Chapter 7

There stood the old carouser, And drank the last life-glow; And hurled the hallowed goblet Into the tide below.

He saw it plunging and filling, And sinking deep in the sea: Then fell his eyelids forever, And never more drank he!

(_She opens the press in order to arrange her clothes, and perceives the casket of jewels_.)

How comes that lovely casket here to me? I locked the press, most certainly. ’Tis truly wonderful! What can within it be? Perhaps ’twas brought by some one as a pawn, And mother gave a loan thereon? And here there hangs a key to fit: I have a mind to open it. What is that? God in Heaven! Whence came Such things? Never beheld I aught so fair! Rich ornaments, such as a noble dame On highest holidays might wear! How would the pearl-chain suit my hair? Ah, who may all this splendor own?

(_She adorns herself with the jewelry, and steps before the mirror_.)

Were but the ear-rings mine, alone! One has at once another air. What helps one’s beauty, youthful blood? One may possess them, well and good; But none the more do others care. They praise us half in pity, sure: To gold still tends, On gold depends All, all! Alas, we poor!

IX

PROMENADE

(FAUST, _walking thoughtfully up and down. To him_ MEPHISTOPHELES.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

By all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and unsparing! I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it for swearing!

FAUST

What ails thee? What is’t gripes thee, elf? A face like thine beheld I never.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I would myself unto the Devil deliver, If I were not a Devil myself!

FAUST

Thy head is out of order, sadly: It much becomes thee to be raving madly.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Just think, the pocket of a priest should get The trinkets left for Margaret! The mother saw them, and, instanter, A secret dread began to haunt her. Keen scent has she for tainted air; She snuffs within her book of prayer, And smells each article, to see If sacred or profane it be; So here she guessed, from every gem, That not much blessing came with them. “My child,” she said, “ill-gotten good Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood. Before the Mother of God we’ll lay it; With heavenly manna she’ll repay it!” But Margaret thought, with sour grimace, “A gift-horse is not out of place, And, truly! godless cannot be The one who brought such things to me.” A parson came, by the mother bidden: He saw, at once, where the game was hidden, And viewed it with a favor stealthy. He spake: “That is the proper view,— Who overcometh, winneth too. The Holy Church has a stomach healthy: Hath eaten many a land as forfeit, And never yet complained of surfeit: The Church alone, beyond all question, Has for ill-gotten goods the right digestion.”

FAUST

A general practice is the same, Which Jew and King may also claim.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Then bagged the spangles, chains, and rings, As if but toadstools were the things, And thanked no less, and thanked no more Than if a sack of nuts he bore,— Promised them fullest heavenly pay, And deeply edified were they.

FAUST

And Margaret?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Sits unrestful still, And knows not what she should, or will; Thinks on the jewels, day and night, But more on him who gave her such delight.

FAUST

The darling’s sorrow gives me pain. Get thou a set for her again! The first was not a great display.

MEPHISTOPHELES

O yes, the gentleman finds it all child’s-play!

FAUST

Fix and arrange it to my will; And on her neighbor try thy skill! Don’t be a Devil stiff as paste, But get fresh jewels to her taste!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, gracious Sir, in all obedience!

[_Exit_ FAUST.

Such an enamored fool in air would blow Sun, moon, and all the starry legions, To give his sweetheart a diverting show.

[_Exit_.

X

THE NEIGHBOR’S HOUSE

MARTHA (_solus_)

God forgive my husband, yet he Hasn’t done his duty by me! Off in the world he went straightway,— Left me lie in the straw where I lay. And, truly, I did naught to fret him: God knows I loved, and can’t forget him!

(_She weeps_.)

Perhaps he’s even dead! Ah, woe!— Had I a certificate to show!

MARGARET (_comes_)

Dame Martha!

MARTHA

Margaret! what’s happened thee?

MARGARET

I scarce can stand, my knees are trembling! I find a box, the first resembling, Within my press! Of ebony,— And things, all splendid to behold, And richer far than were the old.

MARTHA

You mustn’t tell it to your mother! ’Twould go to the priest, as did the other.

MARGARET

Ah, look and see—just look and see!

MARTHA (_adorning her_)

O, what a blessed luck for thee!

MARGARET

But, ah! in the streets I dare not bear them, Nor in the church be seen to wear them.

