must longer tarry! I'll tell thee how each thou shalt bury; The places of sorrow Make ready to-morrow; Must give the best place to my mother, The very next to my brother, Me a little aside, But make not the space too wide! And on my right breast let the little one lie. No one else will be sleeping by me. Once, to feel _thy_ heart beat nigh me, Oh, 'twas a precious, a tender joy! But I shall have it no more--no, never; I seem to be forcing myself on thee ever, And thou repelling me freezingly; And 'tis thou, the same good soul, I see.

_Faust_. If thou feelest 'tis I, then come with me

_Margaret_. Out yonder?

_Faust_. Into the open air.

_Margaret_. If the grave is there, If death is lurking; then come! From here to the endless resting-place, And not another pace--Thou go'st e'en now? O, Henry, might I too.

_Faust_. Thou canst! 'Tis but to will! The door stands open.

_Margaret_. I dare not go; for me there's no more hoping. What use to fly? They lie in wait for me. So wretched the lot to go round begging, With an evil conscience thy spirit plaguing! So wretched the lot, an exile roaming--And then on my heels they are ever coming!

_Faust_. I shall be with thee.

_Margaret_. Make haste! make haste! No time to waste! Save thy poor child! Quick! follow the edge Of the rushing rill, Over the bridge And by the mill, Then into the woods beyond On the left where lies the plank Over the pond. Seize hold of it quick! To rise 'tis trying, It struggles still! Rescue! rescue!

_Faust_. Bethink thyself, pray! A single step and thou art free!

_Margaret_. Would we were by the mountain. See! There sits my mother on a stone, The sight on my brain is preying! There sits my mother on a stone, And her head is constantly swaying; She beckons not, nods not, her head falls o'er, So long she's been sleeping, she'll wake no more. She slept that we might take pleasure. O that was bliss without measure!

_Faust_. Since neither reason nor prayer thou hearest; I must venture by force to take thee, dearest.

_Margaret_. Let go! No violence will I bear! Take not such a murderous hold of me! I once did all I could to gratify thee.

_Faust_. The day is breaking! Dearest! dearest!

_Margaret_. Day! Ay, it is day! the last great day breaks in! My wedding-day it should have been! Tell no one thou hast been with Margery! Alas for my garland! The hour's advancing! Retreat is in vain! We meet again, But not at the dancing. The multitude presses, no word is spoke. Square, streets, all places-- sea of faces-- The bell is tolling, the staff is broke. How they seize me and bind me! They hurry me off to the bloody block.[48] The blade that quivers behind me, Quivers at every neck with convulsive shock; Dumb lies the world as the grave!

_Faust_. O had I ne'er been born!

_Mephistopheles [appears without_]. Up! or thou'rt lost! The morn Flushes the sky. Idle delaying! Praying and playing! My horses are neighing, They shudder and snort for the bound.

_Margaret_. What's that, comes up from the ground? He! He! Avaunt! that face! What will he in the sacred place? He seeks me!

_Faust_. Thou shalt live!

_Margaret_. Great God in heaven! Unto thy judgment my soul have I given!

_Mephistopheles [to Faust_]. Come! come! or in the lurch I leave both her and thee!

_Margaret_. Thine am I, Father! Rescue me! Ye angels, holy bands, attend me! And camp around me to defend me I Henry! I dread to look on thee.

_Mephistopheles_. She's judged!

_Voice [from above_]. She's saved!

_Mephistopheles [to Faust_]. Come thou to me! [_Vanishes with_ FAUST.]

_Voice [from within, dying away_]. Henry! Henry!

NOTES.

[Footnote 1: Dedication. The idea of Faust had early entered into Goethe's mind. He probably began the work when he was about twenty years old. It was first published, as a fragment, in 1790, and did not appear in its present form till 1808, when its author's age was nearly sixty. By the "forms" are meant, of course, the shadowy personages and scenes of the drama.]

[Footnote 2: --"Thy messengers"-- "He maketh the winds his-messengers, The flaming lightnings his ministers." _Noyes's Psalms_, c. iv. 4.]