And out of breath and arm in arm,
Hey-ho, hey-ho, 970
Hey-hoppie-hoppie-ho,
And hips to elbows lay, oh!
‘Now don’t you get so fresh with me!
That’s how men cheat their brides-to-be
When they have had their way, oh!’
But she went with him by and by,
And from the linden all did cry:
Hey-ho, hey-ho,
Hey-hoppie-hoppie-ho,
They all did shout and play, oh! 980
AN OLD PEASANT. Why, Doctor, now that’s very kind
To join us for your Easter walk,
Being such a learned gentleman,
And not look down on us poor folk!
Now, here’s a jug of finest ale;
You are the man we’ve filled it for,
And in your honour this we wish,
That it may quench your thirst, and more:
There’s many a drop in this cup I raise—
May their number be added to your days! 990
FAUST. I thank you all; this drink refreshes,
And I return your kind good wishes.
[The people gather round.]
THE OLD PEASANT. Yes, sir, indeed! we all are glad
To see you on this day of cheer,
For long ago, when times were bad,
You wished us well for many a year.
There’s many of us might now be dead*
Who’ve lived on to a healthy age
Because your father stopped the spread
Of plague, and cooled the fever’s rage. 1000
You were young then, you went about
Visiting every hospital:
So many corpses they brought out,
But you came out alive and well;
Though many a hard time you had too.
You helped us. and the Lord helped you.
ALL. Long life to our good doctor! May
He help us yet for many a day.
FAUST. Give thanks to Him who gave these skills
And helps mankind in all its ills. 1010
[He walks on with WAGNER.]
WAGNER. Ah, what a sense of your own greatness must
You have as all these people honour you!
Happy the man whose gifts bring him such true
Advantage, as is only just!
They all ask questions, fathers point you out
To sons, they all rush up to see
You pass, the fiddling stops, they stand about
To stare instead of dancing, and the sky
Is full of cheers and caps thrown high;
They very nearly drop on bended knee 1020
As if the Sacred Host were being carried by!
FAUST. A few steps further, to that rock up there;
Now let us rest here from our walk. This place is one
Where I would often sit and meditate alone,
Keeping strict fast, in anguished prayer.
Here, full of hope, firm in belief,
I sought to alter heaven’s will;
I groaned, I wrung my hands in grief—
The pestilence continued still.
Now I feel mocked by this mob’s adulation. 1030
If only you could read my mind and know
How little we did, so long ago,
I and my father, to deserve such commendation!
My father was a man respected, yet obscure,
Who laboured honestly with never a pause,
Though by his own eccentric methods to be sure,
Studying Nature’s sacred cyclic laws.
With the initiated few
He practised in the Black Laboratory,
Mixing, by this or that strange recipe, 1040
Elements in an ill-assorted brew.
Thus in tepid immersion he would wed
The Lily to the Lion bold and red;
Then with intenser heat he forced this bridal pair
From one glass chamber to the other—by and by
The Young Queen was engendered there,
The rainbow-hued precipitate: this, then,
Was our specific. Still the sick would die,
But no one asked why none got well again.
So in these valleys and these villages, 1050
With those hell-sirups as our remedies,
We, worse than any plague, raged far and wide.
I myself poisoned thousands, I saw how
They all wasted away and perished—now
Men praise that cynical mass-homicide.
WAGNER. Sir, do not let that trouble you!
To practise a transmitted skill
With a good conscience and good will
Is all an honest man need do.
If one respects one’s father in one’s youth, 1060
One will have learnt from him with pleasure;
If as a man one then adds to our store of truth,
One’s own son will do this in even greater measure.
FAUST. Happy are they who still hope this is so,
While ignorance surrounds us like an ocean!
The very thing one needs one does not know,
And what one knows is needless information.
But let us put these gloomy thoughts away
And let the precious present hour confound them!
Look how they gleam in the last light of day, 1070
Those little huts with green all round them!
Evening has come, our sun is westering now—
But it speeds on to bring new life elsewhere.
Oh if some wings would raise me, if somehow
I could follow its circuit through the air!
For then as I strove onwards I should see
A silent sunset world for ever under me,
The hills aglow, the valleys lost in dreams,
The silver brooks poured into golden streams;
No mountain-range would stop me, not with all 1080
Its rugged chasms; at divine speed I fly,
The sea already greets my wondering eye
With its warm gulfs where now the sun’s rays fall.