MARTHA

Yet thou canst often this way wander, And secretly the jewels don, Walk up and down an hour, before the mirror yonder,— We’ll have our private joy thereon. And then a chance will come, a holiday, When, piece by piece, can one the things abroad display, A chain at first, then other ornament: Thy mother will not see, and stories we’ll invent.

MARGARET

Whoever could have brought me things so precious? That something’s wrong, I feel suspicious.

(_A knock_)

Good Heaven! My mother can that have been?

MARTHA (_peeping through the blind_)

’Tis some strange gentleman.—Come in!

(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

That I so boldly introduce me, I beg you, ladies, to excuse me.

(_Steps back reverently, on seeing_ MARGARET.)

For Martha Schwerdtlein I’d inquire!

MARTHA

I’m she: what does the gentleman desire?

MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside to her_)

It is enough that you are she: You’ve a visitor of high degree. Pardon the freedom I have ta’en,— Will after noon return again.

MARTHA (_aloud_)

Of all things in the world! Just hear— He takes thee for a lady, dear!

MARGARET

I am a creature young and poor: The gentleman’s too kind, I’m sure. The jewels don’t belong to me.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ah, not alone the jewelry! The look, the manner, both betray— Rejoiced am I that I may stay!

MARTHA

What is your business? I would fain—

MEPHISTOPHELES

I would I had a more cheerful strain! Take not unkindly its repeating: Your husband’s dead, and sends a greeting.

MARTHA

Is dead? Alas, that heart so true! My husband dead! Let me die, too!

MARGARET

Ah, dearest dame, let not your courage fail!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Hear me relate the mournful tale!

MARGARET

Therefore I’d never love, believe me! A loss like this to death would grieve me.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Joy follows woe, woe after joy comes flying.

MARTHA

Relate his life’s sad close to me!

MEPHISTOPHELES

In Padua buried, he is lying Beside the good Saint Antony, Within a grave well consecrated, For cool, eternal rest created.

MARTHA

He gave you, further, no commission?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, one of weight, with many sighs: Three hundred masses buy, to save him from perdition! My hands are empty, otherwise.

MARTHA

What! Not a pocket-piece? no jewelry? What every journeyman within his wallet spares, And as a token with him bears, And rather starves or begs, than loses?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Madam, it is a grief to me; Yet, on my word, his cash was put to proper uses. Besides, his penitence was very sore, And he lamented his ill fortune all the more.

MARGARET

Alack, that men are so unfortunate! Surely for his soul’s sake full many a prayer I’ll proffer.

MEPHISTOPHELES

You well deserve a speedy marriage-offer: You are so kind, compassionate.

MARGARET

O, no! As yet, it would not do.

MEPHISTOPHELES

If not a husband, then a beau for you! It is the greatest heavenly blessing, To have a dear thing for one’s caressing.

MARGARET

The country’s custom is not so.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Custom, or not! It happens, though.

MARTHA

Continue, pray!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I stood beside his bed of dying. ’Twas something better than manure,— Half-rotten straw: and yet, he died a Christian, sure, And found that heavier scores to his account were lying. He cried: “I find my conduct wholly hateful! To leave my wife, my trade, in manner so ungrateful! Ah, the remembrance makes me die! Would of my wrong to her I might be shriven!”

MARTHA (_weeping_)

The dear, good man! Long since was he forgiven.

MEPHISTOPHELES

“Yet she, God knows! was more to blame than I.”

MARTHA

He lied! What! On the brink of death he slandered?

MEPHISTOPHELES

In the last throes his senses wandered, If I such things but half can judge. He said: “I had no time for play, for gaping freedom: First children, and then work for bread to feed ’em,— For bread, in the widest sense, to drudge, And could not even eat my share in peace and quiet!”

MARTHA

Had he all love, all faith forgotten in his riot? My work and worry, day and night?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Not so: the memory of it touched him quite. Said he: “When I from Malta went away My prayers for wife and little ones were zealous, And such a luck from Heaven befell us, We made a Turkish merchantman our prey, That to the Soldan bore a mighty treasure. Then I received, as was most fit, Since bravery was paid in fullest measure, My well-apportioned share of it.”

MARTHA

Say, how? Say, where? If buried, did he own it?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Who knows, now, whither the four winds have blown it? A fair young damsel took him in her care, As he in Naples wandered round, unfriended; And she much love, much faith to him did bear, So that he felt it till his days were ended.

MARTHA

The villain! From his children thieving! Even all the misery on him cast Could not prevent his shameful way of living!

MEPHISTOPHELES

But see! He’s dead therefrom, at last. Were I in _your_ place, do not doubt me, I’d mourn him decently a year, And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me.

MARTHA

Ah, God! another one so dear As was my first, this world will hardly give me. There never was a sweeter fool than mine, Only he loved to roam and leave me, And foreign wenches and foreign wine, And the damned throw of dice, indeed.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Well, well! That might have done, however, If he had only been as clever, And treated _your_ slips with as little heed. I swear, with this condition, too, I would, myself, change rings with you.

MARTHA

The gentleman is pleased to jest.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’ll cut away, betimes, from here: She’d take the Devil at his word, I fear.

(_To_ MARGARET)

How fares the heart within your breast?

MARGARET

What means the gentleman?

MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)

Sweet innocent, thou art!

(_Aloud_.)

Ladies, farewell!

MARGARET

Farewell!

MARTHA

A moment, ere we part! I’d like to have a legal witness, Where, how, and when he died, to certify his fitness. Irregular ways I’ve always hated; I want his death in the weekly paper stated.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, my good dame, a pair of witnesses Always the truth establishes. I have a friend of high condition, Who’ll also add his deposition. I’ll bring him here.

MARTHA

Good Sir, pray do!

MEPHISTOPHELES

And this young lady will be present, too? A gallant youth! has travelled far: Ladies with him delighted are.

MARGARET

Before him I should blush, ashamed.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Before no king that could be named!

MARTHA

Behind the house, in my garden, then, This eve we’ll expect the gentlemen.

XI

A STREET

FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

How is it? under way? and soon complete?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ah, bravo! Do I find you burning? Well, Margaret soon will still your yearning: At Neighbor Martha’s you’ll this evening meet. A fitter woman ne’er was made To ply the pimp and gypsy trade!

FAUST

Tis well.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yet something is required from us.

FAUST

One service pays the other thus.

MEPHISTOPHELES

We’ve but to make a deposition valid That now her husband’s limbs, outstretched and pallid, At Padua rest, in consecrated soil.

FAUST

Most wise! And first, of course, we’ll make the journey thither?

MEPHISTOPHELES

_Sancta simplicitas_! no need of such a toil; Depose, with knowledge or without it, either!

FAUST

If you’ve naught better, then, I’ll tear your pretty plan!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Now, there you are! O holy man! Is it the first time in your life you’re driven To bear false witness in a case? Of God, the world and all that in it has a place, Of Man, and all that moves the being of his race, Have you not terms and definitions given With brazen forehead, daring breast? And, if you’ll probe the thing profoundly, Knew you so much—and you’ll confess it roundly!— As here of Schwerdtlein’s death and place of rest?

FAUST

Thou art, and thou remain’st, a sophist, liar.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yes, knew I not more deeply thy desire. For wilt thou not, no lover fairer, Poor Margaret flatter, and ensnare her, And all thy soul’s devotion swear her?

FAUST

And from my heart.

MEPHISTOPHELES

’Tis very fine! Thine endless love, thy faith assuring, The one almighty force enduring,— Will that, too, prompt this heart of thine?

FAUST

Hold! hold! It will!—If such my flame, And for the sense and power intense I seek, and cannot find, a name; Then range with all my senses through creation, Craving the speech of inspiration, And call this ardor, so supernal, Endless, eternal and eternal,— Is that a devilish lying game?

MEPHISTOPHELES

And yet I’m right!

FAUST

Mark this, I beg of thee! And spare my lungs henceforth: whoever Intends to have the right, if but his tongue be clever, Will have it, certainly. But come: the further talking brings disgust, For thou art right, especially since I must.

XII

GARDEN

(MARGARET _on_ FAUST’S _arm_. MARTHA _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES _walking up and down_.)

MARGARET

I feel, the gentleman allows for me, Demeans himself, and shames me by it; A traveller is so used to be Kindly content with any diet. I know too well that my poor gossip can Ne’er entertain such an experienced man.

FAUST

A look from thee, a word, more entertains Than all the lore of wisest brains.

(_He kisses her hand_.)

MARGARET

Don’t incommode yourself! How could you ever kiss it! It is so ugly, rough to see! What work I do,—how hard and steady is it! Mother is much too close with me.