Now the god seems at last to sink and set,
But a new impulse drives me yet:
I hasten on to drink his endless light,
The day ahead, behind my back the night,
The sky above me and the waves below…
A pleasing dream; but the sun vanishes
And it is over. Wings, alas, may grow 1090
Upon our soul, but still our body is
Earthbound. And yet, by inborn instinct given
To each of us, our hearts rise up and soar
For ever onwards, when we hear the lark outpour
Its warbling song, lost in the blue of heaven,
Or when we see the wing-spread eagle hover
Above wild cliffs which pine-trees cover,
Or across marsh and lakeland watch the crane
Fly homeward to its native haunts again.
WAGNER. I too have known fanciful states of mind, 1100
But to such moods as yours I never was inclined.
One soon grows tired of forests and of fields;
I never envied any bird its wings.
But the pursuit of intellectual things
From book to book, from page to page—what joys that yields!
How fine and snug the winter nights become,
What sweet life courses through one’s veins!
Is an old parchment not a whole compendium
Of paradise itself, rewarding all our pains?
FAUST. Only one of our needs is known to you;* 1110
You must not learn the other, oh beware!
In me there are two souls, alas, and their
Division tears my life in two.
One loves the world, it clutches her, it binds
Itself to her, clinging with furious lust;
The other longs to soar beyond the dust
Into the r
ealm of high ancestral minds.
Are there no spirits moving in the air,
Ruling the region between earth and sky?
Come down then to me from your golden mists on high, 1120
And to new, many-coloured life, oh take me there!
Give me a magic cloak to carry me
Away to some far place, some land untold,
And I’d not part with it for silk or gold
Or a king’s crown, so precious it would be!
WAGNER. Oh do not call the dreaded host that swarms*
And streams abroad throughout the atmosphere!
They bring men danger in a thousand forms,
From the earth’s ends they come to plague us here.
Out of the north the sharp-toothed demons fly, 1130
Attacking us with arrow-pointed tongues;
On the east wind they ride to drain us dry
And slake their hunger on our lungs;
The southern desert sends them to beat down
Upon our heads with fiery beams;
The west will bring refreshment, as it seems,
Till in their flooding rains we and the fields must drown.
Their spiteful ears are open to obey
Our summons, for they love to harm and cheat;
They pose as heaven’s angels, and though all they say 1140
Is false, their lisping voice is sweet.
But come, the air grows chill, the world is grey
With dusk and mist already; come away!
When evening falls, indoors is best.—
Why do you stand and stare with such surprise?
What twilight thing has seized your interest?
FAUST. There—in the corn and stubble, do you see
That black dog?*
WAGNER. Why, of course; of what account is he?
FAUST. What do you take him for? Come, use your eyes!
WAGNER. A poodle, acting as a dog will do 1150
When it has lost its master, I suppose.
FAUST. He’s getting closer; round and round he goes
In a narrowing spiral; no, there’s no mistake!
And as he comes—look, can’t you see it too?—
A streak of fire follows in his wake!
WACNER. An ordinary black poodle is all 1
Can see; no doubt some trick of light deceives your eye.
FAUST. It is some magic he is weaving, so
Subtly about our feet, some future knot!
WAGNER. He’s nervous, jumping round us, since we’re not 1160
His master, but two men he doesn’t know.
FAUST. The circle shrinks; now he is on our ground.
WAGNER. YOU see! he’s not a phantom, just a hound.
He’s doubtful still, he growls, he lies down flat,
He wags his tail. All dogs do that.
FAUST. Come to us! Come to heel! Come here!
WAGNER. He’s just a foolish poodle-beast, I fear.
Stand still, and he will dance attendance on you;
Speak to him, and he’ll put his forepaws on you;
Drop something, and he’ll find it, that’s his trick— 1170
He’ll jump into the water for your stick.
FAUST. No doubt you’re right; no spirit after all,
But merely a conditioned animal.
WAGNER. A well-trained dog is one who can
Find favour even with a learned man.
Our students taught him to behave this way;*
He far excels his teachers, I must say.
[They pass through the gate into the town.)
6. FAUSTS’S STUDY (I)* [F.I
FAUST [entering with the poodle].
Now I have left the fields and hills
Where now the night’s dark veil is spread;
Night wakes our better part, and fills 1180
Our prescient soul with holy dread.
The active turmoil leaves my mind,
All wilder passions sleep and cease;
Now I am moved to love mankind,
To love God too, and am at peace.*
Stop running about, you poodle-clown!
Why are you snuffling there by the door?
Go behind the stove! Keep still, lie down!
You have my best cushion, I can’t do more.
On that path down the hill you jumped and ran 1190
For our delectation, and that was fun;
I will entertain you now if I can,
As a welcome guest, but a silent one.