[_They pass_.

MARTHA

And you, Sir, travel always, do you not?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Alas, that trade and duty us so harry! With what a pang one leaves so many a spot, And dares not even now and then to tarry!

MARTHA

In young, wild years it suits your ways, This round and round the world in freedom sweeping; But then come on the evil days, And so, as bachelor, into his grave a-creeping, None ever found a thing to praise.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I dread to see how such a fate advances.

MARTHA

Then, worthy Sir, improve betimes your chances!

[_They pass_.

MARGARET

Yes, out of sight is out of mind! Your courtesy an easy grace is; But you have friends in other places, And sensibler than I, you’ll find.

FAUST

Trust me, dear heart! what men call sensible Is oft mere vanity and narrowness.

MARGARET

How so?

FAUST

Ah, that simplicity and innocence ne’er know Themselves, their holy value, and their spell! That meekness, lowliness, the highest graces Which Nature portions out so lovingly—

MARGARET

So you but think a moment’s space on me, All times I’ll have to think on you, all places!

FAUST

No doubt you’re much alone?

MARGARET

Yes, for our household small has grown, Yet must be cared for, you will own. We have no maid: I do the knitting, sewing, sweeping, The cooking, early work and late, in fact; And mother, in her notions of housekeeping, Is so exact! Not that she needs so much to keep expenses down: We, more than others, might take comfort, rather: A nice estate was left us by my father, A house, a little garden near the town. But now my days have less of noise and hurry; My brother is a soldier, My little sister’s dead. True, with the child a troubled life I led, Yet I would take again, and willing, all the worry, So very dear was she.

FAUST

An angel, if like thee!

MARGARET

I brought it up, and it was fond of me. Father had died before it saw the light, And mother’s case seemed hopeless quite, So weak and miserable she lay; And she recovered, then, so slowly, day by day. She could not think, herself, of giving The poor wee thing its natural living; And so I nursed it all alone With milk and water: ’twas my own. Lulled in my lap with many a song, It smiled, and tumbled, and grew strong.

FAUST

The purest bliss was surely then thy dower.

MARGARET

But surely, also, many a weary hour. I kept the baby’s cradle near My bed at night: if ’t even stirred, I’d guess it, And waking, hear. And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it, And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake, And dandling back and forth the restless creature take, Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning’s break; And then the marketing and kitchen-tending, Day after day, the same thing, never-ending. One’s spirits, Sir, are thus not always good, But then one learns to relish rest and food.

[_They pass_.

MARTHA

Yes, the poor women are bad off, ’tis true: A stubborn bachelor there’s no converting.

MEPHISTOPHELES

It but depends upon the like of you, And I should turn to better ways than flirting.

MARTHA

Speak plainly, Sir, have you no one detected? Has not your heart been anywhere subjected?

MEPHISTOPHELES

The proverb says: One’s own warm hearth And a good wife, are gold and jewels worth.

MARTHA

I mean, have you not felt desire, though ne’er so slightly?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’ve everywhere, in fact, been entertained politely.

MARTHA

I meant to say, were you not touched in earnest, ever?

MEPHISTOPHELES

One should allow one’s self to jest with ladies never.

MARTHA Ah, you don’t understand!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I’m sorry I’m so blind: But I am sure—that you are very kind.

[_They pass_.

FAUST

And me, thou angel! didst thou recognize, As through the garden-gate I came?

MARGARET

Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.

FAUST

And thou forgiv’st my freedom, and the blame To my impertinence befitting, As the Cathedral thou wert quitting?

MARGARET

I was confused, the like ne’er happened me; No one could ever speak to my discredit. Ah, thought I, in my conduct has he read it— Something immodest or unseemly free? He seemed to have the sudden feeling That with this wench ’twere very easy dealing. I will confess, I knew not what appeal On your behalf, here, in my bosom grew; But I was angry with myself, to feel That I could not be angrier with you.

FAUST

Sweet darling!

MARGARET

Wait a while!

(_She plucks a star-flower, and pulls off the leaves, one after the other_.)

FAUST

Shall that a nosegay be?

MARGARET

No, it is just in play.

FAUST

How?

MARGARET

Go! you’ll laugh at me. (_She pulls off the leaves and murmurs_.)

FAUST

What murmurest thou?

MARGARET (_half aloud_)

He loves me—loves me not.

FAUST

Thou sweet, angelic soul!

MARGARET (_continues_)

Loves me—not—loves me—not— (_plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight_:)

He loves me!

FAUST

Yes, child! and let this blossom-word For thee be speech divine! He loves thee! Ah, know’st thou what it means? He loves thee!

(_He grasps both her hands_.)

MARGARET

I’m all a-tremble!

FAUST

O tremble not! but let this look, Let this warm clasp of hands declare thee What is unspeakable! To yield one wholly, and to feel a rapture In yielding, that must be eternal! Eternal!—for the end would be despair. No, no,—no ending! no ending!

MARTHA (_coming forward_)

The night is falling.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ay! we must away.

MARTHA

I’d ask you, longer here to tarry, But evil tongues in this town have full play. It’s as if nobody had nothing to fetch and carry, Nor other labor, But spying all the doings of one’s neighbor: And one becomes the talk, do whatsoe’er one may. Where is our couple now?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Flown up the alley yonder, The wilful summer-birds!

MARTHA

He seems of her still fonder.

MEPHISTOPHELES

And she of him. So runs the world away!

XIII

A GARDEN-ARBOR

(MARGARET _comes in, conceals herself behind the door, puts her finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack_.)

MARGARET

He comes!

FAUST (_entering_)

Ah, rogue! a tease thou art: I have thee! (_He kisses her_.)

MARGARET

(_clasping him, and returning the kiss_) Dearest man! I love thee from my heart.

(MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_)

FAUST (_stamping his foot_)

Who’s there?

MEPHISTOPHELES

A friend!

FAUST

A beast!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Tis time to separate.

MARTHA (_coming_)

Yes, Sir, ’tis late.

FAUST

May I not, then, upon you wait?

MARGARET My mother would—farewell!

FAUST

Ah, can I not remain? Farewell!

MARTHA

Adieu!

MARGARET

And soon to meet again!

[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.

MARGARET

Dear God! However is it, such A man can think and know so much? I stand ashamed and in amaze, And answer “Yes” to all he says, A poor, unknowing child! and he— I can’t think what he finds in me! [_Exit_.

XIV

FOREST AND CAVERN

FAUST (_solus_)

Spirit sublime, thou gav’st me, gav’st me all For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire. Thou gav’st me Nature as a kingdom grand, With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield’st, But grantest, that in her profoundest breast I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend. The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead Before me, teaching me to know my brothers In air and water and the silent wood. And when the storm in forests roars and grinds, The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down, And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,— Then to the cave secure thou leadest me, Then show’st me mine own self, and in my breast The deep, mysterious miracles unfold. And when the perfect moon before my gaze Comes up with soothing light, around me float From every precipice and thicket damp The silvery phantoms of the ages past, And temper the austere delight of thought.

That nothing can be perfect unto Man I now am conscious. With this ecstasy, Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods, Thou gav’st the comrade, whom I now no more Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he Demeans me to myself, and with a breath, A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness. Within my breast he fans a lawless fire, Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form: Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment, And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.

(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

Have you not led this life quite long enough? How can a further test delight you? ’Tis very well, that once one tries the stuff, But something new must then requite you.

FAUST

Would there were other work for thee! To plague my day auspicious thou returnest.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Well! I’ll engage to let thee be: Thou darest not tell me so in earnest. The loss of thee were truly very slight,— comrade crazy, rude, repelling:

One has one’s hands full all the day and night; If what one does, or leaves undone, is right, From such a face as thine there is no telling.

FAUST

There is, again, thy proper tone!— That thou hast bored me, I must thankful be!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Poor Son of Earth, how couldst thou thus alone Have led thy life, bereft of me? I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure; Thy fancy’s rickets plague thee not at all: Had I not been, so hadst thou, sure, Walked thyself off this earthly ball Why here to caverns, rocky hollows slinking, Sit’st thou, as ’twere an owl a-blinking? Why suck’st, from sodden moss and dripping stone, Toad-like, thy nourishment alone? A fine way, this, thy time to fill! The Doctor’s in thy body still.

FAUST

What fresh and vital forces, canst thou guess, Spring from my commerce with the wilderness? But, if thou hadst the power of guessing, Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge my soul the blessing.

MEPHISTOPHELES