Back in our little narrow cell
We sit, the lamp glows soft and bright,
And in our heart and mind as well
Self-knowledge sheds its kindly light.
Reason once more begins to speak,
And hope once more is blossoming;
We long to find life’s source, to seek 1200
Life’s fountainhead, to taste life’s spring.
Poodle, stop growling! It does not agree
With my high tone, and my soul’s sacred joys
Are interrupted by your animal noise.
We know what scorn and mockery
Uncomprehending man will pour
On anything he has not heard before—
The good, the beautiful, the true;
Must dogs start muttering at it too?
But now, that deep contentment in my breast, 1210
Alas, wells up no more, in spite of all my best
Endeavours. Oh, how soon the stream runs dry,
And in what parching thirst again we lie!
How often this has happened to me!
And yet, there is a remedy:
We learn to seek a higher inspiration,
A supernatural revelation—
And where does this shine in its fullest glory,
If not in that old Gospel story?
Here is the Greek text; I am moved to read 1220
Its sacred words, I feel the need
Now to translate them true and clear
Into the German tongue I hold so dear.
[He opens a volume and prepares to write.]
‘In the beginning was the Word’: why, now
I’m stuck already! I must change that; how?
Is then ‘the word’ so great and high a thing?
There is some other rendering,
Which with the spirit’s guidance I must find.
We read: ‘In the beginning was the Mind.’
Before you write this first phrase, think again; 1230
Good sense eludes the overhasty pen.
Does ‘mind’ set worlds on their creative course?
It means: ‘In the beginning was the Force’.
So it should be—but as I write this too,
Some instinct warns me that it will not do.
The spirit speaks! I see how it must read,
And boldly write: ‘In the beginning was the Deed!’*
If we are to share this room in peace,
Poodle, this noise has got to cease,
This howling and barking has got to end! 1240
My invitation did not extend
To so cacophonous a friend.
In my study I won’t put up with it.
One of us two will have to quit.
I am sorry that we must part so;
The door stands open, you may go.
But what is this I see?
Can it be happening naturally?
Is it real? Is it a dream or not?
How long and broad my poodle has got! 1250
He heaves himself upright:
This is no dog, if I trust my sight!
What hobgoblin have I brought home somehow?
He looks like a hippopotamus now,
With fearsome jaws and fiery eyes.
Aha! you’ll get a surprise!
With this hybrid half-brood of hell
King Solomon’s Key works very well.*
SPIRITS [outside in the passage].
He’s c
aught! There s one caught in there!
Don’t follow him, don’t go in! 1260
Like a fox in a gin
An old hell-lynx is trapped; beware!
But now wait and see!
Hover round, hover
Up and down, he’ll recover,
He’ll set himself free;
We’ll lend a hand to him,
We’ll not abandon him;
He’s been polite to us,
Always done right by us! 1270
FAUST. First, to defeat this beast,
I need the Spell of the Four, at least.*
Salamander, burn!
Water-nymph, twist and turn!
Sylph of the air, dissolve!
Goblin, dig and delve!
When the elements are known,
Each in its own Qualities and powers,
The mastery is ours 1280
Over all and each,
‘By this knowledge and speech.
Salamander, in flame
Vanish as you came!
Murmur and mingle,
Nymph of the sea-dingle!
Blaze like a meteor,
Sylph-creature!
Serve in the house for us,
Incubus, incubus! 1290
Come out of him, show yourself thus or thus!
None of those four
Has passed through my door.
The beast just lies there grinning at me.
I’ve not yet hurt him, evidently.
Wait! I can sing
A more powerful spell!
Are you from hell,
You fugitive thing?
Then behold this Sign 1300
Which they fear and know,
The black hosts below!
Now he swells up with bristling spine.
Vile reprobate!
Do you read this name?
He who is nameless,
Uncreated, timeless,
In all worlds the same,
Pierced in impious hate?
Behind the stove he shrinks from my spells; 1310
Like an elephant he swells.
The whole room is filled by this devil-dog.
He wants to dissolve into a fog.
Do not rise to the ceiling, I forbid you!
Lie down at your master’s feet, I bid you!
You will see that I utter no idle warning;
With sacred fire I shall set you burning!
Do not dare the might
Of the Thrice-Effulgent Light!
Do not dare the might 1320
Of my strongest magic of all!
MEPHISTOPHELES [stepping out from behind the stove as the mist disperses, dressed as a medieval wandering student]. Why all this fuss? How can I serve you, sir?
FAUST. So that was the quintessence of the cur!
A student-tramp! How very comical.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Sir, I salute your learning and your wit!
You made me sweat, I must admit.
FAUST. What is your name?